The Anatomical Shape of a Heart(76)

“Never doubt it. And when we’re alone, I’d like to show you how much.”

“That sounds a little filthy.”

“It’s a lot filthy,” he assured me with a coy smile. His eyes darted over my head. “Put a hold on that filth. Looks like your father wants to talk with you.”

Dad was waving me over to him and Heath. It looked suspiciously like a trap, but considering all the crap I’d been through that night, my father was the least of my worries. “Don’t move,” I told Jack. “I’ll be right back.”

I warily approached them, checking Heath’s face for signs of trauma. He just lifted his brows as if to say, Yeah, I can’t believe this is happening, either.

Dad herded us both to the side and spoke to us privately. “I’m sorry you didn’t win, Beatrix,” he told me. “It was a remarkably intelligent and emotional piece of work.”

That sounded like something VP Van Asch would say, but I refrained from pointing this out. “Thanks.”

“Heath was just telling me about applying to his vet tech program, and I wanted you both to know that your mother and I have been talking a little this week—”

“Hello, Twilight Zone,” Heath mumbled.

“—and we came to a new compromise about financial matters. I’ve been building a little nest egg for the two of you, so I suggested, and she agreed, that I will cover your college costs. If you can secure scholarships or grants, that’s wonderful. If not, anywhere you want to go is on me.”

Heath and I stared at him, then at each other.

“What’s the catch?” I asked.

“No catch,” he said, stuffing his hands into his sport coat pockets. “Just try to pick somewhere within the state to help with the cost. And you might keep your mother’s feelings in mind and look at schools in the Bay Area. Beatrix, she told me you’re interested in taking both art and medical classes. Stanford’s the natural choice for medicine, but if you want both, maybe you’ll consider Berkeley.”

“Berkeley.”

He shrugged his shoulders. “I’m partial, of course, but it would certainly look great on your curriculum vitae when you’re considering future graduate schools or grants. But it’s up to you.”

“I still feel like there’s a catch,” Heath said. “Mom really agreed to this?”

Dad nodded. “I’m as surprised as you are. And there’s really no catch. I’d love to have lunch with you now and then, of course. Suzi and I have a pool, so if you ever wanted to come over and stay with us—”

“A pool?” Heath said.

I rolled my eyes at my brother. “You don’t even know how to swim.”

“Okay, okay,” Dad said, pulling his hands out of his pockets to hold them up in surrender. “Let’s take it one step at a time. Talk to your mother; and, Heath, discuss it with Noah. Just keep me in the loop and let me know what you decide.”

At the mention of his name, Noah perked up, and he and Suzi approached us. While Heath was saying something to the two of them, Dad pulled me aside and reached inside his jacket. “I had this repaired,” he said, offering me the artist’s mannequin. “It might not survive another fall, so I hope you won’t throw it at me again.”

“Thanks,” I said as I accepted it. “This doesn’t mean we’re bosom buddies, though. And the college thing is honorable, but I’m not sure if I’ve forgiven you quite yet. Money doesn’t instantly erase every bad thing.”

“Just as long as the door is open between us.”

“Yeah,” I said. “Maybe it is.”

32

December, four months later

Jack and I stood backstage behind the curtain, watching his father speak in front of a packed auditorium at the university hospital. The mayor probably made a dozen fund-raising speeches every year for a dozen different causes, but this was the first one that was personal. He wanted to combine city money and private contributions to fund a new outreach program for homeless people with psychiatric needs. It would add another wing to the psychiatric hospital and additional staff to diagnose, counsel, and distribute medicine to people who otherwise couldn’t afford it.

People like Panhandler Will.

“Make sure you get a shot of your mom,” I whispered to Jack. He was filming bits and pieces of the speech to show to Jillian later, and their mom was sitting in the front row with Katherine the Great. They saw a fair amount of each other, Mom and Mrs. Vincent. The entire Adams clan, including Noah, even spent Thanksgiving at the Vincents’ house, which was surprisingly cool and fun, if not a little weird.

It was also weird to hear Jack’s father talking about Jillian in public. But he was. He’d done an exclusive television interview with a local news program a few weeks earlier and told the story of the stabbing and Jillian’s suicide attempt. And the world didn’t fall apart. In fact, public reaction was overwhelmingly positive. People liked it when politicians were human and honest. Imagine that.

“God, they’re chatty,” Jack whispered as he filmed our mothers with their heads bent toward each other.

“They’re probably talking about the fact that I won’t get accepted to SFAI.”

“Probably,” he said with a grin.