The Storied Life of A.J. Fikry(29)

A.J. inhales. “It crossed my mind that I might stop by to see Amelia, yes.”

A.J. texts Amelia the next day: Forgot to mention that Maya and I are going to be in Rhode Island next weekend. Instead of you mailing the galleys, I could pick them up.

Amelia: Don’t have them here. Having them sent from NYC.

So much for that ill-conceived plan, A.J. thinks.

A couple of minutes later, Amelia sends another text: What are you doing in Rhode Island anyway?

A.J.: Going to the topiary garden in Portsmouth. Maya loves topiaries! (He is only slightly mortified by that exclamation point.)

Amelia: Didn’t know there was one. Wish I could come with you, but I’m still only semimobile.

A.J. waits a couple of minutes before he texts: Are you in need of visitors? Maybe we could stop by.

She does not immediately respond. A.J. takes her silence to mean that she has all the visitors she needs.

The next day, Amelia does text back: Sure. I’d like that. Don’t eat. I’ll make something for you and Maya.

“YOU CAN KIND of see them if you get on your tippy toes and look over the fence,” A.J. says. “There, in the distance!” They had left Alice at seven that morning, taken the ferry to Hyannis, then driven two hours to Portsmouth only to discover that the Green Animals Topiary Garden is closed from November through May.

A.J. finds that he cannot make eye contact with either his daughter or Lambiase. It is twenty-nine degrees, but shame is keeping him warm.

Maya stands on her toes and when that doesn’t work, she tries hopping. “I can’t see anything,” she says.

“Here, I’ll get you higher,” Lambiase says, lifting Maya onto his shoulders.

“Maybe I can see a little bit,” Maya says doubtfully. “No, I definitely cannot see anything. They’re all covered.” Her lower lip begins to quiver. She looks at A.J. with pained eyes. He doesn’t think he can take any more of this.

Suddenly, she smiles brightly at A.J. “But you know what, Daddy? I can imagine what the elephant looks like under the blanket. And the tiger! And the unicorn!” She nods at her father as if to say, Clearly this imaginative exercise must have been your point in taking me here in the middle of winter.

“That’s very good, Maya.” He feels like the worst parent in the world, but Maya’s faith in him seems to be restored.

“Look, Lambiase! The unicorn is shivering. She’s glad to be wearing the blanket. Can you see it, Lambiase?”

A.J. walks over to the security kiosk, where the guard shoots him a sympathetic expression. “Happens all the time,” she says.

“Then you don’t think I’ve scarred my daughter for life?” A.J. asks.

“Sure,” says the guard. “You’ve probably done that, but I doubt from anything that happened today. No child ever turned bad from not seeing topiary animals.”

“Even if her father’s real purpose was a sexy girl in Providence?”

The guard doesn’t seem to hear that part. “My suggestion to you is that you tour the Victorian residence instead. Kids love those.”

“Do they?”

“Some of them. Sure. Why not? Maybe you’ve got the kind that does.”

AT THE MANSION, Maya is reminded of From the Mixed-Up Files of Ms. Basil E. Frankweiler, a book Lambiase hasn’t read.

“Oh, you must, Lambiase,” Maya says. “You will love it. There’s this girl and her brother, and they run away—”

“Running away’s no laughing matter.” Lambiase frowns. “As a police officer, I can tell you that kids don’t do well on the streets.”

Maya continues, “They go to this big museum in New York City, and they hide out there. It’s—”

“It’s criminal is what it is,” Lambiase says. “It’s definitely trespassing. It’s probably breaking and entering, too.”

“Lambiase,” Maya says, “you are missing the point.”

After an overpriced lunch at a mansion, they drive to Providence to check into their hotel.

“You go visit Amelia,” Lambiase tells A.J. “I was thinking me and the kid would go to the Children’s Museum in town. I’d like to show her the many reasons it would be impractical to hide out in a museum. In a post – September eleventh universe at least.”

“You don’t have to do that.” A.J. had planned to take Maya with him so that the visit to Amelia’s would seem more casual. (Yes, he was not above using his beloved daughter as a prop.)

“Stop looking guilty,” Lambiase says. “That’s what godfathers are for. Backup.”

A.J. gets to Amelia’s house just before five. He has brought her an Island Books tote filled with Charlaine Harris novels, a good bottle of Malbec, and a bouquet of sunflowers. After he rings the doorbell, he decides the flowers are too obvious and he stows them under the cushions of the porch swing.

When she answers the door, her knee is supported by a wheelie cart. Her cast is pink and has been signed as much as the most popular kid in school’s yearbook. She is wearing a navy blue minidress with a red patterned scarf tied jauntily around her neck. She looks like an airline stewardess.

“Where’s Maya?” Amelia asks.

“My friend Lambiase took her to the Providence Children’s Museum.”