She goes to the interview in Boston on Wednesday, dressed in her most sophisticated suit and a pair of borrowed patent leather Mary Janes with chunky heels that her friend Liz swears are “in.” Although she does not expect to see Harry, she decides that if she does, he will see how great she can look.
In fact, she doesn’t see him. Instead, she sails from office to office in Government Center, talking to different people who are delighted to see her—Harry says you’re perfect for this job!—and who, finally, simply, offer her the job. She can start in September. She will have to move to Paris. They have lists of apartments, of schools for Sofia, of shipping companies for her furniture; they give her maps and a guide to Paris and a little booklet called Now that You Are an American Living in Paris. They say, Harry was right! You’re perfect for this job.
Still, no word from Harry.
But Rachel feels her life has taken a right turn, after three years of wrong moves and bad decisions. She looks around her crummy apartment and imagines where she and Sofia will be in two short months. Fuck Harry, she thinks. And when she explains to Sofia about the job, her daughter’s eyes grow wide. “Will I meet Madeline?” she says. “And Miss Clavel?” Rachel, for an instant, almost thinks they might.
THE FIRST THING that goes wrong is that Rachel forgets to pack Sofia’s Madeline doll for her weekend with Peter.
“I’m not even going to discuss her overdependence on her T-O—” Peter barks into the telephone.
“T-O?” Rachel asks him. She is already edgy. They are in the middle of a huge thunderstorm and she hates talking on the phone during storms.
“Transitional object,” Peter explains. Rachel is sure this is something Yvonne says. “The point right now,” he continues, “is that she’s hysterical and I can’t change her overdependence in one night, so you have to bring it over right now.”
Lightning scars the sky.
“Drive all the way down there? In this?” Rachel says. It’s a half hour in good weather. There are curvy roads, traffic.
She can hear Sofia crying in the background.
“I’m on my way,” she tells Peter.
But before she can leave the phone rings again. Maybe he has calmed her down, Rachel thinks, and answers it.
“Rachel? It’s Mary.” She sounds nervous. “I have to tell you something.”
“This isn’t a good time,” Rachel says. “Sofia is with her father and she’s upset—”
“Harry is back with Victoria. There. I’ve said it. Ever since that day at the playground I’ve been feeling just awful, because I knew they were back—they got back together the very next night after you met him—”
“The next night?” Rachel asks, to be certain she is hearing correctly. She sits down, holding Madeline on her lap. “That’s impossible.”
“Maybe he saw you for lunch just to be polite, to be friends, you know,” Mary is saying.
Rachel thinks about him strutting naked around her kitchen. “I don’t think so,” she tells Mary. That’s why I called, he had said. About the job. She thinks of her poached chicken, the open bottle of wine, and feels embarrassed.
“Look,” Mary says, her voice easier now, “the point is I wanted you to know. It’s crazy really. They’re actually getting married. Can you believe it? All in a matter of days. It’s crazy.”
“I think Dan’s cousin is a shit,” Rachel says. “A real shit. Trust me, he did not come over here for cookies and milk and a round of ‘Kumbaya.’”
Rachel hears Mary’s sharp intake of breath. “I’m certain I don’t know,” Mary says.
“Well, I do. All he wanted was . . .” She struggles a moment, then says, “All he wanted was a good piece of ass. I’m sure he’s very happy, the little rooster.”
She knows she has shocked Mary and for some reason, she’s glad.
“I know you’ve got to go,” Mary says, sounding too composed. “I won’t keep you.”
After they hang up, Rachel realizes it is the first time they have ever spoken without planning a play date.
BY THE TIME she gets to Peter’s the storm is over and Sofia is asleep. Rachel stands on the doorstep of the home he shares with another woman, holding the doll out to him. When she told him about Paris, assuring him it was just one year and that Sofia could spend a chunk of that time with him, he had been happy for her. I knew you’d make your way, he’d told her.
Now he is looking at her funny.
“What?” Rachel says.