Mary thought back to the first time she had seen that poster, on her last visit. It had made her worry about her job, and everything that went with it. But that was before John had been murdered and everything else happened. She had tried so hard since then to catch Machiavelli. She had come so close to getting him, even today, with Flavia. She had come so close.
A wave of frustration washed over her, and she closed her eyes. A tear slipped out, she could feel its wetness on her cheek. She didn’t try to wipe it away. Instead, she let herself go. Her arms fell back, her chest rose heavenward, and she felt everything she was feeling. She tried to set her worries aside, like the poster said, but it wasn’t so easy to set that burden down. She sensed that was part of being a mother, too.
Another tear rolled down her cheek, but she had to surrender. It was so hard to stop now, but she needed to rest, even she had to admit it. Her body was trying to tell her something, so was her baby. And now, her doctor.
Mary couldn’t deny it anymore. It was common sense. She had to go home, go to bed, and slow down.
The very next thought that popped into her head was that she could work from home, then she stopped herself before she went mentally further, checking her thoughts the way the monitor checked her baby’s heartbeat. She couldn’t work from home, or she didn’t want to. She didn’t have the energy. She was out of gas. She didn’t even have the strength right now to call anybody and fill them in on what had happened at Machiavelli’s.
Mary had to face the fact that she certainly couldn’t catch Machiavelli from home. Maybe that was why he had stayed in the waiting room. He probably wanted to relish his victory or throw it in her face. Or maybe he was still nursing his crush, regardless of the promise he had made his mother. She had to believe that he would adhere to what he’d said about the lawsuits, and Bennie and the others would accept that as a consolation prize. But they all wanted John’s killer brought to justice and would settle for nothing less.
Mary resolved to hand that baton off to them. Bennie, Judy, Anne, and Lou were more than capable of functioning without her, and Mary had come to a fork in the road, one she had been avoiding thinking about. It was time to let them go too, and all of the things that came with them, things she loved so much, things that were a part of her work life and her personal life, which had been knitted together like the yarn of a favorite sweater. Or that beautiful baby blanket that Judy had weaved for her, on her loom.
Mary kept her eyes closed and let her thoughts run free, and so many memories bubbled to the surface of her consciousness, the endless containers of take-out lo mein during trial prep, the silly notes passed during client meetings, and the wacky adventures they had gone on together, over the years. She remembered the clients that had been so much a part of her, her old friend Simon Pensiera, whose little girl Rachel had ultimately pulled through, and adorable Patrick, a dyslexic boy who had touched her heart so much that she wanted to adopt him, and even the time that Pigeon Tony had been accused of murdering his lifelong rival, from back in the days of Fascist Italy.
Mary opened her eyes, and her wet gaze returned to the graph paper of her baby’s heartbeat, and she realized what she had been doing wrong. She had been focusing so much on what she had to leave behind that all she thought was how much she was losing. Her only consolation to date had been the pregnancy, which was nauseating, literally.
She looked at that heartbeat and realized that she wasn’t on her own anymore. There really was another human being living inside her, and their hearts were beating together, inseparable now and probably forever, if her mother was an example, or even Machiavelli’s mother, or Conchetta, or Marshall, or any of the vast tribe of mothers she knew in her life.
Mary felt a rush of gratitude that the baby was okay, because in the car on the way here with Machiavelli, she had entertained so many darker possibilities. She had taken for granted the baby’s life within her, and she could never do that again.
Her hand went to her belly, this time not trying to test if anything was wrong, but cradling the baby. She found herself wondering if it was really a boy or girl, since all of the poll results were different, and either way, what it would look like, if it would have thick hair like Anthony, or be nearsighted like her, or be short like her parents, or bedazzled like El Virus. Her heart filled at the thought of how happy everybody would be when the baby finally came, especially her and Anthony.
And when she focused on that little child, curled up within her, it was easy to set her other worries aside, to fight the impulse to call Bennie and others, check her phone, read her email, or do anything else in the world. Somehow along the way, Mary had forgotten that the most important thing to her was family.
And now she had a family of her own.
This was where her family started, right here, right now.
With a mother, and a child.
CHAPTER FORTY-FIVE
Mary got home exhausted and let herself into the house, which was quiet, still, and darkening as twilight fell, though she didn’t bother to turn on a light. She felt like she needed to sleep for about three days and she was going straight to bed. She’d called Judy and Bennie from the cab, filling them in on everything that had happened, and they’d felt just like she did, torn. It was maddening that they couldn’t prove Machiavelli’s involvement in John’s murder, but they were amazed to hear that she’d been able to get Machiavelli to withdraw the reverse-discrimination Complaint and settle London Technologies.
She dropped her purse on the floor and walked over the mail scattered on the floor of the entrance hall, which had been delivered through the slot in the front door. She didn’t care about the bills or anything else. She was leaving everything behind, but in a good way, especially since she had handed off the baton to Judy and Bennie. They had probably already sprung into action, calling Machiavelli, drafting the withdrawal papers for the reverse-discrimination Complaint, and starting negotiations on London Technologies.
Mary climbed the stairs wearily, holding on to the railing. The only sounds were her padded footfalls on the carpeted stair and the creak of the wood beneath, since it was an old house. She tried not to think about the fact that she hadn’t been able to prove that Machiavelli was behind John’s murder. She told herself that he would be brought to justice, especially with the others on the case, or that sooner or later, the police would realize that Shanahan was a false lead. She reminded herself that not everything could be accomplished as fast as she wanted. She soothed herself by saying that she had made incredible progress in a very short time.
She reached the second floor, but she had a bitter taste in her mouth, no matter what she told herself. The truth was that she had tried so hard to make it happen, and she had come so close, but she had failed. John had been brutally murdered, and she hadn’t been able to do anything about it. She thought of William at the duck pond, and how anguished he had been. She thought of the Hodges at the memorial luncheon, and how forlorn they had been. And in the end, she thought of John, who came through so beautifully for her when they had worked together. He had never left her side, not for a minute. And though Judy had told Sanjay and Jim they should be loyal to John in death, in the end, Mary had been unable to show him the loyalty he had shown her.
She felt tears well in her eyes, not happy tears but miserable tears, and by the time she got to her bedroom, all she could do was crawl into bed in her clothes, curl herself around her baby, and cry them both to sleep.
She didn’t wake up until after seven o’clock, when her phone pinged with an excitable text from Judy: WE HAVE AHHHMMMAAAAAZING NEWS!!! WE’RE COMING OVER TO CELEBRATE!!! SEE YOU IN 15 WITH PIZZZZAAAAAAA!!!
Mary texted back, Great, what happened? Let yourself in. I’m upstairs.
OK, YOU’LL SEEEEEEEEE!! XOXOXXOOXOXX OXOXO