It was easy enough to take time off work when your husband was a major donor to the organization. When you commanded a token salary and still brought in more donations than everyone else combined, no one would tell you no. There was only one problem: After five whole days away at Violet’s, George would never believe that she’d leave the twins again so soon. Every believable lie she could think of was just that: a lie. And in every lie there were many ways to be caught. She could say she had to go back to Violet’s, for instance, that she felt too guilty being so far away from a friend who needed her. But a simple phone call from Violet would give her away. She’d called the house phone tonight. It wasn’t a stretch to imagine she’d do it again.
No, best to tell the truth. To say that she was going to the cabin. George would believe that she needed a few days to recharge after the emotional fatigue of helping her friend through the ordeal. What he wouldn’t believe was that Caitlin wouldn’t take the kids with her.
Caitlin thought of their last family trip there, Gus and Leo finally having the go-ahead to climb into their bunk beds alone, scaring the bejesus out of her with their jumping on the mattresses and hanging over the edges.
“They’re boys!” George had laughed, seeing her clenched white knuckles. “Boys will be boys!”
And they were boys, through and through—just like George. She couldn’t imagine the three of them separating, no matter the genetic circumstances. If anyone was on the fringe, it was her.
If George were to find out her secret—and if Finn were to damage the reputation of the father George so idolized, casting doubt on George’s own prospects in the process—would he be angry enough to leave her? For years he’d been gently hinting that perhaps their lives were too intertwined with Finn’s, but Caitlin hadn’t listened. He could hold her responsible for all of this, and in a way, he’d be right. And if he were angry enough to leave her, would he be angry enough to take the kids with him? He’s already invested so much in the twins’ future, Finn had said. He can’t have you just slink off with them. George’s family had a seemingly infinite supply of money, resources, and connections, and they rarely hesitated to use them. If her kids were to grow up in a broken home, it was too easy to picture that home being one without her in it.
Finn had been right about the pride, too. George was about as nice a guy as men of his stature came, but if there was one thing he couldn’t stand, it was the slightest hint that he was being taken for a fool. She had seen him walk away, pen in hand, from the rare classic car of his dreams, the exact year, make, model, and even color as the one his grandfather had driven, restored to perfection. He’d struck up an innocent enough conversation with the owner at a car show one lazy Saturday, and it turned out the thing was for sale. It was all George talked about for weeks, but when it came to one last signature at the table, the seller refused to put a part—a very minor part, in Caitlin’s estimation—of their verbal agreement in writing, and that was it for George. He had never looked over his shoulder as he walked away, had never taken the seller’s many calls in the days that followed, had never again so much as mentioned the incident—and he hadn’t searched for a different car to buy either. George could go cold like that. And once he did, it didn’t matter how hot he’d once been for whatever it was. He was done.
11
AUGUST 2011
Finn had just stepped outside onto the front steps of Maribel’s apartment building when he caught sight of Caitlin heading up the walk. He knew her instantly by the way she carried herself—head held high, as if she had something to prove. She hadn’t always walked that way, but her gait had changed since she’d met George. Now, even her silhouette against the streetlights looked perfectly tailored to fit. She caught sight of him and lifted her hand in a wave so excited and childlike that it transformed her back into the old Caitlin even as her other hand grasped a glittery clutch that probably cost as much as Finn made in a month.
She half jogged the last few steps to catch him in an embrace, brief but strong. Then she held him at arm’s length, beaming. “Congratulations! I can’t believe this is the first time I’ve had a chance to tell you in person.”
Finn grinned. “Thanks.” He took in her long, clingy black dress, accented by only a single tear-shaped emerald hanging from a golden chain around her neck. Sometimes it was still a shock seeing her this way. She’d spent so many hours lounging on the futon in his dorm room in flannel pajama pants—often she hadn’t even bothered to change out of them to go to class or the dining hall.
“I know—I used to be, like, the least fancy person you knew,” she said, reading his mind. She gestured down at her outfit with something akin to embarrassment. Part of Caitlin’s charm had always been that she had no idea that anyone might consider her beautiful. To Finn, that made her even more so.
“You were always fancy on the inside,” he told her affectionately. He sank onto the middle step and motioned for her to join him. All the windows in Maribel’s apartment were closed tight to keep the air-conditioning inside, but the glow of the lights through the sheer curtains backlit the tiny front garden, and the sounds of music and beer-buzzed laughter seeped outside in muffled waves. “George on the road again?”
“And miss your engagement party? No way.” She smiled. “He’s just parking in the garage. He let me off at the corner. The price of a pair of high heels is not necessarily proportionate to their comfort level, as it turns out.”
“Good,” he said. “Please be sure to tell Maribel. If she tested that theory even once, it would drain the rest of my savings.”
Caitlin laughed. “So the rumors are true?”
“I guess that depends on what the rumors are.”
She spread open her hand and started counting off her fingertips. “Let’s see, you got laid off, booked a bunch of really promising job interviews, canceled all of them when Maribel got offered a job in Asheville, and are planning to start your own freelance business down there. Oh, and I suppose the proposal came somewhere in between.”
A low, full August moon was just making its way over the top of the jarringly modern office building that stood between the historic apartments and the river. Out of habit, Finn looked up to see the stars, but could spot none through the haze of the city’s own glow. In Asheville, the stars were uncommonly bright, almost close enough to touch. In a few short weeks, they’d be there, unpacking the first-floor studio space and the second-floor living space in the Victorian house they’d rented. “Hang out a shingle,” Maribel had said, pointing to the front porch, and then, lifting her arm up triumphantly to the terrace above it, “mix and mingle!”
“The rumors are true,” he conceded.
“I’m so happy for you.” She gave a little tug on his arm until their shoulders bumped in a brotherly way, then abruptly let go. “But I’m so sad you’re leaving! We’ve hardly seen you at all lately. We feel like we’ve already been missing you.”