Caitlin reached her oversized cubicle and plopped down her bag, a large Louis Vuitton that George had given her last Christmas, and that she’d unintentionally and yet inevitably abused by accumulating a mess of Goldfish cracker crumbs and dried-up hand-wipes that formed a layer along the silk bottom beneath the stuff she was actually meant to be toting around in a designer purse. She turned on her cute purple mini-Keurig—another gift from George, though he would have cringed if she’d dared to bring the thing into their stainless-steel-and-gray-granite kitchen—and booted up her computer.
Even George—perhaps especially George—did not really understand why she felt the need to keep this job when he easily made enough money to give her and the kids anything they could want. Not to mention the trust his parents had set up for him, the sole heir of the Bryce-Daniels legacy. It was rewarding to be the brainchild behind so many fund-raisers, and she did love event planning, but not as much as she let on. There was no way to explain to George that she found the prospect of being one hundred percent dependent on him so terrifying that the fear got her through the aching good-byes at the day care four mornings a week. The nonprofit was modest but well loved—it helped provide after-school programs in art and music for schools that had lost their arts funding—and George had to admit that her involvement wouldn’t hurt their image if and when he decided to follow in his father’s footsteps and run for office. So she’d dropped down to a reduced schedule as a compromise after the boys were born. Her assistant, Tim, was sharp enough to fill in the rest. The only loss at work she’d truly suffered was her glass-walled office; employees who were not technically full time could not take up the limited spaces available with actual doors that closed. And so she’d been sent out to pasture in the cubicle farm.
“You’re back!” Tim had gossip in his eyes as he made himself at home in the guest chair positioned across from her desk. “How’s Violet? Oh my God. You have to tell me.”
Tim knew Violet from the few times she’d popped into the office with Bear to see Caitlin at lunch, and from the big annual Christmas party George and Caitlin threw for everyone they knew. He loved her, as much as anyone can love someone else he doesn’t actually know that well. Everyone loved Violet in that way, really. Still, Tim had once confided to Caitlin that he made a point of staying on top of office gossip “to fit in with the other secretaries”—no one was supposed to call them that, but if they said it themselves, so be it—since he was the only nonfemale with the job title in the office. As if they wouldn’t all have been lining up to have a fun, gorgeous, young gay friend anyway.
Caitlin shot him a look. Of course the fact that she’d taken time off unexpectedly to go help a friend whose husband seemed to have left her and kidnapped their child—in the midst of their vacation—would send ripples of chatter and speculation around. But she wasn’t going to add to the displaced pain and guilt she already felt by humoring Tim with fuel for the fire.
“She’s awful,” she told him. “Devastated. Obviously.”
“Oh my God. Obviously.”
He leaned forward for more, but Caitlin just rotated her desk chair to type in her login and password, then turned back to him and pulled a face. “I don’t want to know how many e-mails I have waiting for me. I didn’t check my in-box even once.”
She could see him masking his disappointment at the change of subject. “You? Not at all? Impressive.”
“Well, I don’t know why it made me so nervous, but the fact that the FBI had to have been monitoring their Wi-Fi—” Damn it. She hadn’t meant to bring the topic back.
“The FBI? Oh my God.”
There was a collective sighing of power strips and overhead air vents as the electricity blinked out. Caitlin said a silent thank-you to the storm.
Tim cursed under his breath. Somewhere along the line, he’d been designated as the guy to deal with these sorts of issues—assessing snow emergency levels for early dismissals during the winter, calling in the fire department for wayward alarms, reporting dollars and coins eaten by the vending machine—probably because he was, in fact, the only nonfemale in the office with his administrative job title. “I’ll call Duke Energy. Or the building manager. Or whoever the hell I’m supposed to call.” He took his cell out of his pocket and vanished from Caitlin’s space as quickly as he’d arrived.
By the time he came back, the storm had passed and the office was full, everyone milling around grumbling and fiddling with their cell phones. Caitlin could pick out the ones who didn’t have anything important to do that day and were excited by the power outage, and the ones who were starting to border on panic. She probably should have been in the latter camp, but since she hadn’t opened her e-mail yet, she figured ignorance was bliss.
“Listen up, people,” Tim announced, cupping his hands around his mouth. “They don’t think they’re going to have it back on for hours. Maybe the whole day. Half the township is out. I called the building manager, and he recommended we close the office.”
The crowd disbursed with remarkable speed. Caitlin gathered up some paperwork from her desktop, mainly just for show. A day with the kids after nearly a week away—what an unexpected gift! She glanced at her watch. They’d just be starting circle time—their favorite part of the morning. And George hadn’t kept up too well with the groceries while she was gone. She suspected the twins had had more than their fill of pizza. Maybe she should hit the grocery store first. She could stock up on the basics, swing by home to unload, maybe throw in some laundry for good measure, and then go get the kids. They ate lunch early, around eleven, and she figured she could get there right beforehand. If the sun made an appearance by then, maybe they could hit a drive-thru and set up camp at a picnic table next to their favorite playground at Ault Park. It wouldn’t be crowded on a weekday—they’d be thrilled to have the run of the place without having to take turns on the steering wheels or stand in line for the swirly slide.
Caitlin felt almost guilty about planning the day with her boys when Violet was stuck wondering if she’d ever see Bear again. She hoped Violet knew that if she still lived next door, Caitlin would be there for her every moment that she needed someone. But Violet’s home was six hours away now, and she knew as well as Caitlin did that once you became a mom, kids came first. No matter how tragic everything else might sometimes seem.
*
Caitlin was unloading a ridiculous amount of shredded cheese and yogurt into her fridge—the boys ate it as fast as she could buy it—when she heard something upstairs. A sort of scuffling. She froze, acutely aware of her body’s fight-or-flight response in action. The muscles in her neck tensed and her heart hurried its pace as she strained to hear. Had she imagined it?