“Shit, who would?” I said. I closed the door and indicated one of my kitchen stools. “Why don’t you have a seat?”
She peeled off her pea coat and took a quick look around, uncertain where to put it. I took it and draped it over a captain’s chair. Even with the stress of her condition, she was beautiful, blue-eyed, dark-haired, skin like cream. She and Jonah shared the same striking coloring. I felt a seismic shift in my attitude. Whatever her failings, she’d managed to bring Camilla Robb to her knees. Score one for the home team. We were, after all, blood kin.
She perched on a kitchen stool, leaned forward, stretched her arms across the counter, and placed her cheek against the cool surface. “Can I talk you into pouring me a glass of wine?”
“Absolutely not.”
“I’m open to anything. Drano?”
“I’ll heat water for a cup of tea.”
“Decaffeinated, if you have it. I’m trying to be good about this until I decide what to do.”
“I thought maybe you’d already done it.”
“I’m keeping my options open.”
“Hey, wait a minute. Didn’t I see you nursing a gin and tonic Tuesday night?”
“That was soda with lime. Jonah paid for it.”
“Well, that’s better.”
I took my teakettle from the stovetop and filled it with tap water, then set it on a burner that I turned to high. I took out the box of tea bags and the sugar bowl, along with two mugs. My carton of milk was only two weeks old and it still smelled okay. “What’s Jonah’s attitude?” I asked.
“Keep it, of course. So far nobody knows but him and Cheney and now you.”
“What about the crowd at Rosie’s?”
“People at the party think it’s you.”
“Camilla doesn’t. Surely Jonah’s corrected her by now.”
“I haven’t talked to him. He’s off driving the family home. Well, not her. She brought her own car.”
I couldn’t see the relevance of the transportation arrangements, but in moments of crisis, we tend to focus on the mundane or the irrelevant.
She lifted her head and propped her chin in her palm. “I hope I can count on you to keep the news to yourself.”
“Don’t be ridiculous. I’m telling Henry the first chance I get.”
“Crap. He’ll tell William and then Rosie will find out.”
“What difference does it make? You’re pregnant regardless. That’s the issue you have to address.”
“I am addressing it. Sort of.”
We listened to the churning gravel sound of water coming to a boil.
“How far along are you?”
“Fifteen weeks.”
“So that’s what, three months?”
“Coming up on four.”
“If you’re thinking to terminate, that’s pushing it.”
“Big time,” she said.
“Well, I sympathize.”
“You do?”
“Not a bit. I thought it sounded good.”
I put a tea bag in each mug. “What went wrong? You’re too smart to get caught out like this.”
“It’s not my fault. Remember over the summer when we were all sick as dogs? I had that bout of bronchitis I couldn’t shake. I went through two different courses of antibiotics, which nobody mentioned could offset the effectiveness of birth control pills.”
“News to me. I’ll keep that in mind.”
“Turns out it’s not true. I asked the doctor and she says it’s nothing but an old wives’ tale.”
“So this was just your dumb luck? You’re on the pill and get pregnant anyway?”
She made a face. “Uh, not quite. I was taking Saint-John’s-wort. It’s an herbal remedy that’s sold as a supplement.”
“Remedy for what?”
“Depression.”
“I didn’t know you were depressed.”
“Well, I am now.”
“Why would a doctor prescribe Saint-John’s-wort? That seems weird.”
“Not a doctor. The woman working at the health food store.”
“Oh, good for you. A specialist.”
“Well, she acted like she knew what she was talking about. I told her I was anxious and tired and had no appetite. I wasn’t sleeping well, either. Maybe two or three hours a night. She said it sounded like depression and I should pick up a bottle of Saint-John’s-wort. Now I find out if you’re taking it, you’re supposed to use backup birth control . . . you know, like a condom or something, just to be safe.”
“It didn’t occur to you a supplement might have negative side effects?”
“Kinsey, it’s organic. It’s not like a drug company manufactures it. The plant grows in meadows and on roadsides. It’s completely natural.”
“So are death cap mushrooms and oleander leaves.”
“You said you wouldn’t criticize.”
“I never said that. You did.”
I poured the sputtering hot water into each mug. We dunked our tea bags up and down.
She said, “So what should I do?”
“That’s up to you.”
“Don’t be a butt about it.”
“I’m not going to tell you what to do!”
“All right, fine. Be that way. What would you do in my place?”
“How do I know? There are choices you make in theory, based on principle, but when it comes right down to it, who knows what any of us would do? I’ll tell you one thing: whatever decision you make, you’re going to have to live with it every day for the rest of your life.”
“Shit, I’m sorry I asked.”
Having exhausted the topic, we finished our tea and then I walked her the three houses down to Moza’s and bid her good-night. I returned to my studio, enacted my nightly ritual of security measures, and went to bed shortly thereafter. I didn’t expect to sleep. There was too much emotional turmoil in the air.
? ? ?
I was wakened by the telephone ringing. My first reaction was irritation, thinking I’d just that moment dozed off. I glanced at the clock, which read 7:22. I realized it was Saturday morning and the call was cutting short my opportunity to hibernate until noon.
I picked up the handset and managed a croaky hello while trying to sound like I was wide awake. I don’t know why we’re all in denial about being hauled abruptly out of a sound sleep when it’s the other person’s fault.
“Kinsey, this is Lauren.”
I rubbed a hand across my eyes. “Oh, hi. What’s up?”
I really wasn’t all that happy to hear from her and if I’d known what was coming, I’d have felt even worse.
“We got a call last night from Troy Rademaker,” she said, as though our lives were peopled with countless other Troys. “He says you showed up at his door yesterday accusing him—along with Bayard and Fritz, I might add—of lying when they claimed the sex tape was just a hoax.”
“That’s pretty much the case.”
“I don’t think so, dear,” she said in a withering tone. “Pretty much the case is you’re fired.”
She slammed down the handset.