Frank reached over to the counter for a pen and notepad that sat by the phone. He did some doodling with one hand, drank from the mug with the other.
“Lots of customers today?” he asked her. He never called them clients or patients.
“It’s the weekend, Dad. But I wanted to talk to you about something.”
“What’s that?”
“It’s not a good idea for you to be chatting with the people who come to see me.”
Frank looked puzzled. “When do I do that?”
“Not often, it’s true. But the other day, you were talking to this one patient. Gavin?”
Frank struggled to remember. “Uh, maybe.”
“You were about to tie up your shoes?”
“If you say so, Joanie.”
“It’s just . . . he’s not the kind of person you want to become familiar with.”
“Why’s that?”
She had been giving a lot of thought to Gavin ever since she’d found her laptop closed. Maybe she was mistaken. Maybe she had closed it before he’d arrived for his appointment, but she hadn’t been wrong about seeing him behind her desk. Had he been looking in her computer and, when he’d heard her coming, closed it, out of reflex? And only remembered it had been open when it was too late to do anything about it?
She shook her head, ignoring her father’s question. “It’s just best if you do not engage with my clients.”
Still doodling, he said, “Speaking of engaged.”
“Dad.”
“Come on, sweetheart, we need to talk about this. I’m dragging you down. We can’t go on like this. I moved in to help you, and now you’re the one helping me.”
“Everything’s fine here.”
“Remember that cartoon where Bugs Bunny’s up against Blacque Jacque Shellacque?”
“Uh . . .”
“Anyway, Jacque wants Bugs’s bag of gold, but Bugs gives him a bag of gunpowder with a hole cut out of the bottom. The gunpowder leaves a trail, which Bugs lights, and blows up Jacque.”
“I don’t remember that one.”
“Well, it doesn’t matter. The thing is, my mind is that bag of gunpowder. A little leaking out every day. Pretty soon that bag’ll be empty. You need to find a place for me. You need to start looking.”
“Stop it, Dad.”
He tore off the sheet of paper he’d been doodling on and handed it to his daughter. “There you go.”
It was a poodle, done cartoon-style, with a face that looked remarkably like Anna’s. Frank smiled, waiting for her approval.
“That’s quite something,” she said. “But my tail doesn’t look like that.”
Frank stared out the window for several seconds, then turned back to look at her. “I think I might hit some balls around in the backyard.”
And we’re out, Anna thought.
But wait.
He patted her hand and smiled. “What point is there in keeping me around now?”
She felt a constriction in her throat. “Because I love you, Dad.”
“You need to get over that,” he said, pushing back his chair. He grabbed his mug and left the kitchen.
Anna sat there, picked up the drawing of her as a poodle, looked at it, then got up and went to the counter. She opened a drawer and tucked the sketch in with several hundred others.
Nine
Paul stopped doing some online research when he heard the front door open and his son, Josh, shout: “Dad!”
Paul exited his office and headed for the top of the stairs in time to meet his son. He knew better than to expect a huge hug. Josh, backpack slung over his shoulder, gave his father the briefest of embraces and ran to the fridge.
“How was the train?” Paul asked.
Josh found a can of Pepsi, popped it, and said, “It was good. Mom went right down to the platform with me to watch me get on.” He rolled his eyes. “I’m not a kid. I’m almost ten. I’ve taken the train before.”
“She can’t help it. She’s a mom.”
Josh shrugged, then said, “Charlotte got you something. She wouldn’t let me put my bag in the trunk when she picked me up in case I saw it.”
Charlotte had reached the top of the stairs. “No blabbing!”
“I don’t even know what it is,” Josh said, taking a drink.
“Just one of those a day,” Paul said, pointing to the can. “You don’t need all that sugar.”
Josh displayed the can. “It’s diet.”
“Oh,” Paul said, then to Charlotte, “What did you get me? Is this the thing you mentioned the other day?”
She smiled devilishly. “I want you and Josh to take a walk. Go down to the beach. Give me five.”
Paul exchanged glances with Josh. “I guess we’re getting kicked out.”
Paul and Josh descended the steps, went out the front door, and rounded the house to reach the beach. The wind coming in off the sound was crisp and cool, but the midday sun cut the need for a jacket. It was early June, and the temperatures had been below average for this time of year. The water would have to warm up a lot before Josh would want to go in.
“How’s your mom?” Paul asked.
“Fine.”
“And Walter?”
Josh’s stepfather.
Josh looked for a stone to throw into the water. “He’s okay.” He paused. “I like it in the city. There’s tons to do.”
“Okay,” Paul said. It wasn’t that he wanted his son to be miserable in Manhattan with his mother and stepdad. He wanted nothing but happiness for the boy. But it pained him some to think Josh had to endure the boring Connecticut suburbs to spend time with him.
“Walter’s always getting free tickets to stuff, like baseball games and shows and stuff. In fact . . .”
“In fact what?”
Josh glanced up warily at his father. “Walter got tickets to tomorrow afternoon’s Knicks game.”
“Great. I hope he and your mom have fun.”
“But so, like, they’re going to pick me up tomorrow morning. I’d have taken the train but Walter’s got some client in Darien he wants to see in person before heading back. So I’m just here for one night. Maybe I wasn’t supposed to tell you. Mom talked it over with Charlotte. She’s probably going to tell you after she gives you your surprise.”
“Maybe that’s the surprise,” Paul said grimly. He shook his head slowly, feeling the irritation build. This definitely should have been discussed with him. He was expecting to spend the entire weekend with his son. But he didn’t want to take his anger out on Josh. He patted him on the back and said, “We’ll sort it out.”
“But I can go, right?” Josh asked. “I’ve only been to one other NBA game and I really liked it.”
Paul suddenly felt very tired. He glanced at his watch. “I think it’s been five minutes,” he said.
_________________
WHEN THEY GOT BACK TO THE KITCHEN, PAUL IMMEDIATELY NOTICED his office door was closed. Charlotte stood before it, a smug look on her face, but it broke when she saw Paul’s expression.
“What?” she asked. “You don’t look happy.”
“Did you know Josh was going back tomorrow?” he asked.
“Hailey mentioned it when she emailed me about when Josh’s train would arrive.”
“You couldn’t have told me?”
She crossed her arms and waited a beat. “Maybe this isn’t a good time.”
Josh’s face fell. “We’re not doing the surprise?”
Charlotte stared at Paul. “It’s your dad’s call.”
Paul looked at Josh, quickly sized up the disappointment in his face, and tamped down the anger he’d been feeling. “Sorry,” he said. “Surprise me.”
“Is it in there?” Josh asked. He looked ready to charge into the small study.
“Stay right there, buster,” Charlotte said. Her look softened as she said to her husband, “I wanted to get something to inspire you as you . . .” She looked at Josh and decided against getting into all the details. “I wanted to celebrate your moving forward.”
Paul smiled with curiosity. “Okay.”
She aimed her thumb at the door. “Go on in.”
Josh said, “Can I open it?”
“Yeah, okay,” Paul said. To Charlotte: “Should I close my eyes?”
She shook her head.
Josh turned the knob and pushed the door open.
Sitting on the desk, beside the closed laptop and hidden beneath a tea towel adorned with Christmas trees, was something the size of a football helmet, although far less rounded.
“So it’s a Christmas present,” Paul said.
Charlotte shrugged. “It was the biggest dish towel I had, and it was too awkward to wrap properly. Take a guess.”