he used the short commute back to the city to plan for the next day, but now Matt’s mind was swirling with thoughts of the immediate future—his mother’s, Rosie’s and even his. By the time he turned onto his mother’s street in Pilsen, Matt figured his heart rate was way too high for a healthy thirty-seven-year-old man. He paused outside the bungalow he’d helped his mother purchase after Rosie’s diagnosis. Last summer, he and Sandro had built the ramp and installed grab bars throughout the house when it seemed her condition might deteriorate. Matt took a deep breath, knowing he’d have to hide his anxiety from his mother, and went inside.
Esperanza was standing at the stove, stirring the pot of posole, while Rosie sat at the table slicing corn bread. She smiled up at him as he entered the small room.
“Hey, punk,” Matt said, tousling her hair.
Rosie pushed his hand away and grinned up at him. “Hope you’re hungry. Ma made enough for—”
“The proverbial army?”
“As always.”
“Leftovers tomorrow and no cooking. What’s there to complain about?” scolded Esperanza as she ladled out bowls of the soup.
They ate quickly, with no mention of the test results. Matt knew his mother wouldn’t spoil their enjoyment of a good meal with serious talk.
The posole was as delicious as always and Matt felt no compunction about taking a container of it home. Rosie shooed them out of the kitchen, insisting on cleaning up. If she could still commute downtown every day for her job, albeit sometimes by special transit or taxi, she could do dishes.
Matt followed his mother into the small living room and sat beside her on the sofa. She took his hand, looked him in the eye and said, without a quaver in her voice, “It’s breast cancer, but stage two. So not to worry, everything will be all right.”
He stared at her, his hand gripping hers as he waited for his breath to return. He tried to speak but she stopped him.
“I’m tired, Mati. It’s been a long day and I need some time to let all this sink in. You and I...and yes, Rosie...will talk on the weekend. Okay?” She patted his cheek with her free hand. “Go home now. I know it’s been a long day for you, too.”
“Mom—”
“Shhh. I know you love me. I know you’ll do whatever you have to whenever you have to.” She released him, stood up and headed for the kitchen.
Matt sat for a moment longer, waiting for his vision to clear, then took his soup from the hallway table and quietly left the house. He didn’t trust himself to go back into the kitchen. When he got into his car, he lowered his head onto the steering wheel and wept.
Much later that night, when he finally surrendered any hope of sleep, he thought of that day. Of the girl. She popped into his head, the way she had off and on over the years, as a blur of images. A scream. A figure flying. He couldn’t recall her face, but he’d never forgotten her eyes, the terror in them. Sometimes he wondered, What if? What if that day hadn’t happened? What if he hadn’t done what he did? Most of all, what if he’d turned back? Gone to her and found out her name.
One month later
DANA DRIED HER hands on the folded terry cloth square and dropped it into the wicker basket beneath the sink. She ran her fingertips around the waistband of her gray linen skirt, checking that her white silk blouse was tidily tucked inside, and devoted another few seconds to the mirror, turning her head from side to side. Any potential stray wisps of her naturally curly hair were firmly in place, tightly wound into the small chignon at the base of her neck. She reached into her purse on the marble vanity for her tube of concealer and applied another coating to the dark circles beneath her eyes. A touch of lipstick followed by one last study of her reflection and she was set.
She cast one last glance at Mega Corps’s executive washroom before exiting into the hallway leading to the boardroom. As she reached the door, the CEO’s executive assistant called out, “Miss Sothern? I’m about to get the refreshments for the coffee break. What beverage can I get you?”
Dana hesitated. Another coffee might rev her up too much. “Mineral water, if you have it, please. Tap will do otherwise.”
“All right. The group has withdrawn to the lounge in Mr. Arnold’s suite.” The assistant tilted her head to the door adjacent to her boss’s office.
Dana pursed her lips. This was supposed to have been a short break, not a gathering that, fueled by food and drink, would most certainly extend to lunchtime and beyond. No doubt it was a ploy by Arnold to delay the negotiations. She gave a silent oath, assumed a neutral facial expression and walked past the assistant’s desk to the lounge. A rumble of male voices greeted her as she entered the room on the fiftieth floor of the former John Hancock Center.
Her client Harold Arnold had managed to befriend the executive officer of Addison Manufacturing, the company Mega Corps intended to buy. Addison Manufacturing had recently released a new product which so far had failed to wow the market. If shares in the company didn’t rally, Arnold’s negotiating price would change. By stalling the agreement, Dana knew he was hoping to get the lowest possible price. And since Sothern and Davis, Mega Corps’s lawyers, would also take a cut of their percentage, Dana had been instructed to nail down the terms today.
Which wasn’t going to happen, she realized. The gathered businessmen were holding flutes of champagne. She dug her fingernails into her palms, quelling her irritation. Arnold was the most unlikable client she’d ever represented, and she just wanted to get the deal signed. Then she planned to hand Mega Corps’s file over to Ken Patel, another lawyer at her father’s firm.
“Dana!” Harold Arnold called out from the bar, where he was filling glasses. “Come and get a glass.”
She bit her lip and headed his way. “No coffee?”
“This is so much more fun, isn’t it? And it’s not even noon yet.”
“Are we reconvening after lunch?”
“What do you think?” he laughed and held up a glass for her.
“No, thanks, Harold. I should get back to the office.”
His face fell. “I thought you’d join me for lunch. Just the two of us. We can go over the last few details.”
Dana wondered if her shudder had been obvious. “I was hoping we could finish up today, Harold. Get the papers ready to be signed tomorrow.”
“Plenty of time,” he said, waving a dismissive hand. He reluctantly set the champagne flute onto the tray.
“Guess you decided to celebrate first?”
His mouth twitched at the edge in her voice. “Why not? It’s a done deal, isn’t it?”
He was right. Addison Manufacturing was in trouble and would sign, if not today then soon. Dana nodded. “Sure. Okay then. We’ll talk.” She turned on her high heel and walked toward the door, opening it as Harold’s assistant was about to enter with a tray of pastries and coffee.
After retrieving her suit jacket and briefcase, Dana took the elevator down to the ground floor and considered her options. She did have other work to do, but she wasn’t expected back until tomorrow
