“But that’s crazy, Rick. Belinda will be sitting pretty in a matter of weeks.”
“She stays.”
“Then who?”
He pulled in a breath, but his gaze never wavered from hers. “You.”
Libby opened her mouth to respond, but the words refused to form on her lips.
“Come on, Lib, it’s the most plausible plan and you know it. You’re going to quit anyway.”
She heard what Rick was saying, but it was as if he was speaking another language. Her knees turned to jelly, and Libby dropped into the closest chair. “I have no plans to quit. I never did. I took this job when you needed extra help. I’ve been good for the firm.”
“And you’ve got the place running like clockwork. I’m grateful. But, come on, let’s be honest. You also know that you’ve got something of a pattern. You know, a reputation?”
He smiled at her the way she’d seen him smile at Meghan when their daughter didn’t understand her math homework. As if the truth was staring her right in the face and if she looked a little harder she was bound to see it.
“You quit law school,” he said.
“Ancient history.” It was, and so ridiculous Libby nearly laughed. Until she realized that Rick wasn’t kidding. “I quit law school because of you,” she said, reminding him though she shouldn’t have had to. “We both couldn’t afford to stay in school. And let’s face it, we all say it isn’t real, but that glass ceiling does exist. We knew your income would outpace mine eventually. Besides, I wouldn’t have had to quit if your father had paid for your schooling. If you two hadn’t been going at each other like cats and dogs—”
“We wouldn’t have been going at each other like cats and dogs if I hadn’t been dating you. I gave up—”
“What?” Libby rose and looked around the office with its to-die-for view and expensive furnishing. “Looks like you and Daddy kissed and made up.”
“Yeah, but not until I had a degree. One I paid for myself.”
“You mean one I paid for. I gave up my dream of being an attorney. For you.”
“You quit.”
As if he’d slapped her, Libby stepped back, but before she could argue, Rick continued. “You quit your book discussion group.”
“Oh, come on, that’s not even in the same ballpark. Besides, that was because I took the job here!”
“You quit your yoga class.”
“When Meghan needed more appointments at the orthodontist.”
“You quit everything, Lib. Eventually you’d walk out on the firm, too.”
A tear slipped down Libby’s cheek. She remembered the phone call he’d been on when she’d walked into his office. “Something’s going on. You’re not acting like yourself. If it’s my idea that we lay off Belinda—”
“Belinda is…” Rick’s voice broke. He cleared his throat. “As a matter of fact, that was Belinda on the phone. Belinda and I…well, I know you’ll be happy for me. Someday, when you have time to think about it. We’ve been meaning to tell you, but the time’s never been right. And now…” His gaze flickered away. “Belinda and I were planning on getting married anyway, but now…well, we’re going to need to accelerate our plans. That’s why she called, you see. To tell me she’s having my baby.”
CHAPTER 2
“All right, you saw it. Can we get out of here now, Mommy? Please!”
At the sound of the pleading voice, Libby jerked to awareness. She looked away from the ramshackle building that had held her attention since she’d gotten out of the car and glanced to her left, where Meghan had a firm hold on the sleeve of her black cotton cardigan.
At fourteen, Meghan was way past calling her “Mommy.” Except when she wanted something. The something she wanted now was all too apparent, and as Libby had been doing for the past couple months, she wavered about making a decision as to what to do about it. She had never been the indecisive type before—at least not before Rick caused her world to crumble and her self-esteem to plunge—and the very act of hesitating only made her feel less self-assured. She knew Meghan would pick right up on the weakness and Libby braced herself. No doubt her daughter would be all over her in a second.
“Mommy, come on.” Meghan tugged her toward the silver Subaru. “If we leave now, maybe nobody will know we were ever here.”
As arguments went, it wasn’t the most convincing.
Libby glanced around at the city neighborhood where the buildings stood so close together they might as well have been sided with Velcro. The main street had small businesses interspersed between houses, bars and art galleries. In the few minutes she and Meghan had been standing there staring at the building with the faded sign over the front door that declared it Barb’s Knits, they had yet to see one other person come or go at either the bakery on the right or the beauty shop on the left. And, of course, no one was shopping at Barb’s Knits these days; the store had been closed for nearly a year.
Always conciliatory, Libby offered her daughter a smile even though she knew it would be met with a sneer. “Honestly, honey, I don’t think you have to worry about being seen at the wrong time or in the wrong place. It’s early and things are pretty quiet around here. There’s not much chance of anybody seeing us. Look over there.” She pointed toward a scrappy German shepherd who was eyeballing them from the park across the street. “Looks like he’s the welcoming committee, and my guess is he’s not going to tell anybody.”
“It’s creepy.” Meghan shivered inside the pink hoodie Libby had bought her at the Gap for her last birthday. “The whole place looks like something out of a Stephen King movie. Look at it!” Her top lip curled, Meghan glanced around the perimeter of the park. For Libby, the old neighborhood had a certain appeal. It was anchored by an imposing church, dotted with park benches, bus stops and coffee houses. Except for Barb’s Knits—a little seedier than its neighbors and, surprisingly, a little embarrassing because of it—the surrounding shops had the solid feel that bright, new suburban stores never could. Pride of ownership was reflected in everything from the brightly colored and graphically appealing signs to the window boxes planted with summer annuals. Thinking about the generations of people who had put their blood, sweat and tears into the neighborhood and the new generation that worked just as hard to maintain it, Libby felt a sense of belonging. She was part of that new generation now. She had to live up to the promise of the neighborhood and those who had rescued it from melting into urban decay.
It was a scary thought. And exhilarating, too. None of which meant she didn’t sympathize with Meghan.
Like most kids her age, Meghan had been raised to think of the mall as the only place to shop; the bright and the new were all that mattered. Looking back on it now, Libby realized she should have introduced her daughter to the world beyond the confines of their upper-middle-class suburb long before her life—and her marriage—had been pulled out from under her. Whose fault was it that Meghan had seen little of downtown Pittsburgh other than the Science Center, PNC Park, where the Pirates played, and the view from
