A Nearly Perfect Copy (45 page)

“We’ll leave it there if you agree to resign, effective immediately.”

Elm nodded as the tears started flowing down her cheeks. These were silent tears, tears of regret, not anger. She could say nothing to defend herself. Greer was right, horribly right. She had put the entire auction house in jeopardy. Her great-grandfather was really rolling around in his grave. But how had Greer found out about the drawings she sold through Relay, if these were the dealings to which he was referring? Ian must have told him. He was the only one who knew about her relationship with Relay. But why would he do that to her?

“I’ll try to protect you from the law,” Greer said, “but I want you to have nothing more to do with the auction house.”

“Yes,” she said. What hurt most right now, besides her fear, was that Greer, after acting superior to her in every way for years, did occupy that space now. As vile as he was, as mean and as hypocritical and as condescending, he had the moral hegemony that Elm could only dream about, a rightness she would never, ever recover.

“But, Elm,” Greer said as he stood to go, his face even redder now than it was when he walked in. “I don’t understand. Why?”

Elm thought. “None of your fucking business,” she said.

In May, Moira and Colin left for Ireland so Colin could start his new job. Elm moved back into their apartment. It had once felt so small—a two-bedroom with four people living in it, all sharing one bathroom and one small living room; now it was an empty mansion. Colin had packed quickly; in their closet errant socks and summer clothing sat where they’d fallen.

Every morning Elm Skyped with Moira. “How’s Ireland, honey?”

“I’ve been here before, ’member?”

“I know, silly goose, but how do you like it there now?”

“Good. When are you coming?”

“As soon as the baby’s born and old enough to travel, pumpkin.” Actually, nothing had been worked out. Colin’s parents agreed to pick Moira up from school and take care of her while he worked. It was a perfect arrangement, and the fact that it didn’t include Elm broke her heart.

Moira sighed, then got distracted by something away from the webcam. She skipped out of view for a minute, then came back, fiddling with one of her dolls whose miniature plastic clothes were always getting lost.

“Have you made any friends at school?” Elm asked.

“Yeah, there’s this girl, her name is Siobhan. She’s nice. She has really really blond hair.”

“Good. I can’t wait to meet her.” Elm hoped that Moira would attribute the crack in her voice to the imperfect wireless connection.

“She has a little brother too. And, Mom?”

“Yes,” Elm said.

“It’s raining here.”

“It’s raining here too, sweetie.”

“But not the same rain?”

“No, sweetie. I think it’s different rain.”

Colin came up behind her. He looked different on the webcam, elongated, disproportionate. “Go on and wash your teeth,” he said. Moira left without argument or good-bye.

“Hi,” Colin said.

“Hi,” Elm replied.

“Rain here too,” Colin said.

“It
is
Ireland.”

“Nothing?”

“Nope. I still have two weeks until I’m even full-term.”

There was a long silence. Colin looked at his shoes. Elm wished she could reach her own feet to rub them.

“Elm?” Colin said.

“Yes?”

“I’m scared.”

“Me too,” Elm admitted. “I’m terrified.” She wasn’t sure they were speaking of the same fear, but Elm didn’t want to pry; she wanted to let this small moment of agreement last for as long as it could.

Elm had thought Ian would come by with the contents of her office. Then she assumed he’d call to see how she was. She was upset at his silence, even as she didn’t really blame him.

Finally, he came to see her bearing a large box of chocolates that sat uneaten on the coffee table between them. He was telling her some story that she wasn’t really trying to follow, about someone from facilities who took it upon himself to talk up some buyers on the floor last week.

“Don’t worry,” he said, noticing her inattention. “The gossip will die down.”

Elm smiled, a dissimulation so phony she didn’t even convince Ian. In the past few weeks she’d received letters from both charitable organizations she worked with thanking her for her help up to now and wishing her good luck in her future endeavors. The museum on whose board she sat suddenly reorganized its trustees. Elm was not on the new list. The gossip would never die down, Elm knew. Even if there was no criminal prosecution.

“Did you tell Greer about Relay?”

Ian shook his head. “No. Elm, how can you think that?”

“I don’t know, sorry,” she said. “I’m just paranoid. Then who …” As soon as the words left her mouth she realized exactly who it was who ratted her out to Greer. How could she have been so clueless? Colette had brought her Klinman. She would have known all along. To think that Elm had been played by that—she didn’t even like to say the word in her own mind—cunt.
Played
was the correct word. Toyed with. Colette would take her job. Elm thought about confronting her, storming into Greer’s office to unveil the real Colette, maybe even telling the police about her. But that would do neither Elm nor Ian any good, and could have disastrous effects. Elm and Colette were mutually incriminated. As long as one didn’t speak the other one wouldn’t either.

“Oh, Elm,” Ian said, sighing. He waited a long time before speaking, looking out her window. “Who’s going with you to the hospital?”

“No one, I guess,” she said. She’d been thinking about it, but there was no one to ask. It wasn’t the kind of thing you asked casual friends, and really, that’s all she had in the world besides Colin, friends by convenience and lack of effort, not true friends. Ian would have been that friend if she hadn’t gambled him away.

“Will they even let you do that?”

“They’ll have to.” Elm shrugged. “I suppose it happens.…”

“I just don’t understand how Colin could be that angry to leave you.”

“It’s complicated,” she said. “I mean, yeah, he’s angry, but he also got a really great job, and Moira’s all settled. And it’s not like the Celtic Tiger waits for people to have their babies.”

Ian gave a tiger growl. “That always sounds like a drag name to me. ‘Onstage next, the mistress of mischief, Miss Celtic Tiger.’ ”

Elm laughed.

“And then.” It was a statement.

“Pardon?” she said.

“And then you’re moving to Ireland.”

“Yes.”

Elm watched Ian’s face screw up into anger and then release into a prim-mouth unhappiness.

“When will they announce your resignation?”

“After the baby, I assume. I’ll stay home for more family time. I’m sorry, Ian. It’s not that I don’t, I mean, I want to, but I have to …”

“I get it,” Ian said. “You know that without you I probably won’t stay long at Tinsley’s.”

“I’m sure that’s not true. I’ll write a letter before I leave.”

“No offense, Elm, but that might hurt the cause. You’re not exactly persona grata there.”

“You’ll be fine,” Elm said. Was she convincing herself or him?

“I know I’ll be fine,” he said. “I’m always fine.”

“What do you want me to do?” Elm asked. “Stay here for your sake? Not go try to patch things up with my husband and raise our daughter and new baby? I should get rid of my family to make sure that you have a job?” Elm’s voice was rising. She was angry, but as she spoke it simply sounded whiny.

“No,” Ian said. “Don’t be an idiot. I just wish that for once, just once in my life, I was someone’s biggest consideration.”

“I’m sorry,” Elm said.

“And
not
the object of someone’s pity.”

“Besides your own, of course.”

Ian smiled. “Besides my own. Elm, there’s something about you that makes everyone risk themselves to help you, a risk that you would never, ever even consider making in return.”

“That’s a harsh thing to say,” Elm said. Tears sprang to her eyes.

Ian shrugged, not taking it back. “Good luck. I hope …” He let the thought trail off.

She waited until she was sure they were actual contractions and not just indigestion, and then she took a bath, asking her back to relax. In the tub she rubbed her belly, amazed that at some point in the near future she and Ronan would be two separate people again.

She toweled off and sat on the toilet. When she stood, there was a plug of mucus and blood, shiny in the light. A calm settled over her. She felt clearly the air going in through her mouth, traveling through her lungs, and then back out. She would see him again, so soon, and it would be like letting go of a breath she’d held for years, the uncramping of a clenched muscle.

Soon, she told herself. Soon she’d be looking into Ronan’s eyes; she’d have necromanced her son into rebirth. And in the face of that, compared with that eventuality, losing her job, her best friend, her husband, committing forgery, all that was inconsequential. It had to be. Please, she prayed, please let it have been worth it.

Part Five
Spring 2011

“Hurry up,” Moira whined.

“Moira,” Elm said, “your brother has little legs. He can’t walk that fast.”

“Can so,” Aiden said.

Elm looked at Aiden’s gait, worried. He was still walking a little pigeon-toed.

“But what if we miss it?”

“You’re not going to miss it,” Elm said. “Mary is meeting us at the auction house and she’ll take you. The carnival is going on all afternoon.”

“But we’re only in London for a week.”

“Mama?” Aiden asked.

“No, I can’t carry you,” Elm said. “You’re too much of a big boy.”

“More like a big, slow turtle.”

“That’s enough, Moira. Come here and hold my hand while we cross.”

It was a hot day, and Moira’s annoyance was catching. Aiden continued to stare everywhere but in front of his feet, and Elm was dragging him. The back of Moira’s neck was red and irritated. She was getting sunburned, but it hadn’t occurred to Elm that one needed sun protection in rainy London.

“Da coming?” Aiden asked for the umpteenth time.

“Yes, baby, Daddy will meet us at the fair after his meeting.” Probably. Maybe. Nothing was certain with Colin.