One Small Thing (13 page)

He was somebody Avery didn’t know at all.

Avery looked at the phone, dialed Isabel’s number, and then hung up before it even rang.

“Mom,” she whispered, holding the phone to her chest and imagining Isabel’s voice. “Mommy.”



Brody Chovanes stood up, snapped his red suspenders, and then put on his suit jacket. “I made reservations at Andrés. I’m in the mood for their halibut. You know me.”

Avery laughed, even though she really didn’t want to, the sound and air barely making it over her bottom lip.
Who cares what you’re in the mood for
, she thought, but she walked behind him, his expensive silk suit flish, flishing, and followed him to the elevator.

Behind him, she felt her body morph into her old body, the one from two years ago, the body that hadn’t gone through test after test. This body hadn’t lain spread-eagle on examination tables, fingers and speculums and tiny cameras inside it. This body hadn’t been injected over and over again, its butt bruised and sore. No, this was a smooth, quick, sexy body, trim under her expensive St. Johns suit, tight in Calvin Klein nylons, perfectly finished with Ferragamo pumps. Awash in Boucheron perfume, Avery breathed in her old self, the one she’d given up and for what? Months of nothing, that was what. Watching Brody’s similarly tight, quick body, she felt like a creature released back into the wild, desperate to search out what it remembered but scared that any minute, the net would scoop it up and carry it away.

As they walked, she waved to her former colleagues—Teresa Licardo, Donna Goodman, Tanner Swenson—but kept moving, not wanting to talk with anyone but Brody until she knew if she had the job she needed. Why jinx it?

“So,” Brody said, pushing the L button and leaning against the elevator paneling. “What’s this all about?”

She adjusted her purse and bit her cheek. “Well,” Avery said as they moved through floors. “Things didn’t work out exactly as planned.”

“No?” He looked at her, his eyes wide, expecting more.

“No,” she said carefully. “It’s been harder for us than we thought. I’m still so young—“ Pausing, she looked up, making sure he saw her tight, firm face, her full cheekbones, her slim, viable work body. “That we don’t have to make a decision about what to do next for a while. So, I thought—we thought—why not start working again.”

The elevator doors opened, and they walked into the airy lobby, their shoes clacking on the shined marble floor. The doors opened to hot July air, but Andrés was next door, and soon they were inside the restaurant waiting to be seated. The hostess flicked Brody an appreciative look, and Brody leaned toward her, his hands on the reservation desk, and joked with her about his favorite table by the window.

Avery breathed in and wondered if she would be able to deal with Brody now that she’d had time away from him. It seemed impossible that his wife Alix hadn’t divorced him yet. He always asked the most personal questions—weight, marriage, embarrassing moments, job screw-ups—flirted with every woman under fifty, his eyes working an entire body in a flashy figure-eight loop. But Avery had to admit that he and his wife looked good together, Brody with his short, dark looks, Alix tall, thin, brunette, their trio of children between them. He was a jerk, but Alix knew that. Brody was who he was everywhere, at home, at work, in a restaurant waiting to be seated. That was more than Avery could say for Dan.

After they finished their meals and Brody chatted with their server who brought them lattes, he sat back and looked at Avery. “You’re looking good. That suburban thing agrees with you.”

“Well, how could it not, Brody? While I was working, I used to dream of days that I’ve been having. You know, working out, gardening, shopping at ten in the morning. But if I’m not going to be a mom right now, then I want to be doing something else.”

Brody sipped his latte, leaving a swipe of milk foam on his upper lip. Avery didn’t say anything, hoping the server would come back, soon, so she could see him looking like a ten-year-old.

“What does Dan think?”

Avery nodded, trying to find the right words, ones that wouldn’t be a lie. “He wants me to be happy.”

“And you’re not happy right now?”

Picking up a spoon, she tapped it against her water glass. “I’m happy. I just think if I stay at home now that there isn’t a reason, I will be less so.”

“How does he feel about not having a kid right away?”

Avery hit the glass again, the sound loud enough that a couple next to them looked over as if Avery was going to give a toast.
Here’s to long lost children
, she would say.
Here’s to my husband who kept secrets.

“He’s fine.”

Brody wiped his mouth. Avery held her breath, but when he pulled the napkin away, the milk still swam over his lip. “Okay, so here’s the deal. Lanny took over most of your job, but he didn’t take the out-of-state accounts. We piece-mealed them through the San Francisco and Sacramento offices. We kept thinking to find someone to take the whole job over, but then there was the down-turn. We never got around to it. So what would be available is exactly that. And you know that involves travel. The reason you quit before. In fact, I was running the details by personnel and home office this morning, and if you start now, you’ll need to be on the road next week. St. Louis. We have a whole new network being set up for Dirland Accounting. Integrated System. The whole nine-yards. I know how you love that city.”

She nodded, already breathing in the stale air of the St. Louis Hilton, the room that smelled like bologna and perspiration and sadness. The hotel where Avery and Brody, after three rounds of cosmopolitans and a successful deal with Alliance Insurance, smoked cigars that made her sick for days afterward. So what. It was just a hotel, just a dull city. But she’d be gone. Away from the house and whatever was going to happen. Away from Dan and his guilt and the boy who was going to live in her baby’s nursery.

“I’ll take it.”

Brody looked up at her, surprised. “Don’t you want to talk with Dan about it first?”

“I don’t have to talk to him about it, Brody. For God’s sake. I’ll take it. I’ll start Monday, in St. Louis. Okay?”

“I’ll FAX you the info and travel plans. And before you go today, hightail it to personnel. I have all the papers ready.”

“So you don’t want me to talk with Dan after all?” She put her napkin on the table and stood up.

“I’ve known you for years, Avery,” Brody said, turning toward the server and winking as they walked out of the restaurant. “When you want something, you get it.”



After talking to Phyllis in Personnel at PeopleWorks, Avery went to Andronico’s and bought a pork loin, bacon, red-skinned baby potatoes, green beans, and salad makings. If she turned up the air conditioning, it would be cool enough to roast in the oven. As she roamed the aisles, she realized if they cooked or ate outside, it was likely Valerie or Luis would look over the fence, swing open the gate, sit down just as Avery was going to tell Dan about the job. Tell him how she wouldn’t be home day and night, while he worked out the kinks of this broken child. She’d been the one to take the shots, endure the hormone highs and lows, watch the screen as the laparoscope snaked her insides. She was the one alone in Dr. Browne’s office when he came in with the pieces of paper that said she’d failed, again and again, every month. She’d put in her time for a child. If Dan wanted this, she wouldn’t stop him. But she wasn’t about to go to the school district and sign the kid up for classes, go to meetings to discuss what was wrong with his brain, take him to psychiatrist visits, aikido classes, art therapy sessions. Not her.

She pulled her Land Rover into the garage and closed it immediately, not wanting to attract Valerie’s attention. Usually around this time every day, Avery would head over to Val’s because Tomás was down for his afternoon nap. They’d drink tea and chat about Avery’s tests or watch
Rosie
or
Oprah
. They would flip through the J. Jill, Coldwater Creek, and Boston Proper catalogues. Sometimes, they would go online and look for baby furniture or read about infertility treatments or procedures—Chinese hamster ovaries, Lupron, follicle stimulating hormone levels, egg harvesting—usually ending with the “when” talks. “When you have the baby,” and “When your baby is Tomás’ age,” or “When we both have two.” She had told Valerie the whole story about Dan and Randi and Daniel, but now she felt as if she’d sailed away from the house next-door and was floating alone on the island of childless women.

When Dan came home, the pork was almost done, and she’d set the dining room table instead of the one in the kitchen, something she usually only did when they were celebrating. Avery had pulled out her wedding silver and china, the table sparkling with all the underused things. Dan put down his briefcase and looked at her, an eyebrow raised, and hung up his suit jacket in the hall closet.

“What’s going on?” he asked, walking slowly into the kitchen. Avery smiled and opened the oven, a waft of bacon and meat juice pouring out into the room.

“I thought we’d have a nice dinner tonight.” She poked the roast with the thermometer, making sure it at least went to 150 degrees, still scared by Isabel’s mid-west stories of trichinosis. Most every roast Isabel ever made was cooked to the quick, the meat stringy and tough. But safe.

“Oh.” Dan opened the fridge and took out a Corona. “So, what did you do today?”

Avery didn’t say anything, sliding the rack back and then closing the oven. She put down the hot pads and brushed her hair away from her warm face. “I want to talk about some things at dinner.”

Dan nodded. He probably thought she meant things about the visit next week with Daniel. What they would do on Tuesday in Turlock, assuming, of course, that the DNA test didn’t show that Randi had lied. How they would talk with him, his foster parents, Midori Nolan. Then, they would move on to figure out his room, his new bed, the clothes they would fill the dresser with, the dresser they hadn’t even purchased. She had no idea what size a ten-year-old boy wore, what styles were in, what colors were trendy. As she sliced some tomatoes for the salad, she shook her head and then bit her lip. Stop. Stop.

“I’m going to change,” Dan said, waiting for a second behind her as she sliced. The knife cut into the tomatoes smoothly, one, two, one, two, juice sluicing up along the sharp edge. She felt his questions rise up behind her, but then he was gone, heavy footsteps in the hallway.

“So, I went and had lunch with Brody today.” Dan looked up from his salad, his eyes wide. Before he could ask a question, Avery went on. “We talked about the company. Evidently, Lanny never took over all my responsibilities. More pork?” She held out the platter, her fingers in a loose jangly grip on the porcelain, slices of meat sliding toward Dan.

“No. No thanks.” He put down his fork. “So you went in to have lunch?”

“Yeah.” Avery shook her head, put down the platter, and looked at her own plate. She flipped green beans with her fork. “And then we started talking about work.”

Dan sat back and dropped his fork. “What do you mean?”

She felt her breath shallow in her throat, and she tried to swallow. She’d never felt like this before, not with anything she’d done. When she’d found this house, she’d told her agent Brenda Witherspoon that they’d take it, even before Dan had seen the inside. She didn’t consult him about taking the job with PeopleWorks initially, telling him when she came home from the interview about the travel. She’d known what to do, felt right about it. Everything fit, like a suit she’d try on at Neiman Marcus.

“Well, I’m not going to try for the baby any more, am I?” She felt her skin flare red, so she reached over for the salad bowl and piled more on her plate, even though everything about the meal—the oil slick on the potato skin, the fat, crackly white rim around the pork slices—made her stomach contract. She avoided Dan’s eyes.

“But . . . What about?”

“What about what, Dan?” she asked, looking up.

“We don’t know about Daniel. And if—if he’s mine?”

“What does knowing he’s yours have to do with my going back to work?”

Dan wiped his mouth and put his napkin on the table. He put an elbow on the table, thought about it, and then sat back again. “When he comes here. He’ll need—“

“So you think I’m going to sit around here and take care of a ten-year-old boy I don’t know? Is that what you had in mind?” Avery moved her teeth to her cheek and then stopped, knowing that one more bite would draw blood.

“No. I didn’t say that. It’s just that you’re here now. You are home. I didn’t know that you had plans to go back to work.”

“Well, I do. I start work on Monday. I’m going to St. Louis to oversee a whole integrated system. I’ll be gone for a week.”

“But Aves. The visit. Tuesday. We’re going to Turlock. To see—to meet Daniel.”

“This,” she said slowly, “is yours to take care of. He is your son—if he’s your son.”

Dan shook his head back and forth. She folded her arms, clenching her jaw.
There. There,
she thought.
So there.