The Matchmakers of Minnow Bay (30 page)

“Let's just start with one, shall we?” says June. “A family of two is still a wonderful family.”

Colleen nods wordlessly. The chick peeps at me and I hand her to my friend, who accepts her gratefully, turning her wet eyes to the little bird's.

“That's going to be a hell of a hen if she makes it through,” says June, turning her attention toward the bundle in Colleen's hands. “In fact, I'm actually thinking of naming her.”

“Marnie,” says Colleen.

“Pretty, but I was thinking Ginger, actually. I usually keep with an herbs-and-spices theme, you know.”

“No, Marnie is what I want to name my daughter,” says Colleen. “When we get through all of this. It was my mother's name.”

God help me, I have to try hard now not to cry. Suddenly I want to adopt too, just so I have a daughter to name Sylvia. I take in a deep breath and say, “I'm think I'm going to need another chick.”

“Me too,” says June, unearthing a bottle of Purell from a buffet drawer. We take a short chicken break.

A few minutes later, composed again, Colleen asks the question I've been dying to know throughout.

“How much do I need to have liquid for this?”

There is a long silence. It seems to me only June is breathing.

“Depends on your timeline,” June says at last. “If you've got a long horizon, you can put away a few hundred a month, save up for it, with the added bonus that the slower the country, the cheaper the adoption. If you're thinking you want to adopt within the next couple years, well … you can expect to spend around $5,000 for the application process, home study, and postadoption support, which, by the way, is worth every penny.”

Colleen exhales loudly. “Oh, thank goodness. I was afraid you were going to say it was prohibitively expensive. I've already saved up three times that amount for this very reason.”

June is silent for another long moment. “Now, Colleen. There are also some service fees. Program fees, translations, donations to the country—sometimes those are called in-country fees or humanitarian support. Can range from a few thousand to ten thousand, depending on the country.”

Colleen looks a bit more hesitant but tries to summon her optimism. “It's okay. Surely I can scare up a little more cash. Friends and family.”

This time the silence lasts longer. June's face is grave.

“It gets worse, doesn't it?” Colleen asks June.

She nods. “You have to pay the broker; that will run you five grand. And then another five at least for the travel, and another five or so for the consulate, immigration, and the actual adoption paperwork.”

“Thirty thousand dollars?” she asks in horror. My mouth flies open. Even the chicks seem to peep in outrage.

June nods sadly.

“I don't have that kind of money,” she says quietly.

“Not many people do,” says June. “Especially not single people. That's why I like my chickens.”

Colleen looks back at her little chick, who seems to be sleeping and peeing at the same time, in her hand. “But I … I don't want a chicken,” says Colleen as she reaches for a tissue from the box June keeps on the table.

“I know you don't,” says June. “I'm sorry. There are some grants and loans out there. But I'll be honest, you'll see a lot of competition from married couples for them. Many families decide to take cash advances on their credit cards, or second mortgages, or ask for money from friends and family. But bear in mind that many countries have a minimum net worth per family. If you don't meet it after the fees are factored out, they don't even consider you.”

Colleen inhales deeply.

“There's a lot to think over, Colleen. As a lawyer I can guide you, but as a friend I want to caution you from getting too close to the bone. Expenses don't end when you get your adoption finalized. Kids are expensive, even more so when you're the only caretaker and breadwinner. If you dig yourself into a hole, it could be very hard to get out. And a foreclosure on your home is, in your case, also a foreclosure on your business. Not good.”

Colleen nods solemnly.

“Take some time to think about it,” says June.

“I can think about it all I want,” my friend says. “But I don't have thirty thousand dollars to spare. Not even close.” Her voice is the saddest thing I've ever heard. Crackly from the tears she's not crying. Defeated from this final, probably permanent setback. I put back my chick so I can throw an arm around her.

“Do you want to take Ginger home with you?” June asks. I can see she too is at a loss.

Colleen shakes her head without speaking. Finally she says, “I never wanted a chicken. I just wanted a child.”

It is the last thing she says to anyone that day.

*   *   *

I watch Colleen as she silently walks back to the inn. At first I try to talk to her, but she shakes her head at me sadly and steps away. She wants to be alone, without a doubt. I can understand that.

Still, the protective nature in me forces me to follow her at a big distance, quietly, until I'm sure she's back to the inn. Then I text Jenny.
Adoption meeting n/g,
I tell her.
Wants to be alone. Check in later?

I head back down Lake Street. The other guests of the inn all headed out for a big skiing something-or-other today. They had Colleen pack them box lunches. So she'll have her space for a while. As long as I stay away.

But I don't have many other places to go, this far from home. I walk past the bookstore and the craft shop and past Jenny's gallery, but there I hesitate. The lights are blazing inside and there's no missing my works in pride of place just by the window. In fact, someone I've never met before is standing in front of one of them gesturing animatedly to Jenny. I shuffle away fast before she spots me and calls me in to say something profound to this potential buyer. This is something Mitchell has always frowned on—making the artist too accessible to the shopping public—but something tells me Jenny falls on the other end of that spectrum. For better or for worse.

Still, I manage to linger long enough in the window to confirm my fear—that there are no “Sold” placards by my works. Not one. It's not a good feeling.

I wind past the bistro and the diner and over the little river bridge and walk several more blocks and look around me. It's a lovely little wander, and I start maneuvering down side streets. The houses in town are each more charming than the one before. Many still have holiday decorations up. They are mostly bungalows, and farmhouses, about a hundred years old each, all lovingly taken care of. The city girl in me marvels at front porch after front porch, each neatly shoveled, many positively loaded down with skis and snowshoes and sleds.

Finally, though I have been trying desperately not to, I glance at my watch. Perfect. Colleen and Jenny have not been subtle about dropping little tidbits, like when Ben Hutchinson has his prep period at the high school, and up to now I thought I was doing a good job ignoring such tidbits. But now I find that it has all penetrated my thick skull, and I'm glad of it. I need someone to talk to. And I want to talk to Ben.

At the high school, I easily remember the way to Ben's classroom. And that first day I visited it. How taken aback he was by my news, and how gracious he seemed in that moment. And then how quickly he turned against me. The memory gives me pause. He was so swept up in paranoia and suspicion that night. Is this a man I should really confide in?

But, unmistakably, there is something real behind my powerful attraction. Behind our ill-advised kissing. There is a private dignity with which he seems to conduct his life. In the weeks I've been here I've seen him treat many, many people—even me, most of the time—with respect and kindness. I remember that kindness in Las Vegas, but now that I know him better, I see it's more than hundred-dollar tips and extravagant dinners. He gave up his old life to be closer to his family when they needed him. He endures and appropriately attempts to deflect Simone's incessant crushing. He footed the entire bar tab at his mother's surprise party without saying a word to anyone about it. He had my car towed for me and then drove me to the mechanic even when it was only three blocks away, just because Colleen asked him to.

Or maybe because he wanted to see me.

I honestly don't know what to think.

And I don't trust myself to make any judgments on this. After all, I still can't even figure out what Mitchell is up to, if he's up to anything at all. I can't decide if Renee loves me in her own way or is trying to get rid of me. I can't really figure much of anything out.

I knock on Ben's classroom door.

When he opens it, he is sitting in a rolly chair.

“Did you roll all the way to the door in that chair rather than stand up?” I ask him.

“I did,” he tells me proudly. “I never stand up during prep period as a rule.”

For a flash of a second, I want to say something playful and sexy about things you can do standing up. Instead I say, “Colleen is sad. I'm mixed up. Jenny is immune to reality. Do you have time to talk?”

Ben tilts his head thoughtfully. “I do. Right this way,” and then he rolls himself in a single go all the way back to his desk. “What's up?”

“I don't even know where to start,” I start.

“Best to worst. Jenny's lack of grasp on reality. That doesn't sound very serious. Or newsworthy.”

“She thinks my paintings are worth six times what they're actually worth, and she's stuck them in her gallery with outrageous prices on them, and they will never sell.”

Ben laughs. He just laughs at me. “Okay, that one feels like not a big deal. Like, she'll figure it out eventually and reprice them, right?”

“I guess. But I was … this sounds stupid, but I guess…” I let my voice trickle away into silence.

“You were hoping she was right about the price?”

“Well, yeah. Mitchell said overestimating a work's value is a common ploy when a gallery is trying to poach you. But I was hoping Mitchell was the one feeding me a ploy.”

“Mitchell is the boyfriend?” he verifies.

“Yes.”

“And the gallerist.”

“That's right.”

“That seems like a bad setup.”

“In the best of worlds,” I agree. “There's also a possibility he's been robbing me of my true earnings for the last two years, and the faintest chance he made up a completely bullshit scenario where all my dreams come true just to get me to move in with him so he can afford a duplex.”

I startle myself at these words. Now that they're out there, they feel disturbingly true.

Ben, too, looks taken aback. “This is the guy you blew me off for?”

“No, I blew you off because you had me investigated and accused me of terrible things and I just happened to be dating this guy at the same time.”

“You say to-may-to.”

“Yes, I do. Because that is how it is pronounced. Anyway, I'm dumping Mitchell as soon as I get a chance to go back to Chicago. I think. Well, I'm pretty sure. Almost positive. As sure as I am about anything, which is not that sure.”

“Fair enough. And when will that trip to Chicago be, exactly?” he prods. “I'm asking for a friend.”

“Well, that's the thing. I was going to go back tomorrow. But I'm worried about Colleen. We've become pretty close, and something happened to her today that may have broken her heart. I'm not sure I can leave her. It would feel like bailing on a friend.”

Now Ben looks truly concerned. “Okay, so we're getting to the top of the list. What's going on with Colleen?”

“She wants to adopt a baby.”

“Whoa. That's huge.”

My jaw drops. “I can't believe you hadn't heard that yet. Or read it in the Minnow Bay Gossip E-mail Blast.”

“I don't think there's one of those. Yet.” He picks up a pencil from his desk and licks the tip as though about to make a note to himself. I roll my eyes.

“Well, you know she dated Mason, right?”

“Of course I know,” Ben says. “He's my cousin. And they were engaged, actually,” he adds, so I know he's at least a little up to speed.

“Are you and Mason close? Do you talk a lot?”

“When he's not deployed, we do. I don't socialize a lot other than with Mason and my brother Drew. Perhaps you've heard?”

I want to ask him about his strange insulated life, but there's something tender and raw there, like the place a splinter has only recently been. “Did he ever tell you that they wanted a kid together?”

“Of course. I just thought…” His voice trails off. “Since they broke up…”

I sigh. “As far as I can tell, that kind of wanting doesn't go away just because the sperm donor does.”

Ben shakes his head. “I suppose it doesn't.”

Against my better judgment, I blurt out, “Do you?”

“Do I what?”

“Want kids? I'm asking for a friend.”

“Oh. Oh yeah, definitely. One or a gaggle, I'm not sure which.”

I smile. This is the right answer, I suddenly realize. “Me too. But I always assumed it would be in a sort of man-woman team-conception situation. And I didn't worry about timing because I thought if I waited too long or didn't have the workings, me and said man would adopt.”

“I've never thought about it much, but that makes sense.”

“Women think about these things. We get told all the time that our lady parts are a ticking clock. It's rattling.”

“I suppose so.”

“But here's the catch: adopting as a single woman takes years, is prohibited in half the countries that do foreign adoptions, and costs one billion dollars. And getting a young child domestically is as likely as winning the lottery.”

“Really?” he says. “This is news to me.”

“Really. I just came from June Jorgens's office.”