Jill Smolinski - The Next Thing on My List

My cheering squad came over as I ruffled Flash’ s hair. ‘ Thanks for the help, Coach. I couldn’ t have done it without you.’

‘ Yes, you could,’ he said, his freckled face serious. ‘ You can do anything. I believe in you. Remember that.’

‘ Okay, then,’ I said, not knowing quite what to make of him. I had to marvel as I watched him jog back to his dad. How did these children come into my life all of a sudden? Where had they been? Were they always there and just hiding?

A towel hit me in the head. ‘ Nice job, champ,’ Martucci said.

‘ Why, thank you.’

After that, Susan, Chase, and the twins, Martucci, Kip, Sebastian, Deedee, and I all went to breakfast at Uncle Bill’ s, the pancake house I’ d passed during the race. Sitting at the table, I couldn’ t help but smile at the ragtag crew I’ d assembled over the past few months. C.J. spilled the syrup onto Joey’ s lap. Kip kept eating off Sebastian’ s plate. Susan started absently cutting her husband’ s pancakes before Martucci pointed out what she was doing, and we spent the next ten minutes making fun of her.

But it was Deedee who brought down the house when she blurted, ‘ Shhh, hold on,’ and then grabbed my hand to place it on her belly.

And there it was. The baby kicking.

It was as if the room and its noises and people disappeared and the only thing that I could see or hear or smell or taste buzzed up through my fingertips.

This wasn’ t a business deal anymore.

This was a child.

And I’ d never before been so close to holding her.

Chapter 18

Y ou sound like a jealous wife,’ Phyllis teased. ‘ Are you going to start checking his collars for lipstick?’

I’ d spotted Lou Bigwood getting into the elevator with a woman. A beautiful woman. She was the third I’ d seen him with that week. Naturally, I sprinted to Phyllis’ s office to get the story. Why I bothered I didn’ t know. All she’ d tell me was the woman’ s name and company. I could’ ve gotten that reading the sign-in sheet at the reception desk-which I’ d already done.

‘ Is he interviewing people for Lizbeth’ s job?’ I asked.

‘ No.’

I narrowed my eyes at her suspiciously. That had been too easy. ‘ Now let me put it another way: Could one of these women possibly be given Lizbeth’ s job?’

‘ Yes.’

I flailed my arms. ‘ So he is interviewing, then!’

‘ No. Lou doesn’ t interview.’

Talking to Phyllis was like going down the rabbit hole. Nothing quite made sense, yet everything was clear. I needed to make my move soon.

Whatever it might be. I still hadn’ t a clue what might impress the boss into giving me the promotion I so richly deserved. ‘ How long do you figure I have?’ I asked, bracing myself for another of Phyllis’ s noncommittal answers.

‘ Hard to say.’

‘ Suppose there’ s a gun to your head. Then what would you guess?’

‘ Three weeks.’

‘ Really? That fast?’

‘ No, but there’ s a gun to my head. I’ ll say anything.’

I had Phyllis schedule me for a meeting with Bigwood a few weeks away-a Friday afternoon before he was due to go out of town for a conference. It was vital that I get to him before he left. He’ d met Lizbeth at a conference. I couldn’ t risk a repeat performance. Even though I had plenty on my plate already, I’ d never forgive myself if I let him hire another little lovely-someone with that mix of aggression and beauty that seemed to draw him-while I sat by and did nothing.

My phone was ringing when I got back to my cubicle. I picked it up, and it was Troy. As soon as I heard him say hello, I felt my lips turn up and my IQ involuntarily drop. Yes, the crush was in full effect. Getting worse, in fact. Troy had been acting as go-between to help me work out a plan for Vegas with his mom and grandma. We’ d exchanged brief, polite phone messages rather than actual calls so far, but they were enough to send my blood pulsing.

The trip to Las Vegas was set for the last weekend in June, and he’ d said his mom and grandma were looking forward to it. In fact, everything seemed so tied together, I was surprised to hear from him now.

Unless something was wrong. Maybe they’ d changed their minds.

I gnawed on a fingernail. ‘ What’ s up?’

‘ Oh, it’ s you,’ he said, sounding surprised. ‘ I expected your voice mail.’

‘ I can take a message for me if you’ d prefer.’

‘ The real thing’ s much better.’ We exchanged the usual how are yous; then he said, ‘ I’ m calling to offer my services if you think you might need me in Vegas.’

Services? ‘ What-escort?’

‘ Actually, yes. If you need help with Mom and Gran, I’ d be glad to do what I can.’ Then he added hurriedly, ‘ Of course, I’ d get myself up there& book my own room.’

I found myself saying, Of course, come on up. The more the merrier. But concerned by what might be underlying his offer, I added, ‘ Are you sure your mom and grandma are comfortable with this trip? Because it’ s not worth doing it for the list if it’ s going to make them-’

‘ They’ re excited, I promise, although I’ d be lying if I said there won’ t be sad moments for them. That’ s why I thought it might be good if I was there. Just in case.’

In case what? Susan’ s comment about how losing a child was the worst possible thing she could imagine floated back to me. Was this too much to ask of a grieving mom? I had no way of knowing if he was being honest about their being up for the trip, but I decided to trust him. ‘ Okay,’ I said. ‘ But you don’ t have to go up on your own. You can ride with us. We’ re leaving Friday at three.’

‘ I appreciate the offer, but I’ ve got a meeting that afternoon,’ he said. ‘ I’ ll ride the bike up, so I’ ll probably get there before you anyway.’

‘ Yeah? You believe that your motorcycle can take our Rideshare Mobile?’

‘ You don’ t really call it that, do you?’

‘ Sure do. It’ s a thirty-foot motor home with the words painted on the side in giant letters. I hope your mom and grandma have a high tolerance for embarrassment.’

‘ They’ re Wayne Newton fans-of course they do. And yes, I can beat you there. I’ ll get to ride around traffic. You’ ll be stuck in it.’

‘ Ah, but you’ re forgetting that we can use the carpool lane.’

As soon as I said it, it struck me. I must have gasped because he said, ‘ Everything okay?’

‘ You’ re a genius.’

‘ Thank you for noticing. Any reason in particular you’ re telling me now?’

‘ You gave me a great idea for work.’

‘ Just now?’

‘ Yeah, and it might get good media. There’ s even a chance this one won’ t cause rioting in the streets.’

‘ That’ s too bad,’ he said. ‘ I’ ve come to expect exciting things to happen when you’ re around.’

FRIDAY NIGHT, I sat in my apartment, reeling with frustration. I’ d spent hours rummaging through photo albums and yearbooks, only to come up empty-handed. The next day was my parents’ party, where I’ d give my brother the letter showing him how grateful I was for him. I ought to be able to come up with one tender moment to reminisce about, but I couldn’ t.

Dear Bob:

I’ m writing to express my gratitude for the time that you and your friends decided it would be ‘ funny’ to pin my junior year homecoming date against the wall and ask him what his intentions were with me. Hilarious!

Love,

June

P.S. It was especially amusing because, although he and I only went to the dance as friends, I believe he may have wet himself.

Dear Bob:

I can’ t thank you enough for keeping a photo of me wearing my eye patch in your wallet and showing it around as often as possible. How many girls have a brother who carries a photo of them? I’ m flattered and, it goes without saying, grateful.