Bird After Bird (5 page)

“This is awesome,” I said. “Are you sure you don’t mind parting with these?”

“Not at all. I want you to have them.” He stood and approached the love seat, gesturing to the spot next to me. “May I?”

“Of course.”

He sat and started pointing out the people in the photos. “Those were the Thompsons. They moved to Lafayette, took their boy Doug—he was about your age, I think.”

“Mmm.” I barely remembered him. I flipped to the next photo. A little girl with long red pigtails was running up a hill toward a picnic table, holding the hand of a little boy, toddler age.

“And that’s Wren Riley, right there,” Kerry said, “with little Larry.”

“Larry?”

“Oh, that’s not right. It was something like that, though. Lenny? Not Leroy. At any rate, that one had a sister your age, I think. That was the last year the Byrds came to the picnic. Had a baby the following year and I think they just had their hands too full to make it. Either that, or maybe it was because Lynda got fired from the school office for spreading dirt about the principal.”

I stared at the photo, and Kerry kept talking. Something about the picnic, horseshoes, other minute details. That man remembered everything, it seemed, but the name of the little boy in the photo.

“Could it be…Laurie?”

“Lori! Yes! Weird name for a boy, isn’t it?” He laughed, getting up and taking his coffee mug to the kitchen. “Well, kid, I gotta hit the road. I just wanted to make sure you got these things before you sold the house, because…”

“Because I don’t come around. I’m sorry.” I started to tell him it was because of work, that my job kept me insanely busy and Chicago was so far away, but he smiled and pulled me into a crushing bear hug before I had the chance.

“Like I used to tell your dad, ‘Lark’s gotta sing, a Wren’s gotta fly.’ You don’t owe me nothing, kid. Just wanted you to know you still got friends down here, is all.”

He saw himself out, and I waved as he drove away.

If Darcy hadn’t texted me again about the work emergency, I might have pored through the photos for the rest of the day waiting for the realtor to call.

-Can you call me ASAP? Major Auto Maker is blowing up your email and I think you need to pacify them tonight, mitigate the tension before tomorrow’s meeting. Troy’s out, you’re back in.-

That really did sound serious. Whatever Troy had screwed up, I was going to have to work overtime to fix it. No time to waste.

Just let me check in with the realtor and I’ll be on my way.

Chapter Seven

Laurie

The chickadees
hit my bird feeders hard the next morning. Their little black caps and white breasts made such great contrast, they were a joy to sketch. I sipped my coffee and worked, waiting and hoping a Carolina Wren would alight on one of the suet cakes.

Wren
.

Before I knew it, I was sketching a bird from memory. That seemed to evoke their presence, and before long a mated pair of wrens were buzzing around the windows, twittering with their feathered friends.

Just drawing wasn’t hitting the spot, though. I had a painting class to teach that evening, and I got up to inspect the work on the canvas—the covered one that I hadn’t let Wren see the night before.

It was good. Probably close enough to call finished, even though I hadn’t touched it for months.

I went to the mantel and picked up the framed 8 x 10 of the model. Smiling, blonde, pretty, just the way I remembered her. I didn’t normally paint portraits, but this one had meant a lot to me.

“Yeah, I think you’re just about complete,” I said, opening a drawer on my art cabinet and putting the photo inside.

I took my sketchbook to the front porch, where I’d left the blanket from the night before. The spot Wren had fallen asleep in seemed preferable to my normal side of the swing, and I wrapped myself in the blanket we’d shared. It smelled like her, some light floral perfume she must have been wearing.

I thought about texting her, but it was probably too soon.

As usual, the house was quiet, except for the sound of the occasional passing car and the songs of birds. I’d always loved the peace of this cabin, but today it felt too quiet. It felt empty. The leaves were budding out giving me the privacy I loved, I had plenty of food in the fridge, all the chores around the place were done, but there was no doubt about it: something was missing.

“Well. Let’s go for a drive, then,” I said. For the first time in a long time I didn’t want to be home alone.

I took my sketchpad and pencils and let the road guide me.

Chapter Eight

Wren

I don't know why I returned to Dad’s birding spot on the lake the next day. After Mr. Price left, I packed my ditty bag and hit the road, but still felt like I’d left something behind. I turned my purse inside out, but everything was there—phone, keys, sunglasses, lip gloss…what else does a girl need?

I texted the realtor, and he said the couple had other houses they were checking out. I should have been able to take the route to the highway unfettered, but for some reason I just couldn’t bring myself to leave.

“I left one of those Arnold Palmer bottles at the lake,” I said. “Here this very morning I just talked up conservation with Kerry Price and I’m a first-class litterbug. This will never do, Wren.”

I couldn't head back to Chicago with that hanging over me.

Before I could make it to the spot where I’d gone to read Dad’s letter the night before, I got a text from Troy.

-Babe, dinner tonight?-

I thought about texting him back that I’d already heard he’d screwed up one of our biggest accounts, but I thought better of it. I dialed Darcy’s number, instead. Might as well get the skinny first.

She answered on the first ring. “Boss. Deep doo doo.”

“First of all, I don’t want you working on Sundays. That’s above and beyond your job description.”

“Noted, but whatever—I’m earning that raise.”

“You earned it before we gave it, but forget about that now. What happened with MAM?”

“Well, remember that email Troy cc’ed to all staff? The one with the dirty talk to the intern?”

I sighed. She was referring to a filthily-worded joke the man had co-opted from a text I’d sent him, myself. It was the reason I’d gone from dating him with mild skepticism to weighing the ever-lessening pros against the cons of staying entangled with the son of our firm’s managing partner. “How could I forget?”

“Sorry, boss. Bad memories, I know. Anyway, he did it again.”

“You’ve got to be kidding me! To Major Auto Maker?”

“Evidently.”

We were both quiet for a moment while the gravity of Troy’s latest faux pas sunk in.

“Swear to God, Darcy, if I could design an economics consultant the way we helped MAM flesh out their new line of hybrid mini-vans, Troy Parker would be the equivalent of a flashy test car with no practicality whatsoever on the road. The man’s MPG is too high. He’s too high maintenance. Not enough safety checks and no concern for what the consumer actually needs. If it weren’t for his looks and his name, there’s no way he’d last at Parker & Bash.”

“You’re right,” she said, laughing just a little. “He’s just the sales model to get clients in the door.”

“And what does that make me, Darce? A tow-truck that pulls him out of every jam?”

“He’s too young for this kind of responsibility,” Darcy agreed.

“We’re the same age.”

“Easy to forget that.”

I sighed. “What do the emails from MAM indicate? Are they walking from the account?”

“Well, that’s where we’re in luck. You got two emails from two different execs. One said he’s entertaining working with a NYC firm instead, but the other came afterward—said if you’ll handle the account again, they’ll give us another chance. They want your input on this roll-out, Wren. They were really impressed by the way you grew sales and production for that motorcycle brand last year. They just want us to promise Troy won’t ever contact MAM again.”

“Has there been any in-house gossip yet?”

“Oh, yeah. Worse. Pull up Reddit when you get home. Someone from MAM posted a screen cap of Troy’s email and it’s going viral on the Fortune 500 boards. I’ve already received a forwarded email copy that’s been through all the econ houses, and bounced through the big four CPA firms. I’m sure the lawyers are going to have a field day with this one.”

“Excellent.” It was anything but. “Just great.”

“Sorry, boss lady. Did you get any bites on the house?” I could hear her little boy asking her for some milk in the background.

“Nope. Not yet. Listen, Darce, take care of the kiddo and I’ll handle this from here. See you in the morning, okay? Thanks for letting me know.”

I made my way to Dad’s spot, and sure enough, one of the bottles of Arnold Palmer sat on the stump where we used to picnic. I shook my head and reached down to scoop it up.
That’s me: Wren Riley, cleanup crew.

The eggshell contrast of a little paper bird against the weathered tree trunk surprised me. I didn’t recognize the shape at first, and I started to crumple it like more trash until I realized it was origami.

A pair of grebes broke the surface of the water just then, whinnying to one another as they went. I snapped a photo of them, before Troy’s text flashed on my screen again.

Babe
.

No one ever called me that.

“You’re a real ball-breaker, you know that?” Martin had said before he broke up with me and went to work for one of our competitors. “I hope it’s worth it when you’re on top. Pretty Birdy, all alone.” On his way out, he’d patted Troy on the back. “She’s all yours now, bud.” They’d both laughed as though they were in on some private joke.

Maybe Martin had bad-mouthed me to the male staff, but there was nothing I could do about it. Still, that didn’t mean I could handle Troy the same way I’d shut him out. In the light of day, there were some people in the business world who could get away with murder—just ask any Wall Street banker. There were others who did the heavy lifting and had to play their cards right if they wanted to rise to the top. Guess which type I was.

Troy wanted to make nice with me.

The question was, did I?

For a moment the look on Laurie’s face when he’d invited me home crossed my mind. Those eyes.

Maybe I should stop by Laurie’s house and say goodbye.

“No. That would be a bad idea.”

An egret landed on the bank of the lake and turned to squawk my direction. It sounded angry. Another egret landed practically on top of it and the two of them battled one another with their beaks. Two males? I looked closer. Definitely a male and female, but they didn’t seem to be mates.

I texted Troy.

Wouldn't miss it. McCormick and Schmick's? Bring the good cigars.

Chapter Nine

Laurie

Can't tell you how many mornings I drove past Donna and Lew's place in the prior year, but this time I turned into the driveway. As the truck bounced and rattled over the gravel drive, I felt my chest tighten. I hadn't been here since before my deployment. Since before the accident.