Happy Birthday (19 page)

“You’re not old, Valerie,” he said kindly, and meant it. “We all feel that way past a certain age. It always annoys me that I think I’m falling apart. I hate having my picture taken, and then five years later I see the same picture and think I looked pretty good back then, but like hell now. I don’t know why we’re so obsessed with age in this country, but we are. It’s hard to live up to at any age. I know thirty-year-old women who feel old.

“And I agree with your psychic. I think someone great is going to turn up one of these days. You deserve it. Forget the ninety-year-old guys.
And
the eighty-year-olds. They give me a run for my money too, if their bank account is bigger than mine. That’s pretty screwed up.” But those were the kind of women he
dated, girls who were after money and power, which was why they liked him too. He didn’t kid himself about that. “Have you ever thought about a much younger guy? I mean like thirty-five. A lot of women do that now. I think Demi Moore set the trend. I know a fifty-year-old woman who has a twenty-two-year-old boyfriend. She says she loves it. That’s pretty much what I do. It’s fun a lot of the time.”

Valerie looked at him and shook her head. “I’d feel stupid. I’ve never seen a boy that age who appealed to me. I like grown-ups, and I think that would just make me feel older. I don’t want to sleep with a man young enough to be my child. Besides, I want to share common life experiences, similar points of view and concerns. What do you have in common with someone that age? That’s really about sex, not love. I may be old-fashioned, but I’d like to have both. And if I were going to sacrifice something, it would be sex, not love.” For the moment, she had neither, but she was true to herself and always had been. Jack could sense that about her. She was a woman who knew who she was and what she wanted, what she was willing to sacrifice and what she wasn’t. But it wasn’t easy finding the right person, for anyone. He hadn’t found it either, so he settled for sex and a lot of fun, and a herniated disk when he had a little too much fun.

“I don’t think it’s easy to find someone at any age. Look at all the people in their twenties and thirties trying to find dates through the internet. That tells you something, that it’s not as easy to find people as it used to be. I don’t know why, but I think it’s true. People are better informed, more particular. They know
themselves better through therapy. Women don’t just want a guy to pay the bills, and they’re not willing to put up with anything to get it, they want a partner. That narrows the field considerably. And there are always guys like me out there, who throw the balance off, dating twenty-year-olds, which leaves the fifty-year-old women with no one to go out with, except some Neanderthal who’s watching TV and drinking beer, never had therapy, and doesn’t know who the hell he is or care.”

“So what’s the answer?” she asked, looking puzzled. He seemed to understand the problem perfectly, but had no more solutions to the problem than she did.

He grinned, as he switched the music on the stereo to something more lively. “Sex, drugs, and rock and roll,” he teased. It was five to midnight, almost New Year’s, and the evening had flown by. “I don’t know what the answer is. I suspect you probably find the right person by accident one day. And it’s never who you thought it would be, or what you thought you wanted. Kind of like real estate. I was looking for a brownstone in the East Sixties, and wouldn’t look at anything else. This apartment came on the market, and my realtor dragged me here kicking and screaming. I fell in love with it, and you couldn’t get me out of here now. I think we have to stay open to what comes along. I think
that
is the real secret to youth and a good life, staying open, interested, excited, learning about life, trying new things, meeting new people. And whatever happens, you have a good time, and if the right person turns up while you’re doing that, terrific. If not, at least you’re having fun. I think it’s when we
start to shut down, give up, and limit our options that life starts to be over. I don’t ever want that to happen to me. I want to keep opening new doors till the day I die, whenever that is, whether it’s tomorrow, or when I’m ninety-nine. The day you stop opening doors, and give up on those new opportunities, you might as well be dead. That’s what I believe anyway.”

“I think you’re right,” she said, looking hopeful. She liked the way he looked at things, and his philosophy about life. He was fully alive and excited about whatever he did. It was why he wasn’t sitting there clutching his leg and moaning about the trauma he’d been through and the near-death experience. Instead he was ready to move on, and having a good time with her, getting to know a new person, and making a new friend. She liked the way he thought, and it was an inspiration to her.

Jack looked at his watch then, and flipped on the TV to the ball in Times Square where a crowd of thousands was waiting to see the New Year in. He started counting. They were almost on it. Ten … nine … eight … seven … He was smiling and so was she … and when they reached “One!” he put his arms around her and looked into her eyes.

“Happy New Year, Valerie. I hope it’s a great year for you in every way!” He kissed her lightly on the mouth then, and hugged her.

“You too, Jack,” she said, and meant it as they held each other, as they both thought at the same time that it was already a great year. They were both alive!

Chapter 12

V
alerie had lunch with April right after the New Year. She had sent a bottle of Cristal and a note to Jack to thank him the next day. The note said, “Best New Year ever! Thank you! Valerie,” and she told April about it over lunch. They both agreed that he was a genuinely nice guy, in spite of the showy twelve-year-olds he went out with, as April put it. Most of them looked like gold-diggers when he brought them to the restaurant, but he didn’t seem to mind.

Valerie told her he’d invited her to come to the Super Bowl, and April was stunned to hear that she was going.

“But you hate sports, Mom, and you know less about football than I do, and that’s not much.”

“You’re right. But he said something on New Year’s Eve that I think is true, about staying open to life, doing new things, meeting new people, opening new doors. I think that’s the antidote
to getting old and shriveling up. I may hate it, but I might have fun. Why not try it? He invited me as a friend, not a date, with my own room. Why not do something different for a change? I don’t want to get stuck in a rut.” Her daughter was impressed by her attitude, and Valerie herself had noticed that since surviving the terrorist attack on the network, she had been more open to everything, and more grateful for her life. She could easily have been killed like some of the others, and instead she had gotten another shot at life. As terrifying as it had been, it had freed her in some important ways. The little aggravations seemed less important, and everything seemed like a gift, especially a new friend like Jack, and a chance to go to the Super Bowl with a retired football star. Why not? Maybe that’s what getting older was all about, she said to April. Maybe it was about “Why not?” Even April was taking a huge chance, being willing to have and embrace a baby she hadn’t planned. Life was about living, Valerie realized now, not huddling in a corner, too frightened to move or try anything new, or too tired and disenchanted to bother. April’s had been an enormous decision, and although she worried about her, Valerie admired her for what she had decided to do. Even if she didn’t want to be a grandmother.
That
she was not ready for, and wasn’t embarrassed to say so to her daughter.

“The baby will have to call me Aunt Valerie or Mrs. Wyatt,” she said to April as they both laughed. “If it calls me Grandma, I’m going to deny it immediately, and act like I don’t know either of you. I’m not ready to be anyone’s grandmother yet! My vanity won’t allow it.” She was more than willing to admit it,
and still looked faintly outraged about it. “How’s it going, by the way? How do you feel?” April looked well, but her mother could see sadness in her eyes. She was afraid that this was harder than April had thought. Having a baby alone was far from easy, and being pregnant without the baby’s father was sad, or at least Valerie thought so anyway, although people did it more and more these days. But it had been such a sweet time for her and Pat, waiting for April to arrive. She was sad that her own daughter didn’t have the benefit of that experience and a man to love and care for her. Instead, she was working as hard as ever, at the fish market by five every morning, meeting with commercial fishermen, and fighting with wholesale butchers for better prices, working a twenty-hour day with no one to love her or rub her back. It seemed like a hard road to her mother.

“I felt the baby move a few days ago. It felt so sweet, like a butterfly. I thought it was gas or indigestion at first, and then I realized what I was feeling. It’s happening a lot now.” She looked deeply moved but still sad. Her mother knew her well.

“How’s Mike? Have you seen him?” Valerie hoped so. She liked him. And maybe something could work out between them, despite an inauspicious start. Stranger things had happened. But April shook her head.

“No, I haven’t. He disappeared. I did something stupid, I guess. We had a nice evening over Chinese dinner, and I invited him to the doctor’s visit, to see the baby on a sonogram. And he freaked. He walked out, and texted me after that he just can’t. I guess he had a pretty awful childhood, and doesn’t want to be
part of anyone else’s. He broke up with a girlfriend a few months ago, because she wanted to get married and have children. I guess he’s one of those damaged people who is never going to be able to commit to anyone.” She saw that now, and Valerie looked annoyed.

“That’s all very nice to cry about your childhood. But this baby exists now, and so do you. You didn’t ask for it either, and you thought you were being careful. It’s not like you threw caution to the winds. It happened to both of you. He can’t just walk away from it because it makes him uncomfortable. So what? How comfortable are you? Not very, I would guess. You’re running a business and pregnant all alone with a baby you didn’t want. I think he owes you more than just running away and hiding. That’s a little too easy. I thought he was better than that.” She sounded disappointed, and although she didn’t say it, so was April. For a crazy minute, when he had agreed to go to the doctor with her, she had hoped he would get involved. But that was obviously not going to happen. She hadn’t heard a word from him since he walked out of the doctor’s office and sent her the text. And she wasn’t going to call him and try to force the baby or herself on him. She knew that would be a huge mistake. She had to let him go, if that was what he wanted. It was her baby now, not his.

“I decided to have it, Mom. He didn’t. It was my decision. I didn’t consult him about it. I told him. He doesn’t want this child.” April was as firm about it as he was, and realistic. No matter what she felt for him, if he didn’t feel the same things for her,
or the baby, she couldn’t beat her head into a brick wall, and she wouldn’t try.

Valerie was still worried about her, when she left her after lunch. April wandered out to the kitchen, looking wistful. She enjoyed seeing her mother, but had been down ever since the last time she’d seen Mike. They’d had such a good time at dinner. It had made her hopeful about a possible relationship between them, which she realized now was impossible. She would always be the woman who had forced him to have a baby he didn’t want, and he would never forgive her for it. Their relationship had been doomed from the beginning.

Jean-Pierre the sommelier was watching her as she helped herself to an orange, and sat down at the counter to look at some bills. There had been some irregularities in their butcher bills recently, and she wanted to stay on top of it and make sure they hadn’t been cheated. She had already spotted a charge for a leg of lamb they’d never gotten, and several pork loins. She didn’t like that at all.

“Can I make you a cup of tea, April?” Jean-Pierre asked her, and she nodded, distracted by the bills she was poring through with infinite precision.

“That would be nice, thank you,” she said, and when he handed the cup to her, she looked up and smiled. It was a cup of the vanilla tea that she ordered from Paris and their customers loved. And it was decaf, which was even better.

“How are you feeling?” he asked quietly. She had told no one about the pregnancy yet. It didn’t show as long as she kept her
apron on, although she knew it would any day. And if you looked closely, there was a noticeable bump. Those who had observed it just thought she was gaining weight. Her face was rounder too. But nothing else had changed.

“I’m fine,” she answered the sommelier, and thanked him for the tea. He had added a cookie to it, which she ate.

“You work too hard, April,” he scolded gently.

“We all do,” she said honestly. “That’s what it takes to run a good restaurant. Constant attention to detail and being on deck at all times.” She did both, and she really liked the way he worked with the customers and the suggestions he made. He already had a deep respect for her ability to buy great wines at good prices. He thought she was brilliant at what she did, and he loved the atmosphere of the restaurant, and her theories about it, and passion. He thought she was a remarkable woman. And he hadn’t seen a chef he respected more, since France, and he had worked with some very good ones. He had a strong case of hero worship for her, and they were the same age. He had grown up and trained in Bordeaux, and had been in New York for five years. His English was surprisingly good, and he had married an American and gotten a green card, which was important for April. He and his wife had just gotten divorced. They had a three-year-old little boy. She had left Jean-Pierre for someone else, a waiter in another French restaurant, this one from Lyon.

“I know you’re not telling anyone,” he said softly, as April sipped her tea. “But I’ve noticed the changes lately.”

“In the restaurant?” She looked worried. She didn’t think
anything had changed. That was never a good sign, when the staff saw that things were slipping before you did. She was panicked by what he said. What did he mean? Theft? Taking money from the cash box? Poor service? Sloppy food or presentation?