Maybe Baby (8 page)

“Well, I have,” she said. “I had it yesterday, and then I came to see Mom—not about the moment of clarity, about something totally different—but then when I saw you last night I kinda thought…” She stopped and tilted her head as she looked up at him. “You’ve really never had one?”

Nick shook his head, watching her with those eyes that cut right through her. How did he do that with just his eyes? Not that it mattered. He did it, and he was the only one who ever had.

“It was about you,” she said finally.

He met her eyes, his face expressionless. “What was about me?”

“The moment of clarity.” She exhaled, took in a deep breath. “I think I made a mistake.”

Nick released a long breath before responding. “You think you made a mistake?”

“Yeah. When I left you. At the wedding. You remember the running?”

He nodded. “I remember the running.”

“Yeah. That. It was a mistake.” She swallowed hard and searched his face for some sign that he wasn’t going to yell at her and tell her to get the hell out, but she couldn’t read him.

“You don’t have to say anything,” she said quickly. “I mean, I don’t expect that it matters. Much. I mean, it matters to me, but to you…. it shouldn’t. Really. I just thought you should know that… um…”

He continued to stare at her.

“So,” she went on, “that’s why I came by. Just to, you know, tell you that I was wrong, and I know I was wrong, and I’m sorry.”

Her voice cracked on the “sorry,” and Nick’s face finally softened. He pushed up off the edge of the table and took a step toward her. Dana took a step back.

“You really don’t have to say anything,” she said. “I mean, if you had something to say, you would have already said it, so anything you say now is really going to just be something to say, and who needs that, right? I just wanted you to know, that’s all.”

Nick shook his head. “You’re not the only one who’s made mistakes, Dana.”

Dana stared up at him. “Melanie.”

“Yeah.” He dropped his eyes. “Actually, about that—”

“You don’t have to explain anything,” Dana said, laughing nervously and waving her hand in the air, her stomach turning at the thought of hearing about his night with Melanie. “I don’t care that you slept with her.”

Confusion flashed over his face. “You don’t?”

“Oh, don’t get me wrong. At first I did. For a while there, it was my most sincere wish that her little cloven feet would gouge your shins out.” She laughed too loud and cringed, then went on. “I mean, it’s not exactly a pleasant thought, you two together, but after what I did, who could blame you?”

“You don’t blame me?”

She shook her head. “No.”

He huffed out a small laugh, tinged with sadness. “You should. I screwed everything up as much as you did. I should have listened to you. I should have paid more attention.”

“Ah, shoulda, woulda, coulda.” Dana waved her hand dismissively in the air and smiled up at him. “There’s no point. I’m sorry, you’re sorry, yadda yadda yadda, right?”

He smiled back. “Right.”

And suddenly there it was, that little sparkle at the edge of his eyes, the one that was only for her, and her heart soared. For the first time since that damned moment of clarity, she thought maybe…

“I’m moving to California,” he said, his smile fading.

Or, you know, maybe not.

“Whoa,” she said, trying to catch her breath. “California. Big move.”

He nodded. “Yeah.”

“Where in California?” she asked, pulling on a forced smile.

“San Diego.”

“Nice place. Pretty beaches.”

“So I hear.”

“New job?”

“Yeah.”

“Doing what?”

Nick hesitated, then shrugged. “Nothing interesting.”

“Great,” she said, overpunching the enthusiasm. “Congratulations. Good for you. That’s wonderful.”

Shut up, she thought. Just shut up and get out.

“Thank you.” He gestured with his shoulder at the box on the table behind him. “I was just… shipping some stuff.”

“Wow,” she said. Her fingertips were tingly, going numb. She guessed all the blood was flowing to the gaping psychic wound in her gut. “Well, then. I’m glad we had this little talk. Clear the air so we can both gain closure, move on, follow our bliss. Just like Oprah says. You know, she’s really smart. Oprah.”

Nick nodded. “Yeah.”

“Yeah. So. Great. Well…” She looked up at him and tried not to read into what she thought she saw in his eyes. It didn’t matter, anyway.

Stupid California.

“‘Bye.”

She moved clumsily past him. Her legs felt like tree trunks, they were so heavy. He touched her arm lightly, and she froze where she was, staring at the floor.

“I’m sorry,” he said quietly. “About this morning. I shouldn’t have…”

“Oh, no,” she said, her eyes filling with tears. She clenched her teeth and tried to blink them away, thinking
Not now, oh please, not now.
“It was a good-bye kiss. Just a good-bye. It was time to, you know, say good-bye.”

She shot up on her tiptoes and kissed his cheek, mostly so he wouldn’t see the tear that was tracking down hers.

“Good-bye, Nick,” she whispered, then darted out the front door. She thought she heard it open behind her, followed by someone’s footsteps going out to the sidewalk, but she didn’t turn around to look.

There really wasn’t any point.

Nine

Babs sat on Vivian and Gary Bellefleur’s leather sofa. Vivian, a tall thin blonde in her late thirties, with a patrician nose and an overdeveloped sense of drama, stood to Babs’s left, her arms crossed over her stomach as her fingers tapped nervously over her elbow. Gary, a short balding guy with an unusual and disturbing fondness for golf clothes, stood to Babs’s right. She felt like a little kid being scolded by her parents, and the sensation didn’t sit well with her.

“A bald guy?” Vivian asked, staring at Babs in disbelief.

“You hired someone to steal Mr. Saunders?” Gary asked, staring at Vivian with a similar stunned expression. Vivian waved her hand at him dismissively.

“Well, you wouldn’t let me have him killed—”

“With good reason!” Gary shouted.

“Zip it, Skippy,” Vivian hissed.

Babs leaned forward. “Who’s Mr. Saunders?”

Vivian rolled her eyes. “The stupid bird.”

Babs leaned back. “Oh. Okay.”

Gary sat in the chair next to the sofa. “My father loved that bird.”

“Your father was a vicious nutcase.”

Gary leveled his finger at Vivian. “Don’t speak ill of the dead.”

“Oh, pffft,” Vivian huffed. “That bastard should have kicked it ages ago.”

She situated herself on the sofa next to Babs. “Fifteen years, Babs. Fifteen years of
Baby, fetch my meds
and
I dropped my remote, bend over, and pick it up, would ya?
and
Hey, Sweetcheeks, it’s time to change my bedpan
and I did it. I did all of it. Took care of him. Took care of his stupid, smelly, stinky bird. So when the guy finally kicked off, I got rid of it. Yes.” She put her hands on Babs’s arm. “I mean, really, Babs. You would have done the same, wouldn’t you?”

Gary flew up off the chair. “Not if it meant losing twenty-five million dollars!”

Vivian hopped up off the sofa, her hands on her hips as she leaned into her yell. “How was I supposed to know the rotten old coot would leave everything to the stupid bird? You’d better hope crazy skips a generation, buddy, or you’re screwed.”

Babs stood up. “All right, both of you. Enough. Sit down. Please.”

She pointed to the chairs on either side of the sofa. Vivian threw herself down. Gary scuffed one toe against the floor in protest and also sat down. Once they were seated and quiet, Babs settled back on the sofa.

“Explain to me”—she held her hand up as Vivian opened her mouth—“
calmly
what happened this morning.”

“Albert came by,” Gary said.

Babs looked to Vivian. “Who’s Albert?”

Vivian rolled her eyes. “Family lawyer.”

Babs looked to Gary. “Okay. And?”

“And he said that my father left his entire estate to the bird. We have to bring it in to the office on Friday so they can verify Mr. Saunders’s good health before they can release the funds.”

“And if you don’t bring the bird?”

Vivian slumped into the chair. “Then we’ll just have to find the most stylish lines for government cheese.”

“Okay,” Babs said, keeping her voice soft and calm. “We’re adults. We’ll find a solution.”

“Here’s a solution,” Vivian said, sounding like a bratty teenager. “Send Cheekbones out to find the guy who stole my bird!”

Gary looked appalled. “
Cheekbones?
Is that a mob name?”

Babs tried not to roll her eyes. “His name is Nick, and he’s not available.”

“He was available last night,” Vivian said.

Babs turned hard eyes on Vivian. “Last night was his last favor for me.”

Vivian let out an exasperated sigh. “Then we’ll bribe him.”

“With what, Vivian? Government cheese?” Babs shook her head. “Besides, he doesn’t do it for money.”

“Then why does he do it?” asked Gary. “There has to be some way to convince him to do this for us. He’s the one who saw the guy who took Mr. Saunders, and I think we’re all agreed that none of us are exactly detective types.”

Babs pinched the bridge of her nose between her fingers to ward off the migraine that Gary’s high-pitched voice was bringing on.

“Look,” she said, pulling her hand away from her face, “he’s like a son to me. The things he did, he did because I asked him. He worked to help me, and I can’t ask him to do anything else.”

“There has to be something we can offer—” Gary started.

Babs shot an iron look at Gary. “I said
no,
Gary.”

Gary bristled a bit, but he shut up.

Babs turned to Vivian. “Tell me again why we can’t call the police?”

“Because the bird is illegal,” Vivian said. “They’d have to turn it over to the conservation people in New Zealand. There are apparently only five of the stupid things—”

Gary leaned forward, looking at Babs. “Eighty-six.”

“—left on the planet, and everyone’s all freaking out about it.”

“Wait. If the bird is illegal, why didn’t you just call the conservation folks and have them come and take it?”

“I did!” Vivian huffed, slamming her arm down in frustration. “I called, and I said, ‘Hey, let’s say hypothetically someone had an illegal Kakapo, what would you do?’ and the guy went on and on about this authority and that authority and blah blah frickin’ blah. It would have taken them
weeks
to cut through all the bureaucracy and get their little Kiwi asses out here.”

“And you couldn’t wait a couple of weeks to do it right?” Babs asked.

Vivian gave her a dark look. “You’ve obviously never smelled a Kakapo.”

Babs rolled her eyes. Fine. No police, no Nick, and the conservationists were now the enemy. She should have just gotten up and left, but getting this bird for Vivian and Gary was very possibly the only way she’d be able to help Dana, and that was important enough to put up with Vivian and Gary for a little while longer.

“It’ll be okay,” Babs said to Vivian. “We just have to think up a plan and execute it, that’s all.”

Gary, fresh off his sulk, stood up from his chair. “Actually,” he said, walking across the room, “I think I might have a plan.”

Babs pulled on a patient smile and watched as Gary removed a painting from the wall and turned the combination lock on the safe behind it. It wasn’t until he turned around and she saw the gun in his hand that Babs let her smile drop.

“Gary?” she asked. “Exactly what are you thinking of doing with that?”

He lifted it, the barrel pointed unmistakably at Babs’s chest.

“If this Nick helps you,” he said, “make a call. Tell him you
really
need his help now.”

Babs let out a light scoff, unable to believe that soft little Gary was actually threatening her. She turned to Vivian.

“Vivian? You want to handle this for me?”

“Oh my God, Gary,” Vivian said, standing up and walking over to him. “I can’t believe you. This is really good!”

“What?” Babs said.

“It’s perfect!” Vivian said. “If Cheekbones won’t do it for money, certainly he’ll do it to save your life, you know, since you guys have that whole mother-son thing going on.”

Babs stared at them. What a couple of idiots. She didn’t care anymore how much money she might be able to get from these two by getting that bird back. She’d find some other way to save the winery. This was over the line.

“That’s it,” she said, standing up. “I’m leaving, and you two can figure out on your own how to get your stupid bird back.”

She took a step but stopped when a pop sounded and a piece of abstract artwork flew off the end table and crashed against the wall, leaving behind a smoking bullet wedged in the woodwork. Slowly, clutching her purse tightly in her hands, Babs turned her eyes to Gary.

“I went to a very well rounded prep school,” Gary said. “Skeet shooting. I’m really good. If I miss you, it’s because I intend to miss.”

Babs’s eyes narrowed. Skeet shooting? Was he
kidding
?

Gary’s voice was dead serious. “That bird is worth twenty-five million dollars, Babs. I’ve lived under my father’s tyranny for forty years to get that money. I’m sorry, but if I have to threaten to kill you to get it, then I’ll do that.”

Babs slammed her purse against her thigh, the edges of her anger turning to fear as she looked at Vivian’s face, smiling brightly a head above Gary’s.

She couldn’t believe it. She was being kidnapped by Boris and Natasha.

“Make the call,” Gary said. “Use your cell. We’ll tell you what to say. As soon as we get access to the money on Friday, you go home safe.”

“How do I know you won’t kill me once you’ve got the money so I won’t go to the police?”

Gary’s face pinched. “I hadn’t thought that far ahead.”

“We’ll figure that stuff out later.” Vivian turned to Babs. “Got your cell, sweetie?”

Babs grunted something rude and reached into her bag for her phone.