The Girl in the Comfortable Quiet (3 page)

BOOK: The Girl in the Comfortable Quiet
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Crib. Rocker. Dresser. Changing table. Curtain. I
tick off each item one by one. Perfect. I’m done. There is everything a newborn
could possibly need here.

I switch off the light, go to the kitchen, reach
into the fridge for a Hansen’s Natural Soda and then grab the Diet Coke. Screw
it. A little caffeine won’t hurt anything. Not now. Kaley is almost ready to be
here. The doctor said I could even have an occasional glass of wine.

My gaze slowly roams the interior of my kitchen.
The oven clock says 9 p.m. I should probably sleep since tomorrow is going to
be a long day for me with the party and I tire so quickly these days.

I grimace, thinking of the baby shower. It was
sweet that Neil’s mother, Michelle, wanted to have something for me, but it’s
not really
me.
A herd of women doing girl things and gushing over baby
stuff. Mostly the Stanton relatives and Michelle’s friends since I’m
pathetically light in the girlfriend department. In fact, I only added two
names to Michelle’s invitation list. Rene and—my nose crinkles even more—Jack.

A herd of women and Jack. Crap, there is a
definite downside to having only one living relative and having it be male.

No one to ask to attend the Lamaze classes with.
It seemed too weird to ask Jack to stand in for Neil, so I just read a book and
skipped the whole damn thing.

No one to call and ask if this is normal when my
pregnancy body does something weird. And there have been a few moments of
bizarre pregnancy body lately.

Baby showers. Jack surrounded by women in the Stantons’
backyard. Definite downside.

And nights like tonight, when I’m feeling keyed
up and restless again, thinking too much, and could really use a girlfriend to
talk to, even if only on the phone. Someone to chase away my thoughts and the
whispering sadness that visits too often these days.

I should probably go to sleep. Instead, I head
toward the door in the living room and the recording studio one floor below.

 

CHAPTER TWO

 

At
a crawl, I drive up and down the narrow downtown street where the Stantons
live, rapidly scanning the long line of cars for a vacant spot. Nothing. Nada.
Nil. Jeez, what’s going on here? Why are there so many cars? The Stantons are a
large family, but this can’t all be them.

Dread moves through me. I hate large parties, and
the only thing worse than too many people, is being the focal point of too many
people. Michelle couldn’t have possibly sent out this many invites for my
shower. No, no, no. Something else must be going on downtown and I’m just being
paranoid.

Frustrated, I park in the vacant space in the
driveway. I don’t know whose spot I’m taking, but pregnant women have priority.
The nearest spot is five blocks away, and I’m not walking it. Not in these
silly high-heeled sandals I shoved my swollen feet into. Lame, Chrissie, lame.
Flip-flops would have worked at the Stantons’. Maybe not with the dress, but
definitely with the family.

I climb out of the car into warm afternoon air
and a deafening assault of sound. I stare at the house, and realize it’s coming
from the Stantons’ backyard. Music. Laughter. People.

Oh crap.

The only reason I agreed to the shower was
because I thought it would be one of the Stantons’ folksy family gatherings. It
never occurred to me that this is the first grandchild, that Michelle would go
overboard, or that Michelle would have the abilities to turn it into a circus.

That’s what it sounds like. An overpacked circus
in the Stantons’ backyard. It sounds like there are dozens of people out there,
though I can’t imagine how Michelle could put together something to accommodate
that many people, even though the lot is large.

I shake my head, feeling a flash of anger for my
absent husband.
Neil, you are going to owe me big time for this—for guilting
me into agreeing to let Michelle do this so I wouldn’t hurt your mom’s
feelings.

I pause a moment to smooth my dress. I stare at
the house in dismay, wondering if Neil knew what his mother had been up to.
They are so close. They talk about everything. Why didn’t he warn me on the
phone this morning that it was going to be like this?

I climb the four concrete steps up to the front
door, pull back the black iron security screen and knock.

It’s opened wide and I smile.

“There’s our girl,” Robert Stanton announces and
then laughs. “Or should I say two girls?” He gives my belly a light pat before
pulling me into an affectionate bear hug. He eases back, smiling down at me.
“You’re late. I thought maybe you had gotten smart when you drove by the house
and saw what the women were up to and decided to ditch the party.”

I laugh at the way he says that and my limbs
slowly release their tension. “It does sound like it’s going to be a little
overwhelming,” I admit. “I wasn’t expecting this.”

Robert’s eyes twinkle. “Me, too.” He places an
arm around me as he closes the door. “Come on. Your dad is already here. He
arrived way before the party. Has been here for hours, and I’m not over the
shock of that one. And there must be a hundred people in the yard I don’t know.
Not even sure where they all came from.”

Fudge, a hundred. Did I hear him right?

I’m silent as we walk across the living room to
the patio doors. I stare out into the yard, stunned.

It’s been transformed in a way unimaginable and
so
unlike
the Stantons. Plush expensive adornments everywhere. Luxurious
outdoor couches and overstuffed chairs. Round tables covered in linen
tablecloths of pale yellow and gray—the colors I chose for Kaley—topped with
crystal vases filled with flowers. Long buffet tables. Stylishly dressed people
mingling with the more casually dressed Stanton family. Photographers. Music. A
giant table with an ice sculpture surrounded by presents.

As if he can sense my unease, Robert gives me an
affectionate squeeze on my shoulder. “Yep, it’s quite a show. Started spiraling
out of control three weeks ago when that manager of Neil’s got involved wanting
to get a little publicity out of it for my son.”

My eyes widen. “Publicity? Are you telling me
that Ernie Levine crashed my baby shower and turned it into a publicity stunt?”

Robert sighs. “Didn’t just crash it. He hijacked
the damn thing. Michelle was beside herself, and all Neil said was
‘whatever
Ernie wants is what you do. It’s good for my career. It’s good for the brand.’

He rolls his eyes. “I would like someone to explain exactly when Neil decided
he was a brand instead of my son.”

My head is spinning. That doesn’t sound like Neil
at all. To treat his father like that. To want this. To allow this and not tell
me. No, Robert must have gotten it wrong and Neil must have just said something
in a way that let Robert take it incorrectly.

Neil is the most grounded, level-headed guy I’ve
ever known. He doesn’t like the hype of the recording industry. No, this is
Ernie Levine’s doing, no one else’s. My dislike of Ernie shoots through my
veins.

“I can see you didn’t know,” Robert says
sympathetically. “I’m going to have to have a talk with that boy of mine when
he gets home. He needs to take better care of the mother of my only grandchild.”

I almost smile at the way he says that—part
authoritative cop and part exasperated father. I probably would have smiled if
I wasn’t so pissed off.

“If not for your friend Linda,” he continues,
“calling my wife out of nowhere and offering to help, Michelle would have had a
nervous breakdown weeks ago. That woman is a godsend.”

My lids fly wide. Linda called Michelle? But how
did Linda know that Ernie Levine was creating this nightmare? And why would
Linda offer to jump in and assist with the arrangements? We’re friends, but
definitely not the
step in and oversee a baby shower
type friends.

We were sort of close during my days with Alan in
New York, but since then we’ve only had an occasional phone call type of
relationship. And even that is an iffy kind of odd thing I never expected after
the incident
between Alan and Neil at Jack’s party. I assumed I’d never
hear from her again, but she calls me regularly, which I totally don’t get.

“Now, that woman knows how to take charge,”
Robert adds approvingly. “Just a heads-up: that little weasel is out there
somewhere, but if Ernie gives you any trouble, sic Linda on him. She knows how
to manage this nonsense. They have already had quite a few confrontations
today. My money is on Linda. Ernie is afraid of her. To be honest, I’m a little
afraid of her, too.”

I laugh only because Robert looks like he expects
me to, but inside I’m reeling. It’s too much. Too much all at once, and I start
to feel slightly disoriented. How could Neil let this happen?

Breathe in. Breathe out, Chrissie.

Somehow I manage to plaster a smile on my face
before I follow Robert into the yard. The instant I step beneath the giant
awning there is no time to say hello to Michelle or Jack or anyone I know here.
Flashbulbs explode around me. Questions are shot at me like bullets from a
machine gun.

I spot Ernie Levine in the center of the horde
and my gaze narrows on him, even as I struggle to keep up with the rapidly
shouted words all around me.

I’m about to try to stutter out some kind of
response, when the words I hear are not the words in my head.

“One picture,” is shouted on a voice that could
puncture the sound barrier. “We had an agreement. One picture when Chrissie
arrives. One picture opening gifts. One picture cutting cake. But no questions.
She’s not taking questions and she’s definitely not answering them. Now leave
her alone or I’ll kick you all out of here.”

The flashes stop, the photographers take several
steps back, and I turn to see Linda Rowan closing in on me, cutting through
people. I never thought I’d ever be so glad to see Linda.

Before I can say anything, she pulls me against
her in a breezy, firm hug. “Finally, the girl of the hour has arrived.”

The way she says that tells me she’s putting on a
show because we are being watched by press, but her demeanor betrays she’s
worried about me and my reaction to this.

“Better late than never,” I reply and then kick
myself because that was a lame response.

Linda does a little shake of her head in front of
me. “Probably not the best words for a pregnant woman to say.”

I nod. “Probably not.”

Having our conversation being watched and Linda
staring at me are disorienting things. I feel the heavy pressure of eyes on me
from every direction and I don’t know what to say or do.

Before I can decide what my next move should be,
she grabs my hand and pulls me behind the canvas curtain separating the patio
from the party.

Once we’re out of view, her smile disappears and
she stops, her lively eyes alertly searching my face. “Jesus Christ, Chrissie.
Your expression when you walked in. I was half afraid you’d go into labor right
then. Are you OK?”

I flush. “I’m fine. But I can’t tell you how
grateful I am that you’re here.”

I’m shocked by how much I mean that.

Linda’s dark brown eyes sparkle with anger and
humor simultaneously. She shakes her head. “Well, leave it to men to fuck
everything up. And leave it to a woman to have to fix it. Poor Michelle. Lovely
woman, but the bastards were running all over her. You can’t let the management
or the label take control, Chrissie, or they’ll fuck you. What the hell was
Neil thinking giving Ernie carte blanche to turn this into a farce? You don’t
need this kind of bullshit. Not now.”

I stare, confused and overwhelmed, my thoughts a
jumbled mess. “How did you know what was going on here? How did you know to
call Michelle?”

She arches a dark brow on her severely beautiful
face. “Jack called me. Suggested I might want to help the Stantons with this,
and it all just sort of morphed into Michelle and I throwing the shower
together. The woman definitely needed some help. If Ernie treated my mother the
way he treated Michelle, I’d put a bullet in him. Damn Neil. Men can be so
thoughtless.”

Jack?
My thoughts are too
disorganized to process that one or why Jack would call Linda to fix this
disaster.

Her eyes soften in a way I’ve never seen before
and with a hand she brushes back wayward hair from my face. “I’m so happy you
let me do this and that we’re going to have a long visit. It’s been too long,
Chrissie. You shouldn’t be such a stranger. I’ve missed you.”

“Me, too.” I surprise myself a second time by
meaning
that
admission as well.

I’d forgotten there are moments when Linda feels
almost maternal to me, that as odd as that is given who she is, that it is a
pleasant thing how deeply caring she is. I would never have made it through the
turbulent first weeks with Alan in New York without her. She has a way of
soothing and holding everything, everyone around her, together.

But her being here, like this? Nope, I could have
never imagined this. As unexpectedly generous as she’s always been to me,
this
is incomprehensible. That she would take over putting together mine
and
Neil’s
baby shower and want to.

Strange. Completely strange.
But
it’s probably stupid that I’m questioning this because, no matter the reason, I
don’t doubt she’s the only person that’s kept this from being totally hideous.

The arrival of Jack abruptly ends my musings.

I’m suddenly in his warm, protective arms. “Baby
girl, you look beautiful today. Are you doing all right?”

Jeez, is that the way today is going to go?
Everyone wondering if I’m doing all right?

I manage to smile. “I’m great.” My gaze shifts to
the gathering beneath the tent. “It’s quite a party being thrown for me.”

“Thanks to Linda,” he announces warmly, shifting
his twinkling gaze to her.

Linda rolls her eyes. “Will you stop, both of
you? It was nothing. I’m a world class party giver, and it had to be done.”

Jack drapes an arm around each of us, and I’m
feeling that
irked and don’t know why
sensation. My gaze pauses on the
way my dad’s fingers rest on Linda’s bare shoulder.

Jack stares out at the party, then grimaces.
“Well, it was bound to happen eventually,” he says, annoyed.

My eyes widen. “What was bound to happen?”

“Neil’s career has exploded with this latest
tour, and now everyone wants a piece of him. He is big business not a musician
anymore. But you’ve got to lay down the law, Chrissie, and not let them walk
all over you.”

I tilt my head to meet Jack’s eyes directly. “I
would have, but no one told me what was happening. Including you. Why didn’t
you tell me?”

He looks uncomfortable. “You don’t need any
stress, any pressure right now. I thought damage control the best option.”

Smiling, Linda leans around Jack to look at me.
“I’m the damage control.”

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