When We Fall (21 page)

“I guess Dempsey gave it to Sabrina since she came in
after you and thought you were going to be at the meeting yesterday.”

“Oh right.”

“Then she left it with me when you canceled because I told her I was coming here today. But I didn't get a chance to stop home like I thought I would. If you need it I can bring it by later. Maria is doing school pickup and drop-off for the foreseeable future, so I won't see you there.”

“Nah, it's no big deal. I'm just glad I know where it is. I guess I should be happy I also forgot my wallet at home yesterday, so at least I have that! Can you bring it to the gala?”

“Absolutely. As long as you bring the painting!”

“Sounds like a foolproof plan.”

H
er birthday had been blissfully uneventful. In a way, she'd felt strangely grateful that everyone had canceled at the last minute. Sure, she would have delighted in playing hostess. After all, it was one of Allison's favorite pastimes. Still, sitting on the couch with Logan, with their feet up on the coffee table, eating cold sesame noodles and moo shu pork out of the containers while they watched
The Voice
, was truly the best gift she could have asked for.

After gorging themselves on Chinese takeout, they'd shamelessly wielded two forks, no plates in sight, and dug into Dempsey's birthday masterpiece, alternating between feeding themselves and feeding each other. Ultimately, they'd barely polished off one-tenth of the cake, which they'd both found surprising given their marathon eating spree. An hour later, plummeting from his sugar high, Logan had fallen into a deep egg-roll-and-icing-induced food coma on her lap, where she'd let him rest for longer than necessary, while stroking his warm forehead and raking her fingers
through his thick, shiny brown hair. Jack's hair. Even though Logan's still smelled like little boy.

Allison often wondered how long she had until she turned into a pumpkin—until she became persona non grata in Logan's life. It felt impossible to digest, must less endure, that one day she'd be an embarrassment. That there would come a time when he'd be annoyed to arrive home from school and find her there, in
his
space. When she'd no longer be able to “hang” with him and his friends, chatting about their days, or cheer loudly on the sidelines at his soccer games. Even worse, what if he gave up crawling into her bed when he'd had a bad dream or on weekend mornings, so they could snuggle and watch cartoons until their stomachs were grumbling so loud Allison was forced to finally get up in search of sustenance? He couldn't. She couldn't.

Depending on her mood, this train of thought could lead Allison down a long path of what-ifs or what-would-happen-whens.
What if
Jack was still alive and they had three kids by now? Would she still love Logan as much? Would he still be her entire world if there was a mini Allison or two running around?
What would happen when
Logan went to college?
What if
he wanted to go somewhere like UCLA or Oxford?
What if
he moved to England?
What if
he married a Brit and had little British babies, and she saw him only twice a year for tea, scones, and stiff upper lips?
What if
he forgot about her and she ended up old and alone with fourteen cats and only three litter boxes?

This was where her musings typically ceased. Rationally, she knew that most of these scenarios were exaggerated fabrications, but she couldn't escape the unknown, and that
scared her. Even eleven years later, she missed having some- one to depend on, someone's hand to grab when there was turbulence on an airplane, someone to hold the dustpan when she shattered a wineglass on the dining room floor, and someone to tell her it was all going to be okay, whether they were sure of it or not. For now, she had her parents. But no one was more aware than Allison that life was fleeting. Here today, gone tomorrow. More like here this minute, gone the next. That was one place she wouldn't let her mind go.

On the contrary, today was a happy one. Dempsey had sent an extravagant bouquet of thirty-five pink, purple, and yellow roses to commemorate each of her thirty-five years, displayed in another stunning hand-painted vase from the Alexander Gallery. Logan had after-school activities followed by a playdate with a friend, so Allison would have most of the day to paint. And the best part of all, her mother and father had returned from California the previous evening, and her mother was sure to arrive at any moment.

Allison danced around the kitchen, singing into a wooden spoon while the eighties station blared in the background. “We built this
city
! We built this city on
rock and rooooolll
! Built this city . . .”

“I knew I should have given you voice lessons.” Allison whipped her head around to find her mother standing in front of her. “I also should have told you the importance of locking your front door.”

“Mom!” Allison ran around the island and practically pummeled her mother. She was a sight for sore eyes, a well-rested, slightly tanned version of herself, but not looking a day older. “You scared the crap out of me.”

“Hello to you too, sweetheart.” Her mother squeezed her back, steadying herself on a chair to maintain her balance. “I guess you're happy to see me?” She sat down at the breakfast bar and Allison sat next to her, turning her stool so they were facing each other.

“You have no idea.”

“I suppose Logan's at school?”

“Yeah, sorry. Apparently, at this age, pulling them out because their grandparents just came home is not an acceptable excuse. But he's beyond excited that you and Dad are coming for dinner tonight.”

“I can't wait to get my hands on him. I've been in hug and kiss withdrawal for months. It's been treacherous.”

“I can only imagine.” Allison grinned. Suddenly, her world felt complete again, and so many of the things she'd been worrying about over the course of the last few weeks seemed insignificant.

“So listen, don't kill me, but I have an eleven o'clock hair appointment with George. I can't stay for long.”

“Mom.”
Allison moaned.

“I know, I know. But there's no one in California who gives a cut like George. I'm desperate.”

Her mother had been getting her hair cut, colored, and styled by George Fortier for as long as Allison could remember. When she was younger, she loved going to the salon with her mom, if you could call the spruced-up basement of George's shack of a house that. He'd always have loads of candy and he'd let Allison dress up his miniature poodle in ridiculous outfits. In the last three decades, George had come
a long way. Now he worked out of his very own space called the Fortier Spa, located on the main drag in Wincourt central—prime real estate. In addition to his services, he employed a full staff devoted to massages, facials, manicures, pedicures, and so on. George had done Allison's hair and makeup on her wedding day.

“Fine, I'll let you off the hook.” Allison smiled. “This time.”

“How very generous of you.” Her mother smiled back. “Now, tell me how everything went with Charlotte before I have to run.” Allison had been keeping her mother abreast of all the goings-on in Wincourt while she was away, including what little drama she had in her own life. She'd even let on that things might be getting romantic with Dempsey, though she'd been careful to keep her feelings close to the vest on that one, mainly so as not to disappoint anyone.

“It went fine. Well, actually, it was like nothing had ever been off.” Allison hopped off her stool and rounded the breakfast bar to fetch them each a glass of water.

“Maybe nothing ever was off.” Her mother accepted the drink gratefully and Allison sat back down.

“I thought about that, but there's no way. People don't just fall off the face of the earth for weeks on end.”

“Remind me again.”

“We went on that trip to Canyon Ranch. Everything was great.”

“I remember that.”

“Charlotte and I really connected, you know? I thought I'd finally met someone who could be a real friend.”

“Right.”

“And then bam! She stopped returning my calls and, honestly, it seemed very intentional. When I finally saw her at the gallery that night, she was colder than usual, though she seemed to warm up throughout the evening. After that it was like everything turned back to the way it was. And then yesterday it was like nothing had ever happened at all.”

“That is a little weird. You're sure you weren't reading something into it? Maybe she was just busy.”

“I'm sure. It all started when she went to see her parents in Florida. I even had Charlie here for dinner while she was gone, so he and Gia didn't have to fend for themselves.”

“Do you think that bothered her?”

“Why?”

“Maybe she felt left out. Didn't you say she's very sensitive? And I know their relationship is on the rocks.”

“I never thought about that.” This, Allison realized, was the precise reason she needed her mother around. Like Charlotte, her mother understood people. She knew what made them tick, what made them glad, what made them sad, and what plain old pissed the shit out of them.

“I may be wrong, but knowing that she's generally insecure, she may have felt put aside, or . . .”

“Or what?”

“Jealous.”

“Jealous of what?”

“That you were filling in for her while she was out of town. Women can be very territorial. And you have been spending an awful lot of time with her husband.”

“What's that supposed to mean?”

“It's not supposed to mean anything coming from me, sweetheart. But think about it from Charlotte's perspective.”

“I don't know.” Allison shook her head.

“I don't know either. But I'm glad things are back to normal.”

“I guess.” Allison thought for a moment. “Maybe I didn't know Charlotte as well as I thought I did.”

“I wouldn't overanalyze it.” Her mother stood up and kissed her on the cheek. “Sometimes, my dear, you are blessedly unaware of how beautiful you are and that some people may view your very presence as a threat.”

“You get paid to say that!” Allison laughed and walked her mother to the front door, disappointed that she had to leave so soon, despite the fact that she'd be seeing her again within hours.

“I wish.” Her mother blew another kiss. “Love you, sweetheart. See you tonight.”

Allison closed the door behind her and sat down on the sofa before the phone rang. She reached over to the side table to grab the cordless receiver.

“Hello?”

“Allison? It's Elizabeth.” She sounded serious.

“Oh, hey, Elizabeth. How are you?” They'd been talking only sporadically over the last month, ever since Elizabeth had gotten a job in sales for a major pharmaceutical company. The pay was on commission, but to both Elizabeth's and everyone else's surprise, the customers had really taken to her. Apparently, her direct, no-nonsense approach was exactly what the doctor—or pharmacist—had ordered.

“I'm good. Really good.” She cleared her throat.

“Well, that's great to hear.”

“There's something I have to tell you.”

“Okay. Is everything all right?”

“Better than all right.” Elizabeth paused. “I'm pregnant.”

“What did you say?” Allison was sure she'd heard wrong.

“I said I'm pregnant.” Elizabeth's voice cracked.

“Oh my God!” Allison shrieked. “Are you serious?!”

“Dead serious.” Elizabeth sniffed, and Allison could tell she was crying.

“Those better be happy tears.”

“The happiest of all time.”

“Oh, Elizabeth. I could not be more thrilled for you.” Allison knew all too well what this meant to her. How losing her first child had altered her life forever. How she never thought she'd see the light of day again, even if she was standing directly under the sun. How nothing could make it go away. Nothing could make it better. Except maybe this. “I didn't know you guys were trying!”

“Neither did I!” Elizabeth laughed manically. “When I had Cossette, there were some complications. After that my gynecologist told me that my chances of getting pregnant the natural way were only a little higher than one percent. Nick and I have never had enough money to think about fertility treatments, and even if we had, I don't know. I guess I never thought he really wanted kids.”

“Oh.”

“Don't worry, he does!” Elizabeth blew her nose loudly into the phone. “I think he might be happier than I am. He's already gone to the toy store to get him a football.”

“Him?”

“Yeah, did I mention it's a boy?” Allison could practically hear Elizabeth beaming through the phone line.

“Wait a minute. How far along are you?”

“Sixteen weeks today. I had one of those CVS tests, which tells you the sex! Who knew?” Allison did. She'd had every test in the book with Logan. Not because of her age. She'd been way too young for any concerns there. But because her mother and her doctor had decided it was the best course of action given her circumstances. The very last thing Allison had needed was to give birth to a child with developmental or health issues when she could barely take care of herself.

“Unbelievable. What did Charlotte say?”

“Nothing. I haven't told her yet.”

“Are you kidding?”

“I wanted to wait until I was really sure, you know? And then you were my first call.”

“Wow, I'm so flattered, but you have to call Charlotte immediately. She's going to be over the moon.”

“I hope.” Elizabeth sounded skeptical.

“I
know
.”

“You're probably right. She's just been so crazy with all this gala stuff that we've been on each other's nerves more than usual lately. I'll wait until Sunday when she has time to breathe.”

“You're going to make me keep my mouth shut for
two days
?”

“If I can wait sixteen weeks, you can wait two days.”

“Fair enough.” Allison smiled. “Congratulations again. And if you need anything at all, you know where to find me.”

“Thanks. That means a lot.” Elizabeth hung up after promising that she'd keep Allison well informed and that they'd go maternity-clothes shopping soon.

Allison lay back on the sofa, stretching her body from one end to the other and resting her head against a throw pillow.

For whatever reason, she couldn't shake the feeling that everything was finally falling into place.