When We Were Sisters (18 page)

22

Kris

I was dreaming about Robin early this morning when the telephone rang. This was not the dream in which I lose her in that awful wreck, but one with a different outcome. I see her as a stranger, a pretty woman standing across a room crowded with angry men and women. She lifts a camera to photograph one of the men, who is waving his arms as if to threaten someone in front of him. Although I can't see his face, I know I'm supposed to protect him, but suddenly she's the one I'm worried about.

I try to get closer, to ask the pretty young woman not to record the argument, but someone blocks every step. By now I'm frantic. Robin is no longer a stranger with a camera, she's the woman I love, and there are too many angry people between us.

I begin to push and shove, too, and at last I make headway. I'll do anything to get near her. And when I finally reach her side she turns and asks, “Are you angry, too?”

I grab her, and all I want to do is kiss her.

When I answered the phone Robin was on the other end of the line.

“I bet I woke you. I'm sorry to call so early, but we're getting on the road in a few minutes and I don't want to talk about this in a crowded van.”

“I was dreaming about you. About the night we met.”

The angry room had been in Palm Beach. I was a newly minted attorney, chosen to be there with one of the most prestigious partners in our firm, who was assisting Al Gore's legal team. Faceless in the dream, the partner is probably the man I was supposed to protect.

Even though the election had nothing to do with her job Robin found her way inside with several other photographers. She was in Florida that week, and she had decided to see what was happening. She got photos of what nearly turned into a fistfight, and I really did try to stop her. Obviously she ignored me.

I guess even then I really wanted to kiss her, too. Of course we were strangers, so that came later. Although not that much.

“That all seems so long ago, doesn't it?” she said.

“A lot can happen in fifteen years.”

“Two children. A mortgage. Differences of opinion.”

I was sitting up now. I combed my fingers through my hair as if she could see how tousled it was. “Did you talk to Lynette?”

“Lynette's going to talk to Gil today, but she broke down on the telephone.”

“She believed you?”

“A couple of weeks ago she found marijuana and worse in his backpack, so she and her husband confronted him. Gil told them the drugs belonged to a friend who had to go out of town, and he was keeping them because the kid's parents were suspicious.”

“They believed that?”

“I'm not sure they believed everything. For one thing he refused to name the friend. They did warn him they were going to be watching closely, and if they ever had another reason to suspect he was using or selling drugs, they were putting him right into a drug treatment facility. He promised to see a counselor to help figure out why he lets friends take advantage of him, and Lynette made an appointment. In the meantime she's been searching the house every day to be sure he isn't hiding anything else.”

I was growing skeptical. “So whatever else he had, he hid
here
?”

“I'll tell you what she told
me.
Lynette says Grace always tries to protect her brother. She thinks maybe he convinced Grace that he had to protect this second stash so he could pass it back to his friend when he returned. Maybe she was on her way to our house and he asked her to hide it here.”

“In our daughter's drawer, instead of, say, our attic? Do you believe this?”

Robin didn't hesitate. “Are you kidding?”

I gave a short laugh, because neither did I. Gil was the bad kid, Grace the good, and their parents didn't want to see the family any other way. Grace was our babysitter. The drugs were in our house. Yet the parents wanted to place the blame squarely on their son. The same way Grace had blamed him for the phone call.

I guessed out loud. “The drugs could belong to Grace, or maybe even to Grace and Gil together. Could be a family enterprise. She
is
trying to buy a car. But why hide them in Pet's drawer?”

“I've been thinking about it all night, and there's only one thing that makes sense.
Jody
must have been the one who found the second stash, maybe hidden somewhere in her own bedroom. She asked Pet to hide it because she didn't want whichever twin is the problem to get in trouble.”

“Pet rode to the recital yesterday with Jody. Maybe it all happened then.” I remembered the way my daughter set her purse beside her on the piano bench when she played. I'd thought it was so cute.

Before I went on I told Robin about the purse. “Pet must have put the bag in her purse. Her drawer was the first place she could think of to store it when we got home, but the purse took up too much room, so she removed the bag. The girls aren't old enough to figure out a better solution on the spur of the moment. Grace is their heroine. They thought they were doing the right thing.”

We basked silently in our ability to get to the bottom of the problem.

I came down to earth. “We'll know more after I confront our daughter today, but no matter how this happened, one thing is certain.”

Robin knew. “You can't trust Grace.”

No matter how I looked at it, she was right. Because even if Jody had given the drugs to Pet to hide, why hadn't she just told Grace, so her big sister would deal with the problem? Unfortunately the answer was clear. Jody must have suspected Grace was involved.

“No, I can't,” I said, and thought just how difficult my life had suddenly become again.

“I'm sorry.”

“Yeah, me, too.”

“After you talk to Pet, I'll call Lynette and tell her whatever you learn.”

“Easier if I do it myself so nothing gets left out.”

“I did leave a list of sitters. Maybe someone else will be able to fill in.”

I didn't want to discuss this any longer. “You have to get going. Where are you headed? I don't know a thing about what you're doing.” This was my fault. I hadn't wanted to know.

“For the next few weeks we'll be visiting some residential facilities and foster-care programs. We're heading to Tennessee today. Mick's working out the rest of the schedule, but we'll be ready for a break by Thanksgiving. I'll let you know where I am.”

I held out an olive branch, or at least a twig. “Let's catch up for real when this latest crisis is resolved.”

“I would like that.”

“I'll let you know what happens next.”

We both hung up. I tried to think how my wife might handle the upcoming conversation with Pet. I certainly didn't want to let my daughter off the hook, even if she was only trying to help a friend. I should have asked Robin what the consequences should be and how I should get to the truth. I didn't, though, because the moment I admit how confusing I find parenting, I'm admitting that Robin is right. I do need more practice.

There is so much I don't know about being a father. Probably not just because I'm away so often, but because the whole damned process is shrouded in mystery. For everybody.

* * *

I knew better than to make my conversation with Pet an event. No meals or snacks. Nothing pleasant, like a walk through the neighborhood or a bench by the pond in the center of our development. But also no time or place where Nik would overhear and add his own take on things.

I was considering my choices over morning coffee when the doorbell rang. I half expected to find Jody's mom on the doorstep with a plea that I not call the police. I was surprised to find Larry Buffman instead.

He smiled apologetically. “I just dropped Lee at a friend's house down the road. Bad time for a social call?”

I opened the door wider. “I just made a pot of coffee.”

“I won't stay long. I know this is your day with the kids.”

At the moment I wasn't looking forward to anything about being with my kids.

In the kitchen I poured coffee. Then we took our mugs to the sunroom. No matter what he'd called it, this was not a social call. Except for the occasional family picnic, social events within the firm are formal. Buff and I never perch on bar stools shooting the breeze, and while the Buffmans live less than five miles away, our families never flip burgers together in the backyard.

“Not bad,” he said after his first sip. “You've been domesticated. You cook, too?”

I tried to remember the last time I'd actually made a meal other than toaster waffles. “I couldn't afford not to in law school.”

“Yeah, I remember being poor. I like being wealthy a lot better. You will, too.”

Robin and I are already so much better off than we were as kids that I didn't know how to respond. Do I care if I'm
wealthy
? Is some mysterious number consisting of cash and investments what I'm shooting for? The whole exchange bothered me.

“And speaking of wealthy...” Buff set his mug on a side table. “I spent an hour on the telephone with Mervin Pedersen last night.”

“He likes to work outside office hours, doesn't he?” An hour of Buff's time any day of the week costs a fortune, which is why the man can use words like
wealthy
without flinching.

“He's flying in tomorrow afternoon. He wants to meet us after work and go out to dinner.” He didn't stop there. “He also wants us to fly to Norfolk and tour his facilities. Actually not us,
you
. You're cheaper.”

I saw no point in beating around the bush. “I'm also the only parent on-site these days.”

“You found child care, didn't you?”

“Not for a trip away from home.” I hesitated, then went the whole nine yards. “And it looks like I won't be at the office as late until Robin's back for good. I'll be working here. My extended babysitting just fell through.”

“Then you won't be at dinner tomorrow?”

“I can probably find a sitter today since I have advance notice.”

“Well, I'm not unsympathetic to problems with an out-of-town trip, but when does your wife come back for Thanksgiving?”

Robin and I hadn't talked about a date, but I suspected she would be home at least by that Tuesday. Most likely everyone on the film would want to be with family or friends for the holiday. I told him, and he nodded.

“That's what I guessed, more or less. So let's see if you can fly out on Tuesday evening and back home on Thursday. He wants to take you to a couple of different locations.”

“Come home on Thanksgiving Day?”

“I bet we can find a flight that will get you home that evening so you can have dinner with your family. Or you can always postpone dinner until Friday. I can't tell you the number of times we did that at my house. My first two wives hated it.” He looked satisfied with himself, as if he'd solved the problem. “I told Pedersen we might need to do it that way, and he was agreeable. He said he usually works through the holiday. Besides, that will give him time to put his best foot forward, clean up mouse droppings, that kind of thing.” He winked.

By then weeks would have passed without seeing my wife. How would I explain to Robin that I was leaving for a business trip just as she got home? On the other hand, if she could leave me in charge for weeks, even months, why not take advantage of her brief trip here? After all, we would have the rest of the weekend.

“We can probably arrange something,” I said.

“Good man.” Buff took another sip of coffee. Then he got to his feet. “So you're on the lookout for another babysitter? I can see if Lee has any ideas.”

I had gone over and over this in my head. If I'd used Robin's list. If I'd done a better interview. If I'd tried to find an adult instead of a teen. If...if...if... I realized Buff was waiting for an answer.

“Thanks, but I don't think so. The kids are pretty self-sufficient, so I get plenty of work finished here on evenings and weekends. I just need to be the one keeping an eye on things after the housekeeper leaves. Too much can go wrong.”

“That might cause some problems.”

“I have a telephone and a computer, and I can almost always find a sitter if I have some notice.”

“Well, your decision.”

“Pet and Nik need to know they have a father.”

He gave his trademark hearty laugh. “I was never sure if my kids passed me on the street whether they would recognize me.”

I didn't stop to think. “That's not a good thing, Buff.”

“Maybe not, but it was the way things were. The way they had to be.”

“Luckily it's a different world now. Video conferencing, internet, texting. More and more professionals work from home.”

“We'll see, Kris. But don't say I didn't warn you.”

* * *

The day was made for encounters. In the middle of catching up with my email and settling my calendar for the upcoming week, a law school buddy invited me to lunch. Howie teaches at the George Washington University Law School, and I usually do guest lectures for his classes. It's fun being the working lawyer giving students the down and dirty about the job. I like teaching, too. Talking and writing about the law are more fun than practicing it. I've published a couple of scholarly articles, which hasn't hurt my reputation at Singer. Howie said he had some new dates and ideas in mind for the upcoming term.

I was just glad he didn't want to do this over dinner. Lunch I could manage.

My daughter couldn't stay in bed all day. I waited, and just before noon she finally came downstairs and found me in the kitchen. Fortunately Nik was outside raking. I had told him to save two-thirds of the leaves for Pet, and the last time I'd looked outside he was sectioning off our yard with string. I wondered if he was counting as each leaf fell.

When she didn't speak, I did. “I'm not sure whether to ask whether you want breakfast or lunch.” I held up a loaf of bread. “Toast?”