“Oh. That’s reassuring. Along those lines, I’m trying to wade back into things, get caught up on my e-mail, but there’s nothing there.”
“Right.”
“Right?”
“Elizabeth’s orders.”
“Elizabeth?”
“She had IT take you off the system.”
“She did?”
“Yes.”
“Oh, okay. But someone went through my e-mails.”
“Probably Andrea Davis. We brought her in.”
“When?”
“I’m not sure exactly, when you were in hospital,” Finoula said. “I can look it up if you want.”
“That’s okay.”
“She’s great, Andrea is. Hit the ground running.”
“Yeah, she’s a real pro,” Maribeth said.
There was silence on the line.
“We’re about to jump into a planning meeting. Do you want me to see if I can catch Elizabeth?”
“Oh, no thanks.”
“Take care, Maribeth.”
“You, too, Finoula.”
Maribeth hung up the phone and closed her laptop. For the first time in years, there was no assignment hanging over her head, no looming deadline. She should feel relief, but what she felt was betrayal.
Don’t think about it. That’s what Elizabeth had said. And meanwhile, she had hired Andrea. Had already hired her when she’d come to visit. Had barely waited for Maribeth’s chair to grow cool.
Don’t worry about it.
This was what happened when she didn’t worry about it.
She kicked her laptop to the edge of the bed and it fell to the floor with a thunk. She wasn’t fired. She knew Elizabeth would never do that. And it probably wasn’t even legal. But as for replacing her, the truth was, Elizabeth had already been doing it for years. This only completed the job.
JASON DIDN’T GET home that night until nine o’clock. The twins were still awake because Maribeth lacked the energy to put them to bed and her mother had fallen asleep early.
“How come the kids are up?” Jason asked.
“I guess the magical bedtime elf gave our place a miss tonight.”
He put his bag down. “Everything okay?”
She couldn’t even answer.
He checked the time again, glanced toward the twins’ room.
“Don’t you dare criticize me.”
“I wasn’t,” he said, defensively. “The database—”
“Yeah, the database upgrade,” she interrupted. “I know. All of Tribeca knows how busy you are with your database upgrade.”
“What is the matter with you?”
“What’s the matter? I’m here alone all day with my mother and the kids and I still feel like shit.” She paused, waiting for Jason to respond but he didn’t say anything. “You’re never here. I can’t tell if you’re trying to avoid home, or if you think that a week in the hospital, a week of recovery, was enough luxury for old Maribeth.”
“What are you talking about?”
“You promised me a bubble,” she said, her voice cracking.
“I’m trying, Maribeth. But keeping you in the bubble and keeping the house running and keeping on top of my job is no easy feat.”
“Welcome to every fucking day of my life.”
His jaw twitched. “Look,” he said in a measured tone. “I know you’ve been through an ordeal and you’re in pain, but can you try not to lash out at the people who are in it with you?”
“If I ever meet those people, I’ll be sure to keep that in mind.”
“You know what, you’re being really . . .”
Childish. That’s what she thought he’d say.
“Selfish.”
Selfish! She was being selfish? All she did was take care of everyone else. For the first time in her life, she needed to be taken care of, and this was what she got? She felt tears of rage come to her eyes and then shame because damn him if she was going to cry.
Selfish?
Jason. Elizabeth. Her mother. They could all go to hell.
10
Maribeth woke up the next morning draggy, fatigued, and achy, like she’d been hit by a truck in the night. She had not felt this wretched since the hospital. She was supposed to walk but it was raining out. This had prevented her mother from taking the kids to school because she hadn’t wanted to catch a chill, so Jason had had to take them, causing him to leave late for some big off-site meeting and making him surly.
She put in a call to Dr. Sterling’s office. The nurse asked about her symptoms. Maribeth said that her chest hurt. And she was achy.
“During physical activity?” the nurse asked.
“No, when I’m resting.”
“I’ll have the doctor call you back.”
Five minutes later, the phone rang. But it wasn’t Dr. Sterling. It was her CPA’s office, calling to confirm that she had received and filed their return. “We never got your confirmation notice back,” the receptionist said.
“What return?” Maribeth asked.
“We overnighted the returns to you,” the receptionist said. “FedEx confirms receipt on the thirteenth.”
She’d been in the hospital then. She told the receptionist she’d call back and went to the hall table. She always dealt with the mail, sorted the junk mail, paid the bills, and since she’d been ignoring it, it appeared that it had just been piling up.
She quickly weeded out the catalogs and credit card offers and tossed them in recycling. She put aside all the get-well cards, bank statements, and bills in another pile. She saw nothing from the CPA.