Chapter 5
ROSALIE
As it turned out, Hannah’s five-months-old son hadn’t been suffering from acid reflux when the nursery had called her yesterday and Rosalie had agreed to come to her friend’s rescue.
Almost as soon as she had picked him up from daycare and got him safely buckled into the mind-puzzle that was his car seat, TJ had proceeded to throw up all over the back seat of Rosalie’s top-spec Porsche Cayenne.
Her plans of heading back into the city and choosing a dress for Andrea to wear to the Presley John tribute concert had been thwarted by the thought of TJ potentially vomiting on Oscar de la Renta’s finest evening wear in Saks.
So she had tied up her long locks of glossy brown hair, rolled up the sleeves of her jacket and dropped her car at the nearest valet service. Then she had caught a cab to Hannah and Rod’s home in New Jersey.
TJ slept most of the afternoon, which was incredibly dull.
So dull, in fact, that once she had exhausted the two men’s fitness magazines that were lying around the modest lounge – the photography skills were excellent – and made herself a mug of coffee, she had decided to tidy a few things that looked out of place.
Hannah and Rod’s home was nothing like Rosalie’s modern, on-trend-styled space in the city.
They had an old town house with three bedrooms that they had spent years improving.
Where Rosalie thought solid rose-wood floors would have been wonderful, they had a light grey rug that was getting worn from three kids wreaking havoc on the threads.
Where Rosalie would have placed succulents on floating shelves around the walls, they had family pictures in mismatched frames. Their sofas had lost their shape from being jumped on and lain across. The soft furnishings were decorated with what looked like chocolate fingerprints.
As TJ had started snoring – she hadn’t known kids snored – she had looked around the space and decided she could take it no more. Then she did something she never did… She found one of Rod’s hooded sweaters, pulled it over her own clothes, and cleaned and tidied Hannah’s home from top to bottom.
She was pooped by the time the older kids had come home from school, barely keeping her eyes open as she snuggled TJ on the sofa.
They had hardly registered her presence as they headed straight to the kitchen, banging and needlessly shouting as they raided the food cupboards, leaving boxes and wrappers on every surface that she had slaved away cleaning hours before.
She had stayed in place of their usual sitter until Hannah and Rod had come home from work, having counted down the minutes until she could go back to her clean, noise-free life. She had done her good deed and was ready to leave the circus.
Until Hannah walked through the door into the lounge and stood on one spot as she turned her head around the house, her jaw dropping loose.
‘Ros, you… you cleaned my house?’
Maybe it was the tiredness or something, but Rosalie had looked at her friend’s full eyes and felt her own eyes cloud over as she nodded and gathered up TJ from the sofa, hugging him to her chest. ‘I hope you don’t mind. TJ has slept a lot and?—’
‘Ros, we don’t mind at all. Man, you must have been at this all day,’ Rod said, hanging his thick, muscly arm around his wife’s shoulder.
Rosalie had shrugged, uncommonly bashful, and handed TJ to his mom. ‘I’ll get going. The valet guys returned my car not long ago.’
In response to the questioning looks she’d received, Rosalie explained, ‘TJ threw up again.’
Hannah had covered her gasp with her hands. ‘Shit, I’m sorry, Ros. We’ll pay for the cleaning.’
She’d waved off the offer. ‘I’m just glad I could help.
’ And, she’d thought in her car as she drove back into the city, she really was grateful.
She had achieved something good with her day.
She hadn’t just lunched and shopped; she’d made someone she cared about happy, and that made her feel… fulfilled, in return.
That thought had prompted her to call Hannah and tell her she would sit for TJ again today. Except she fully intended to have the day out with TJ today that she’d hoped for yesterday.
‘How about the Plaza, TJ?’ Rosalie asked, watching the baby in his car seat as he chewed a rubber donut in the back of her Porsche.
‘I agree. The Plaza it is. Do you like babyccinos? I’ll bet you do.’
* * *
A short while and Manhattan’s traffic later, Rosalie pulled up outside the Plaza.
‘Well, aren’t you just adorable?’ the concierge asked as he helped Rosalie inside, taking the adaptable car seat harbouring TJ from her.
As they headed inside, the hotel valet climbed into the Porsche behind them and drove away.
‘Thank you,’ Rosalie replied to the concierge with pride.
‘Is he yours?’
For a moment, Rosalie felt affronted – didn’t she look responsible enough to have a child?
Then she realised, TJ had much darker skin than hers – somewhere between Hannah’s pasty white and Rod’s black – and he had Rod’s wide nose and Hannah’s bright blue eyes.
‘He’s my godson,’ she said with pride – Hannah clearly thought she was responsible.
She tickled the baby’s tummy as he swung happily in his seat, which was hooked over the arm of the concierge. When he giggled, the sweetness of the sound made Rosalie’s heart swell in such a peculiar way it caused her to falter in her stride.
What was that feeling?
She swallowed to loosen her tightening throat and adjusted her leopard-print wrap dress.
They were settled at a table – TJ in a highchair, which Hannah had proudly informed Rosalie was very impressive at TJ’s age – under the rose-pink stained-glass roof of The Palm Court room and promptly served a latte, a babyccino and a plate of macarons.
It was Rosalie’s favourite dining room at the hotel.
The ornately decorated Venetian-style walls oozed opulence.
The gold chairs with their fancy upholstery signified money.
The bright green palm trees allowed diners to feel like they could have stepped off the bustling streets of Manhattan into a tropical paradise.
There was controlled chatter throughout the room, everyone respectful enough of one another’s space.
Music played at a low level in the background and, crucially, staff were always on hand should one need anything particular.
She nibbled a raspberry macaron, just enough to get the taste, then set it to the edge of her plate and dabbed her mouth with the linen napkin that a waiter had kindly laid across her lap.
‘So, Teej… Can I call you Teej? We’ll have our drinks and snacks, then we’ll go pick out a dress for Aunty Andrea to wear to the commemoration concert for Sir Presley John on Thursday. Your mom was in the middle of doing that when you had your bout of puking yesterday.’
Rosalie pulled a face that said Yucky , making TJ chuckle loudly. That alien feeling came back to her with the sound. Was it just that this kid’s cuteness factor was off the charts? No matter what she did, he was unconditionally happy with her .
‘You know how the whole aunty thing works, don’t you, baby boy? See, technically Andrea and me, we aren’t your actual aunties, but we love you better than any blood relative anyway, right?’
TJ gurgled, which Rosalie took as confirmation that he understood.
‘Has your mommy told you how we all met?’
She paused to lift him onto her lap and slipped the rubber teat of his bottled babyccino into his mouth.
The warmth she felt holding him was more than just his body leaning into hers.
It was mutual contentedness. Rosalie was not simply sipping coffee and eating macarons today; she was babysitting.
Suddenly, her standard shopping break had purpose.
She made sure TJ was happily guzzling, then set about her story.
‘I suppose we’re unlikely friends, really.
See, Andrea and your other god-mommy Sofia took over their daddy’s recording studio.
Of course, Andrea made some great signings and with her production and management, those signings hit the charts.
You won’t have heard of the band Leverage and their frontman, Tommy Dawson.
Well, they’re huge now and it was Aunty Andrea who found them.
Successes like that are the reason Aunty Andrea is at XM Music Group now.
Anyway, because I seem incapable of finding the right man for me, I was dating a guy that Andrea was producing…
what… maybe five years ago now. Gosh, time flies. ’
She looked down to TJ, who was still happily attached to his bottle, propped up by her arm, milky saliva running from the corners of his mouth.
‘Dang, I should have put you in a bib, huh? Sorry, I’m learning. Have you had enough? Do you, like, need to burp or something?’
She settled his near-empty bottle on the table in front of her and sipped her own drink.
‘So, Keith… that’s the name of the guy I was seeing…
Hardly a rock star name, if you ask me. I don’t know why Andrea didn’t encourage him to use a stage name.
Well, there I was, dating the anti-rock star, and I used to go to the studio when he and his band were recording their first full-length album, which is how I first met your mommy, Aunty Andrea and Aunty Sofia.
I saw them nearly every day for three – no, four weeks.
I liked them, you know. They weren’t like my usual group of gossipy, bitchy friends.
Daddy thought they’d be good for me too – diversifying, I think he called it.
And I think your mommy and Andrea liked me being around, too.
I always brought treats to the studio. It was nice to be able to help out, I suppose. ’