Chapter 14
On Monday, when Mary left for work, a black pickup was parked between her car and Brady’s Jeep. The truck had been there since the party on Saturday night. She feared it belonged to Marcus, the kid in the Uncle Sam hat. She imagined he’d had to go to the hospital after his endless dancing. When she’d escaped the party with Belli, he looked like a marathoner who’d collapsed before reaching the finish line and was getting assistance from other runners and spectators while insisting he could finish the race. She would have even sworn she’d seen strobing red lights from an emergency vehicle reflected in her bedroom window a few minutes after she’d gone to bed that night.
As she unlocked her car, Brady’s apartment door swung open. Giggling, Brady and RaeLynn stepped out with their arms wrapped around each other’s waists. Frank Sinatra stood with his face pressed against the screen door, barking. Mary felt an emptiness in her stomach that it took her a minute to recognize as loneliness. Except for Darbi’s visit and the hour or so she’d been at Brady’s party, she’d spent the entire weekend by herself. On Sunday, she’d gone to the Natick Mall and had a blast trying on clothes in her new young body and charging a new wardrobe to a credit card she wouldn’t be here long enough to have to pay off, but she would have had more fun if a friend had been with her. She’d forgotten how Sundays could be painful for single people. The first time she was in her twenties, she’d spent Friday and Saturday nights partying with her friends, but until she met Dean, she’d woken up alone every Sunday while her friends spent cozy mornings and afternoons cuddling with their significant others. No one had even texted or called her yesterday. Even when Dean golfed all weekend, he checked in with her throughout the day: You’ll never believe who’s in the foursome in front of me—Kendra’s old boyfriend Max. Remember him?
Want to meet at the rail trail for a quick bite? I should be done by five.
Do you need anything?
Kendra, too, would send quick messages: Did I leave my sunglasses there?
Can you send me the recipe for that soup we had last time I was there?
When’s the last time I had a tetanus shot?
Thinking about those messages that she’d taken for granted now made her feel needed, connected to something bigger than she was.
RaeLynn smiled at her. “You look pretty as a peach.”
“Thank you.” If only she—or some version of herself—hadn’t slept with Brady, she could be good friends with RaeLynn. The girl was so stinking nice. She was even dressed in scrubs. Clearly, she spent her day helping people or animals, a job that mattered.
“Did you have a good time at the party?” Brady asked.
How could he act so normal toward her when RaeLynn was standing mere inches away? Was he that sure Mary wouldn’t tell her that he’d cheated?
“More fun than I ever thought I’d have at a fish’s birthday party.” She stared at the ground, afraid that looking at him would trigger memories of their night together.
Brady let out a throaty laugh. “Speaking of which, someone fishnapped him. Would you know anything about that?”
“I prefer to think of it as a rescue mission.”
Brady glanced behind him at his door, where Frank Sinatra still stood watching them. “You can have the fish for a few days, but don’t get any ideas about my dog.”
“Did Marcus survive?” Mary addressed RaeLynn.
“They couldn’t break him,” she said.
“I could have sworn I saw a fire truck in the driveway.”
“That was just the guys from the firehouse stopping by on the way back from a call,” Brady said.
“I need to get to work.” RaeLynn leaned closer to Brady. He cupped her face, and their lips met.
Dean used to always kiss Mary goodbye before he left the house. He’d stopped after she’d snapped at him when he woke her up at five thirty to say goodbye before he left for an early-morning tee time. A wave of sorrow washed over her. When she got back, she’d apologize and tell him she wanted him to wake her up again with goodbye kisses.
“Have a good day, Mary. I’ll be sure to tune in tonight.” RaeLynn waved as she climbed into her truck.
Brady flashed his grin at Mary. “Should we get together tonight? Finish watching Ozark ?”
Her cheeks flushed. Had they been watching that show when they slept together? Was he talking in code? Did he think she would sleep with him again? RaeLynn deserved so much better. She glared at Brady while thanking her lucky stars she’d never worried about Dean cheating. “We definitely should not.”
After the morning meeting with the assignment editor, Mitchell summoned Mary and Kimberly Nash, one of the other reporters, to his office. As the two women walked down the hall together, memories of their interactions before Mary had arrived in this alternate universe flooded her mind. They’d spent a weekend at Kimberly’s family beach house in Eastham on the Cape. They’d attended a Zac Brown concert at Fenway Park. They’d toasted each other with cosmopolitans at a popular bistro on Newbury Street.
“What do you think Mitchell wants?” Kimberly asked. She pushed a dark curl off her face, and the sparkling diamond on the fourth finger of her left hand caught Mary’s attention. Another memory—or whatever these flashbacks that she hadn’t lived through were—came to mind. She and Kimberly sat in a Chinese restaurant after work. Mary could even see the outfit she’d worn that night, a blue and tan dress that hung just below her knees, with tall tan boots. At the end of the meal, Kimberly had giggled as Mary cracked open a fortune cookie. Instead of a string of lucky numbers or a cryptic message, the piece of paper inside asked a question: Will you be my bridesmaid?
In the hallway, Mary blinked. Did that really happen? Customized fortune cookies seemed like an elaborate way to ask someone to be in your wedding party. Dean’s proposal hadn’t even been as creative. On his birthday, he’d dropped to his knee as they left Mother Anna’s, his favorite restaurant in the North End. She thought he’d tripped and hadn’t realized he was proposing until she noticed his eyes glistening. “Give me the greatest gift ever. Be my wife,” he’d said. A warmth spread through Mary as she remembered how loved she’d felt at that moment.
“You’re still coming with me tomorrow night?” Kimberly asked.
Mary nodded, glad to know she had a good friend in this version of her life. At the same time, she felt sad, thinking about the bridesmaids who had stood beside her when she’d married Dean. Other than Darbi, she’d lost touch with all of them. They had been closer than sisters and had sworn they always would be. Over the years, they had babies, and their priorities shifted. Daily phone calls turned into weekly chats and sporadic texts. Soon they spoke only a few times a year. Before Mary knew what had happened, a decade had passed without them seeing each other. When she got back to her life in Hudson, she’d arrange a reunion, a barbecue at her house. Dean would be happy to have another reason to fire up Gus.
In Mitchell’s office, Mary and Kimberly sat side by side, looking at him across the desk. A framed picture of Mitchell with his two small girls and his wife faced out from the windowsill. Mary’s stomach tightened when she remembered the picture in Darbi’s sunroom of her on the rock without Dean and Kendra. She twisted in her seat so the photograph of Mitchell’s family was no longer in her line of vision. Sunrays streaked through the open blinds, hitting her in the face. Still, having the sun in her eyes was more comfortable than thinking about the implication of that solo shot of her hanging on Darbi’s wall. She was living in a world without Kendra, or Dean for that matter.
“We have a busy day, so I’ll get right to it,” Mitchell said. He rubbed his palms together. “There’s an opening at ICNN’s national Morning Show out of Chicago. Corporate wants me to recommend someone for the position. I’ve narrowed down my choice to the two of you.”
Mary tightened her grip on the armrest to prevent herself from leaping out of her chair. This was it. Her chance to set her old life right. Finally.
“I’m thrilled to be considered,” Kimberly said. “Tyler has offers at firms in Chicago and here in Boston. He wasn’t even going to consider Chicago because my job’s here, but it’s great to know it might be an option.”
Mary swallowed hard, feeling sorry for her friend. Kimberly had no shot. There was no way Mary would miss out on this magical second chance she’d been given. She would do whatever it took to get that promotion and return home as America’s most trusted broadcaster.
On her way to the vending machine for a Diet Coke, Mary paused in front of the studio. As she stared through the sliding glass door at the empty room, her body buzzed with anticipation. As soon as she whipped Kimberly’s butt and earned that promotion, she would be sitting behind the anchor desk for a national network as her fifty-four-year-old self. She imagined Dean and Kendra stopping whatever they were doing every night to watch her, even if Kendra was watching over the internet from England.
Glancing over her shoulder to make sure no one could see her, she slid the door to the studio open and slipped inside. Her heart skipped as she looked at the anchor desk with the Channel 77 logo fastened to its front side and a mural of Boston’s skyline on the wall behind it. She tiptoed across the floor toward the desk as if she were approaching a deity she was in awe of. She sneaked a look behind her. Certain no one was watching, she climbed into the anchor chair, brimming with excitement. Straightening her posture, she looked directly into the camera lens and whispered, “I’m Mary Mulligan, and this is Channel 77 N ...” She giggled and started again. She was on her way to being the anchor for a major network, not just this cable station. “Good evening. I’m Mary Mulligan, and this is the CBS Evening News .”
The words felt like the truest statement she had spoken in years. She squealed and repeated the sentences louder, emphasizing her name and the station number. “I’m Mary Mulligan, and this is the CBS Evening News .”
Across the room, a man cleared his throat. Mary’s face reddened. She wasn’t alone. Carl leaned against the door to the control room, watching her. “Glad to hear you get your name right.” He smirked. “When you’re done playing anchorwoman, we have a story to cover. Train derailment on the Green Line.”