20. Abbot
ABBOT
Sandy meets Abbot on the sidewalk with a folder full of glossy papers and her collar turned up against the cold.
“You found it alright?” She motions to a house that’s all reflective glass and modern, boxy lines.
“I’d say let’s look around the exterior for a bit, but how about we hustle inside? This wind!”
“Ned’s just a moment away.” Abbot checks his phone again and looks down the street for Ned’s car, but he follows her up to the porch.
She retrieves the key from the lockbox and they go inside. “Now that’s better,” she says, shutting out the howl of winter’s assault. “So good to see you again, Henry. How are things? I hear Liesl is on her way.”
“Tomorrow.”
Abbot tenses for any more intrusion into his life, but she just smiles at him.
“I’d be happy if she brought some warmer weather with her!”
“Yes, that would certainly be nice.”
“I will say, what an advertisement for new construction, isn’t it? Can’t feel a bit of draft in here with these windows. Triple paned, such a nice touch, and the light in this entryway just can’t be beat.”
“It’s very lovely,” Abbot says, looking around. It is. It’s fine.
He checks his phone again for Ned, but there’s nothing.
“I’ve been excited to show you this spot,” Sandy goes on. “I could really see you and Ned being happy here. It’s right at the top of your budget at three point two.”
Ah. Perhaps it’s better Ned isn’t here to hear that figure.
Sandy must see it on his face, because she leans close, conspiratorial. “We can negotiate down, of course.”
“Of course,” Abbot echoes.
“And you won’t have to touch a thing for renovations, as long as you like the finishes. Though a bit of paint always goes a long way toward matching your style. This is the first home you’re sharing? Nice to have everything in place then, rather than starting from a completely blank slate.”
Abbot nods, but is it? They’re apparently not sharing this house, if it’s up to Ned.
He’s never seen Ned live in a place of his own.
It was Pat’s furniture and taste in Portland, and now Ned’s parents’ house here in Boston.
What does Ned even like? This sleek black metal banister and the light wood of the staircase arcing up into a tall foyer, framed by two-story plate-glass windows?
No, if Abbot had to guess, but he doesn’t actually know.
“And it has everything you two want,” she says. “Extra bedrooms, a nice yard out back. Finished basement for the kids too, always nice to have a spot for them to play.”
Do they want that? Abbot doesn’t remember it being on the list, but he and Ned never did really talk about houses.
Or much at all, this past week. Ned’s been quiet, clearly worried about Adams and Newbury both, and Abbot hasn’t pushed.
Not wanting Ned to push back, he knows, and busies himself studying a closet.
When Ned joins them, it’s with a polite knock on the door and a gust of frigid air as Sandy points out the depth of the windowsills and how it echoes the height of the baseboards.
“Sorry,” Ned says, stamping snow from his feet. “Hit all red lights from Newbury. Hi, hon.”
He’s smiling and friendly, shaking Sandy’s hand, stuffing his gloves in his pockets. So this is fine. His talk must have gone well enough and he’s happy to be here. Even maybe genuinely interested in this house. Willing to entertain a conversation about it, at the very least.
“What do you think?” Abbot ventures.
Ned keeps smiling, even as he catches Abbot’s arm and turns to Sandy. “Do you mind if we take just a minute?”
The two of them? Alone? In the middle of this appointment?
That kindle of hope flickers and dies as Abbot pictures Ned on the sidewalk before he came up the steps, staring at the house and thinking a clear and decisive No.
“Of course,” Sandy says, hugging her folder and pointing toward the back of the house. “How about I meet you in the kitchen when you’ve had a chance to catch up?”
“Thank you. It’ll just be a second,” Ned says and laughs. “Long distance. You know how it is. We haven’t even said hi.”
“Take your time, absolutely,” Sandy says and then she’s gone.
Ned’s smile drops from his face. “So,” he says, and cranes to see down the hallway, apparently checking that they’re really alone.
“If this isn’t a property you’re interested in, we can always—”
“I need to tell you something.”
Abbot reorients immediately. “Are you okay? Is Peggy?”
“What? Peggy? Yeah, she’s fine. Listen, alright? I wanted to get here early and catch you, but—oh hell. Abbot, this is a mess.”
Abbot steps closer. “What happened?” Is Ned really alright?
Are they alright? They texted last night about Ned’s talk, and this morning too.
In the midst of any nerves he had, Ned sent a picture of Baxter laying upside down, ears falling to the floor, lips giving in to the tug of gravity so it looked like he was smiling. That can’t be a bad sign, can it?
But Abbot has missed signs with every man he’s been with.
“My presentation?” Ned starts and glances down the hall again. “With Beverly? I don’t know what she said to Sandy, so we have to just go with this today, alright?”
“You said it went well.” He messaged that just as Abbot was driving into Boston. He hadn’t called, which was fine. He’s been so quiet all week, which Abbot had chalked up to nerves over the job, but now it feels more ominous entirely. “Ned—”
“Beverly talked to Chris,” Ned says quickly. “And Chris is, apparently, very excited that we’re getting married.”
“Married?” This is not what he’s braced for.
I need to take a step back from us, Abbot is suddenly on edge to hear.
Maybe if we take a bit of time to think.
And what had Louis said? A break will give us a chance to reassess.
Reto hadn’t said anything at all, and it had taken Abbot far too long to understand the message in his silence.
But this…“I don’t understand.”
“Chris thinks we’re engaged,” Ned says.
The swirl in Abbot’s gut eases. “Oh.”
Ned raises his eyebrows and his hands all in one motion. “Oh?”
“That’s it?”
“It?” Ned’s voice rises. “Abbot. He’s Chris. He’s a master at hearing what he wants to and running with it at a thousand miles per hour. Beverly checked with him about our relationship, and that conversation ended with both of them sure we’re heading toward the altar.”
That’s alright, though. Ned isn’t here to tell him that five years is really ten or never. It’s only that Chris thinks they’re engaged. He’s done what he always does, taken a shred of information and enthusiastically blown it out of proportion.
“What are we going to do?” Ned asks. “I couldn’t correct her. What was I going to say? Haha, funny joke, we’re not getting married but please still tell HR we’re good to go?”
“I’m not sure I see the problem.”
“You don’t?” Ned asks, the question pitched high and tight.
“I’m nearly certain Chris already thought that.”
“We are pretending to look at houses, not pretending to be getting engaged!”
“Ned,” Abbot says. “It’s alright.”
“Is it? Everyone at Newbury will think we’re fiancés.”
“They’ll already know we’re together.”
“This is so different.”
Abbot takes his elbows and draws him a step closer. “Chris has done us a favor.”
“That man has never made anything in our lives easier.”
“I don’t know about that,” Abbot says. “I could barely figure out what to say when you were in the same room, and in the course of half a semester of his meddling, we were dating.”
“That was a mess too.”
“A good one. No?”
Ned sighs, and with it, some of the tension leaves his body. “Yes, a good one.”
“This might be our comeuppance for undertaking a second attempt.”
Which was your bad idea, he braces for Ned to say. But Ned shuts his eyes and murmurs, “You sound like Pat. Though he’s on a whole soup thing, but still. Neither of you are worried about this.”
“No, I’m not.”
“He thinks it’s funny.”
“Isn’t it?” Abbot squeezes his arms. “Ned, we kissed for the first time on a concourse at Fenway because of Chris.”
“Yeah, but that was ridiculous.”
“This is too,” Abbot says. “And we can laugh about that now.”
“I’m just trying to get a job, and now we’re here, apparently looking at this house,” Ned says. “I—is that me or you?”
Yes, Ned’s right that a phone’s buzzing. Ned pats his pockets. Abbot finds his phone, vibrating as he pulls it from his pocket. “Hello?”
“Abbot? Henry? Oh hell, whatever, this is Claire. I realized I didn’t have Ned’s number saved, but I had texted you the address for the vet clinic the other day,” she says. “Hi. We got Baxter’s bloodwork back.”
“Hello,” he says and switches the call to speaker. “Ned’s here, too.”
“Hi,” Ned says.
“Hey, good, glad I got you. How’s Baxter doing? Any changes?”
“Fine,” Ned says. “He’s really healthy, he’s good.”
“So, yes, he looks good for his age, but his liver values are pretty elevated.”
Ned frowns. “Really?”
“Much higher than I’d like to see them, and a couple possibilities might be causing it, so I’d love to have him back in to run some more tests.”
“Okay,” Ned says slowly. “How much will that cost?”
“I’ll try to keep it down for you, but probably a couple hundred.”
“Oh.”
At the look on his face, Abbot quickly leans in. “I left my card on file at the front desk.”
“No, no, it’s fine,” Ned says.
“You can use that,” Abbot says, louder. It’s Baxter. And it’s only a couple hundred dollars. Abbot has spent more this past year on dog treats.
“I can get him on the schedule for tomorrow if that works for you.”
“Thank you,” Abbot says because Ned is still just standing there.
He seems to gather himself. “Hey, Pat said he texted you?” It sounds like a question.
Claire’s answering pause stretches a beat too long. “Yeah, no, I’ve just been busy.”
“Everything okay?” Ned asks.
“Absolutely,” she says.
“You’re still good with me bringing Baxter to you?” Ned asks.
“Definitely,” Claire says.
“Sure?”
“Pat and I are—we are going to be in each other’s lives for a good long while.”
“Good,” Ned says. “I’m glad to hear that.”
“Yep. Alright. Tomorrow, yeah? I’ll text you to set up a time. Bye.”