Chapter Seven #2
“What! He doesn’t even know how to FaceTime.” This didn’t compute. Her father had a cell phone but barely used it. He sort of knew how to text, but she doubted he knew what FaceTime was.
“Well he did,” he moaned, “and I forgot to turn off my phone.”
“Oh Andrew.”
“It went off in my pocket. One of the deans got pissed and yelled at me for like a whole minute on how I was disrespectful. I wasn’t being disrespectful, I just forgot.”
Her stomach swooned with anxiety. “So what happened?”
“I think they were going to let me off with a warning. That one dean was an asshole, but the other two were nice. They asked me what happened and if I knew I made a mistake. I said I did, and I wore the blazer like you said and—”
“Miss Cassie?” Mrs. Macuja stuck her head in the door. “I need to ask—”
Cassie waved her off. “Not now.”
“What?” Andrew said.
“Not you, sweetie!” She motioned to Mrs. Macuja to close the door. She couldn’t believe the woman had barged right in! Wait. What if there was an emergency? “Hang on, honey.” She set down the phone and dashed after Mrs. Macuja, who was already on her way downstairs.
“I’m on the phone with my son. What’s the matter?”
“You out of Mr. Clean. Okay to use vinegar on the floor?”
“Oh, my God. That’s all? Yes, vinegar’s fine.” She hurried back to the bedroom. “Mix it with water,” she called. CNN was blaring on the TV downstairs, and a throbbing had started behind her left eye.
“I’m sorry, honey, someone’s here to help with Grandpa. Tell me what happened.”
“They suspended me,” he said glumly. “For a week.”
“Oh no.” This was what she’d feared, that the school would want to make an example of them. Phil had been way too sanguine about this. “What about the other kids, were they suspended too?”
“They haven’t had their hearings yet. They’re calling us in separately.”
Outside the window, a striking yellow bird with black wings tucked into the safety of the red maple.
A goldfinch maybe. She didn’t know her birds.
In the city you mostly saw pigeons. Utilitarian birds that knew how to survive.
“And your friend, is he still in the hospital?” Her heart ached for this boy, whose life might be forever altered.
“His name is Jack. His parents flew him home to Dallas. I tried calling, but his mom wouldn’t let me talk to him.” Andrew sounded like he was on the verge of tears. “I just wanted to see how he was doing.”
“Of course you did.” She still felt an undertow of unease about how a boy could fall and hit his head like that.
What Andrew wasn’t saying. Not surprising that the mother wouldn’t let Andrew talk to him.
She’d be outraged too if her son was lying in the hospital and the other kids had walked away.
“Why don’t you fly home? I’m at Grandpa’s, you could come here. ”
“And do what?”
“You can’t go to class for a week. What are you going to do there?”
He was quiet for a moment, thinking about this. Andrew came to things slowly, it didn’t do any good to push him. “I still have to study. I have finals in three weeks.”
“You can work here. I am.”
“I don’t know. Maybe I’ll just stay here.”
“Andrew, I don’t want you holed up in that frat house for a week with nothing to do; it’s not a good idea.”
“I live here.” His voice brought her up. The way he sounded like Phil.
She took a breath. She’d been trying hard to give him space, and here she was ordering him around like he was twelve.
But he’d been foolish, more than foolish.
Irresponsible. And now a boy was hurt. How had things come to this?
Had she failed somehow as a parent? She’d tried her best, but something awful and unforeseen had happened anyway.
Could she have set another course five or ten or twenty years ago?
Maybe this terrible thing could have been avoided if she’d put her foot down about joining the frat.
Or forbidden him from going to Tulane in the first place.
But couldn’t something bad have happened somewhere else?
Maybe not this particular thing but another misfortune.
Life was a series of pitfalls, some small, some catastrophic. She knew that all too well.
She began again. “All I’m saying is it might be better to get out of there for a week. And you haven’t seen Grandpa since Christmas. It would be nice to spend a few days with him.”
From the window, she saw Glenn’s white truck turn up the driveway, and in spite of everything, her heart lifted. He hadn’t forgotten.
“Okay. I’ll come, but I’m not going to Connecticut for the whole time.
I’ll stay in the city with Dad.” He was pushing back, angry and upset at what had happened, choosing his father because he knew it would hurt her.
It did hurt, a little. From what she could tell, Phil had pretty much moved into the fiancée’s place.
She hoped he’d have the sense to carve out some time for Andrew.
“That’s fine, just come here for a couple of nights.”
“All right,” he relented. “I’ll take the train up. I’d like to see Grandpa too.”
“He’d love that.” She didn’t add that she would love it too. No sense pushing her luck.
. . .
She met Glenn outside as he was getting out of his truck.
Even though the day was cool with a sharp breeze, he was wearing shorts and a fleece vest, and she couldn’t help noticing he had nice legs.
She quickly averted her gaze. Jesus, her world was falling apart, and here she was gawking at the man’s legs.
“My dad fell asleep on the couch,” she said, her face warm. “I don’t know how he sleeps with the news on so loud.”
“I can come back. I just stopped by to talk about a management plan for the bees. Maybe we can get a handle on that varroa.”
“No, don’t leave. I’ll get him up. Otherwise, he’ll be unhappy he missed you.” The thought of him leaving right away discouraged her. It was everything—Andrew, the memory lapse. Her looming appointment with the genetic counselor. The day had gone from bad to worse in a hurry.
“I uh…didn’t mean to be rude the other night, when I took off like that.
” He shifted from one foot to the other, and she had the sense that whatever happened that night had upset him.
He was a hard man to read, unlike Phil, who had no problem letting you know what he was thinking.
She’d appreciated that transparency at first, but somewhere along the way what Phil was thinking had become less interesting.
Less conversation and more monologue. Maybe the new wife would be enthralled.
She had a sudden troubling thought. “Is everything okay with your daughter?”
“Oh yeah. She’s fine, thanks.”
“I saw in the paper that the zoning board approved the project.” She hadn’t stayed for the whole meeting. When she’d left at ten people were still lined up to talk. God knew how long it went.
“No surprise there.” His expression darkened. “Pretty much a foregone conclusion.”
“At least they mandated some below market units, which seems fair.”
“Below market around here is still out of reach for most people. And bottom line, they’re going to plow it under.” He regarded her suspiciously. “You’re not in real estate, are you?”
She smiled. “You make it sound like the mafia. No, I’m not in real estate. I do economic development for the city of New York. I’m a lawyer in their legal department.” She glanced toward the Kingsley property. “How did you end up keeping bees there? Do you know the family?”
“Not personally, just made some calls. It seemed like a good spot to keep a few hives.”
“More than a few.”
“With bees one thing always leads to another.”
“Your daughter seems to know something about bees.” Cassie glanced at the truck, on the off chance Lilah was inside. “She seems like a sweet girl. What is she, about eleven?”
“Twelve. Going on twenty.”
Cassie laughed. “I remember being that age, so much drama. So you see her on the weekends?”
Something softened in his face. “I have her all the time. Her mom’s not in the picture.”
“Oh.” She hadn’t expected that, a single dad raising a preteen daughter on his own. “That’s got to be challenging.”
He rubbed his jaw. When she’d first met him she’d assumed he needed a shave, then realized he probably kept it that way. She didn’t see a lot of scruff in her world. “Challenging is an understatement,” he said.
“I’m a single parent now too, although it’s easier since my son’s off at college.” She frowned. “Sort of easier. He just got suspended. You have to go out of your way to make that happen.”
He laughed, which eased the hard, knotty thing inside her.
“How long have you been divorced?” she asked.
“Eight years now.” He ground one of the small stones under his boot. They both looked at it.
“Lilah was little.”
“Four.”
“I’m coming up on a year,” she said. “Next month.”
“Sorry to hear that.”
She shrugged. “It’s okay. Some days I’m fine with it, other days I don’t know what I’m going to do with the rest of my life. He’s about to get remarried.”
“Ouch.” He looked genuinely pained for her.
“Does it get easier, the whole being single thing?”
“Um…” He glanced up at the house, which she realized was her cue to get her dad. She’d gone and made him uncomfortable.
“Sorry, I didn’t mean to pry. It’s just that I’m new to all this, and I don’t seem to be doing it very well. The single parenting thing anyway.”
“That part’s hard,” he agreed.
“Is there an easy part?”
He smiled. “I’ll let you know.”
She turned toward the house. “Sorry to unload on you. Let me get my dad.”
“Do you like honey?” he said.
“Honey? Yeah sure.”
“I’ll bring you some. I’ve got a few jars left over from last summer. It was a good year.”
“I’d like that,” she said. They stood awkwardly for a moment, neither of them quite sure where to go with this.
“Okay then.” He shoved his hands in his pockets.
“Okay. Well, thanks.” She headed up to the house with an unexpected lightness in her step.
She had a feeling Glenn Marsden made very good honey.