18. Berlin
BERLIN
Adam’s office had a plain Ikea desk, a perfectly neutral background for Zoom, and high-speed Wi-Fi.
Lucy would occasionally hear the pitter-patter of her girls’ feet overhead, reassuring her that everyone was okay upstairs.
And by nine or ten at night, it was quiet, and she would know that Jack had gotten his sisters to bed.
They had agreed not to tell the twins that Mommy’s office was directly downstairs; otherwise, Zoe and Alice would have found a hundred reasons to knock on the door.
After three weeks in Berlin, Bryn and Harper seemed to have absolutely no idea that Lucy had left the country, nor that she was consumed with family matters.
They were impressed by the ideas Lucy had presented to keep the design consistent across all six hotels while working with the architectural idiosyncrasies of each individual building.
And just that day, Lucy had presented a new Danish furniture company she’d found called Bang that made bed frames that fit the vision for the rooms perfectly; the team loved it.
She was coming across, thanks to this work oasis, as focused and organized, which was a kind of miracle given that she was sleeping five hours a night if she was lucky.
It was Friday, and because they were ahead of schedule, Bryn and Harper suggested the team log off at lunch, which was only ten o’clock at night for Lucy. With relief, she closed her laptop and emerged from the office to the sound of jazz music playing in the living room.
“Honey, I’m home,” she joked. She hadn’t seen much of Adam, as he was usually either out or asleep when she came in and out of his apartment.
Adam was not alone. There was an enormous dog lying on his sofa and a woman browsing through his collection of records. She turned as Lucy came in.
“ Bettina? ”
“Lucy,” Bettina said, lighting up at the sight of her. She breezed across the room and kissed Lucy on both cheeks. “Look at you.”
Lucy was not much to look at in her gray sweatpants and the slippers she’d bought at KaDeWe on Kurfürstendamm because of Greta’s shoes-off policy. She was also wearing a gray silk blouse and lipstick, a glaring mismatch between top and bottom.
“Look at you ,” said Lucy. “You look exactly the same. But I mean, exactly .” Bettina had flawless skin and long, wavy hair that went past her shoulders. She was a knockout in skinny jeans and high heels. She was just as Lucy remembered her. “What are you doing here? It’s so late.”
Bettina checked her watch and shrugged. “I stopped by to say hi, and your son told me where I could find you.”
Adam was standing awkwardly, looking at Bettina with great interest—how could he not? “Greta’s sister!” he said with delight. “She just appeared.”
“Do you two know each other already?” Lucy asked.
“No,” Adam and Bettina said at the same time.
“We knew of each other,” said Bettina as she sat down on the couch.
“I knew of you. You knew of me ?” Adam said.
“Greta may have mentioned you.”
“And who’s this?” Lucy said, indicating the dog beside her.
“Til,” Bettina said, “named after Til Schweiger.”
“Who?” said Lucy.
“ Who? ” said Bettina. “Only Germany’s most famous actor.”
“ Inglourious Basterds ,” said Adam.
“ Atomic Blonde ,” said Bettina, “and like every German movie ever made.”
Lucy kneeled to pet the dog.
“Drink?” Adam said.
“Sure,” Lucy said, seeing the whiskey in Bettina’s hand, “unless you want to go up to Greta’s.”
“I’d rather stay here,” Bettina said, “if Adam doesn’t mind.”
“I don’t mind at all,” he said.
“Good,” Bettina said, “because Greta would kill me for bringing Til, and I’ll feel guilty wearing shoes in her apartment, and I’m not taking these off.” She pointed a toe to show them off. “They make the outfit.”
“In that case,” Lucy said, “I’ll have whatever y’all’re having.”
The goldfish was swimming in little circles in his bowl on top of the chrome deco bar cart where Adam turned to fix Lucy a drink. He’d filled an ice bucket and put out a bowl of nuts. He seemed to enjoy hosting.
“The truth is,” Bettina said, “I promised Greta I’d check on the apartment to make sure you aren’t trashing the place. She’s mad I waited so long to get here.”
Lucy smiled tightly. Greta seemed to think Lucy had no sense of responsibility whatsoever. Sure, Lucy had asked her parents to keep an eye on things in Dallas, but only because she worried about her actual living creatures.
“Surprise inspections aren’t really my thing anyway,” Bettina said, “and her apartment—or what I could see of it over your son’s shoulder—looked perfectly fine to me.”
Adam handed Lucy her drink, turned the music down a bit, and sat across from them on a low chair.
“We’re doing our best,” Lucy said, patting the big dog’s head. “I moved most of Greta’s more fragile things to a high shelf in the linen closet for safekeeping.”
“Smart,” said Bettina. “What do you think of that painting in her bedroom?”
“The flowers?” The painting had grown on Lucy; she’d noticed over time the depth of it and the level of detail. “It’s very dramatic.”
“I think it’s ghastly,” said Bettina. “But it’s from the seventeenth century—and painted by a German woman actually, Anna somebody—and would you believe Greta bought it when she was twenty-three years old. I thought she was out of her mind at the time. Now I’m in awe.”
“That’s so Greta,” said Adam.
Bettina turned to look at him.
“She’s a connoisseur,” Adam said. “She appreciates beauty and things that are well made. It’s because of her that I go to antique stores and flea markets now, looking for treasures.”
“Well, it’s not very relaxing to live with kids in an apartment full of treasures,” Lucy said. “We already destroyed one thing, irreparably. Do you happen to know where I can buy antique Meissen? We broke this medium-size plate, pink flowers with a gold rim?”
“That sounds like my grandmother’s china,” Bettina said, her eyebrows raised.
“Oh my God,” said Lucy, a hand flying to her head. “We broke an heirloom?”
“Accidents happen,” Bettina said. “She’ll get over it.”
But her expression made Lucy think Greta would not, in fact, get over it. “Shit,” she said. “Don’t tell her, okay? I’ll confess as soon as I find a way to make it up to her.”
“I never tattle,” said Bettina with a perfectly executed wink.
Lucy took off her slippers and sat cross-legged on the couch. At least Adam’s living room, unlike Greta’s, was comfortable. “So what have you been up to,” she asked Bettina, “in the last… almost twenty years? Married? Kids? Job?”
“No. Hell no. And I love my job. Let’s see,” she said, looking up at the ceiling briefly and tallying on her fingers. “After college I traveled all over India, China, Thailand, and Japan—just like we used to talk about—and then I moved to New York for a couple of years.”
“Oh, I’m from New York,” Adam said, looking happily surprised to have something in common with her. “In fact, I’m going back there soon. To Brooklyn. Where did you live?”
“Soho,” Bettina said. “I went to grad school and came back to Berlin to get a job in graphic design. I’m freelance, so I can set my own hours, and it’s a constantly evolving field. Keeps me on my toes.”
“Same with the music industry,” Adam said, nodding along. He seemed to be hanging on her every word.
And they were both single—or, in Adam’s case, a couple of weeks away from being single—and Lucy felt it would take very little for these two to get together. It seemed to be happening all by itself.
“And what became of you after that year in Berlin?” Bettina said.
“This and that,” Lucy said. She wondered whether Bettina would find the truth boring. She turned to Adam. “I spent my junior year here.”
“Lucy was wild ,” Bettina said.
“I was?” It was hard to remember her former life after years of being a mom, a wife, a carpooler in a minivan, and a pet owner.
Bettina was laughing. “I could barely keep up with you.”
“The clubs,” said Lucy wistfully, remembering how much she used to love the electronic music, the louder the better, how her ears would ring when she walked out at six in the morning.
How she could get almost any guy to buy her a drink just by looking at him.
“We would stay out all night,” Lucy said.
“You were the one who took me to that club, Kater…?”
“Kater Holzig! Yes, and Berghain.”
Lucy felt a pang of nostalgia. “It’s hard to imagine having that kind of energy anymore, isn’t it?”
“Not really,” said Bettina. “I still go to clubs.”
“I do too,” Adam said, “but for me it’s work, and I’m often the oldest guy in the room.”
Bettina tipped her head back and finished her drink. “I refuse to see turning forty—not that I’m even close yet—as some kind of death sentence.”
“I’m almost forty,” said Lucy, thinking Bettina couldn’t be too far behind her. “My mother always says the forties are the best. You look good, you feel good, and, more or less, you have your shit together.”
“I don’t have my shit together,” Adam said, putting his hand out as an invitation to refill Bettina’s empty glass, “and I’m forty-four.”
“You don’t look it.” Bettina offered her glass. “Let’s go to a club tonight, for old times’ sake. What do you say?”
“Sure,” Adam said, accepting the challenge.
Adam went to the bar and Bettina sat back, stretching an arm across Til’s back. His tail thumped on the couch cushions.
“Sorry to be a party pooper,” Lucy said, “but I’m going to bed. My twins will be up at the crack of dawn, asking me what’s for breakfast.”
“Twins,” said Bettina. “I can’t imagine. I met your son. Very tall and blond and well-mannered. He introduced himself and shook my hand like a real gentleman.”
Lucy wondered what, if anything, Bettina might be piecing together. It was possible she didn’t remember Bj?rn at all.