Seven #3
His phone rang, breaking the quiet peace of his living room. “Hi, Kimmy,” he said when he picked up.
“Hello, small brother.”
“I’m a head taller than you,” he reminded her mildly. “You stopped being taller when I was eight years old.”
There was something about these old routines with his sister, the same jokes and stories, that felt like comfort, rather than boredom, and he settled in for her usual reply.
It never came. “Sorry for the late call, but I was talking to Steffy about the anniversary,” she said. “We decided to conference you in.”
“Hi, Nico.” His eldest sister’s voice came on the line and he immediately tensed for battle.
Was he being too sensitive about Stefanie?
Spying a book out of place, he slid it back in the gap on his shelf.
Nico disliked mess and as a child had insisted everything be returned promptly to its designated place after use.
Stefanie had taken keen and malicious pleasure in moving things around and pretending ignorance when he inevitably threw a tantrum.
No. It wasn’t him. It was her. Stefanie was making him defensive and doubt himself, but he had good reason. Years of good reasons.
“Stefanie.”
“Nice of you to send over your ideas,” she said.
Shit, he’d forgotten, but her tone raised his shoulders high. “Work is busy. I told Kimmy.”
“Convenient,” Stefanie said. “Leaving us to make the effort as usual.”
This stung, but before he could reply, Kimmy broke in. “Enough, you two.”
“I don’t know what we need this conversation for,” said Stefanie. “Obviously we should have a party. We can re-create their wedding reception and invite everyone Mom and Dad know. The same place is still available to rent.”
“Dad said the best thing about the wedding was the cigar tent they had in the parking lot so he could get a break,” said Nico. “I don’t think he wants to relive his reception.”
“Don’t be ridiculous. Mom loves telling us how much fun she had. She danced until three in the morning.”
“The rest of the story is that Dad fell asleep on two chairs and got a back spasm.”
“Mom deserves a party,” said Stefanie. “A big one, to celebrate with friends and family. It’s her favorite thing.”
“It’s not Dad’s.”
Kimmy tried to interrupt but Stefanie spoke loud enough to drown her out. “Are you seriously telling me that Mom has to spend her anniversary doing something boring because of Dad?”
“Are you seriously telling me Dad has to hide in the parking lot for his own anniversary?”
Kimmy made a buzzing noise. “Stop it.”
Nico stared at his Original Kit-Cat Klock as it ticked the seconds by with its moving eyes and tail.
It had been a joke gift from Kimmy a few years ago, but Nico, whose style veered toward what Stefanie called Patrick Bateman austere, had instantly fallen for its sheer ridiculousness.
He was done with the conversation and it hadn’t been three minutes.
This was exactly what he’d warned Kimmy about: Stefanie never listened to him, so what was the point in trying? “Do what you want.”
“Oh, the little robot boy isn’t going to play anymore,” mocked Stefanie.
“Shut up, Stef.” Kimmy sighed. “We’re not getting anywhere. Let’s take this to the group chat and we can talk about options there. Nico, you’ll check it?”
Her voice lifted as if asking a question, but Nico knew it was a demand. “Fine.”
He settled back at his desk and pulled up his workflow, but it had lost its pleasure. Robot boy. The name he’d hated from childhood and that Stefanie wielded like a weapon. His eldest sister gripped any perceived weakness as if she had talons and then shook.
A text popped up. Valerie.
One more sleep, it read. I’m almost all packed.
He debated not answering—seeing her name caused a cloudy rush of pleasure and anticipation that he worried would be detrimental to a fully professional working relationship—but couldn’t resist. Are you?
No, but I’m working on it. I’m glad you’re going up too. I’m a little stressed.
Not surprising, given what she had to pull off. You’ll do fine.
You’ll stay the whole time, right? They won’t think it’s weird Roger’s assistant is there?
I go up a lot.
You’re lucky. It must be nice to feel like you’re a part of things like that.
Nico looked at the phone for a moment. With anyone else, he would have been suspicious about the subtext of the message, but this was Valerie. She might mean it exactly as it sounded.
I guess, he replied. I’ll see you tomorrow at nine.
Do you mind if we make it a bit later? Noon?
That would put them in the middle of traffic, but she hadn’t had much time to get ready. Noon it is.
Thanks, Nico! I owe you one.
Then she was gone. He stared at the phone, remembering how he’d practiced asking Valerie out as he waited at the vet for Penny’s dogs.
He thought she’d like a drink at Sunnyside so they could sit by the beach before a stroll on the boardwalk.
But now they were colleagues and the offer of a drink would need to be downgraded to coffee, if anything at all.
He’d still take it. Nico sighed and stared at his workflow, wishing tomorrow was already here.