Chapter Ten
David was on level one hundred and twenty of SpudzMash when Evelyn came storming into his office. “David,” she said, one hand on the lintel before entering his office in a full-fledged tizzy. “I need to speak with you.”
“Of course,” David said.
Quickly, he clicked off his phone, rose from his seat and pulled out a chair for her. Evelyn took it. David leaned on the edge of his desk, eyes cast down, intently focused. If Evelyn had left work, something had to be terribly wrong. “Tell me what you need.”
“Something terrible has happened,” she said, shaking her head wildly. “And, well, though I hate to be here, and I hate to ask it . . . frankly, I need your help.”
“Okay.”
He thought back to her recent head injury, and then hid his concern beneath a sham of professionalism.
He didn’t want her to know he was worried, but he was already making plans in his head—which doctor he would contact, which hospital she could stay in, all the arrangements that would be needed to assure they would get the best care, when he remembered .
. . he and Evelyn weren’t a they anymore.
Not husband and wife. Not man, woman and baby. But even though the words were gone, the pain lingered. He took a deep breath, sucking in all the air through his nostrils, preparing himself for the worst. All the emotions of that day, returning in a wave of memory and recall.
“Whatever it is,” he said, determined to be the strong one, “I’ll be here for you.”
Evelyn nodded. “I need you to babysit approximately seven unruly children for the next few hours.”
“Wait—” David cocked his head sideways. “What?” It was not what he’d been expecting to hear.
For one, where had she even found seven unruly children?
The child actors he had met were seasoned and consummate professionals.
“I don’t understand,” he admitted, and then once again worried about her having some brain injury.
She sighed. “Barry Peters.”
At the sound of the name, his breath hitched in his throat.
“No way.” He couldn’t help but laugh with relief. “That jerk is still here?”
Evelyn wasn’t amused. “He is. They promoted him twice, you know.”
“Damn.”
Back when David worked there, Barry Peters was well-known for being a walking HR nightmare. Honestly, David couldn’t believe that in two years, the man still hadn’t been fired.
“What did he do this time?” David asked.
She told him the whole story. The email.
The special visitors. The ultimatum. Honestly, David was ready to go full mean and angry Green Giant on the man when she got to the best part .
. . the pleading. It was rare for Evelyn to need help with anything.
She had always been so stubborn and independent.
In truth, it was one of the things he admired about her.
And, it was nice to go to a restaurant with someone who didn’t mind sending food back.
David was the type to spend ninety minutes waiting for food, apologize profusely and then leave a thirty percent tip.
He still wasn’t sure if that made him nice, or hopelessly na?ve .
. . but perhaps, as his sister would say, it was why he and Evelyn made such a good team.
And truth be told, they’d gotten along more than they’d fought.
In fact, maybe if they had fought more, they would still be together.
“Anyway,” Evelyn said finally. “I left them with Demi, but you and I both know Peters . . .”
He nodded. “We’ll be lucky if he ever returns for those kids.”
Her eyes flicked back to him, and for one wisp of breath, it felt like old times.
The corners of her eyes creased upward, and her lips ticked up into a smile.
He had forgotten how much he used to love making her happy.
Now, considering what had happened between them, it felt like a weakness.
And yet, she was here . . . asking for his help, needing something important.
And of course, that important thing was for work.
He pulled back. Lifting from the corner of his desk, he returned to his own chair, taking a position that would keep her, and his heart, a safe distance away.
He wasn’t going to get emotional. He wasn’t going to feel anything.
That was always how Evelyn preferred things—not too loud, not too complicated, everything just bubbling, simmering under the surface .
. . which she then could bury under mountains and mountains of work.
How ironic that she was executive producing A Christmas Carol.
“Evelyn . . .”
“What?” She defended her choice. “It’s not like we’re experiencing medical neglect here. Everyone on cast is fine right now. Everyone on set is going to be fine for the next six days, too. There’s nothing for you to do, except watch these children.”
He crossed his arms against his chest and took a deep breath in, counting the seconds as they floated by silently, shifting the tension in the air. He knew he was going to help her out, but still . . . he was taking immense pleasure in seeing her sweat.
“Oh, come on, David,” she said, annoyed. “This isn’t a game, okay? I’ve already wasted a half hour—”
David cut her off. “It’s been ten minutes.”
“What?”
“Ten minutes, at most,” he said, and nodded to the clock on the wall behind her.
“Oh, whatever,” she said, frustrated. “The point is . . . I need you to get these kids out of my hair for a few hours, and you’re the only one on set right now whose job is completely useless!”
He touched his heart, feigning injury. “Well, that kind of hurts my feelings.”
“Oh, please,” she said, waving away the statement with one hand. “You’re the one who always wanted a big family.”
“I thought we both wanted a family, but okay.”
“My point is . . . you love this stuff.”
“What stuff?”
“Rescuing things,” she continued. “Fixing things. Showing up for poor, helpless creatures that nobody wants or loves in the entire world . . . except for you.”
“I wouldn’t go that far.”
“Besides, I thought you—” she made air quotes with her fingers “—hated working in television medicine.” More air quotes.
“That it was sooo boring, that you spent aaaall your time playing GummyBubble or LatkeCrossing or whatever, instead of practicing real medicine on sick and infirm folks, like your sister. I mean, isn’t completely despising your work, and New York and your life, the entire reason you left me? ”
The words came out in one great exhale of honesty. They both fell into silence, caught. They had never sat down and talked about why he’d left. They had never talked . . . ever. Despite all the times he had asked her, begged her to go to marriage counseling with him, she’d refused.
It was the strangest thing, really. Evelyn was a woman who once walked into a boardroom, at twenty-three years old, and pitched her latest idea as a development executive to a room full of middle-aged male executives.
Yet when it came to him—when it came to dealing with tough issues in their relationship together—she’d retreated.
She’d turned into someone reticent and reserved.
Turns out, in the entire Encyclopedia of Evelyn reserved in his brain, David was the only man alive who had the power to muzzle her.
“SpudzMash,” he said, finally.
“What?”
“I’ve actually been playing SpudzMash this week . . . thank you very much.”
It took her a moment, but she laughed. “Seriously?”
“I’m already on level one hundred and twenty.”
“Of course you are.”
“It’s a very rousing game, if you must know. Intellectually stimulating.”
“I bet.”
Her eyes creased upward at the edges. The tension between them broken, the room returned to normal.
Evelyn wasn’t wrong about what she had said.
About him hating his life in New York and his job in television medicine.
About all of it, because even if she hadn’t been his ex-wife, even if they hadn’t shared all this love—and this breakdown of love—between them, he still would have helped her out.
Indeed, he had an awful habit of finding something hopeless .
. . and trying to change it for the better.
David rose from his chair, placing his hands on his hips.
“So, about the kids,” he said, getting down to business. “Should I just come up and get them, or do you want to have Demi bring them down here?”