31. Abbot #2
Ned won’t like this. But…it’s an invitation to an evening together, really. The house is ancillary to finally accepting the offer from the fall for a dinner they should have shared months ago. That’s all. “If Ned—”
“I texted him already,” Liesl says.
Abbot turns and sure enough, her phone is in her hand. “Liesl.”
“What?” She pokes her straw into her cup and it squeaks against the lid.
“Great,” Steve says. “So we’ll have you over, and we can all chat. This is perfect.”
Yes. Perfect. Ned will be fine with this.
Abbot walks Steve to the door with the promise to text him, and stands there for a moment, staring after him.
Ned will be fine. Some definition of it, at least.
Or this is a help, perhaps. Not the housing solution Ned wants, but they’re married now, and they weren’t before, and surely Ned will accept Abbot’s offer of help.
Won’t he?
He turns back at a rustle and finds Liesl with a picture frame in each hand, studying them.
“I need a new one,” she says, showing him the one he keeps of her, her braid hanging down over her shoulder, braces on her teeth.
She’s tucked under his arm in that photograph, while now she easily reaches his shoulder.
“Or a cute one of me when I was little. Not this.”
“I like that one.”
“Ew, no. You didn’t even get a photographer for the wedding.”
“Pat took pictures.”
“And Cheryl.”
“Mrs. Coppola,” Abbot corrects.
“Cheryl,” Liesl says, drawing the word out slower and more clearly. “She said I could call her that.”
“She did?”
“What, you don’t believe me?” Liesl pouts at him. “You’re not very fun this morning.”
No, he’s probably not. Today is a bit much, actually. “I’m sorry,” he says. “What would you like to do today? I have a seminar in only a couple minutes, and then several meetings.”
“Wow, so exciting. But Chris said I can help get the book club meeting ready.”
“Please don’t encourage him.”
“Why don’t you have a picture of Mom?”
Abbot shuffles through his bag. “I do in fact need my desk at some point, when you’re finished going through my things.”
“You don’t here or at your house either.”
“I’ll just go to the breakroom to work, then.”
“Dad says it’s okay to talk about her.”
“So have a good morning.”
“He also said she’d want to be talked about,” Liesl goes on. “Also caramelkopfli and creme caramel are the same thing.”
“Stop.” It comes out too loud and far too sharp. He hears it the moment the word’s in the air, sees it in the jerk of Liesl’s chin.
“I’m sorry,” he says, but it’s too late.
“Fine.” She stands and then she’s gone, out the door.
“Liesl—” He catches her in the hallway, before she can get to the stairs at least, so their conversation won’t echo up and down all the floors of the building.
Not that he knows at all what to say. “I apologize,” he tries again.
“I’m going to see Chris.”
“Please,” Abbot says. “Just wait.”
“Chris remembers she exists. I’m going to his office. Bye.”
“No, I didn’t—I’m not—” Ned, he thinks, wanting his help.
See? Ned would probably say. You have to talk.
Abbot pictures gently ushering him aside. Liesl is just upset, like she was off and on the entire time he was in Geneva. She was delighted all weekend, laughing and cheerful at the wedding and yesterday too, and this morning is simply the other side of early adolescence.
“Liesl,” he starts again, making his voice gentle.
“And were you ever going to tell me about getting married?”
“You were there,” Abbot says.
It’s the wrong answer, because she huffs a loud breath. “No, before.”
“Right,” he agrees quickly. “Before.” Before what?
“Dad had to tell me,” Liesl says.
Ah, yes. Okay, that’s some footing he can gain. “We hadn’t told anyone yet.”
“Then how did Chris know?”
“He—” Abbot starts, but he can’t explain this to her.
That catches him right in the chest. Her perspective on how this engagement to Ned happened, the entire marriage—it’s a truth for just him and Ned. A ruse. A joke, even, that followed too quickly on pretending to look at houses together.
Which Ned never wanted to do, and won’t want to now, friends with Steve or not.
But Abbot can’t untangle that any more than he can the frustration on Liesl’s face. “I didn’t mean to keep it from you,” he tries.
“Yeah, but you did. Were you even going to surprise me?”
Of course, he wants to get out, which is also untrue.
But her eyebrows are tightening as she waves at him in a gesture of sheer annoyance. “And you spent the whole time you were home talking about Ned.”
“You always talk about Ned,” Abbot says and no, that’s the wrong response yet again.
“You couldn’t wait to get back here. It was like you were barely home.”
This is home, he nearly says. He closes his mouth over the words. That’s only marginally better than the other thought: Yes, I could hardly wait. “I spent a month with you,” he offers.
She answers the appeasement with a disgusted look. “Yeah, a month texting Ned.”
“I—”
“And talking about Peggy,” she goes on, and he tries to refute that too, but she’s still talking.
“And then it’s all like, oh great, you’re getting married, surprise.
And Ned hasn’t ever even come to visit, so are you going to bother to keep coming back to see me?
Or do you just live here now with your new family and your dumb dog? ”
I do live here, he could say, but Baxter? The derision in her voice? Abbot steps closer.
Her jaw sets, defiant. Liesl loves Baxter. And Ned. And they had fun over the holidays, no matter what she’s saying now. She’d helped him pick out the vermicelles for Peggy, too, insisting they hunt through the shops for a specific brand.
He’s missed something along the way. Something large and important that apparently should have been really very obvious. “Liesl…” he starts.
“I don’t even care.”
“Yes, you do.” He has very little idea of what’s going on, but he does know this is her caring very, very much. “Liesl, I will always come back to see you.”
“Don’t. It’s fine.”
“It’s not fine,” Abbot says. “Not at all, if you think I don’t want to see you, or I’m distracted when I do. You’re why I go back at all, Liesl.”
“Yeah, it’s obviously not to visit the cemetery.”