Chapter 9
Harge filled a thermos with coffee before picking up his daughter. He was in desperate need of it, after the mad dash to get the house ready for Sascha. He was happy though, energized.
Rindy, Rindy was at another level.
“Drive faster, Daddy,” she urged, bouncing in her seat. She’d conned him into letting her take the front, played expertly into his good mood.
“How do you expect me to drive faster in this?” he asked playfully, one hand leaving the wheel to gesture at the traffic jam they were stuck in. “He’s not going anywhere, Rindy, I promise. He’s probably still sleeping.” The road was so clogged that he could hold the coffee between his knees without worry.
“Aunt Abby would drive faster.”
“Aunt Abby’s mad that she’s not allowed to be a race car driver, but that doesn’t have anything to do with this.”
“She’s not allowed? She should be, she’d be good at it.”
“Yes she would be. Very fast, very loose.”
“Aunt Peggy drove a tank once. She could smash right through the traffic.”
“Well, maybe she’ll let me borrow it sometime. You know, I do think I might have a way we can avoid all this mess though, drive a lot faster.”
“What?”
“I could turn around and take you to school instead. I bet there’s much less traffic in that direction.”
“No!”
Harge laughed. She’d missed some school already because of the wedding trip, but he wouldn’t do that to her. “Relax, sunshine. Enjoy the view.”
Rindy frowned at the lines of cars in front of them. “The view is lousy.”
Harge laughed again. He was just as eager to get home, see Rindy seeing the baby. At the same time, he felt calmer than he had in months. He reached for his coffee, took a careful sip. All was right with the world, so he was content to let it move a little slower today.
Rindy eyed him. “Can I have some?”
They hadn’t moved in five minutes. He turned his head to look at her. “You want coffee?”
“You like it. Mommy and Mouse and Mama like it.”
He struggled to keep a straight face. “That doesn’t mean you’ll like it. It’s a grownup drink.”
“I know,” Rindy said, impatient. “But I’m grown now.”
“Who says?”
“You did. You call me your big girl now. And I’m grown compared to Sascha.”
“Yes, you are grown compared to Sascha. Who is less than a week old. Everyone’s grown compared to him.”
“Daddy.”
The cars ahead inched forward. Harge let up on the break long enough to follow, then held the container out to her, just out of reach. “Don’t burn yourself.”
“I won’t.” Rindy held out eager hands.
“Don’t spit it out, either. And don’t say I didn’t warn you.”
Rindy gave him a look that was much too close to her mother’s. He handed the thermos over. Rindy grinned.
Harge couldn’t watch her reaction directly, the traffic crawled forward again. He was greatly disappointed by this. He saw her face crumple in disgust from the corner of his eye. She sputtered loudly, but obeyed him by not spitting it out.
“Eww!” She thrust the thermos back at him. “How do you drink this?”
“Black. Sometimes with sugar,” he said, taking the drink from her.
Rindy shook her head, possibly in pity, possibly revulsion, and sank down in her seat. “I need hot chocolate now.”
“Mr. Aird. The usual today, or are we going bold?”
Harge’s eyebrows lifted, along with the corners of his mouth. “You don’t think I’m bold every day?” he asked, eyeing Ms. Braun from behind his desk.
“Not what I mean at all, sir, I just wondered about the sugar.”
“Did you?”
He didn’t know who’d started at, honestly, this game between them. He enjoyed it though, and from everything he could see, the feeling was mutual.
“Let’s go bold today, Ms. Braun.”
Her perfect smile faltered, just for a moment. “Lilah would be fine, Mr. Aird, or Ms. Lilah, if you like.”
“Oh?” He found he didn’t like it when she looked unhappy.
“My last name, well. Not very grand, is it? I don’t imagine you want Ms. Braun representing you, or the company.”
He studied her. “You’d imagine wrong. I’m honored to have you represent the company; we all are. As for me personally, you are leaps and bounds above my last secretary.” Ms. Blankenship had been older and edging toward senility before she’d left to work at an ad agency. And she was much rougher on the eyes. “Lilah it is, if that’s what you prefer.”
She smiled again. “It is, thank you. I’ll be right back with that coffee.”
She was. He’d barely read through his first memo of the day before she returned. She ran through his calls and meetings as she arranged the cup on his desk.
“Black, with a dash of bold,” she teased.
He hid most of his smile behind the rim of the cup. “Let me guess. You take yours light and sweet. Get yourself a boost of energy before you have to deal with me all day.”
Her smile was mischievous. “I take my coffee like coffee. All that cream and sugar? No, I’m plenty capable of dealing with you on my own. Will that be all, Mr. Aird?”
“It will be, Ms.—Lilah. For now. Thank you.”
“Say thank you,” Harge reminded her as their waitress set down their plates.
“Oh. Thank you!” Rindy said hurriedly, earning a smile from the server before she left.
Rindy had a muffin to go with her hot chocolate. Harge played along and ordered a cup as well, without the overflow of whipped cream that topped Rindy’s. As excited as she was to go home, Rindy hadn’t argued when offered a stop at one of her favorite restaurants.
“Slow down,” he said as Rindy bit roughly into the muffin. He’d mostly stopped telling her to behave like a lady, since her response was always the same. It involved Lizzie, and how fabulous and un-ladylike she was. “Does Mommy not feed you when you’re there?”
Rindy talked around a mouthful of blueberry. “Mommy made me pancakes and toast and bacon.”
“I see, so you’re not starving. Slow down,” he said again. He sipped his hot chocolate, smiled when Rindy swallowed hard and imitated him. “Rindy, honey?”
“Yeah?”
“We might not get to do this as much for awhile.”
“Do what? We won’t eat breakfast?”
Something in his chest twisted with guilt. “No, we’ll get breakfast. Just, maybe not like this, going out, just you and me. At least not as much.”
“Because of Sascha.”
“That’s right. He’s going to need a lot of help and attention, Lilah too.”
“I know, I’ve seen how Jake is.”
He seriously doubted that the occasional weekend with the Rogers baby gave her any real idea what was coming. “Have you? What do you think?”
One of his hands was resting idly on the table. Rindy reached over and rested her fingers on his, her expression serious. “Don’t worry, Daddy. I won’t be a brat about it, like Lizzie.”
Harge laughed at that, a bit too hard. He turned his hand over, squeezing Rindy’s. Tears threatened at the edge of his vision. “I don’t worry about that, sunshine, not ever.”
“Then what are you worried about?”
He thought of how to word it. “That you’ll be sad, or mad at me.”
“Why?”
“You might miss how things are now, just us, how they were.”
Rindy shook her head definitively. “Nah.”
“Nah?” Harge asked, wondering if Sascha would have the same power as Rindy, would always be able to make him smile.
“Nah. I like Mouse. She makes you less grumpy.”
“Oh, I was grumpy before?”
“Sometimes,” Rindy said without an ounce of shame. She let go of his hand, picked up her muffin.
“Well, excuse me, then,” he said, amused, proud. And the tiniest bit hurt. He wondered if Rindy would miss him in the coming months half as much as he’d miss her. “You know what else makes grumpy dads less grumpy?”
Rindy shook her head.
Harge reached for her mug, swirled his finger over the very top of her oversized mountain of whipped cream. He brought the finger to his mouth.
“Hey!” Rindy giggled, took her drink with both hands, pulling it closer. “You said you didn’t want any.”
“I changed my mind, didn’t I? And look at you, Miss Whipped Cream Queen, you’ve got plenty to share.”
“No,” Rindy argued, protective fingers still circling her mug.
“No? I thought we talked about this. You’re going to have to learn to share more.”
“With Sascha, not with you.” Rindy licked the whipped cream pile, then stuck her tongue out at him. It was still coated in white.”
Instead of telling her to behave like a lady, Harge made a playful grab for the muffin on her plate.
“Daddy, I want extra whipped cream.”
“Is that right?”
He saw part of Rindy’s nod. She was spinning around and around in his office chair, using her foot to pick up speed. He circled the desk, caught the arms of the chair on the next turn.
“Come on then, silly,” he said as Rindy flopped side to side in the chair, pulling out all the stops to show how dizzy she was. “You’ll make yourself sick before we even eat.”
He took Rindy’s hand just in case, led her out of his office. Spending time here wasn’t her favorite thing, or his for that matter, but it couldn’t be helped today.
As they approached Lilah’s desk, Rindy dropped Harge’s hand, walked over to stand in front of it as she typed. “Hi, Ms. Lilah.”
The clack of the typewriter stopped. Lilah smiled at Rindy. “Well hello again, Miss Rindy. Come to inspect the premises?”
Rindy clearly had no idea what Lilah meant, but wouldn’t admit it. “Yup. Me and Daddy.”
“I see. Are you going to be my boss one day?”
“I could do that?”
“It’s your name on the doors, isn’t it? And your father always talks about what a progressive company he runs.”
Harge stopped next to Rindy. “I think we should get her through elementary school first.”
“I suppose so,” Lilah admitted, her sigh heavy with disappointment. “She would be so much more fun to work for.”
“I don’t doubt it at all.”
“Just visiting then, Miss Rindy?”
Rindy nodded. “Daddy and I are taking a break for lunch. You should come with.”
Lilah seemed momentarily floored, but recovered before Harge could step in.
“Oh, I’d love to, but I’m afraid I have quite a lot of work here.” She indicated the papers and folders arranged neatly on her desk.
“So? Everyone gets a lunch break, right?”
“Yes, but—”
“Daddy, tell her it’s okay.”
Lilah met his eyes. Harge shrugged. “You’re the one giving her all the big ideas about overthrowing me. Seems she wants you to come along.”
Lilah’s smile was still warm, but it wasn’t the one he was used to. “That’s very kind, but I really should stay here. There’s much to do, and I must do my part to keep Miss Rindy’s inheritance intact.”
Harge frowned. Rindy started in with her most charming and pathetic begging act. “Rindy,” he said before she could get too far. “Remember Mr. Reeding?”
“Yeah, he’s nice. He played tic tac toe with me last time.”
“Go say hi to him, alright, make sure he’s doing his job. Keep the troops in line for me.”
Harge watched Rindy go, watched her return a few greetings along the way. He turned back to Lilah. “I’m sorry if she made you uncomfortable.”
“She didn’t, not at all. But I’d never…family time is important.”
“It is, yes.” He ran a hand through his hair. “If you’re declining because you think she’s the only one who wants you there—”
“I’m,” she cut him off. “That isn’t why, I assure you. There’s just much to be done today.”
“Ah.” His name was on the door. He couldn’t be seen shifting in place like a nervous schoolboy. “Well, thank you for your dedication, then.”
“Of course.” Lilah looked away quickly, scanning one of the sheets in front of her. “Oh, forgive me, I meant to say. Your wife called while you were on the line with Kellar. There’s a conference at Rindy’s school, and she’d like you to call back when you can.”
“Ex-wife,” he corrected. “She’s—we’re not together anymore.” He wondered why it was so important to tell her this, especially when she already knew. The whole damn office knew.
“My mistake,” Lilah said. “Apologies, Mr. Aird.”
“Those won’t be necessary.”
She smiled. It still wasn’t the one he was used to. “You have an important lunch date. You shouldn’t keep her waiting.”
“The most important of all,” he agreed, “I’ll, I’ll be back shortly.”
“Take your time. I’ll defend the walls until you return.”
“I don’t doubt it.”
“You remember what we talked about?” Harge asked, searching through his keys.
Rindy nodded, holding her backpack as she waited for him to open the front door. “Gentle around Lilah, extra gentle around Sascha.”
“And?”
“And quiet.”
Harge smiled, saw how tightly she was gripping the straps of her bag. “Good girl. Hey.” He waited for eye contact. “It’s okay. You’re going to be a great sister.”
Rindy beamed at him, the tension in her small frame turning to excitement.
“Okay, home sweet home,” he said, turning the key in the lock and easing the door open.
Rindy left her shoes and bag near the door. Harge took her hand to keep her from running off, just in case. They found Lilah quickly, tucked into a large, comfy chair in the living room, holding a blanket-wrapped bundle.
“Well hello,” she greeted, her smile tired and radiant. “I was wondering where you got off to.”
“Traffic was a nightmare, and we stopped for some breakfast,” said Harge. “How’s it going here?”
“Very well. Sascha also just finished eating. Hi, Rindy.”
“Hi.” Rindy’s voice was very, very soft. Harge let go of her hand, leaning down to kiss the top of Lilah’s head and study the baby.
“I missed you,” Lilah told Rindy. “Did you have a nice time with your mother?”
“Yeah. I missed you too. Do you feel better now?”
“I do. I’m sorry if I scared you, darling.”
“I wasn’t scared,” Rindy said instantly.
“Of course not.” Harge went with the lie. “Want to come see Sascha?”
Rindy nodded, but didn’t move until Harge held his hand out to her again. Lilah cleared her throat, getting his attention, nodded to the camera resting on a nearby end table.
“I thought it best to be prepared,” she said, eyes twinkling.
Harge grinned. “How am I ever going to replace you?”
Lilah made a face. “I’d hope you wouldn’t, at least not this soon.”
He rolled his eyes. “I meant at the desk. This new girl is a nightmare.”
“I know. You’ve certainly complained often enough. A thousand apologies that my condition has been such an inconvenience for you.”
He let her mock him, took hold of the camera as Rindy had her first meeting with Sascha. He did his best to capture the awe in her face, half-wished the shopgirl were here. He managed a close to perfect shot of Rindy bending to kiss Sasha’s head.
It took Rindy all of two minutes to ask the question. When she did, Harge set the camera down so he could help Lilah up. He grabbed a pillow from the sofa before she could ask for it, and Rindy sat down in the chair. He moved the pillow where it needed to be, and he and Lilah both talked her through how to hold the baby.
“I know,” Rindy said. “I practiced a bunch with Jacob.”
“Yes, well, still be careful, alright?” said Harge. “Sascha’s smaller, and I’m sure the Rogers boy has a much harder head.”
The transfer went smoothly. Harge got several photos of Rindy holding Sascha, some with Lilah’s help. Then he got tired of hiding behind the camera.
He checked to make sure Rindy was still okay, that her arms weren’t tired. Then he led Lilah to the sofa, conscious of how gingerly she still carried herself. When she was settled, he perched himself next to her, on the arm of the sofa. They watched Rindy and Sascha together.
He rubbed a gentle hand over her arm, kissed the side of her head. “Thank you,” he murmured, smelling her shampoo.
“For what?”
“Giving me this. Giving us this.”
Lilah smiled. She found his left hand and squeezed, her fingers touching the gold there.
“Thank you,” Harge said, looking up from his papers as Lilah entered with fresh coffee.
“Black, as requested.”
Black, like his mood. It was late, he hurt from being slumped over this desk all day, and his vision was starting to go funny. He saw Lilah though, even when he tried not to see her. He thanked her again, automatically.
“Did you need anything else?”
He squinted at his watch. “No, that should do it. Feel free to go home anytime.”
If she left, he could replace the coffee with the bourbon hidden in his desk, not stare so hard at these documents. Better he lose his concentration to a full tumbler than her. At least the former would feel good, for a time.
“I don’t mind staying.”
He’d gone back to scowling at his work, trying to force information past the fog in his brain. Something in her tone had him looking up again. His head hurt. “I’m confused, Ms. Braun.”
Her expression crumpled for a split second, then hardened. “I’m sorry, Mr. Aird. Is there something I can do to help?”
The professionalism was there, but her usually soft voice was sharp at the edges. Harge instantly regretted what he’d called her. But he was tired and frustrated, and sick of feeling that way. “If I have misinterpreted something here, I’d appreciate you telling me now.”
He sat up straighter in his chair. Lilah didn’t move, stared him down. “Now I’m the one confused. What is it you’d like me to tell you, sir?”
Harge shook his head, doing nothing to help the pain building there. “Call me Harge, for the moment. If we’re having this conversation…call me Harge. Please.”
“What conversation are we having?”
Harge wanted that alcohol in his desk more than ever. “I was under the impression that we were, that the two of us might’ve been—”
“Flirting?”
He would not blush, he wouldn’t. “Something like that.”
“And?”
It was alarming how quickly she’d taken control of the conversation. “Is that all it is? A harmless workplace thing? An attempt to get a raise?”
“If I was looking for a raise, Mr. Aird, you wouldn’t have any doubt that I was looking for a raise. And while I wouldn’t say no to one, no, my interactions with you weren’t aimed in that direction.”
“Then where were they aimed? I asked you to lunch and you—”
Lilah laughed in a way he’d never heard before, short, impatient. “Is that what this is about? I turn you down for a lunch and suddenly it’s ‘Ms. Braun?”
Harge took a breath. “I shouldn’t have said that.”
“No, you shouldn’t. It took you all of five minutes to ask if I wasn’t whoring myself out for a few more dollars.”
“That’s not—”
“What would the rest of the office say?” Lilah asked, talking over him. “I’m German, with a very German name, Mr. Aird. I assure you; they say enough.”
“You’re from Texas.”
“Please don’t. I don’t believe you’re that naïve.”
He breathed again, unsteady even though he was sitting down. “Maybe I am. About certain things, about women. I have a habit of being wrong.”
“I say no to one lunch, and it sends you spiraling?”
“I have a habit of being very, very wrong.”
“So it would seem.” Lilah took her own deep breath. “So, you’re a wounded soul.”
He thought she might be mocking him, but the harshest part of the anger seemed to have faded. “I don’t know if I’d say that.”
“Aren’t we all?”
“Are you?”
She didn’t answer him immediately. “You’re not the only one who’s been wrong about things, Harge.”
“What’ve you been wrong about?”
“That’s not a conversation I will ever have with my boss.”
They stared at one another. “If we had a drink,” he said, “would that be alright? No one here to see.”
“The bottle’s in your desk, you don’t need me for a drink. Unless you’re incapable of pouring on your own.”
He laughed, couldn’t help it. He hadn’t known she knew. “No, I don’t need you for it. But I’d like to have a drink with you.”
“You don’t handle it well, do you, not getting what you want?”
Carol and Gerhard had called him selfish, spoiled, demanding, entitled. “No. But I’ve realized maybe the only thing I handle worse is wanting someone who doesn’t share that. At all. If that’s the case, then tell me now, please. No repercussions, not for you. I’ll put you on another desk, if that’s what you want.”
She watched him. Long moments felt longer in the silent space. “I want a drink,” she declared. “Shall we start there and see what happens, Harge?”
He didn’t realize how much weight her answer carried for him until she gave it, until the pressure disappeared. “Yes. I’d like that.”
Carol met Harge’s boy when he was nearly two weeks old. Rindy stayed with her and Therese until the first Thursday morning after Sascha was born, when Harge came to get her. Carol didn’t see her again until next week Friday, when she drove out to Harge’s place to pick her up. Not ideal, but Harge with a newborn and a recovering wife, Carol could hardly complain.
She was expecting a greeting from the housekeeper. Or the secretary, in the worst of scenarios. (Carol was still trying to curb that habit, secretary. Therese had told how it made her feel, and why, and Carol strongly suspected this was thanks to Abby being pushy. They’d talked, and Carol was horrified by Therese’s fears, and promised to do better. It was a struggle.)
Carol was worrying about ringing the bell and possibly waking the baby when the door flew open. It wasn’t Ava the housekeeper or, thank God, Lilah the secretary. Rindy, without shoes, gave Carol the quickest of hugs before pulling her inside, babbling about how she just had to see Sascha.
Carol barely had time to close the door behind her.
Carol was dragged unceremoniously through the house, until they reached a living area. Probably one of several, she’d only been in Harge’s home a few times. None of those visits had Harge looking like he did now.
Rindy without shoes was nothing to blink at. Harge without them, in the middle of the day, was startling. His tie and jacket were missing too, his shirt had one button undone. His sleeves were rolled up. He stood near a pile of Lincoln Logs on the floor, construction that Rindy had clearly abandoned so she could watch for Carol. Near the toys was an empty baby basket. Its usual occupant was currently wrapped in blankets, resting in the crook of Harge’s arm. Sascha wore a tiny cap, like the one in his hospital pictures.
Harge’s hair was a little mussed, strands of it falling against his forehead. He was smiling, his head down as he spoke softly to the baby. Carol tried to remember the last time she’d seen him so relaxed. Sometime like now, it had to be, during those heady days after Rindy’s birth. Other than that? Had to be sometime before Pearl Harbor.
The image of fatherly bliss was shattered slightly when he raised his head to look at her. There was a fading bruise just below his left eye, turning an array of unsightly colors. It shocked Carol almost as much as the rest of his appearance.
“Harge?” It was a question, accompanied by raised eyebrows as she touched the spot on her own face.
“It’s nothing,” he said, smile barely faltering. “I’m sure the family historian will tell you.” He looked at Rindy. “If you were that quick to the door all the time, we’d save on a housekeeper,” he teased.
Rindy, still gripping Carol’s hand, tried to pull her further into the room. “Mommy hasn’t seen Sascha yet.”
Carol held herself steady as best she could. There were several reasons not to rush closer while Harge held the baby. “I’ve seen pictures, sweetheart, remember? We saw them together.”
Rindy was impatient. “Pictures aren’t the same, Mommy.”
“No,” Harge said, smile still tugging at his lips, “they’re not, are they, sunshine?”
He took a careful step toward her, then stopped. Carol took this as permission, let Rindy lead her forward.
She smiled instinctively. Sascha was cute, precious, almost. He’d lost much of the redness from his pictures, seemed more comfortable in the outside world.
“This is Mommy,” Rindy told him. “Mine,” she said as an afterthought, “not yours.”
Harge kept him steady as Rindy talked about how tiny he was, how she got to hold him just like she got to hold Jake, how he threw a fit anytime the housekeeper got near him.
Carol wondered if Harge had to practice again, holding precious cargo, or if it’d come back naturally.
“Where’s Lilah?” Carol asked when Rindy paused for breath. Mostly because she didn’t want to be caught unaware cooing over the woman’s baby, her ex’s baby.
“Taking a rest,” Harge said, an edge of defensiveness entering his voice. “It’s tiring, all this, she just had him.”
“Yes, Harge, I understand,” Carol replied, tone dry. “I do vaguely recall how ‘all this’ could be tiring sometimes.”
He had the decency to look sheepish. He told Rindy to go get her things, put her shoes on. Rindy whined that she didn’t know where her shoes were. He told her to look. She insisted she had.
“You’re very prone to losing things lately, you know that?” Harge asked. He looked at Carol as Sascha let out a few tiny noises. “I’ll be right back, otherwise you’ll be here all night.”
Without warning or choice, Sascha was being transferred into her arms. Harge led Rindy away before Carol could say anything, and she was suddenly alone, with her ex’s child.
Quickly adjusting her hold, Carol swore, with no one to hear her, or at least no one who could tell. She thought about placing him in his basket, but he was fussing lightly, and it wasn’t right to abandon him just because this was unbearably awkward. “Hey, hey now, shhh,” Carol murmured, voice soft. It wasn’t a wet cry or a hungry cry, not if Rindy and Jake were anything to go by. “Hush, hush, everything’s alright. What could you possibly have to be upset about, hmmm? We just met, I don’t know much about you, but I know you’ve got a father and sister who’re going to spoil you rotten.”
Harge always wanted another child. It was Carol who refused, even when he pointed out, rightly, that Rindy made them the happiest they’d ever been.
For awhile.
She still thought, apart from anything it caused between them, that the best part of Harge was the one that loved his child. Children, now.
During the handoff, Sascha’s little cap had gone askew, was in danger of fluttering to the ground. Glad she’d gotten to relearn some of her old skills with Jake, Carol kept up a stream of mostly nonsense words, pulling the hat back in place. As she did, she got a glimpse of the blondest hair she’d ever seen. Nothing like Harge’s and shades lighter than what Rindy eventually had, months after birth. Before adjusting the hat properly, Carol let her fingers drift over the hair, which was impossibly fine.
“He likes you,” said a soft voice that definitely wasn’t Harge’s.
Carol had never in her life come so close to dropping a baby. At some point, without her noticing, Harge’s wife had materialized out of thin air. Her blonde hair was pulled back in a loose braid, she wore a robe tied at the waist. She was pale, and looked tired. She was also smiling, and looked happy.
“I,” Carol felt a bit like she had at age ten, when she and Abby tried a couple of her mother’s cigarettes. Her stomach hurt and she couldn’t breathe. “I’m sorry,” she said, remembering how it was with Rindy. She hated, at first, every time someone other than Harge or Abby held her baby. It was fairly common, she’d heard. But most women weren’t in a position to have their husband’s first wife hold their child. God only knew what horror stories Harge told about her as a mother. Probably the only reason she was still standing was Lilah’s inability to move quickly this soon after the birth. “Harge stepped out for a moment, he asked…”
Bizarrely, that soft smile not only held, it widened a bit. Her blue eyes seemed to sparkle, despite the dark circles of exhaustion underneath. “It’s alright,” she said, stepping forward with the caution of a body still healing. “He said you were good with babies.”
“Did he? Harge said that?” Carol wasn’t sure she could handle another shock like that, so of course she almost immediately got one. She’d been a fixture at society parties most of her life. A pariah, too. She knew when the pleasant conversation was hollow, when the bright smiles were false.
Lilah’s wasn’t. Either that, or she’d missed out on a solid career in Angie’s profession.
“I’m sorry,” Carol said again, just in case option two was the true one. “Harge went to help Rindy.” Sascha wasn’t fussing anymore. She couldn’t get him out of her arms fast enough.
Lilah hummed. “She’s been ‘losing things’ recently. I think it took her about two days to realize the pitfalls of being a big sister.”
Lilah wasn’t taking the baby, wasn’t in position for Carol to hand him off. She acted as though she was perfectly comfortable having Carol hold him. Carol wondered how transparent her own unease was, if this wasn’t some strange tactic to make her sweat. “I hope she’s been alright,” Carol said automatically, like she would at a meeting with Rindy’s teacher.
“Oh, she’s wonderful,” Lilah said with a fondness that Carol didn’t know how to take. “The perfect big sister, if ever there was one.”
Carol almost said something about Lilah’s two older brothers. But that would be, what did Peggy say? Showing her hand. “She adores him. He’s a beautiful little boy.” Carol checked on the baby again, reflexively. He blinked up at her calmly, certainly calmer than she was. He was beautiful. She’d be required to say as much no matter who she was talking to, but she wasn’t lying.
Lilah’s smile became one of pride as she finally moved to take him from Carol. “We’re rather pleased,” she said, settling him in her arms with the ease of a natural, or a very quick learner. “Rindy is too, I know. I think she just needs the attention of having someone completely devoted to her. Not that there’s anything wrong with that,” Lilah added, the words slightly rushed as she looked at Carol. “And I’m sure a long weekend at her mother’s house will do wonders.”
Carol couldn’t detect any sarcasm or biting edge there. For the second time in recent memory, she wondered if she wasn’t having a stroke.
“I’m sorry, by the way,” said Lilah. “For cancelling so last minute.”
It took too long for Carol to have any idea what she was talking about. “There’s no need for apologies,” Carol said once she remembered Easter. “I’d say you had a very good excuse. You could even get a doctor’s note, if you wanted.”
Lilah chuckled, and Carol didn’t say how giddy with relief she’d been at having Rindy for the holiday without having to suffer through a meal with Harge and Lilah.
“How’ve you been feeling?” Carol asked, because it was the polite thing to do.
“Well enough, I think. Always tired, but Harge is suddenly full of energy. Was he like that with Rindy?”
Rindy. Not ‘you.’ “He was,” Carol said truthfully. He’d been less than thrilled with her body as soon as the weight came on, impatient with the changes on her physical and mental state. He’d doted though, in the last few weeks of the pregnancy, and then for months after Rindy.
Carol could ask if it was the same for Lilah, if he’d been excited for the end result of the pregnancy, frustrated by everything else that came with it. She could, but she couldn’t.
There was another one though, a question she might be able to get away with. “He hasn’t had his Navy friends over to see the baby already, has he?” Lilah frowned and Carol gestured toward her own eye. “Last time I saw him with a shiner, it was at one of their reunions.”
“Oh, that.” Lilah’s voice carried dry amusement. “I’m sure the family historian will enjoy recounting that in glorious detail, but it’s much less an event than she’ll make it out to be.”
“Rindy does have a flair for the dramatic,” Carol said, not rescinding the question.
“She must get it from her father,” Lilah agreed, and Carol couldn’t tell if she was being sarcastic. “There was a, oh, what did Harge call it after? ‘A family disagreement, settled with the old methods.’”
“That sounds, dramatic.”
“See? Family flair.”
Quick, odd sounding footsteps interrupted them. Within moments, Rindy was half running, half tripping into the room. She wore one shoe, untied. She grinned hugely on seeing Carol and Lilah stood together.
“Rindy.” Harge’s voice drifted in before he did. He sounded exasperated. “What did I say about running? You’ll hurt yourself, or,” he came within sight of the other two, “or someone else.”
Harge was suddenly paler than his wife. He looked like Carol had felt for the last several minutes. He stood frozen, one of Rindy’s shoes dangling in his hand.
Lilah smiled as though there were nothing abnormal about any of this. “Love, did you foist our offspring off on the guest?”
Harge worked his jaw a few times before answering. “I had to help Rindy. She was right there.”
Lilah tsked at the defense. “I’m sorry, Carol. He’s quite rude at times, isn’t he?”
Were they doing this? Was she actually expected to do this? “It’s been known to happen,” Carol said, feeling very drunk, though she’d had nothing since last night.
“Daddy’s rude,” Rindy giggled, then hop-stumbled to stand closer to Carol and Lilah. She leaned into Carol’s side, but put a hand on Lilah’s elbow, where it was bent as she held Sascha.
Harge stared at them. “This is why Rogers is a complete lunatic,” he muttered, “living that way.” He spoke at a more normal volume when he told Rindy it was time to go, helped her with her shoes.
Rindy kissed Sascha goodbye as Harge gathered the rest of her things, the softest peck to the baby’s head. He was handed to Harge again so Rindy could hug Lilah. It was, Carol thought, the gentlest, most careful hug she’d ever seen Rindy give, and it made Carol’s chest hurt.
Rindy told Lilah she loved her, and Lilah said the same, said something in German that started with an M, that Carol swore she’d write down as soon as she got to the car. The German accent came out, just barely, when Lilah spoke it. She blushed as Rindy kissed her cheek, looked away from Carol. Harge hugged Rindy with one arm, holding Sascha with the other. Lilah didn’t walk them out, but did tell Carol it was nice to finally meet.
“Oh,” she added, “and tell Therese we said thank you, for developing the photos.”
“Did we?” Harge asked over his shoulder.
“Hush,” said Lilah, then asked again if Carol would thank Therese. Carol nodded, probably looked like an idiot doing it.
Everything else odd about that conversation, and it still shocked her somehow, Lilah using Therese’s name.
A weekend at her mother’s house, that’s what Lilah said, about Rindy. Carol heard it one way, in her head, the obvious way. She didn’t realize until she was in the car with Rindy, scrawling out a guess on the back of a receipt about how to spell whatever German M word Lilah said to Rindy (she’d ask Steve or Peggy later) that she didn’t actually know where the apostrophe was in that sentence, where Lilah meant it to be.
She let Rindy sit in the front with her as she drove toward home, wondering how to dig for information about Harge’s eye with something approaching tact. Her daughter, fortunately, had no such worries.
“Oh my gosh, Mommy, you won’t believe what happened.”
There was more Angie Martinelli than Rindy Aird in that sentence, and Carol wasn’t sure whether she was amused or frightened. “Oh really?”
“Grandpa’s in time out again. Guess what he did, Mommy, guess.”
Carol was given absolutely no time to do so.
“He hit Daddy!” Rindy announced, with almost gleeful excitement.
Carol had to make herself focus on the road, not stare at Rindy for too long. “He what?” It shouldn’t be so hard to process, she’d seen the eye, but her brain simply refused.
“Yeah! And then Daddy hit Grandpa like, like five times as hard.” Rindy held her hands out to demonstrate.
“Your father hit your grandfather?”
“Yeah, but Grandpa hit him first. Then Daddy hit Grandpa ten times as hard!”
Carol very nearly missed her turn, had to recover quickly. “Rindy, what happened before…before all the hitting?”
“Oh.” Rindy seemed slightly displeased not to be talking about physical assault anymore, but warmed to her subject quickly. “Daddy said he was going to Grandma and Grandpa’s house, and first he said I couldn’t go, but I wanted to go because Sascha was crying and being loud, so I asked Daddy and asked Daddy and asked Daddy, and then Daddy said I could go with. Then we got there and Daddy said go to the playroom because he had to talk about grownup stuff. So, I went upstairs and hid behind that little wall part where nobody can see you if you hide.”
“Uh-huh.” Carol didn’t know if Rindy always had this penchant for spying, or if that could be blamed on Lizzie. She decided to blame it on Lizzie.
“Then Daddy tried to show Grandpa Sascha’s baby pictures, but Grandpa just wanted to yell at Daddy.”
“Did he?” That part didn’t surprise Carol at all.
“Yup. Grandpa called Daddy stupid. Grandpa said,” Rindy paused, screwed up her face in concentration. “Grandpa said at least the deviant came from a good family. What’s ‘deviant?’”
Carol bit her tongue against the rage that wanted to spill out. “It’s a mean word, baby, that’s all, and you shouldn’t say it.”
“Okay. But I didn’t say it, Grandpa did,” Rindy explained quickly.
“I know, baby. Just, you don’t say it, alright?” Especially around Therese.
Rindy stared at her, then shrugged. “’Kay. Grandpa said at least the you-know-what came from a good family and wasn’t some Nazi whore.”
Carol winced. It only got better. “Rindy—”
“He was talking about Mouse, right? But the Nazis were bad, weren’t they? That’s why Uncle Steve punched them all.”
“That’s, that’s right.”
“But Mouse isn’t a Nazi, Mommy. Mouse is nice. And all the real Nazis are gone already, because Uncle Steve punched them until they went away. Right? Mouse isn’t a Nazi?”
“No, Rindy, Mouse, she isn’t a Nazi.”
“Or a whore? Whore’s another mean word Daddy says I can’t say.”
Carol grimaced. “No, she’s not that, and you shouldn’t say it.”
“Okay. But I can say Nazi?”
What had her life become? “Only if you have to.”
What would a child even take from that? Carol nearly missed another turn.
“Okay. Well Grandpa called Daddy dumb, and he said at least the you-know-what came from a good family and she wasn’t a Nazi you-know-what. Then he said something about good breeding—I don’t know what that is—then Daddy said something about how the Nazis were the ones who liked good breeding so much. Or something. Then Grandpa hit Daddy and Daddy hit him right back, twenty times as hard.”
“I see,” Carol replied, sounding a little faint to her own ears. “Was your grandfather okay?”
Carol honestly wasn’t sure what answer she wanted to that one.
Rindy shrugged and nodded at the same time. “Daddy punched him into his favorite chair. It was funny.”
Carol knew she should argue that, but she didn’t have the heart. “And then what happened?”
“Grandma came in, and she was yelling and screaming and she started hitting Daddy too, but they were like sissy hits, slaps and stuff. Then Daddy said ‘Rindy get down here!’” She affected what she could of a deep, booming tone for that. “And I did, and Grandma and Grandpa were yelling, and Daddy just scooped me up like I was little like Sascha, and we left.”
Rindy didn’t seem upset in the slightest at being treated like Sascha. “Wow. That’s, that was something, wasn’t it? Are you okay, sweet pea? Were you scared?”
“No,” Rindy said too quickly to be believed. Whatever fear she’d experienced at the time had clearly worn off. “Mommy, if Daddy hit Grandpa and Uncle Steve hit all the Nazis, does that make Daddy the same as Uncle Steve?”
Carol missed her next turn.