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Authors: Ayelet Waldman
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probably in for a long chat, so I decided to do some calling of my own. I dialed Kat’s number. She didn’t sound entirely glad to hear from me.
“What’s wrong?” I asked.
“Wrong? Nothing. I mean, nothing really. It’s just that I don’t think you’re going to get that house.”
“What do you mean?”
“My mother-in-law says they’re not sure about selling. I mean, they aren’t sure it’s the right time. Right after Felix’s sister’s murder and everything.”
I asked in frustration. “Why not? That’s ridiculous. Don’t they
want
to get out of there? Isn’t the whole idea of living with such a horrible memory oppressive to them? I have to have it. We’re bursting at the seams in our apartment, and that’s even without the baby. Peter can’t get any work done because of the construction project on our block. We have got to move. And damn it, Kat. That’s
my
house.”
“You are so morbid, Juliet. Really you are. Why would you
want
to live there?”
I didn’t grace that comment with a response. After all, she had seen the living room. What was a dead body compared to hand-blown wall sconces?
“Let me show you some other houses,” Kat said. I sighed. “Come on.”
“You yourself said that everything out there is crap.”
Now it was her turn to sigh. “Well, maybe something will turn up. I mean, this place did, right?”
I was just about to beg off another fruitless house-hunting expedition when I noticed Al trying to get my attention. “One second,” I said to Kat.
“Possible insurance investigation,” he said, holding his hand over the phone.
“Really? Where?”
“Pasadena.”
I looked at my watch. “I’ve got to pick up the kids soon.”
“Don’t worry about it. I’ll take the meeting myself.”
I put my phone back to my ear. “Kat?” I said.
“So? Are you coming?”
“Sure. But is it okay if I bring the kids? I’ve got to pick them up from school in half an hour.”
“That’s fine,” she said. “I’ve got Ashkon with me today. He and Isaac can entertain each other.” Kat’s son was a year younger than Isaac, and nearly three inches taller. He also outweighed my kid by a good twenty pounds. Isaac would never admit it, but Ashkon scared the bejeezus out of him.
“That’ll be great,” I said.
Al was wiping his mouth with a carefully folded napkin when I got off the phone.
“Good case?” I said.
“Probably not. But it’s billable hours. And that’s what matters, right?”
I nodded. “Call me and let me know how it goes.”
Six
K AT and I crammed our three kids into my station wagon, shoving the car seats in on top of each other in a mountain of straps, buckles, and velcro. Despite Kat’s entreaties, I wasn’t willing to risk the buttery leather of her Mercedes. I’d bought Ruby and Isaac bags of sour gummy bears as a bribe to ensure good behavior on our real estate rounds, and I knew from experience that at least two or three of the sugar-encrusted globs were going to end up adhered to someone’s butt. Better that it should be my crud-mobile that suffered the consequences of my lousy parenting.
“Just a couple, Ashkon,” Kat said, staring in horror at her son’s beatific face as he jammed the candy into his mouth, licking his fingers and giggling maniacally. Given Kat’s various food phobias, I suppose it was entirely possible that this was her child’s first experience with sugar in his life. He had crammed two-thirds of his bag of candy into his mouth, and he sat in his booster seat with the blissed-outlook of someone who has just found the secret to eternal life.
“Sorry,” I said. “I probably should have asked you before I gave him those. It’s just that since Ruby and Isaac had them . . .” my voice trailed off.
“It’s fine, really,” she said, looking nauseated. Thank goodness my friend was too polite to yell at me. It probably didn’t hurt, I guess, that she was enough of a real estate agent to remember that
“What’s wrong?” I asked.
“Wrong? Nothing. I mean, nothing really. It’s just that I don’t think you’re going to get that house.”
“What do you mean?”
“My mother-in-law says they’re not sure about selling. I mean, they aren’t sure it’s the right time. Right after Felix’s sister’s murder and everything.”
I asked in frustration. “Why not? That’s ridiculous. Don’t they
want
to get out of there? Isn’t the whole idea of living with such a horrible memory oppressive to them? I have to have it. We’re bursting at the seams in our apartment, and that’s even without the baby. Peter can’t get any work done because of the construction project on our block. We have got to move. And damn it, Kat. That’s
my
house.”
“You are so morbid, Juliet. Really you are. Why would you
want
to live there?”
I didn’t grace that comment with a response. After all, she had seen the living room. What was a dead body compared to hand-blown wall sconces?
“Let me show you some other houses,” Kat said. I sighed. “Come on.”
“You yourself said that everything out there is crap.”
Now it was her turn to sigh. “Well, maybe something will turn up. I mean, this place did, right?”
I was just about to beg off another fruitless house-hunting expedition when I noticed Al trying to get my attention. “One second,” I said to Kat.
“Possible insurance investigation,” he said, holding his hand over the phone.
“Really? Where?”
“Pasadena.”
I looked at my watch. “I’ve got to pick up the kids soon.”
“Don’t worry about it. I’ll take the meeting myself.”
I put my phone back to my ear. “Kat?” I said.
“So? Are you coming?”
“Sure. But is it okay if I bring the kids? I’ve got to pick them up from school in half an hour.”
“That’s fine,” she said. “I’ve got Ashkon with me today. He and Isaac can entertain each other.” Kat’s son was a year younger than Isaac, and nearly three inches taller. He also outweighed my kid by a good twenty pounds. Isaac would never admit it, but Ashkon scared the bejeezus out of him.
“That’ll be great,” I said.
Al was wiping his mouth with a carefully folded napkin when I got off the phone.
“Good case?” I said.
“Probably not. But it’s billable hours. And that’s what matters, right?”
I nodded. “Call me and let me know how it goes.”
Six
K AT and I crammed our three kids into my station wagon, shoving the car seats in on top of each other in a mountain of straps, buckles, and velcro. Despite Kat’s entreaties, I wasn’t willing to risk the buttery leather of her Mercedes. I’d bought Ruby and Isaac bags of sour gummy bears as a bribe to ensure good behavior on our real estate rounds, and I knew from experience that at least two or three of the sugar-encrusted globs were going to end up adhered to someone’s butt. Better that it should be my crud-mobile that suffered the consequences of my lousy parenting.
“Just a couple, Ashkon,” Kat said, staring in horror at her son’s beatific face as he jammed the candy into his mouth, licking his fingers and giggling maniacally. Given Kat’s various food phobias, I suppose it was entirely possible that this was her child’s first experience with sugar in his life. He had crammed two-thirds of his bag of candy into his mouth, and he sat in his booster seat with the blissed-outlook of someone who has just found the secret to eternal life.
“Sorry,” I said. “I probably should have asked you before I gave him those. It’s just that since Ruby and Isaac had them . . .” my voice trailed off.
“It’s fine, really,” she said, looking nauseated. Thank goodness my friend was too polite to yell at me. It probably didn’t hurt, I guess, that she was enough of a real estate agent to remember that
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