man hadn't always been this way, and that come next week things would be back to normal. But as far back as she could remember, this series of missed moments and broken promises was the most normal thing either of them knew.
“Next weekend—” She stopped herself. What about next weekend? Would Eric even remember his promise to take Josh to the beach, to buy him a boogie board, and play with him on the shore all day? Why would he? Surely, there'd be a dozen meetings to follow up the trip to New York. And someone's stock performance was bound to put Koppel and Grant in a tailspin. It happened every time. Eric might still have the audacity to make promises to Josh, but Laura couldn't bring herself to repeat them.
Her son was staring at her, his eyes puffy and red. “Next weekend what?”
Laura pulled back and sat straighter in her chair. “I was thinking of the beach.”
“You know what?” Josh pulled one leg up and hugged his knee to his chest. “I don't like the beach. I want a basketball so Dad could take me to the park to shoot. Like the other dads.”
Several times that past summer, Josh had gone to the park with his friends and their fathers, and even with Clay once. The gym was open all day Saturday, and local fathers and sons had adopted the place. Josh had mentioned it to Eric three times at least, but Eric was either busy at his computer, or going over a list of documents, or about to make a phone call. He'd wave Josh off and nod quickly. “Sure, son … you bet. One of these days we'll go to the park and shoot hoops.”
But it had never happened.
A minute passed, and Josh's crying subsided. He dried his face once more, stood, and kissed Laura. “I'm going to bed. Tell Dad I'll see him next week.”
“I love you, Josh.”
“You too.” He started to walk off, then stopped and turned around. “I wish Uncle Clay was my daddy. That'd be so cool.”
Laura's remaining resolve crumbled like ancient pottery. “I'm sorry, Josh.”
“That's okay.” He slumped forward a bit. His chin almost touched his chest as he walked off. “G'night.”
She listened while he made his way up the stairs toward his bedroom. When the door closed, she grabbed the cordless phone from the wall and dialed Eric's office number. A young woman answered on the third ring.
“Hello?” Her voice was perky.
Laura wanted to scream. “Eric Michaels, please.”
“Eric … let's see.” She covered up the phone to muffle her voice. “Someone tell Eric he has a phone call.”
Eric? Who was the girl, and what was she doing there after ten on a Friday night?
A minute passed and Eric picked up the phone. “Hello?”
“You left Josh alone? ” Her tone was a pinched mix of shock and controlled fury.
“Laura, let me explain.” He paused a moment too long.
“No.” She huffed. “You're too late. Your son went to sleep in tears, Eric.”
“Look, I don't need a guilt trip. I feel bad enough.”
“Oh, I can tell.” She raised her voice. “What could be so important you had to leave our son alone, Eric? What?”
“A teleconference from New York, that's what.” He hesitated. “The minute you left, Murphy called wondering where I was. The call was scheduled for seven-thirty.”
“That's ten-thirty New York time.” Laura gave a short laugh. “Even a man like Allen couldn't possibly keep hours like that.”
“What's that supposed to mean?”
“It means after a while the stories get old.” She took the phone into the living room and dropped onto the edge of the leather recliner. “Who answered the phone?”
“Here?”
“Yes, there. Whoever she was she called you by your first name. I thought secretaries had more class than that.”
“Her name's Vicky. She's not a secretary. She's Murphy's assistant, and she's happily married. None of us are formal with the assistants.” His tone was condescending. “Does that answer your question?”
“Look, Eric …” The conversation was going nowhere. “I don't
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