She tried to rationalize her sudden depression. It had been a long day and she was tired. It was time for her to leave and she almost dreaded picking up the girls. When Nana was still with them, going home had been a pleasure.
“Now sit down, dear,” Nana would say, “and get yourself relaxed. I’ll fix us a nice little cocktail.” She’d enjoyed hearing what was going on at the gallery, and she’d read the children a bedtime story while Jenny got dinner. “From the time you were eight years old, you were a better cook than I am, Jen.”
“Well, Nana,” Jenny would tease, “maybe if you didn’t cook hamburgers so long they wouldn’t look like hockey pucks . . .”
Since they’d lost Nana, Jenny picked up the girls at the day-care center, bused them to the apartment and placated them with cookies while she threw a meal together.
As she was reaching for her coat, one of the most important collectors cornered her. Finally at 5:25 she managed to get away. She debated about saying good night to Erich but he was still deep in conversation with Alison Spencer. What possible difference would it make to him that she was going? Shrugging away the renewed sensation of depression, Jenny quietly left the gallery by the service door.
2
Patches of ice on the sidewalk made the going treacherous. Avenue of the Americas, Fifth, Madison, Park, Lexington, Third. Second. Long, long blocks. Whoever said Manhattan was a narrow island had never run across it on slick pavements. But the buses were so slow, she was better off on foot. Still she’d be late.
The day-care center was on Forty-ninth Street near Second Avenue. It was quarter of six before, panting from running, Jenny rang the bell of Mrs. Curtis’ apartment. Mrs. Curtis was clearly angry, her arms folded, her lips a narrow slash in her long, unpleasant face. “Mrs. MacPartland!”
“We had a terrible day,” the grim lady continued. “Tina wouldn’t stop crying. And you told me that Beth was terlet-trained, but let me tell you she isn’t.”
“She is terlet-, I mean toilet-trained,” Jenny protested. “It’s probably that the girls aren’t used to being here yet.”
“And they won’t get the chance. Your kids are just too much of a handful. You try to understand my position; a three-year-old who isn’t trained and a two-year-old who never stops crying are a full-time job by themselves.”
“Mommy.”
Jenny ignored Mrs. Curtis. Beth and Tina were sitting together on the battered couch in the dark foyer that Mrs. Curtis grandly referred to as the “play area.” Jenny wondered how long they’d been bundled in their outside clothes. With a rush of tenderness, she hugged them fiercely. “Hi, Mouse. Hello, Tinker Bell.” Tina’s cheeks were damp with tears. Lovingly, she smoothed back the soft auburn hair that spilled over their foreheads. They’d both inherited Kev’s hazel eyes and thick, sooty lashes as well as his hair.
“Her was scared today,” Beth reported, pointing at Tina. “Her cried and cried.”
Tina’s bottom lip quivered. She reached up her arms to Jenny.
“And you’re late again,” Mrs. Curtis accused.
“I’m sorry.” Jenny’s tone was absentminded. Tina’s eyes were heavy, her cheeks flushed. Was she starting another siege of croup? It was this place. She never should have settled on it.
She picked up Tina. Fearful of being left behind, Beth slid off the couch. “I’ll keep both girls until Friday, which is a favor,” Mrs. Curtis said, “but that’s it.”
Without saying good night, Jenny opened the door and stepped out into the cold.
It was completely dark now and the wind was sharp. Tina burrowed her head in Jenny’s neck. Beth tried to shield her face in Jenny’s coat. “I only wet once,” she confided.
Jenny laughed. “Oh, Mouse, love! Hang on. We’ll be in the nice warm bus in a minute.”
But three buses went by full. At last she gave up and began walking downtown. Tina was a dead weight. Trying to hurry meant she had to half-drag Beth. At the end of two blocks, she bent down and scooped her up. “I can walk, Mommy,” Beth protested. “I’m big.”
“I know you are,” Jenny assured her, “but we’ll make better time if I carry you.” Locking her hands together, she managed to balance both small bottoms on her arms. “Hang on,” she said, “the marathon is under way.”
She had ten more blocks to go downtown, then two more across town. They’re not heavy, she told herself. They’re your children. Where in the name of God would she find another day care by next Monday? Oh, Nana, Nana, we need you so much! She couldn’t dare take more time off from the gallery. Had Erich asked Alison Spencer to have dinner with him? she wondered.
Someone fell in step beside her. Jenny looked up startled as Erich reached down and took Beth from her arms. Beth’s mouth formed a half-surprised, half-frightened circle. Seeming to realize she was about to protest, he smiled at her. “We’ll get home a lot faster if I carry you and we race Mommy and Tina.” His tone was conspiratorial.
“But . . .” Jenny began.
“Now surely you’re going to let me help you, Jenny?” he said. “I’d like to carry the little one too but I’m sure she wouldn’t come to me.”
“She wouldn’t,” Jenny agreed, “and I’m grateful, of course, Mr. Krueger, but . . .”
“Jenny, will you please stop calling me Mr. Krueger? Why did you leave me stuck with that tiresome woman from Art News? I kept expecting you to rescue me. When I realized you were gone, I remembered the day-care center. That awful woman told me you’d left but I got your address from her. I decided to walk down to your apartment and ring your bell. Then right in front of me I see a pretty girl in need of help, and here we are.”
She felt his arm tuck firmly under her elbow. Suddenly instead of feeling fatigued and depressed, she was absurdly happy. She glanced at his face.
“Do you go through this every night?” he asked. His tone was both incredulous and concerned.
“We usually manage to get a bus in bad weather,” she said. “Tonight they were so full, there was hardly room for the driver.”
The block between Lexington and Park was filled with high-stooped brownstones. Jenny pointed to the third house on the uptown side. “That’s it.” She eyed the street affectionately. To her the rows of brownstones offered a sense of tranquillity: houses nearly one hundred years old, built when Manhattan still had large neighborhoods of single-family homes. Most of them were gone now, reduced to rubble to make way for skyscrapers.
Outside her building, she tried to say good night to Erich but he refused to be dismissed.
“I’ll see you in,” he told her.
Reluctantly she preceded him into the ground-level studio. She’d made slipcovers in a cheerful yellow-and-orange pattern for the battered secondhand upholstery; a piece of dark brown carpet covered most of the scarred parquet floor; the cribs fit into the small dressing room off the bathroom and were almost concealed by the louver door. Chagall prints hid some of the peeling wall paint and her plants brightened the ledge over the kitchen sink.
Glad to be released Beth and Tina ran into the room. Beth spun around. “I’m very glad to be home, Mommy,” she said. She glanced at Tina. “Tina is glad to be home too.”
Jenny laughed. “Oh, Mouse, I know what you mean. You see,” she explained to Erich, “it’s a little place but we love it.”
“I can see why. It’s very pleasant.”
“Well, don’t look too hard,” Jenny said. “The management is letting it run down. The building is going co-op so they’re not spending any more money on it now.”
“Are you going to buy your apartment?”
Jenny began to unzip Tina’s snowsuit. “I haven’t a prayer. It will cost seventy-five thousand dollars, if you can believe it, for this room. We’ll just hang in till they evict us and then find someplace else.”
Erich picked up Beth. “Let’s get out of those heavy clothes.” Quickly he unfastened her jacket, then said, “Now we’ve got to make up our minds. I’ve invited myself to dinner, Jenny. So i
f you have plans for the evening, kick me out. Otherwise point me to a supermarket.”
They stood up together and faced each other. “Which is it, Jenny,” he asked, “the supermarket or the door?”
She thought she detected a wistful note in the question. Before she could answer, Beth tugged at his leg. “You can read to me if you want,” she invited.
“That settles it,” Erich said decisively. “I’m staying. You have nothing more to say about it, Mommy.”
Jenny thought, He really wants to stay. He honestly wants to be with us. The realization sent unexpected waves of delight through her. “There’s no need to go shopping,” she told him. “If you like meatloaf we’re in great shape.”
She poured Chablis, then turned on the evening news for him while she bathed and fed the children. He read a story to them while she prepared dinner. As she set the table and made a salad she stole glances at the couch. Erich was sitting, one little girl under each arm, reading The Three Bears with appropriate histrionics. Tina began to doze and quietly he pulled her on his lap. Beth listened rapturously, her eyes never leaving his face. “That was very, very good,” she announced when he finished. “You read almost as good as Mommy.”
He lifted one eyebrow to Jenny, smiling triumphantly.
After the children were in bed they ate at the dinette table that overlooked the garden. The snow in the yard was still white. The bare-limbed trees glistened in the reflection of the lights from the house. Thick, high evergreens almost hid the fence that separated the property from the adjacent yards.
“You see,” Jenny explained, “country within the city. After the girls are settled, I linger over coffee here and imagine I’m gazing at my acreage. Turtle Bay, about ten blocks uptown, is a beautiful area. The brownstones have magnificent gardens. This is sort of mock turtle bay but I’ll be very sorry when moving day arrives.”
“Where will you go?”
“I’m not sure but I’ve got six months to worry about it. We’ll find something. Now how about coffee?”
The bell rang. Erich looked annoyed. Jenny bit her lip. “It’s probably Fran from upstairs. She’s between boyfriends now and pops in to visit every couple of nights.”
But it was Kevin. He filled the doorway, boyishly handsome in his expensive ski sweater, a long scarf casually knotted over his shoulder, his dark red hair well-barbered, his face evenly tanned.
“Come in, Kevin,” she said, trying not to sound exasperated. Timing, she thought. By heaven, he’s got it.
He strode into the room, kissing her quickly. She felt suddenly embarrassed, knowing Erich’s eyes were on them.
“Kids in bed, Jen?” Kevin asked. “Too bad. I was hoping to see them. Oh, you have company.”
His voice changed, became formal, almost English. Ever the actor, Jenny thought. The former husband meeting the ex-wife’s new friend in a drawing-room comedy. She introduced the men and they nodded to each other without smiling.
Kevin apparently decided to lighten the atmosphere. “Smells good in here, Jen. What have you been cooking?” He examined the stove top. “My word, what a fancy meatloaf.” He sampled it. “Excellent. I can’t imagine why I let you get away from me.”
“It was a dreadful mistake,” Erich said, his voice chipped with ice.
“It surely was,” Kevin agreed easily. “Well, look I won’t delay. Just thought I’d pop by on my way past. Oh, Jen, could I speak with you outside for a minute?”
She knew exactly why he wanted to speak with her. It was payday. Hoping Erich wouldn’t notice she slipped her purse under her arm as she went out to the foyer. “Kev, I really haven’t . . . ”
“Jen, it’s just that going overboard for Christmas for you and the kids left me short. My rent is due and the landlord is getting nasty. Just lend me thirty dollars for a week or so.”
“Thirty dollars. Kevin, I can’t.”
“Jen, I need it.”
Reluctantly she took out her wallet. “Kevin, we’ve got to talk. I think I’m going to lose my job.”
Quickly he took the bills. Stuffing them in his pocket, he turned toward the outside door. “That old joker would never let you go, Jen. He knows a good thing when he has it. Call his bluff and strike for a raise. He’ll never hire anyone for what he’s paying you. You’ll see.”
She went back into the apartment. Erich was clearing the table, running water in the sink. He picked up the pan with the remaining meatloaf and walked over to the garbage can.
“Hey, hold it,” Jenny protested. “The kids can have that tomorrow night for dinner.”
Deliberately he dumped it out. “Not after that actor-ex of yours touched it they won’t!” He looked directly at her. “How much did you give him?”
“Thirty dollars. He’ll pay me back.”
“You mean to say you allow him to walk in here, kiss you, joke about abandoning you and breeze out with your money to spend at some expensive bar?”
“He’s short on his rent.”
“Don’t kid yourself, Jenny; how often does he pull that? Every payday, I suppose.”
Jenny smiled wearily. “No, he missed one last month. Look, Erich, please leave those dishes. I can do them myself.”
“You’ve got far too much work to do as it is.”
Silently Jenny picked up a towel. Why had Kevin chosen just this evening to walk in? What a fool she was to hand him money.
The rigid disapproval in Erich’s face and stance began to ease. He took the towel from her hands. “That’s enough of that,” he smiled.
He poured wine into fresh glasses and brought it over to the couch. She sat beside him, keenly aware of a deep but vague intensity about him. She tried to analyze her feelings and could not. In a little while Erich would leave. Tomorrow morning he was going back to Minnesota. Tomorrow night at this time she’d be here by herself again. She thought of the happiness on the children’s faces when Erich read to them, the blessed relief she’d felt when he appeared beside her and took Beth from her. Lunch and dinner had been such fun, as though by his very presence he could dispel worry and loneliness.
“Jenny.” His voice was tender. “What are you thinking?”
She tried to smile. “I don’t think I was thinking. I was . . . just content, I suppose.”
“And I don’t know when I’ve been this content. Jenny, you’re sure you’re not still in love with Kevin MacPartland.”
She was astonished enough to laugh. “Good Lord, no.”
“Then why are you so willing to give him money?”
“A misguided feeling of responsibility, I suppose. The worry that maybe he does need his rent.”
“Jenny, I have an early flight tomorrow morning. But I can get back to New York for the weekend. Are you free on Friday night?”
He was coming back to see her. The same delicious sense of relief and pleasure that had been hers when he suddenly appeared on Second Avenue filled her. “I’m free. I’ll find a sitter.”
“How about Saturday? Do you think the children would enjoy going to the Central Park Zoo if it isn’t too cold? And then we could take them to Rumpelmayer’s for lunch.”
“They’d love it. But, Erich, really . . .”
“I’m not only sorry I can’t just stay in New York for a while. But I’ve got a meeting in Minneapolis about some investments I’m planning to make. Oh, may I . . . ?”
He had spotted the photo album on the shelf under the cocktail table.
“If you wish. It’s not terribly exciting.”
They sipped wine as he inspected the book. “That’s me being picked up at the children’s home,” she told him. “I was adopted. Those are my new parents.”
“They’re a nice-looking young couple.”
“I don’t remember them at all. They were in an automobile accident when I was fourteen months old. After that it was just Nana and me.”
“Is that a picture of your grandmother?”
“Yes. She was fifty-three when I was born. I remember when
I was in the first grade and came home with a long face because the kids were making Father’s Day cards and I didn’t have a father. She said, ‘Listen, Jenny, I’m your mother, I’m your father, I’m your grandmother, I’m your grandfather. I’m all you need. You make me a card for Father’s Day!’”
She felt Erich’s arm around her shoulders. “No wonder you miss her so.”
Hurriedly Jenny went on: “Nana worked in a travel agency. We took some terrific trips. See, here we are in England. I was fifteen. This is our trip to Hawaii.”
When they came to the pictures of her wedding to Kevin, Erich closed the album. “It’s getting late,” he said. “You must be tired.”
At the door he took both her hands in his and held them to his lips. She had kicked off her boots and was in her stocking feet. “Even this way you are so like Caroline,” he said, smiling. “You look tall in heels and quite small without them. Are you a fatalist, Jenny?”
“What is to be will be. I suppose I believe that.”
“That will do.” The door closed behind him.
3
At exactly eight o’clock the phone rang. “How did you sleep, Jenny?”
“Very well.” It was true. She had drifted off to sleep in a kind of euphoric anticipation. Erich was coming back. She would see him again. For the first time since Nana’s death she did not wake up around dawn with the sickening feeling of heavyhearted pain.
“I’m glad. So did I. And I might add I enjoyed some very pleasant dreams. Jenny, starting this morning, I’ve arranged for a limousine to come for you and the girls at eight-fifteen. He’ll take them to the day-care center and you to the gallery. And he’ll pick you up evenings at ten after five.”
“Erich, that’s impossible.”
“Jenny, please. It’s such a little thing for me. I simply can’t be worrying about you struggling with those babies in this weather.”