“You and Annie are like best friends. It’s really incredible—I mean that.” And I did.
Janine shrugged. “Some people would say that I’ve crossed all sorts of lines. That I treat Annie too much like a friend and that puts ‘inappropriate pressure’ on her and that actually makesmethe worst mother of all.”
“Oh, come on,” I scoffed. “No one would say that.”
“They would and they have!” She laughed. “To my face! Annie’s therapistandmy therapist were especially hard to dismiss.”
“Oh,” I said, and then we both laughed.
“Anyway,” she went on. “The grass is always greener. We’re all doing the best we can.”
“You’ve always been so calm about all of it, though,” I said. “Even when they were tiny babies. So unflappable.”
“Don’t confuse the ability to act calm with actuallybeingcalm. I didn’t feel fine in those early weeks. But I also figured that admitting it would only make me feel worse.”
“Well, you were good at pretending,” I said, and then we were quiet for a moment. And I wondered maybe if motherhood wouldn’t have felt like such a struggle if I’d been more open about how tough it was. Maybe I would have found that it wasn’t some fatal flaw in me after all. “Thank you for not asking specifically what I’m worried about with Cleo tonight.”
Janine smiled, her eyes going a little glassy. “The ‘what’ never really matters, does it? Only the ‘who.’ You’re Cleo’s mother. She’s your daughter. And you love her. You’re going to do what you have to, to protect her—no matter what …” She reached over and gave my hand a quick squeeze. “Anyway, I wanted to apologize, for the other night in the restaurant.”
“What do you mean?”
“I shouldn’t have said that about Kyle. I’d like to claim that I didn’t mean to upset you, but … I’ve been so worried about Annie lately. I don’t know what’s going on, but she’s so distant. When I’m worried, some mean little part of me feels better pointing to other people’s problems. There’s no excuse. I’m sorry. But I did want to ask you if you knew anything about where—”
My phone rang just then. A cell number I didn’t recognize. “Janine, I’m sorry, do you mind?” I gestured toward Cleo’s light. “I have to take this.”
Janine looked a little taken aback, but then she nodded. “I’ll watch her like a hawk,” she said.
I stepped toward the street to answer.
“This is Tim Lyall,” the voice on the other end announced. Like he was calling me back. I drew a complete blank. Who the hell wasTim Lyall? And then it came to me—a junior corporate partner at the firm. Sat around the corner; his assistant sharedthe pool with Jules. But we’d never worked together. He had no reason to be contacting me. “Jules told me to call you about Darden?” He sounded distracted, maybe irritated. It was hard to tell.
“Oh, yes. Thank you. I was hoping to match notes.” My voice sounded tight, but I hoped Tim Lyall would have no way of knowing that.
“Of course,” he said, his tone still unreadable. But then he hesitated for just a beat too long. I had a feeling I’d lost him. “Listen, I’m racing to catch a plane to Zurich. And need to get on a conference call. Why don’t I call you once I land, when I’ll have a solid window to talk.”
“That’s fine,” I said as matter-of-factly as I could, given that I had no clue why Jules had told him to call me. “I’d appreciate it.”
“Perfect. Talk soon.”
I felt sure Tim Lyall planned never to call me back. And when I tried Jules again in search of an explanation, it went straight to voice mail. My next call was to the office.
“This is Kat McHugh,” I said to the weekend operator. “I need to get some documents to Tim Lyall at home. Could you get me his home address?”
Janine stood up as I walked back to the bench. “Is everything okay?”
“Not really,” I said. “I’m so sorry to do this, but I need to run up to the Upper East Side to pick something up. Work-related. Do you think you could wait here until I get back? I know you’re supposed to meet Annie and that it’s a lot to ask, but—”
“I can do it.” Janine put a warm hand on my forearm. “I see how worried you are. I can absolutely do it.”
“Thank you. I need to know if Cleo leaves, or”—I scrolled through my phone until I located the photo of Kyle I’d used with Jimmy—“if this person goes in?”
Her forehead scrunched as she peered at the photo. “I’ll stay as long as you need me to, of course. I’ll text Annie. But can you … Kat, what is going on? Who is that?”
“It’s Kyle,” I said. I hesitated, then plunged ahead. “You should probably ask Annie about him, too, Janine. I think she may know him … better than she should. Better than you’d want her to.”
TRANSCRIPT OF RECORDED SESSION
DR. EVELYN BAUER
