The turn caught me off guard. "What about it?"
"When were you going to tell me about that project? The land, the plans, the contract you're about to lose. I had to hear about it from Adam, at a party, in front of people. We’re in this together, and you couldn’t even tell me about this project. Why?”
"Because it's work." I heard my own voice go flat and defensive and couldn't stop it. "It's a Monday problem. I don't bring you every deal that goes sideways, Ruby, there are dozens of them, you'd never sleep."
"Adam thinks I could help."
"You help?" I scoffed. "Look, I love Adam, but this isn't some little project you can come in and sketch a few ideas on. This isn't some hobby. This is a billion-dollar company with a hundred and forty people on the payroll."
She went very still.
"Right," she said. "Billion-dollar company. That's all you really care about. And you know what? That’s why you’ll lose this project."
She carefully set her cold mug in the sink, and walked out of the kitchen. I heard her on the stairs. I sat there with my threeeggs confused and frustrated. My mind spun as I tried to make sense of what just happened. I picked up the plate and threw away the food.
* * *
I was in my office, sometime before noon, catching up on email when Jeremy called. Seeing his name pop up on the screen was the first thing that had made me smile since I got up that morning.
"There he is. How’s my favorite architect?"
"Not yet, Dad. I have to actually graduate first." But I could hear he liked it. "How was the Jubilee? Was Tommy there? How were the desserts?"
"Tommy was there and tried to leave after his one drink," I said with a laugh. I ran through the entire night for him, describing the food, the people, the music. He asked about some people, remembered things about others. In a way it was a lot like talking to Ruby. It was funny how alike they were.
"Hey," he said, "did Mom ever say anything about Fallingwater? I sent her this thing about it reopening."
"She mentioned it." I leaned back. "In the car. Something about a road trip."
"You should take her." He said it easily, the way he said everything. "Seriously, Dad. She's wanted to go her whole life. It's like five hours away. You could make a long weekend out of it."
"That's more of a you-and-your-mom thing," I said. "The two of you can make a trip out of it. I'd just be standing around looking at some old house with the water running through it, wondering why they didn't fix the leak."
Jeremy laughed, because it was the answer he expected, and we moved on. I again thought about how funny it was that theywere so alike. So alike that I just said the same thing to two different people in two days.
The doorbell rang, the deep chime filling the halls and echoing through the house. A moment later Ruby's voice came from the front hall, lighter than it had been with me, and then a second voice, lower, that I would have known anywhere. Adam.
Jeremy was telling me about his Architectural Drawing class, but I couldn’t concentrate. Every so often I would hear a voice or a laugh echo down the hall. I needed to know what was going on. What was he telling her about Ocean City?
"Jeremy, I need to call you back."
"Everything okay?"
"Yeah, everything’s fine. Adam just got here. Work thing. Love you. Sorry to cut this short." I was already standing, heading towards the door, when I stopped myself.
What am I doing?
I could hear them down the hall, not the exact words, just the sound. Adam's deep, even cadence and then Ruby answering, or her asking a question. Sometimes her laugh, which made me realize I hadn’t heard a genuine laugh from her in a while.
I stood in the middle of my office like a man who had walked into a room and forgotten why. I wanted to go down there, but I had no reason to. It was Sunday, in my own house, and I could not walk into my own kitchen because my wife was in it being shown plans for a project I had told her wasn't hers to worry about.
So I paced. I straightened things on the desk that didn't need straightening. I told myself I was giving them space, which was a word I had apparently decided to wear out this weekend.
The truth was, I could have told her about Ocean City. Maybe I should have. There had been a hundred chances. The hour in the limo alone. But I didn’t. And I knew why.
I hadn't told her because she would have wanted it, and I didn’t want to disappoint her when we lost it.
She loved the shore. She loved exactly that kind of town, the porches and the close families and the streets that smelled like salt air and street food. If I had described the project to her, she would have lit up the way she used to light up over a set of plans. And then, when we lost it, I would have to watch it fade from her face, knowing I was the reason the light was gone.
