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“You did what you could,” the agent said. “No one blames you.”
“I don’t give a shit about blame. I get paid either way.” She was exhausted. “Is someone going to drive me back to LA?”
She was hoping for someone other than Agent Katz, but he was her assigned escort for this case.
When they hit Santa Barbara, he said, “What do you say we stop and get some dinner?”
She just wanted this day to be over, but she was starving, jittery, and on edge, so she nodded. “That’s fine.”
She’d managed to avoid small talk for most of the drive home, choosing to read and be nauseated over listening to him talk about baseball, but it would be too dark to read soon and rude to read during dinner, so she steeled herself. Maybe he’d go through a drive-through somewhere and get greasy hamburgers in a paper sack. He looked like a greasy hamburger kind of guy. But instead he said, “They have great wineries around here.”
And that’s how she found herself in a nice restaurant with a view of the sun setting over the vineyard. Cloth napkins, white tablecloths, and heavy cutlery.
“You have to try the wine,” Agent Katz said when they were seated, but then he ordered a Manhattan for himself. She ordered a glass of Coca-Cola. He ordered a steak. She ordered the chicken.
“So,” he said, “tell me about yourself.”
She clenched her napkin in her fist and prayed for death.
* * *
Helen was sitting in the recliner in the living room with the baby swaddled and falling asleep in her arms.
Annie froze in the hallway, afraid she would make too much noise, but Helen tilted her head to let her know it was okay. She closed the door as softly as she could.
“You look tired,” Helen said quietly. Which was kind of Helen to even notice, considering the baby in her arms.
“Long day,” she said. “Real…real long.”
Helen nodded and looked down at Zach. “I hear ya.”
“Could I…” Annie hesitated but then forged on. “Could I hold him for a while?”
“Are you kidding me?” Helen asked. “I’d be so grateful!”
Annie set her bag down and toed off her shoes, leaving them by the front door under the row of coats. She sat on the sofa and put a cushion under her arm for support. Helen stood up and gracefully put the baby into Annie’s waiting arms.
He was so warm against her, and he scrunched up his face for a moment but didn’t open his eyes. Annie smiled down at the sleeping baby, her throat thick. There was something so simple, so pure, about holding him, and she felt the weight of her day fade away.
“You okay?” Helen asked.
“Yeah.”
“You want to talk about it?” Helen pressed, then seemed to change her mind. “I’m going to get some wine. You want some?”
“Maybe just some water,” Annie said softly.
She left and came back, setting Annie’s water on the end table, holding her glass of wine close to her chest. “Your friend called. Lori.”
“Did she?” Annie asked. “She’s partly why I came out here. It’s been two months, and I haven’t even been able to get her on the phone.”
“It’s not that late. You could call her now.”
“She has kids younger than yours,” Annie said. “I’ll call tomorrow.”
Helen sat back down in the recliner, tucking her feet up underneath her. “Okay,” she said. “Why don’t you tell me about it?”
Annie knew that she shouldn’t. She still had to live here at least three more months, maybe four. Things would be easier for everyone if she kept her other life to herself. Her supervisor in Berlin had told her once, “You don’t have to lie, but you sure as hell shouldn’t tell the truth.”
