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“That was nearly three decades ago,” she says. “You seriously think we keep students’ schedules that long?”
I don’t know if I’m disappointed or relieved. Both, I guess. There was always this possibility that my father was some great human being who didn’t know I existed, who’d be thrilled to hear from me. The much greater possibility is that he’s a scumbag who heard my mom was pregnant and disavowed all responsibility, especially if he was a professor sleeping with a student.
I walk into the bar, hoping to bury my head in numbers and forget the whole thing. I’ve got amended returns ready for two of three possible years, but there’s so much more to be done. Beck’s getting robbed blind by suppliers—it’s as if he didn’t even know he could negotiate—and heshouldbe running a lot of expenses through the corporation instead of paying them on his own.
I walk into the office and discover Rachel at Beck’s desk, with him in the chair across from hers.
I can’t even see her baby bump, but I still want to walk straight out of the room. I’m jealous, yes, but mostly...I’m terrified. I want to warn her not to get her hopes up and tell her all the things that can go wrong, things they never even suggest in pregnancy books or Lamaze class, so she can watch for them. I want her to know that if she counts on the baby too much and it doesn’t work out, she’ll be so crushed she’ll never fully recover.
It’s crazy. It would be an awful thing to do. So I simply give her my least-encouraging smile and go to my desk.
Beck frowns—I guess he thinks that was dickish. He has no idea how much worse it could have been.
“Did you call Berkeley?” he asks, as if I really want to discuss my shitty background in front of perfect Rachel with her perfect pregnancy.
“No luck,” I mutter.
He looks from me to her. “Kate’s trying to get ahold of her mother’s course schedule from college,” he explains.
I shoot a glare his way and catch a twitch at the corner of his mouth. He’s doing thisintentionally. “She’s trying to find her father,” he continues, “and she thinks he may have been her mother’s professor.”
Even Rachel is narrowing her eyes at him. “Wow, Beck. Remind me not to tell you any ofmyfamily shit.”
“I already know your family shit.” He turns to me, grinning now. “Rachel’s father just went to jail for his third DUI—he ran a family off the road on their way to church.”
I shake my head. “You’re such an—”
“Asshole,” Rachel concludes before turning to me. “Anyway, did you ask the school for a list of faculty in that department during that year?”
I sigh. “They didn’t seem particularly inclined to help. They wouldn’t have it anyway, probably. It was years ago.”
“Oh, they’ll have it,” she says, grabbing her phone and looking something up. She dials a number and puts the phone on speaker. “Hi,” she says briskly when the line is picked up. “This is Rachel Brown with theSan Jose Business Journal. We’re doing a cover story on the incoming CEO of”—she scans the room, her gaze settling on a stack of printer paper—“Papersource. He was discussing how influential one of his professors at Berkeley was and blanked on the name. We’re wondering if you can help us out.”
“Oh, of course,” the woman replies. “What department and year?”
Rachel’s eyes go wide and she looks to me for the answer.
“Economics,” I whisper. “1994.”
“Economics,” she repeats. “1994.”
“I’d have to do some research, but I may be able to send you a list of all the department faculty from that year,” the woman says. “Would that help?”
Rachel grins at me after she’s ended the call, then rests a hand on her stomach. “You didn’t hear that, angel.”
Ping. It’s as if she’s plucked a sharp string in my chest. I used to talk to Hannah that way too.
I swallow hard, forcing a smile. “I would not have expected you to be such a good little liar.”
Beck rises. “I may have created a monster, introducing the two of you.” He smiles at me quickly as he walks out the door and I smile back. Yes, he’s an asshole, but he meant well. Which makes him a better person than me.
Rachel laughs quietly. “That’smessy.”
I look around the office in confusion. My desk is neat as a pin. “What’s messy?”
She leans back in her chair. “You know, the whole thing with him liking you while you’re still married to his best friend.”
“He doesn’t like me. Not like that.”
