Breaking the Bank (44 page)

“Well, the thing is, she stopped eating.”

I knew it,
Mia thought
. I knew it would come to this.
To Stuart, she said tensely, “Since when? Has she lost weight? What is he doing about it?”

“She's okay, I swear she is. It was only for a couple of days.”

“A couple of days? Stuart, that's a long time for a kid of her age to go without eating. Why didn't he call me? Why didn't he let me talk to her?” Mia felt slightly hysterical; Eden didn't need to lose a single ounce.

“At first he just thought she had a stomach flu. But then she told him she wouldn't eat unless he brought her to New York with him.”

“And so he said yes?”

“She ate two grilled cheese sandwiches and a bowl of soup as soon as he agreed.”

“This is serious, Stuart. She can't afford to fast.”

“I know, I know,” he soothed. “But it's over now. She's eating again, okay? So you can calm down.”

“Where are they staying?”

“He didn't say.”

“I want her here with me,” Mia said firmly. “I want her to come home.”

“You've got to work that out with Lloyd,” Stuart said. “Oh I will, believe me.”

A
S SOON AS
she got off the phone with her brother, the phone rang again. Julie. Mia hesitated, but this time she took the call.

“Are you still speaking to me?” Julie asked, without saying hello. “I answered the phone, didn't I?”

“Mia, I am so sorry,” Julie said. “Whatever I thought, whatever I expected, I still shouldn't have disappeared like that. I should have tried harder to keep you in the loop.”

“Harder! You didn't try at all.”

“True,” Julie said. “I can't argue when you're right.”

“I felt like everyone was against me, and I wanted to talk to you. But I couldn't,” Mia said. “It made me feel so shut out.”

“I was a fool,” Julie said. “A fool in love.”

“That's not an excuse,” Mia said. “No,” said Julie. “It isn't. But I hope we can get past this. I really want to try.”

“I don't know,” said Mia. “I really don't know.”

“Can I come over?”

“When?” said Mia. She wasn't even dressed yet. “How about now?”

“Now? I don't think so, Julie. I'm waiting for the D.A. squad to arrive and—”

“I know all about it,” Julie said. “That's why I want to be there. I thought you'd need some moral support.”

“Who told you?” Mia asked. But of course she knew the answer to that: Fred. She felt the lash of guilt even thinking about him. “It was Fred, right?”

“He's feeling pretty terrible,” Julie said. “You know, he really did love you. No, I take that back. He still loves you.”

“I didn't mean to hurt him,” Mia said, and looked at the clock. “But I really can't go into all that now. I've got to get ready.” She yanked up a pair of black patterned tights. She inspected them carefully for runs. There weren't any—yet.

“Why don't you let me come over?” Julie said. “I'll bring breakfast.” Mia knew that Julie's idea of breakfast was a box of Krispy Kremes. Suddenly, she craved one of the sticky, calorie-laden confections. And she wanted Julie to bring her one. Or several.

J
ULIE HADN'T LIED
about her tan; it may have spelled a future studded with basal cell carcinomas, but Jesus, did she look terrific. They hugged tightly, stood back, and looked at each other, and then hugged again.

“Here,” said Julie, handing her the box of doughnuts. “All the trans fat, sugar, and cholesterol you need for the week.”

“There's so much to say I don't even know where to begin.” Mia plucked a doughnut from the box. But before she could take a bite, she saw that Julie's attention had been diverted by something out the window. “What?” she asked. “What are you staring at?”

“There's a TV crew in front of the building,” said Julie. “Let me see.” Mia joined Julie at the window. There was a van parked out front; it had the emblem of a local news station embla-zoned across the side, and the back doors were wide open. She watched as a couple of guys emerged, hauling cameras and other equipment out
onto the sidewalk. What was going on? Mia hurriedly ate her doughnut and opened the window. She saw a young woman with a massive amount of shiny red hair and an alarmingly green suit—she looked kind of like a leprechaun, only prettier—standing patiently in front of the building while her face was anointed with a long wandlike makeup brush.

The phone rang again. Eden—at last! “Eden!” said Mia, so happy to hear her voice. “Where are you?”

“In Queens, staying with some friends of Daddy's girlfriend. We went to a Korean restaurant last night.”

“You did? Was it fun?” She refused to let herself ask,
Did you eat? Are you eating now? Please don't stop eating
. There would be time for all that later, when she actually saw Eden, wrapped her tightly in her arms.

“Yeah, except they brought over a pile of raw meat and cooked it on this big grill right at the table; my finger got burnt. Also, the smell of the meat was so gross. It made me sick.”

“Mia, there's another TV van outside,” said Julie, who was still at the window. “This one's from ABC.”

“Eden, why are you in New York now? Did Daddy bring you here to see me?” She was trying to have this conversation and pay attention to Julie at the same time.

“He says that something important is happening with your court thing today, and that we have to be there to see how it turns out.”

“So you're on your way to Brooklyn?”

“We're leaving in a few minutes. Daddy said I could call you to let you know.”

“I can't wait to see you,” Mia said. The doughnut, while delicious going down, had been a big mistake; it was now lodged, a hot, immo-bile mass, in her stomach.

“And I can't wait to see you. But I don't want you to go to jail again, okay?”

“Okay, baby. No jail for me.”

“Oh, and Mom? Grandma's coming, too.”

“Did you talk to her?”

“No. She's with Uncle Stuart. He called Daddy.”

“Mia, I really think you should take a look at this,” said Julie. The remaining doughnuts were ignored while Julie surveyed the drama unfolding in the street below. “It's a media circus out there.”

“Eden, honey, I've got to go now,” said Mia. “I'll see you soon, okay?”

“Love you, Mommy,” said Eden. “Love you, too.” But Eden was already gone.

Mia returned to the window. There were two vans, more camera and sound equipment, and another pert young thing—this one in an orange pantsuit—submitting to a touch-up. Mia was ready to pull her head back inside when she spied Cox on the sidewalk, talking to the newscaster in green. Mia saw him shake his head and try to pass her. Green Girl stepped in front of him, and he started moving in another direction. But she placed herself in his path again; from up above, it looked like they were doing a dance.

Although the intercom had not yet been fixed, Hector, Luisa's dad, had gone ahead and installed a lock on the front door. Now Mia's guests had to yell up and wait for her to toss down the small Ziploc bag in which she kept the key. She was just about to toss it to Cox now, but something told her to wait. She saw him pull out his phone, and, a second later, her own phone was ringing.

“I don't want to alarm you or anything,” Cox said. “But there are a couple of camera crews down here that want to talk to you. And there's a guy from the
Daily News,
too.”

“Talk to me?”

“About the cash machine. Someone seems to have tipped them off that there might be something very unusual about to take place.”

“Chris, that's impossible.”

“Are you looking out the window?”

“Uh-huh.”

“Then you'll know it's not only possible, it's happening. Now.”

“So what should I do?”

“Come on down. It's showtime, remember?” Cox clicked off, and Mia walked slowly away from the window.

“You okay?” Julie asked. “I don't know,” said Mia. “All those TV people down there? They're waiting to talk to me.”

“Who were you talking to just now? One of them?”

“No, that was my lawyer. He's outside.”

Julie peered out the window again. “The bald one in the fancy coat?”

“That's him.”

“How are you paying for him, anyway?”

“Stuart.”

“Mia, I think I see Stuart out there. Talking to the lawyer. Did he say he'd be coming?”

“Let me see.”

Stuart was standing next to Cox, intently listening to whatever he had to say. Then she saw Lloyd, towering over everyone, red scarf fluttering in the wind. And to top it off, he was wearing a beret. A beret! Who did he think he was—François Truff aut? Next to him, hopping lightly from foot to foot, was Eden. She was looking straight up at the window, and when she saw Mia, she started waving frantically.

“There's Eden,” Mia said to Julie. “I've got to go.”

I
T WAS CROWDED
outside the building, and in Mia's effort to move toward Eden, she and Julie were separated. But at that moment, the only thing that mattered was her daughter. She called to her, and Eden came charging in her direction, not stopping until she was in Mia's arms.

“Eden,” Mia crooned. “I missed you so much.” Was she thinner or was that Mia's worry-fueled imagination? Under the coat, it was hard to tell. She looked up and saw Lloyd, hovering on the periphery of
their embrace. He just stood there, looking big, and for once he didn't say a thing.

“That's her,” said a guy with a camera. “She's the one.”

“Ms. Saul, over here, over here,” called someone else. “Is it true that there's a cash machine just handing out money?” asked still another voice. “Or is this just some kind of publicity hoax?” Several of the TV guys started moving in on her; Mia stepped back. Their proximity was mildly alarming, and she was just about to say so when Cox came barreling up.

“Coming through,” he said in a loud voice. “She's not saying anything right now. You'll just have to wait.” Then to Mia, he added, “These are the detectives from the D.A.'s office.” Two men nodded. The taller one, who was black, said, “I'm Smyth, from the Seventy-eighth Precinct. And this is Blauner.” They both wore dun-colored raincoats and drab scarves; maybe it was some kind of detective uniform.

“What's going on?” asked Smyth. “I'm not sure,” said Mia. She had her arm around Eden's shoulders and scanned the crowd for Julie. After a minute, she saw her, standing next to Fred. Why was he here? And look at that—Bev was with him. Bev caught Mia's eye and waved.

“Ms. Saul, what did you think when you saw a ten-thousand-dollar bill? Did you know right away it was real?”

“Did you try to sell it through legitimate sources at first?”

“What about Solly Phelps? Why wouldn't he buy it? Did he suspect it was a fake?”

Solly Phelps! How did he know anything about her visit to Solly Phelps?

“I told you—no questions,” Cox snapped. He was small, all right, but he could snarl with the best of them.

“I think we're ready,” said Smyth. He looked at his watch. “We've got other dog-and-pony shows to see this morning.”

Mia finally let go of Eden as they began to make their way up Garfield
Place, toward the bank on Fifth Avenue. It was a cold, bright day with a strong wind blowing; the red-and-yellow McDonald's wrappers whirling in the breeze had an almost festive quality.

T
HE TV VANS
remained parked where they were, but several crew members walked along with them. The reporters were a noisy bunch, tossing questions in the air like confetti. The group advancing on the bank seemed to swell by the minute.

“Mom, there are so many people here!” said Eden. “I know.”

“Look, there's Luisa's mom. And Mr. Ortiz. And look over there!” She pointed, though Mia had told her a thousand times that pointing was rude. “There's Grandma!”

Mia turned to see her mother, wearing a colorful cape—a cape!— made out of some patchwork material, and walking beside Stuart. Behind them was Mr. Ortiz, holding tightly on to Inez's arm. He moved slowly, with great deliberation. There
were
a lot of people. Who had told them to come? What did they want? She scanned the crowd again and realized that she knew more than a few of the faces in it. Caitlin and Suzy. Wasn't that the driver from the car service? And wasn't that a guy she'd given money to once, when he was standing outside of the bank? This couldn't all be a coincidence. It just couldn't.

“Mom!” she called out, but there was too much noise, and Betty didn't hear.

“Hey, College Girl,” called a familiar voice. “College Girl, over here.” Mia whipped around, and there was Patrick, long blond hair spilling out over the top of his parka. A gust of wind lifted a lock of it, momentarily obscuring his expression. When the hair fell back into place, she could read his mile-wide smile, even from here. Was she smiling like that, too? She must be. Patrick. This crowd was all Patrick's doing; she was certain of it. But how? “A magician never reveals his secrets,” he had said. Well, he certainly didn't.

“Patrick,” she called back, but she was blocked by the throng and couldn't move any closer.

“Who's that?” Eden wanted to know. “That? That's just a friend,” said Mia, trying to keep him within view as she walked.

“I've called the bank to let them know we would be coming,” said Smyth, more to Cox than to Mia. “So you can expect a decent amount of security. Though I don't think they're going to be expecting this.” He used his hand to indicate the group of people walking up the hill.

“No one was,” said Cox. “They'll have to deal.”