Family Dynamics (Pam of Babylon Book Five) (7 page)

They walked up to the door hand in hand, nervous and excited at the same time. Natalie buzzed them in; her building had no doorman, another fact Ted remembered. They took the elevator up, and Ashton, always the perfectionist, pointed out at a wad of gum stuck on the carpeting in the hallway. “Disgusting,” he whispered. Natalie was waiting for them when they stepped off the elevator. She burst into tears when Ted introduced “Ash”—Ashton, not Ashley. His gay husband, not his straight wife. Ashton held in a sigh of relief that Natalie was a portly Earth Mother with a whiskered chin and frizzy hair, Birkenstock sandals, and a blue-jean skirt who held Ted and apologized to him over and over again for springing this on him, as if she had any control over it. Ted was suddenly protective of her, flattered that another human being would feel so much loyalty to him, a relative stranger, and because she was the mother of his child. “Group hug,” Ashton demanded, and the three of them held each other until Ted and Natalie felt better.

She led the way down the dark hallway to her apartment door. Not knowing what to expect, Ashton imagined a hoarder’s house—a dark, smelly apartment with cardboard boxes and moldy books and take-out food containers stacked to the ceiling. Instead, it was neat, empty. She lived sparsely, with the old-fashioned furniture of her parents still exactly the way they had it when she was small. On the backs of the upholstered pieces, crocheted doilies rested. They were also on the tables and under the crystal lamps and candy dishes. Ashton noticed a mezuzah; a small case which held sacred scripture, on the door jamb just inside the apartment. It was made of sterling silver with tiny beads applied in a mosaic pattern. Up against the interior wall there were floor-to-ceiling bookcases, jammed with volumes stacked on their sides and up on end. Also, books were heaped in neat piles on the floor and on the tables and a desk, oddly pushed up against the shelving, but then Ashton saw the wisdom of it: she could work and see the books, choosing what she needed. It was an academic’s work space. Ashton looked over at Natalie Borg and suddenly felt love for her. She was watching him and smiled at him, and that was all the opening he needed. They embraced, and Ashton fought back the tears. Ted thought,
All will be well
. He walked over to a large picture window that faced Broadway, and not believing his eyes, saw a man standing on his head with his legs crossed yoga fashion, playing the guitar, and a three-legged dog standing next to him.

“Am I really seeing this?” he asked. The others walked over, and laughter followed.

“He begs there all weekend,” Natalie said. “I’ve heard he has a full-time job during the week. Open the window, Ted. He plays a good guitar.” But Ted declined. It was too hot out to be opening up windows. And he was starting to get nervous again. Thankfully, Ashton would get the ball rolling for them.

“So, my friends, what do we do now?” Ashton asked.

“Let’s eat, and we can talk then,” Natalie said. “Follow me.” They walked through a doorway to the left of the bookshelves and into a small kitchen that was large enough for a table and two chairs and a barstool. “Sit,” she said, pulling out the chairs. She had the food arranged, fresh bagels from a local bakery, lox and cream cheese, sliced tomato, and onion. She had a bowl of whitefish salad and coleslaw and a fresh pineapple she’d sliced. Also, some decadent-looking pastries.

“Oh, my,” Ted said, and Ashton nodded in agreement. They enjoyed the brunch, but the conversation remained awkward until Ashton finally brought up the girl’s name: Deborah.

“So what do we do now? Will Penny Able arrange a meeting? How does this work?” Ashton asked.

“That’s probably exactly how it will work. Let’s call her now, OK?” The men nodded in agreement again. Natalie got her cell phone from the counter, dialed the number, and got an answering machine. She gave the message as if they had written a narrative for her to follow. Ashton found himself wondering how lucky they were to have a like-minded person in this difficult situation.

“Ms. Able,” Natalie Borg said, “regarding Deborah Phillips, I’m with Ted Dale, and we are in agreement that we would like to meet Miss Phillips together at her earliest convenience. Please call me as soon as you are able.” She hung up and had a little chuckle. “Sorry, Ms. Able, call me when you are able.” They laughed out loud. “I must be giddy from nerves.”

They talked about their current life situations into the late afternoon. Neither Ted nor Natalie did any reminiscing, for which Ashton was grateful. Once they started talking, the men no longer noticed how unattractive Natalie Borg was trying desperately to be, and she no longer noticed that the father of her child was gay. A process of alchemy was taking place, bonding them so that at the end of their time together, they would be fast friends who would spend Sundays together, have brunch on Saturdays, and visit each other’s homes, regardless of what the young woman who was their daughter would do. It was this united front that Natalie would meet the following day, when she met her daughter for the first time.

The hardened, sarcastic Deborah Phillips would burst into tears when she met them, crying out, “You are exactly as I imagined you both!” The Earth Mother and the father with a joint and long hair—well, not exactly—but a gay man with a beautiful husband? Almost as nice. Zach accompanied her to meet her birth parents, for moral support.

Ted and Natalie felt terrible about the Phillipses. It wasn’t fair to them. Ted would make it his duty to speak softly but sternly to his daughter about honoring them for caring for her when her birth parents were unwilling to. It hurt Natalie to hear it put that way, but it was the truth, and the only way the odd quartet would survive was by total honesty.

“I knew from the time I could reason that I didn’t belong to them,” Debbie argued.

“But it wasn’t their fault,” Ted countered. “They unselfishly took you to love and to raise as their own. They picked up the slack when we had our heads up our asses.” Ashton rolled his eyeballs.

“Great imagery for your new daughter, pal,” he hissed.

“Sorry, dear,” Ted said. “Let’s take this slowly. You are staying with your boyfriend, correct?” She nodded. “Well, then, you don’t have to worry about going back to Princeton. But I just don’t feel right about not getting in touch with them myself. What do you think, Mother?” Both Ted and Ashton had taken to calling Natalie “Mother,” and when they first said it in front of Deborah, she looked confused. She was ready to call her “Natalie,” as she called her adoptive parents “Beverly” and “John.” Ted was “Ted” and Ashton was, strangely, “Uncle Ashton.” Zach was obviously as uncomfortable as Deborah was happy. Natalie nodded, indicating that she agreed they should contact the Mr. and Mrs. Phillips.

Addressing Deborah, Natalie said, “To be respectful, we should contact them right away. The last thing we need is bad karma. You may change how you feel in time, and I don’t want you to have any regrets.” They decided that Deborah would call her adoptive mother and father and share the news. It would be up to them to decide whether or not they wanted to meet the new family. Ted secretly hoped they wanted to stay involved because he didn’t know if he had the stamina to be a real father to Deborah. Ashton, on the other hand, was ready to take it on.

Chapter 10

P
am’s attorney got back to her that afternoon.

“A warning letter doth not a lawsuit make,” he said condescendingly. She wasn’t to worry, he said; he lived in the neighborhood and would pick up the letter on his way home if she would stick it in her mailbox. It would be one less thing for her to worry about.

The thought that it could easily be made public bothered Pam enough to finally have to call a friend, quagmire or not.

“Sandra, it’s Pam,” she said. Sandra was surprised and pleased that Pam was calling her again. “Is this a bad time for you?”

“No, no, not at all. Tom’s not home yet, and I was puttering around. What’s new?”

“Well, I do have a reason for calling. More drama about Jack. If Tom’s not home yet, can you talk?” Pam asked.

“Yes, sure. What’s wrong?” Sandra’s heart had picked up a few extra beats; she could feel the reaction that Jack’s name caused in Pam.

“Did you ever hear the name Cynthia Thomasini?” Pam asked, slowly pronouncing the name so she’d get it right.

Sandra didn’t answer right away. “Yes, unfortunately. Why do you ask?” Sandra was playing it cagey; if Pam wanted facts, she was going to have to dig. Sandra wasn’t willing to initiate anything that might hurt Pam.

“What do you know about her? Her family is suing Jack’s estate on behalf of her estate. Wrongful death. I am assuming she died of AIDS and her family knew it was from him.” Boom! Boom! Boom! Sandra’s heart beat wildly in her chest; the pounding was nauseating, frightening.
Cindy Thomasini dead? Why? Oh, no. But so quickly?
She thought of Marie, dead. And her own nebulous health. She’d go along, feeling fine and then suddenly, out of nowhere, lose ground. Like Pam did. But they’d all been with Jack much longer than Sandra had.

“How do you know her?” Pam asked, her voice clipped. Sandra could tell she was annoyed.

“She came to the office looking for Jack a few weeks after he died. She claimed not to know he was gone. She explained he stopped calling her and she was looking for information about what had happened to him,” Sandra said. “I told her he was dead, and she reacted the way you would expect, but she recovered quickly and started telling me about their ‘friendship.’ They were together for three years. He was seeing her while he was seeing me. Payback hurts.

“What grounds does she have for a lawsuit? He didn’t force her,” Sandra said, immediately sorry she said it out loud. Maybe he had.

“It’s the publicity I’m worried about,” Pam confessed. “If everyone he was with thinks they can sue me, I’ll be in court the rest of my life. Why didn’t you tell me she’d come to see Jack?”

“I couldn’t justify it. You’d just been sick. The health department call came the day she visited the office! It was such a coincidence. I wasn’t in the best of shape myself. No, I couldn’t lay that on you with everything else. Look, I’m no lawyer, but it all sounds like a bunch of bull to me,” Sandra said. “The family is pissed, so they’re going to threaten you. Call your friend Jeff, Pam. We need his lawyer’s perspective.”

“I did contact my attorney, and he didn’t seem too concerned. He doesn’t know the extent of Jack’s—” Pam was at a loss for words.
His reach?
“He’s our tax attorney, though; maybe I need to talk to someone else.” Pam felt the anxiety building in her chest. “I’d better get busy and make that call to Jeff, Sandra. Thank you for listening to me yammer on. We’ll stay in touch, OK? And don’t keep anything from me!”

“OK, I’m sorry,” Sandra replied. They said goodbye and hung up. Pam started pacing. She didn’t know where to start. She thought of Jeff. He’d push her in the right direction.

“You need a civil attorney,” Jeff said. “There’s someone in my firm you should talk to. Dan Chua. I’ll get in touch and fill him in, if that’s OK with you. He’s very discreet, by the way.”

“Well, God knows I need that,” Pam said, exasperation with her own gullible stupidity growing exponentially.
Why the hell didn’t Sandra tell her about Cindy Thomasini? Who else was she hiding?
Out of nowhere, Pam began to think about Marie. She had emptiness in her chest that was almost painful. She wished she’d confronted Marie about her relationship with Jack, pressed for more details. She’d died with so many secrets.

Leaning up against the window sill, Pam looked out over the beach and the water. The view continued to have the same effect on her as it always did, and the negative thoughts and anxiety slowly went away. She jumped up when the shrill bell of the phone rang. Laughing, she went to answer and saw “Law Offices” on the caller ID. She answered with a soft “Hello.”

“Mrs. Smith, this is Dan Chua. Jeff Babcock suggested I call you. Is this a good time?” Pam couldn’t help herself; she had a little chill go through her body at the sound of this man’s voice. It was deep
and
soft.
Contradictory. Here we go…
.

“It’s a perfect time. Boy, that was fast. I just hung up from Jeff!” Pam exclaimed.

“He doesn’t fool around,” Dan said with a chuckle. “Seriously, he said it was urgent and briefly explained what you have going on. Can you meet with me today?” Pam thought quickly; she had a hair appointment before dinner. She glanced at her reflection in the hallway mirror; she could go another day.

“Yes, today is fine,” she said. They made an appointment for Pam to meet him at his office in a neighboring town inland as soon as she could get there, and said goodbye. She remembered to call her tax attorney and leave a message that she wouldn’t be putting the letter in her mailbox. She’d explain the reason later. The temperature got warmer the farther she drove from the beach through rush-hour traffic to Dan Chua’s office. She immediately liked the office; it was not a showpiece with expensive furnishings and custom carpeting like Jack’s lawyer had. She was surprised that Dan Chua was waiting for her.