The Perfect Son (24 page)

TWENTY-FIVE

Three hours of sleep did not make for a functional investment banker. Felix had achieved nothing in the last hour. Not so much as a doodle.

Yes, he was still miffed that he’d been cornered into an apology. It was hardly his fault that Harry had failed to shut down his ruddy computer, but as the parent, he had crossed a moral line, which was beyond reprehensible. Why had he not kept his mouth shut? Clearly, being a full-time father brought out the worst in him. Going for the jugular had been a deliberate move. Harry had accepted his apology, but their détente was, at best, shaky. From now on, however, he would imagine an electric fence around the nuclear wasteland that was Harry’s room. Harry didn’t want him inside? Fine.

Felix laced his fingers behind his neck. Damn, he was overdue for a haircut on top of everything else. He stared up at his office ceiling—the same pale gray as the walls, a shade lighter than the carpet, and two shades lighter than the desk. He was cornered in a monochromic world devoid of pictures, photographs, and cute desktop gadgets. He had chosen to not clutter his work space with the personal, and he’d never questioned his office décor until today.

Piles of paper lay everywhere—on the floor, on the table, on the desk—but the room was blank. How many hours had he spent alone in this space with the angular wall of glass that magnified the intensity of the afternoon sun?

The hands of the black-and-white clock on the wall opposite inched toward twelve thirty. Robert, as predictable in his adultery as he was in all areas of his life, would be out with the mistress until at least two. One partner should always remain in the office during market hours, but that theory was based on the assumption that the partner was present in mind as well as body. If a client called, Felix would be useless. He texted Katherine.

Free for a quick coffee?

Sure. I’m doing research at Duke today. Somewhere close?

How much research could a bodice ripper require?

Scratch. The bakery on Orange Street. You know it?

Be there in ten.

Felix buzzed the front office, and within seconds Nora Mae stuck her head round the door. Until Ella’s heart attack, he’d found the office administrator’s daily attempts at pleasantries to be an irritant, although listening to her ramble on had always given him a chance to contemplate the many cacti lined up on her desk. Their needles screamed
Don’t touch
, but the bright desert blooms seemed to say,
Oh, give it a go.

“I need to pop out for about forty-five minutes. Something related to Ella. Can you cover for me?”

“Sure thing. If Curt asks, I’ll explain you had to go and see a client.” She winked.

The strangest thing about crises—they revealed allies in unlikely places. The expressions Nora Mae, a widow and devoted grandmother, fired toward Robert’s back whenever he left for a lunchtime special had long betrayed her opinion of extramarital activity. What Felix hadn’t realized until the last few weeks was that Nora Mae also had no patience for phonies. This had proved useful, since whenever Curt was within spitting distance of Robert, he became more obsequious than Uriah Heep. Evidently, Curt had designs on a partnership. The one that belonged, at least for now, to Felix.

He had grown fond of Nora Mae. A gift might be appropriate. “I’m going to Scratch. Can I bring back a pie for card night? My treat.” He would ask Liz, the young barista who always said, “The usual, Mr. Fitzwilliam?” for her recommendation, since he wasn’t a pudding person.

“Oh, you’re good,” she said. “You remembered Friday is girls’ card night.”

“Indeed. I’ll text you the specials.”

“You’re a gem. Thank you.”

Head lowered against the cold and the murmur of incessant thoughts, Felix strode onto the brick-paved pedestrian street protected by arching, mature trees. He glanced sideways into the narrow alley that always reminded him of a medieval Italian street, possibly because of the huge terra-cotta pots. They were stuffed with what he could now identify as heucheras.

He looked right and there was Katherine, sitting at one of the metal tables outside Scratch, typing into her phone. She glanced up and smiled. The smile was the best thing that had happened to him all day, which was sad considering the she-devil’s opinion of him. Antihero didn’t sound like a desirable role, but he wasn’t here to be liked or disliked. He was here for one reason: Katherine had earned his trust.

“I thought we’d be more private outside, but the temperature’s dropping.” She stood and pushed her funky green reading glasses onto her head. They mirrored the color of her eyes.

“Yes, it appears last weekend’s spring weather was an aberration. It’s definitely a little exposed out here.” He craned toward the road at the end of the street, checking for Robert’s silver BMW. Brilliant—he could add paranoid to sleep deprived.

Felix held open the glass door. A warm, spicy smell and the hubbub of chatter greeted them. “What can I get you?” Felix stared at the blue chalkboard wall. Lunch—real food—might be advisable, but he had no appetite these days.

Katherine marched up to the register, despite the spiky-heeled boots that seemed utterly impractical for walking, and smiled at Liz. “Cappuccino, please.”

Decisiveness. A good quality. He was gradually coming to understand why Ella had chosen Katherine as a friend. She made things easy. There was no drama and no oversharing. She liked you; she didn’t. She spoke her mind, and if you didn’t agree, it was not her problem.

Felix ordered a cappuccino, too. Why not?

“Not going for the London Fog with Earl Grey?” Katherine nodded at the specials listed on the wall. “I thought you were a tea drinker?”

“That’s my usual.” Felix smiled at Liz. “But the parameters of my life appear to be shifting.”

“Have you had lunch?”

He shook his head. Katherine turned back to the counter. “The snack plate with the assorted pickles, cheeses, and meats is locally sourced, I assume? Fantastic. We’ll add one of those, please.”

“I’m not hungry,” Felix said.
Nor do I appreciate people choosing my food.

“No offense, but you’re looking a little malnourished.”

His stomach replied with a loud growl, and Katherine raised her eyebrows. “I rest my case.”

Felix paid, then hesitated by the glass display case, checking the pies before pulling out his mobile to text Nora Mae.

“Am I keeping you from something more important?” Katherine said.

“I promised to take the office administrator a pie for her Friday-night poker game. Liz?” Felix raised his head. “What do you recommend for a whole pie?”

“The chocolate chess. Always,” Liz said. “Can I get you one?”

“I’ll let you know before I leave.”

Katherine hooked her hands into the back pockets of her jeans. “You’re full of surprises, Felix Fitzwilliam.”

“Meaning?”

“Still trying to figure that one out.”

Meaning?

Katherine turned and led him to the table in the window, the table he would have chosen since the adjacent one was empty. She picked the seat with the view of the café. His view would be of Katherine and a brick wall, which seemed highly appropriate. He removed his coat; she unwound her scarf and unzipped her leather jacket. Felix resumed his texting.

“Which pie did she choose?” Katherine said, watching the counter. Was she willing Liz to hurry up so she could do this and escape?

Felix pocketed his phone. “The chocolate chess.”

“Good choice. So tell me what’s on your mind.”

“I never thanked you properly for persuading Ella to see Harry. It made a huge difference to him.”

“And to Ella.”

He stared through the plate-glass window to the quiet street, to the empty concrete planters, to the cars jammed into the small parking lot beyond.

“I need to ask you a rather large favor.” He was on a path of no return. Felix Fitzwilliam was going over the top, crawling out of his trench to be pinned down by gunfire in No Man’s Land. He was issuing a formal invitation for help. Next he’d be opening his front door to salespeople. “I’m bringing Ella home tomorrow.”

“I know this.” Katherine leaned her elbows on the table, slotted her fingers together, and rested her chin on her hands. She wasn’t going to make this easy, was she?

“I’m about to hit crunch time with this Life Plan deal. D-day is one week and counting, and I have no idea how much care Ella will need. I do know, however, that she’s frightened of being alone. Eudora has offered to help out, and I was hoping you could fill in the gaps until the deal is done.”

“Reverting to form, are we? Work comes before Ella?”

He crossed his legs and started swinging his right foot back and forth like a pendulum. Above Katherine, there was an alcove in the brick wall with a small window and a vase of colorless dried flowers. Dead flowers. “No. I’ll take the night shift and continue to ferry Harry around.”

Liz appeared with the snack plate. “Can I bring you some forks?” she said.

“Just one, thank you.” Katherine smiled up at her.

Moments later, Liz returned with the cappuccinos, a fork, and napkins. Felix thanked her and then devoured the half biscuit smeared with pimento cheese.

“And what happens after this week?” Katherine dipped her finger into the cocoa swirl on top of her cappuccino and then sucked the foam off her finger.

“Once the Life Plan deal is done, I will be taking an off-ramp out of the partnership, which will allow me to stay with the firm, but in a less stressful role. After the transplant, I plan to set up on my own.”

Katherine scooted forward to the edge of her chair. “Taking clients with you?”

“No. It doesn’t work that way. I’ll be taking nothing but what’s left of my reputation.” Felix wiped his mouth with a paper napkin. “And starting over as a corporate financial consultant.”

“Is that what you really want?”

“Of course not. I love my job, but as Eudora has pointed out, it’s time to adapt.” Felix speared a pickle. Katherine was right; he was starving. He chewed slowly, savoring the vinegary taste, then swallowed. “I don’t see an alternative, and this way I can be more in control of my working life. What I’m doing now, to get through this one deal? Cobbled together at best. And I have no idea what Ella’s diagnosis will mean for the family long-term.”

“What does Robert think?”

“He doesn’t know. I haven’t told anyone.”

“Except for me.”

“Except for you.”

She tossed back her head, and her dangly earrings tinkled softly like tiny bells. How could she bear to wear such large earrings with all that hair? As if reading his mind, she combed her left hand through a few stray locks and smoothed them behind her ear. Katherine had fabulous hair, he’d give her that: layered, straight, and auburn, although the color was chemically enhanced.

“What’s your take on Ella’s progress?” she said.

“She seems more distracted than usual. And increasingly less able to do anything.” Was he being disloyal?

“What does Dr. Beaubridge say?”

“That her lack of energy and mobility is normal for class three heart failure.” Felix massaged his forehead, pinching the skin between his thumb and pinkie finger. Another headache was taking root. Most days, it was a toss-up between which bothered him more—his head or his stomach. “Everything is so fucking normal.”

“I didn’t think I’d ever hear you use the f-bomb.”

“I didn’t think I’d ever share my lunch with you.” He pushed the plate toward her; she shook her head.

“Yes, Felix. I’ll talk to Eudora and we’ll figure out a schedule. And I’ll help as much as you need after that. Caregivers burn out quickly, and I have no dependents, not even a goldfish. Use me as backup for whatever.” Katherine raised her cup to her lips and then put it back down. “And the depression? What does Dr. Beaubridge say about that?”

“You’ve noticed it, too?” He helped himself to a forkful of something that looked like deviled ham.

“I’m familiar with the symptoms.”

If they were friends, he would have asked for an explanation. Then again, if they were friends, she would have offered it unsolicited.

“She tells me everything is fine and she’s anxious to get home.” Felix glanced at the empty plate. How had he eaten everything so quickly? “Is that what she’s telling you?”

“Yes, but she needs to talk to Dr. Beaubridge about an antidepressant.”

“Katherine—” Felix tossed down his napkin. “She won’t take any more drugs. Listen, I should head back to the office.”

“Wait.” Katherine reached for his arm. “If I order a piece of chocolate chess pie, would you share it with me?”

“I don’t eat dessert, Katherine.”

“Please? I need to talk to someone who might understand.”

Felix nodded, and she left to order the pie.

She returned moments later with two forks and fresh napkins. Liz followed with a huge slice of dark chocolate pie. Katherine took the first bite.

“Oh God.” She brushed a piecrust crumb from her bottom lip. “This is delicious.”

Felix hesitated, then scooped up thick chocolate with the side of his fork and couldn’t help but agree. It was heavy but light, sweet but slightly bitter. Katherine said nothing else, so he continued until he had eaten what he deemed to be his portion. He put down his fork with a satisfied groan. Her green eyes watched him.