Page 101 of Child of Mine

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Fifteen minutes later,after I give Henry a lingering kiss goodbye, he takes my cheeks in his hands and says, “You sure about this?”

I nod. “No. But yeah. It’ll be okay. I’ll be okay.”

“Well, leave me a message at the hotel if your plans change. Otherwise, I’ll see you there in a couple of hours.”

We’ve decided to split up. While Henry meets with an old friend who is now in the legal department at the National Broadcasting Service—often referred to as No Bull Shit by its employees—I’m going to talk to my dad.

I’m halfway out of the car when something occurs to me. “Thanks, Henry. For doing this.”

He grabs my hand and kisses it. “Just hope I can be of help.”

“You are already, you know.”

“That makes me very happy.”

“Okay. Wish me luck.”

“Good luck. Remember, he probably loves you more than anything.”

I almost argue, but he needs to get going, so I just wave goodbye and force my body to go through the revolving doors into the building where I lived from 1974 to 1982. Once I’m inside, the familiar scents and sounds bring back a rush of memories that wake Izzy and Quinn. They’ve been silent for what feels like weeks, but they waste no time making their voices heard now.

Remember when we saw these marble walls and gold lighting fixtures and thought we’d hit the big time?Quinn asks, her voice more reverent and less cynical than usual.

I remember coming in after a snowball fight with Dad in Riverside Park and rushing upstairs to make hot cocoa,Izzy says.

How we’d go to the market together and make gourmet dinners Sunday nights in our fancy kitchen,Quinn remembers.

Oh, and the lady next door with all the cats!Izzy says.

Blinded by the memories, I don’t even see the doorman as I head for the elevators.

“Excuse me? Miss? Can I help you?”

Startled, I turn back to find an unfamiliar face. “Oh, I’m sorry. I’m here to see George York.”

The man gives me a stern look. “Wait right there. I’ll call up.”

The doormen who worked in the building when I lived here were all like surrogate uncles to me. I’m sure they helped drunk and high me get into the elevator and head for the right floor more than once.

“You can go on up,” the man says after hanging up the phone. “Do you know where you’re going?”

“I do. I used to live here.”

“Well,” he says, his tone softening. “Welcome home.”

A quick elevator ride and a few short strides down the hall, and I’m in front of our door. Before I can knock, it opens.

I blink for a few seconds before speaking. The man standing in front of me is my dad but isn’t. Sunken cheeks and thinning, graying hair make him look much older than Mom. “Dad. Um, hi. Sorry for just showing up.”

“Izz.” He shakes his head. “I can’t believe it.”

“It’s Bella now, actually.”

He nods. “Bella. I like that. More grown-up.” Stepping back into the apartment, he gestures inside. “Come in.” He looks down the hall. “You’re alone?”

“Yeah, I came down to the city with my…” What to call Henry is a whole story in and of itself, and I’m not ready to spill the reason I’m in town. “With a friend. He has a meeting, and I thought I’d stop in.”

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