Page 9 of Always

Despite her dread, Anika couldn’t help dressing with more than her usual care on Monday. She washed and blow-dried her hair and tried on several outfits before deciding on a pencil skirt and a blue silk blouse that Stella had discarded after being photographed wearing it.

Anika spent the whole day in her office, nauseated with anxiety and snapping at Calvin when he poked his head in her door to ask asinine questions about the social media metrics for their last newsletter.

But James didn’t come on Monday, and he didn’t come on Tuesday either. By Wednesday, Anika had begun to hope he wouldn’t come at all. Maybe after Mr. Doyle’s email, James had explained the awkwardness of their history and backed out of his promise to help. Or perhaps Aunt Molly had realized the identity of Mr. Doyle’s protege and had sorted it out on her end.

By Thursday morning, Anika had become almost relaxed. As she prepared for work, she was distracted by a blow-up between Stella and Danita. Stella was shouting at Danita for smashing an expensive vase.

“Well I’m sorry!” Danita cried. “But I was somewhat surprised to find that the vase was full of VOMIT!”

“That’s no excuse!” Stella said. “You’re clumsy! Do you have any idea what that costs—Milanese hand blown glass like that?”

“What’s going on?” Anika said, coming out of her room. Bennet came stumbling out in his dressing gown as well, yawning and grumpy at being woken some four hours earlier than he liked to get up.

“The maid broke our vase,” Stella said.

“Don’t call her the maid,” Anika said angrily.

“The vase was full of vomit,” Danita said coolly. “I’m sorry I dropped it, but it surprised me.”

“Whose vomit is in the vase?” Anika asked Stella.

“That doesn’t matter,” Stella said airily, by which Anika knew it was Stella’s vomit, most likely after another evening of too many martinis.

“Who cares,” said Bennet grouchily. “That hideous thing. Danita did us all a favor. Now if she could only do something about that awful Mondrian in the living room.”

If it had only been the broken vase, Anika could have smoothed it all over, but by maligning Stella’s decorating Bennet had done something that few people could manage: he hurt Stella’s feelings. Unable to snap at her father, Stella rounded on Danita.

“That’s coming out of your paycheck!” she cried. “And if you so much as sneeze on the furniture, you’re fired!”

“You won’t have to worry about it,” Danita said calmly, “because I quit.” She took off her apron and folded it neatly over the back of a kitchen chair.

Anika followed Danita as she gathered up her purse and coat.

“I suppose I can’t convince you to stay?” Anika asked. “I’m so sorry. Of course you don’t have to pay for the vase. And I’ll give you a perfect reference either way.”

Danita took Anika’s hand. She was stout, kind, and freckled. She’d worked for them for six years, accomplishing in an hour what would have taken anyone else three.

“I wish you all the best, Anika,” she said, “but I’d rather jump off the Brooklyn Bridge than spend another day around your sister.”

“Sometimes I feel exactly the same,” Anika sighed. “Wait a moment so I can write you a check.”

She gave Danita a month’s pay as severance, plus a generous bonus. She knew Danita had been taking night classes to become a radiologist. Though she had no doubt their housekeeper would be immediately snapped up by someone else, she felt that anyone who had to clean up after Stella deserved hazard pay.

Bennet had already fallen asleep again on the couch, and Stella had stalked off to her room before she could hear anything reproachful from Anika. Anika noticed she had left the vomit-splattered glass shards all over the kitchen floor.

By the time she cleaned that up, Anika hardly had time to dress and drag a brush through her hair before she had to run to the subway station. She arrived at work a half hour late, flushed and damp, without benefit of breakfast or coffee.

As she pushed through the double doors of the office, she heard Gwen and Hannah laughing.

“You can’t be serious!” Hannah cried.

“It’s true, I’m afraid,” a voice said. A voice that she instantly recognized.

They all broke off at the sight of her.

James Dawson was standing next to Gwen and Hannah’s desks. Gwen stood next to him, as close as could reasonably be allowed, and Hannah perched on the edge of her desk, her legs folded prettily beneath the skirt of her flowered sun dress, so that her strappy sandals and fresh pink pedicure showed to best advantage. Calvin sprawled in his own chair close by, but even he looked less curmudgeonly than usual—in fact, he seemed to be smiling despite himself, almost as interested in their guest’s anecdote as the girls obviously were.

James glanced up as Anika entered, looking into her eyes. For a moment, just the briefest second in time, she thought that he would smile at her in the way he used to, the way that showed that there was a singular understanding between them, that no matter what was happening or what the topic of conversation, the two of them were happier than anyone else in the room because they were both there together, in each other’s presence, and nothing could dampen their pleasure in that fact.

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