"Seriously?" Marge asked. "You're upset with Mom because she happens to have her own life?"

I was zipping along the highway, talking through my Bluetooth. "Weren't you listening? I have meetings all week. What am I going to do?"

"Hello? Day care? Hire a babysitter for a couple of hours? Ask one of the neighbors? Set up a playdate, and then ditch the kid?"

"I haven't had a spare minute to explore anything like that."

"You have time to talk to me right now."

Because I'm hoping you'll watch London tomorrow for a couple of hours tomorrow.

"Vivian and I talked about it. London's already having a hard enough time with Vivian going off to work."

"Is she?"

Aside from an apparent dislike of dance class, not that I've noticed. But...

"Anyway, I called because I was hoping that -"

"Don't even go there," Marge warned, cutting me off.

"Go where?"

"You're going to ask me if I can watch London tomorrow, since Mom closed that door. Or Thursday or Friday. Or all three."

Like I said, Marge is wise. "I don't know what you're talking about."

I could practically hear my sister rolling her eyes. "Don't play dumb and don't bother denying it, either. Why else would you be calling? Do you know how many times in the past five years you've called me at work?"

"Not offhand," I admitted.

"Zero."

"That's not true."

"You're right. I'm lying to you. You call me every day. We chat and giggle like middle-school girls for hours while I'm doodling. Hold on for a second."

I heard my sister cough, the sound deep and harsh. "You okay?" I asked.

"I think I picked up a virus."

"In the summer?"

"I had to bring Dad to the doctor yesterday and the waiting room was filled with sickness and disease. It's a wonder I didn't leave on a stretcher."

"How's Dad?"

"It'll take a few days for the labs to come in, but the stress test and EKG showed his heart was fine. Lungs, too. The doctor seemed pretty amazed, despite how surly Dad was."

"Sounds like him," I agreed. My mind circled back to London again. "What am I supposed to do with London if I can't find anyone to watch her?"

"You're smart. You'll figure it out."

"You're such a supportive and helpful sister."

"I try."

The meeting with the owners of the sandwich shop went about as well as the one with the chiropractor the day before. Not because they weren't interested. The owners, a married couple from Greece, knew that advertising would help their business; the problem was that they were barely earning enough to keep the doors open and still cover their expenses. They told me to come back in a few months, when they had a better handle on things, and offered me a sandwich as I was getting ready to leave.

"It's delicious," the husband said. "All our sandwiches are served in fresh pita bread that we make here."

"It's my grandmother's recipe," the wife added.

I had to admit that the bread smelled heaven-sent, and I could see the great care the husband took when making the sandwich. The wife asked if I wanted some chips and something to drink why not? and they handed me my lunch, both of them wearing smiles.

After that, they presented me with the bill.

I made it to the lunch gathering of the Red Hat Society at a quarter past twelve. Despite the inconvenience I'd no doubt caused my mom, I had the sense that my mom was proud to show off her granddaughter, who was something of a novelty in that group.

"Daddy!" London called out as soon as she saw me. She scooted off her chair and ran toward me. "They said I could come back to one of their lunches any time!"

My mom got up from the table and gave me a hug, away from the group.

"Thanks for watching her, Mom."

"My pleasure," she said. "She was a hit."

"I could tell."

"But tomorrow and the rest of the week..."

"I know," I said. "Tulips. Volunteering."

On our way out, I reached for London's hand. It was small in mine, warm and comforting.

"Daddy?" she said.

"Yes."

"I'm hungry."

"Let's go home and get you a peanut butter and jelly sandwich."

"We can't," London said.

"Why not?"

"We don't have any bread."

We went to the grocery store, where for the first time I grabbed a cart.

For the next hour, I slowly worked my way through Vivian's list, backtracking to a previously visited aisle more than once. I have no idea what I would have done had London not been there to help me, since she had a knowledge of the brands that went well beyond her five years. I had no idea where to find spaghetti squash, nor could I tell whether an avocado was ripe by squeezing it, but somehow with her and a few store employees' help I was able to cross everything off the list. While I was there, I saw mothers with children of all ages, most appearing as overwhelmed as I felt and I felt a fleeting kinship with them. I wondered how many of them, like me, would rather have been in an office instead of the meats section of the store, where it took me nearly five minutes to find the organic free-range chicken breasts that Vivian had specified.

Back home, after making a sandwich for London and unpacking the groceries, I spent the rest of the afternoon alternately working and cleaning while making sure London was okay, feeling the whole time like I was swimming against a never-ending current. Vivian arrived home at half past six and spent time with London for a few minutes before meeting me in the kitchen, where I'd started putting together a salad.

"How's the chicken Marsala coming?"

"Chicken Marsala?"

"With spaghetti squash on the side?"

"Uh..."

She laughed. "I'm kidding. I'll get it going. It won't take long."

"How was work today?"

"Busy," she said. "I spent most of the day learning about the journalist I mentioned yesterday and trying to figure out the angle he wants to take for the article. And, of course, how to contain the story once it's out and generate some positive coverage instead."

"Do you have a guess as to the kind of story it might be?"

"I suspect it's just the usual garbage, similar to what's been written before. The journalist is an environmentalist nut and he's been talking to people who claim that one of the oceanfront condo developments took a lot of shortcuts and was not only illegal, but has caused severe beach erosion on another part of the beach during the last tropical storm. Basically, it's all about blaming the rich people whenever Mother Nature strikes."

"You know Spannerman's not an eco-friendly guy, right?"

By then, Vivian was pouring herself a glass of wine. "Walter's not like that anymore. He's changed a lot since you knew him."

I doubt it, I thought. "It sounds like you've got a good handle on it," I offered instead.

"I'm just glad the article isn't coming out this week. Walter's got a big fund-raiser scheduled this weekend in Atlanta. For his PAC."

"He has a PAC now?"

"I mentioned it to you before," she said. She placed a frying pan on the stove, added the chicken and began riffling through the spice cabinet. "He started it a couple of years ago and has been funding it himself. Now he's decided to reach out to others for support. And that's what I'm going to be overseeing for the next three days. He hired an event company to run the program and while they've done a good job, he wants it to be perfect. That's where I come in. He knows I was in entertainment, and he wants me to see if I can find a musical act. Someone big."

"For this weekend? That doesn't give you a lot of time."

"I know. And I told him exactly that. I put a call in to my old boss and he gave me the names of some people to call, so we'll see. On the plus side, Walter is willing to pay whatever it costs, but it means I'll probably be working late all week. And I'll have to go to Atlanta."

"You're kidding," I said. "It's only your second day at work."

"Don't be like that," she said as she began browning the chicken. "It's not like he gave me much of a choice in the matter. Pretty much every major developer from Texas to Virginia is coming, and all the executives have to go. And it's not all weekend I fly out Saturday morning and come back Sunday."

I didn't like it but what could I do? "All right," I said. "It sounds like you're already becoming indispensable."

"I'm trying." She smiled. "How was London today? Did she do okay at piano?"

"She did great, but I'm not sure she likes dance all that much. She was quiet after class yesterday."

"The teacher was upset because you were late. So London was upset, too."

"The instructor seems a little intense."

"She is. And that's why her dance teams win so many competitions." She nodded toward London. "While I get dinner going, will you get London into the bath?"

"Now?"

"That way, you can read to her after we eat, and get her down for the night. She's tired and like I told you, I've got a ton of work on tap."

"Sure," I said, realizing that once again, I'd likely be going to bed alone.

CHAPTER 7.

Two by Two

When London was three and half, the three of us went on a picnic near Lake Norman. It was something we only did once. Vivian packed a delicious lunch and on our way to Lake Norman, and because the day was breezy, we stopped at a hobby store on the way to buy a kite. I'd picked the kind of kite that had been popular when I was a kid; simple and inexpensive, nothing like the kind of kites that avid enthusiasts would dream of flying.

It ended up being the perfect kite for a child. I was able to launch it myself and once it rose high, it seemed as if it was practically stuck to the sky. It didn't matter what I did; I could stand in place or walk around and when I handed London the kite reel and secured it to her wrist, it didn't matter what she did either. She could pick flowers or run around chasing butterflies; a nice couple had a small cocker spaniel, and she was able to sit on the ground and let the puppy crawl over her while the kite stayed fixed in the air. When we finally got around to having lunch, I looped the string around a nearby bench, and the kite simply hovered above us.

Vivian was in a buoyant mood, and we stayed at the park for most of the afternoon. On the way home, I can remember thinking to myself that times like this were what life was really all about, and that no matter what, I'd never let my family down.

But here and now, I was doing exactly that. Or at least, right now, it felt that way. It felt to me as though I was letting everyone down, including myself.

It was Wednesday, day three for Vivian at work, and I was on my own with London.

All day.

As I stood with London outside chiropractor number two's office, I felt almost as though I were shipping my daughter off to a foreign country. The thought that she'd sit in the waiting room with strangers made me uneasy; the newspapers and evening broadcasts had led modern parents to believe that the bogeyman was always lurking, ready to pounce.

I wondered if my parents ever worried about Marge and me like that, but that thought lasted only a split second. Of course they didn't. My dad used to have me sit on the bench outside an old tavern he occasionally frequented while he had a beer with friends. And that bench was on a corner of a busy street, near a bus stop.

"You understand that this is an important meeting for Daddy, right?"

"I know," London said.

"And I want you to sit quietly."