My Babies and Me

“That’s the way it is.”

“I had no idea.”

“So you see, Susan, I’m here because I’m taking care of my family by making sure that Halliday’s is in good shape when my son’s ready to come on board here.”

“You know I’ll help in any way I can.”

“I relied on that more than you know. Until recently.” Tricia paused, gesturing at Susan’s stomach. “But soon you’ll have a little one of your own making demands on your time, your priorities.”

“Two, actually.” Susan felt compelled to be completely honest. “But I still intend to continue working. Especially now that I’ll have two children to support.”

“The father has denied any responsibility, then?” Tricia asked.

Susan had wondered when people were going to start asking about that. So far everyone had been unfailingly polite. Covering their shock as best they could, offering her congratulations. Susan had made it clear that the choice to have a baby, to be a single parent, had been hers, but she knew people were curious.

She just hadn’t come up with an explanation that sounded right. That would satisfy her co-workers’ curiosity, yet forestall further questions.

“He hasn’t denied anything,” Susan told her employer slowly. “He’ll play whatever part I ask of him. I’m just not asking.”

Tricia nodded, saying no more, and Susan appreciated the older woman’s respect for her privacy. She appreciated a lot more about Tricia Halliday now that she understood her better. Except...

“So what about Ronnie McArthur?” She hated to bring up the subject, but she couldn’t let it lie. Though only a handful of people knew it, Halliday Headgear was responsible for that boy’s injuries.

“I don’t know.” Tricia’s face crumpled again, though she held back any tears. “I’m not bound to come forth with information I’m not asked for,” she said.

“Maybe not legally.”

“Do you have any idea what it could do to Halliday’s to have this all over the papers?” she asked.

“Companies survive bad press.”

“Sometimes, but these days most of them have stockholders who own other interests they can fall back on during hard times. Something like this could ruin Halliday’s.”

“Not necessarily.”

“I can’t take that chance, not for- something we weren’t technically responsible for. That face mask wasn’t made for soccer....”

Tricia’s voice faded away, her eyes turned toward the soccer game across the room. To the spot where Ronnie’s wheelchair had so recently been. And then she looked at the basketball court.

“Ed taught all our kids to play basketball, right there on that court,” Tricia said, reminiscing. “By the time they were old enough to hold the ball, he had them down here, trying to teach them to dribble, to shoot toward the hoop. He said basketball formed character.”

Susan had heard those words herself. The day Ed hired her. He’d asked her to shoot a few hoops with him. Without hesitation, Susan had kicked off her pumps, shrugged out of her suit jacket, and taken him on. He’d cremated her. But she’d been loyal to the man ever since.

And being loyal to the man meant being loyal to his family. So...what would Ed do in this situation?

“You’re right,” Susan said, thinking hard. “Halliday’s has no reason, no obligation even, to implicate itself. We made a mistake, but so did the people who were told to return the masks. So did the person who made the decision to have Ronnie wear a catcher’s mask to play goalie.”

She’d drawn Tricia’s attention back to her. “But there’s nothing to stop us from being philanthropic, is there?” she asked, growing excited as the answer came to her. An answer she felt certain Tricia would support.

“Why not finance Ronnie’s recovery?”

“Well...”

“Everyone wins,”

Susan pressed on. “We give a little boy the chance to get his life back, and Halliday’s looks good, too. Think of the media.” Susan warmed to her argument now that she finally had one. “Halliday’s wins in court, proves itself innocent of wrongdoing, and then turns around and helps, anyway.”

“Won’t that make it look like we’re covering up? Make people wonder if we really were at fault?”