CHAPTER19
Violet
Apparently, shooting not only makes me hungry but also horny. After a mostly sleepless night of several rounds of sex and multiple orgasms, I’m running late for work the following morning. Leon kisses me goodbye and leaves before me. When I open the pedestrian gate with my handbag slung over one shoulder and a cooler bag over the other, Zelda stands on the pavement with a plastic container in her hands. She’s wearing duck-motive pajamas and her feet are bare.
“Chocolate chip cookies,” she says, shoving the container at me. “To apologize for the other day.”
I accept the container. “Thanks, but you didn’t have to.”
“No. I had to.” She drills a toe into the soft grass bordering the pavement. “I was out of line.”
“How are you doing?” I ask gently.
“We talked a lot.” She crosses her arms behind her back. “Sam agreed to use a sperm donor.”
“That’s good, right?”
Swinging from side to side, she says, “He’s worried about not knowing what we’ll get. You know? A lot of characteristics are genetic. What if the donor is a serial killer or a psychopath?”
“I’m sure they screen at the bank,” I offer.
“Still. It’s a gamble. We’re going to advertise and interview interested candidates. Sam is willing to pay handsomely. That way, we’re sure to get good genes.”
“That’s great. It sounds like you have it all figured out. I’m happy for you.”
She motions at the cooler bag with the lunchbox Leon prepped to go. “It looks like you’re rushing off somewhere.”
“Oh, I never got a chance to tell you. I got a job at Inked.”
“The tattoo place? Wow. Congrats.”
“Thanks. Leon called in a favor with a contact. I started on Monday.”
“Are you enjoying it?”
“I’m having fun. It’s not my dream job, but it’s a steppingstone.”
“I better let you get to work then.”
“Thanks for the cookies,” I say, dropping the container in the cooler bag. “We’ll talk more when I get off work.”
She steps off the pavement and backtracks over the road. “Not tonight. Sam and I are drawing up a list of requirements and drafting our ad.” She gives a little wave. “Maybe next week.”
“Call me if you need someone to chat to before then,” I call after her as she slips into her house.
I stare at her closed front door for a second before I get into the Lexus. I feel bad about not being there for her today, but I’m now running even more behind schedule.
As Murphy’s Law will have it, traffic is a bitch. On my way to work, I call Annie to let her know I’ll be fifteen minutes late. It’s not the impression I’d like to give in my first week on the job, but Vero is very accommodating when I pop into her office to apologize and promise to stay later.
I haven’t spoken to my mom since Leon met with her. We can’t discuss what happened on the phone, and I didn’t want to go around to the house where the walls have ears. During a quiet moment in the mid-morning, I send a text message to my mom to ask if she could meet me for lunch. She replies immediately, asking when and where.
At two, I take a table outside. A couple holding hands are drinking smoothies at the far end of the terrace, but otherwise I’m alone. Vero always sips gazpacho at her desk, working through her lunch hour, and Annie takes her break at twelve. Joseph is off from one. When he gets back at two, it’s my turn.
At one minute after two, my mom’s Landcruiser pulls into the parking lot. She parks in front of the bakery and hops from the driver’s seat wearing a red sundress and matching sandals. Her dark hair is twisted into a French roll.
“Violet,” she says, coming over with outstretched arms. “I miss you so much.”
I get up to hug her. “I miss you too.”
She pulls away and holds me at arm’s length. “You look well. Happy.”
Knowing what she wants to hear, I say, “I am.”
She glances at the name of the parlor above the awning as she takes a seat. “So this is where you work. It looks very upmarket.”
“Vero, the owner, runs the place like a boutique plastic surgery clinic.”
“Mm.” My mom looks at the spread on the table. “Salad and fruit. Someone is eating healthy.”
I flush a little admitting, “Leon packed the lunch.”
“I figured,” she says with a wink. “That man is a keeper.”
Leaning over the table, I lower my voice and bring up the subject I’ve been wanting to discuss with her since before yesterday. “I can’t believe you told him. You took a major risk. What if Leon had gone to Gus?”
Her smile is confident. “Leon is too invested in you to risk either of us. Besides, he’s not stupid. He’s seen for himself that Gus is quick to make promises but not always prone to keep them.”
Of course, my mother doesn’t know Elliot committed plagiarism and that I had a hand in it. She doesn’t know Leon has a vendetta, and therefore, she can’t understand the enormity of the gamble she took. If Leon wanted to, he could’ve blown the whole thing open and exposed all of us.
But he didn’t.