“Oh. My father’s office is near there,” Ella said, not thinking. “I mean, congratulations, David. I’m—so happy for you. You deserve every happiness. Truly.” This time, she reached over and kissed his cheek. Tears came to her eyes again, and she dabbed them with the tissue he’d handed her. “Now, these are tears of joy. For you. I have grown-up colic. That’s it.” She had so many questions but couldn’t ask them. She had no right.
David smiled. He didn’t let her hands go. “Are you all right? I mean, with working?” He couldn’t talk about Colleen now.
Ella brightened up a little, not wanting to look jealous. She’d talk about work. Yes. She wanted to work.
“I’ve been so isolated, I think. Just the baby and the sitter and me. Ted’s gone a lot. Work. And I thought if I could work from eight to four every day, then I might feel more—more relevant. I needn’t be something like the assistant director again. I could take something less. I don’t need much money or a title—”
“Your bargaining skills have improved. Dramatically.” He smiled. “I’m going to have to raise more funds next year if we can hire you—the shark that you are.”
David had a beautiful smile, she thought. So full of acceptance and truth. Her name was Colleen, she thought. That meant “girl,” didn’t it? She had known a Colleen once who’d told her the meaning. A brunette from her dorm. But she wasn’t David’s Colleen. David’s girl. She played with the name in her head like a kitten with a ball of yarn, because she couldn’t bear what this would mean. But what did it mean? She’d never had any claims on him, Ella told herself. It had been a schoolgirl infatuation on her side. David was the best person she knew.
“So this is what I know,” David said. “The headmaster is desperate for a new assistant. That’s not a good enough job for you, but maybe for a year. Susan, our current AD of development, will leave her position in the summer of 1997 because she is marrying her boyfriend, who is going to graduate school in Illinois. So after a year with Fitz, perhaps you can pop back here. Unless you like Fitz more.” He made a grumpy face, as though he might be jealous. “I’ve already talked to him, and he said he’d like nothing better than to see your face every morning. Who wouldn’t?” David smiled again. “I’m not insulting you, am I? I don’t know how you feel about that kind of work—”
“It’s perfect,” Ella said. “I’d love it. I can start as soon as he wants.”
“I think it’s the latter half of August, when school reopens for the school session. But he wants to talk to you whenever you want.”
“Thank you, David.”
“Hush,” he said. His long eyelashes shielded his dark blue pupils. They gave a vivid color to his pale face.
“You are a friend.”
“We are friends. Yes?”
“Thank you—”
“Hush, hush,” David said, letting go of her hands. “It’s a beautiful day outside.”
He walked Ella to the door, mentioning for no clear reason that he had to go to the bank, then pick up lunch for his mother, who had a strong wish for a turkey club on toast and Fritos. When would he see her again? he wanted to ask, but he couldn’t. How could they be casual friends? Their Friday lunches had been social but also laced with work talk. Would things be different if she was working for Fitz? he wondered. Snap out of it, he told himself. She was married, for God’s sake. She was the mother of a baby. But when he was with her, it was as though he forgot everything. It felt hopeless. And now there was Colleen. Dear Colleen—a nice Catholic girl with a big heart who watched her favorite programs on Thursday nights and liked to clean the house on Saturday mornings.
It was like David not to ask where she was going. He didn’t like to pry. Standing on St. Christopher’s marble steps, sloping inward from the weight of a century of little boys’ feet, Ella didn’t know what to do with herself. She kissed his right cheek to say good-bye, then pulled back quickly, embarrassed by her wish to linger near his LifeSavers breath. “I have to make a few calls. Gosh, David. It was so good. . .” She looked down at her shiny shoes. “Thank you—”
“None of that,” he said. “Go on.” He bobbed his head, unwilling to be the first to leave.
She hoped he wouldn’t watch her walk away, not having any idea what she looked like from behind now. Worrying about this made her feel ridiculous. His mother had cancer, he was engaged to a lovely nurse, she herself was married and had a daughter. What did thirty pounds matter, anyway? It would be better for both of them if he found her backside unattractive. Yet a part of her still worried that how she looked was far worse than she imagined. The last time Ted had caught her coming out of the shower, he’d stared for a long moment as if he were worried, then looked away.