Page 60 of Indiscretion

“How was the art gallery?” I asked.

She whipped around with my papers in hand and put her hands on her hips. “Why would you ask that?”

I shrugged. “No reason. Just making conversation.”

Her lips pursed as she stared at me in silence. I wanted to take a step back, but I stood my ground. Eventually she held out the copies. “Is there anything else you need?”

As much as I wanted to keep needling her, get under her skin until I got to the bottom of what her problem was today, my afternoon was packed with shit to do—even more than my morning had been. So I shook my head and went back to my office, throwing myself into drafting a brief that had to be filed by the end of the day.

In the zone, I’d nearly forgotten all about the woman on the other side of the door—at least until I was filing the case I’d been working on in the credenza nearest my door and heard a cell phone ring. It wasn’t my intention to eavesdrop, but I couldn’t help overhearing, especially when Naomi’s voice rose.

“Where are you? Are you okay?” she asked.

Quiet.

“Did you call nine-one-one?”

More quiet.

“You really should go to the hospital, Frannie.”

And finally…

“Well, then I’m coming to you. Where are you?”

A drawer opened and shut. Right after, a zipper did the same.

“Hoboken? What are you doing there?”

Silence.

“Alright. Well, sit in the café until I get there at least. I’ll be there as soon as I can. Send me a pin of your location. I’m leaving now.”

I walked out of my office just as Naomi lifted her purse to her shoulder. “I have to go,” she said. “I’m sorry. My sister passed out in New Jersey.”

“How are you getting there?”

She stopped short. “Shoot. What subway do I take to Hoboken?”

“You don’t. You take the PATH.”

“The what?”

“The PATH train. It’s how you get to New Jersey from the City.”

“Where do I board it?”

I made a split-second decision. “Let me grab my keys. I’ll give you a ride. My car is parked in the lot around the corner.”

“You don’t have to do that.”

“Yes, I do.” I walked back into my office, swiped my keys from my desk, and we rode the elevator down to the ground floor together. I could tell how upset she was by the red blotches that had broken out on her neck and chest—that and she didn’t argue with me enough about driving her. She stayed quiet from the walk to the car all the way through the Holland Tunnel.

Naomi was a million miles away as she looked out the car window. “Her kids don’t know,” she eventually said.

“Your sister’s kids?”

She nodded.

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