Page 31 of Drawing Home
Fighting a sense of panic, her anxiety rising like a fever, she considered running to the hotel to beg her mom to just let her sit in the lobby until she got off work. But she hadn’t been to the hotel since Henry died. The sight of their usual spot at the couch would be too awful.
Her heart began to pound. She felt trapped—trapped in that museum, trapped in that town. Trapped in her life.
Palms sweating, she walked back to the main room of the house, where Angus was busy talking to visitors, a young family asking questions about an old map. Penny stood unnoticed in the corner, wondering what to do. There was no way to sneak past them.
She looked up at the portrait of Dr. Edgar Miles. He seemed so stately, so tough. Like an army general, not like someone who spent all day turning plants into medicine.What was in those pills?
And then she thought of one way to feel better. She slunk out of the room, hoping not to be noticed, then pulled her phone out of her pocket and texted Mindy:Do you have any more of those pills?
Mindy texted back,You are bad!
Penny responded,Is that a yes?
Come over tonight,Mindy texted.
I can’t wait until tonight. Can you meet me at BuddhaBerry at noon? I will owe you big time, I know!
Mindy wrote back that yes, she would meet her, and yes, Penny totally owed her. She used some emoticon that Penny’s outdated phone couldn’t translate.
Penny typed backThankswhile an alarm bell sounded somewhere inside of her, just faint enough to ignore.
Chapter Thirteen
Across the hotel lobby, in Emma’s direct line of sight, a couple sat entwined on the couch. The man had a thick head of silver hair, a deep tan, and horn-rim glasses that made him look even more handsome and distinguished. The younger woman next to him, in a Tory Burch shift dress and strappy sandals, wore her blond hair in a high ponytail. She rested her head on the man’s shoulder. He reached for her hand, and the gesture almost made Emma gasp.
She was starting to feel like she would never have a man in her life. It wasn’t something she thought about every day or every week. It wasn’t even something she was sure she wanted. There were just certain moments when it hit her, the same way thoughts about mortality or about paying for Penny’s college or about any of life’s other heavy and undeniable realities did.
In the years since her divorce, there had been boyfriends. Like Eric McSweeney, who worked at the fire station. Eric was a good guy, a sweet guy. But he had a hard time dealing with Penny, who had been nine then and really a handful with her OCD. Eric was married now, to a woman who worked at the health-food shop on Bay Street. They had twins. Then there had been the banker from Manhattan who was only out on weekends and, Emma came to suspect, possibly married. There had been the occasional one-night stands, men she met at the hotel. She thought of those episodes as her weaker moments, and they always left her feeling depressed the next day. And really, it wasn’t the sex she missed. It was having a partner.
When was the last time something good happened? Penny had asked her the other day. Well, it had been a while. But now, the house.
The phone rang. “The American Hotel, Emma speaking. How may I assist you?”
In front of the desk, a couple huffed and puffed impatiently to be seated for dinner, the woman leaning on the countertop as if proximity to Emma would magically make something open up sooner.
“Mom, it’s me. You’re not answering your cell.”
Emma glanced under the desk to see if she even had her phone, then checked the time. Close to nine. “It’s been nonstop, hon. Where are you?” Even over the din of the lobby and bar, Emma could hear that Penny was someplace loud herself.
“I’m at a friend’s house. I’m going to sleep over.”
“What friend?”
“Mindy Banks.” Before Emma could protest, Penny said, “Robin’s here and I really want to spend time with her.”
Emma bit her lip. Robin was a sweet kid—at least, she had been a sweet kid before whatever metamorphosis this year had led her to ditch Penny for those fast girls. How could Penny think it was okay to sleep over Mindy’s house?
“Penny, the last time you were at that house you left with a police escort. You’re not sleeping there. And I don’t want you biking home this late. I’m calling a cab to pick you up.”
“It’s only nine!”
“Text me the address and be outside the house in half an hour. Don’t make me call Angus because I will send him inside to pull you out of there.” An idle threat. There was no way she’d wake Angus up for that task. She’d have to leave work.
“Come on, Mom. I need a life!” Penny hung up.
Yeah, you and me both, kid,Emma thought. A waiter signaled to her that a two-top was open. “Your table is ready,” she said to a couple hovering near the desk. Emma was relieved to lead them to a spot in the back of the bar. Maybe the night would finally shift into autopilot, and she could look forward to getting home. Home to deal with her recalcitrant daughter. Yes, that would be a lovely way to cap off the day.
Back at the desk, she checked her cell phone to see if Penny texted back to confirm that she would take the cab in half an hour. Nothing.
