Chapter 37

My drive to the holiday party takes me past the same Pet Smart, and I'm sad to see that there's no SPCA event there today. I think about that beautiful dog. I've done some research on Great Pyrenees, and they're excellent pets. When I pull into a parking space outside the Hyatt, I rummage around in my purse until I find the card with the rescue lady's number on it.

I may not be able to keep Luke, and I may not be willing to give up my career to have kids, but I could make room for a dog. I know I could. Plus, Troy will love it. Right? Before I have time to overthink it, I dial. After several rings, a man picks up.

“Hello?” he asks.

“Uh, yes, my name is Mary Wiggin. I stopped at Pet Smart a few days ago, and there was a dog there, a Great Pyrenees, and this might sound crazy, but I think I fell in love with her. I keep thinking about her. I was told you might know where I could locate her?”

“Faith,” the man calls with his mouth still near the receiver. He nearly bursts my eardrums.

“Hello?” a woman says.

I explain again why I'm calling. “You're talking about Andromeda. She was chipped, but we contacted her former owner and they said she's a good dog, but the husband has cancer, and they were gone too often with his treatments. They gave her to a friend, who apparently let her go.”

“That's horrible,” I say. “I'm very interested in her. What would I need to do to adopt her?”

Faith walks me patiently through the entire process. “Can you come by to see her tomorrow around lunchtime?”

“Oh,” I say. “So soon?”

“She's too polite to do well here with my four other dogs,” Faith says. “She's not getting enough food and she's already terribly malnourished. If you're serious, and you're responsible, you can take her home tomorrow.”

We work out the details and I hang up.

I expect to feel shaky or nervous at the thought that I might be a dog owner tomorrow morning, but I don't. I didn't want a dog last week, but it's not like I'm with Luke anymore. Which means I'm excited to adopt this dog for me, not for anyone or anything else. I may not be able to be a good mom for real, but I think I can handle a big fur ball.

No one expected me to bring a date to the company holiday party, so when I square my shoulders and walk inside alone, no one bats an eye. The entire night goes smoothly, perfectly even. I don't spill anything on my dress, and before I've even used up my third accounting joke, I'm being summoned to the stage.

“Some of you may be surprised to hear this,” Shauna says, “but I've taken a position running our London office. It puts me back at home, near my in-laws.” She makes a face and everyone laughs. “Actually though, I prefer them to my own family.”

Everyone laughs except for me. If I ever get married, I'm sure that will be too true for me. Her joke hits a little close to home.

“Although we're excited to move back to the UK, I'm heartbroken at the idea of leaving all of you.”

Shauna reaches over and takes my arm, tugging me near the microphone. “Corporate initially wanted me to help them choose an outside hire. I convinced them they should offer my job to one of our own.”

Everyone cheers. Eighty accountants, fifty something support staff, and loads of significant others.

Shauna holds up her hand to quiet my co-workers. “As I'm sure you've already guessed by her presence on stage, it's my pleasure to inform you that with just a little bit of cajoling, and a good amount of well-intentioned arm twisting, Mary Wiggin has agreed to take my place. I'm sure you'll all welcome her and help her with patience and understanding during this transition.”

Everyone claps again, more loudly than before, if that's possible.

After the announcement, drinks flow freely, and I'm suddenly surrounded by a bunch of sloppy, goofy, and gleeful dancers. I start for the exit, shaking hands and accepting congratulations as I go. I've almost reached the back door when Shauna stops me.

“Are you leaving?” she asks.

I nod. “Today was our firm's last day before Christmas, but I've got a full day of work ahead of me tomorrow.”

“Right, your charity stuff.” She nods. “Well, I do have some bad news. I got an email from corporate a few hours ago. They've instituted a vesting plan for the corporate bonuses.”

I reach my finger into my ear and wiggle it around. Maybe I've got earwax in there or something. “I'm sorry,” I say to Shauna, “but it sounded like you just told me that the bonus you guys promised me won't be accessible. For years.”

Shauna's lips press tightly together. “They've had a problem this year with poaching. Other firms steal their talent during the training phase when things are rough. No real incentive to stay once you've already gotten your huge bonus.”

“How many years does it vest over?” Before Shauna can even answer, I shake my head. “I guess it doesn't matter. I emptied out my retirement accounts to pay for my nephew's treatment. I needed that bonus money so I could roll it over. To prevent my penalties, etc. Now I won't be able to.”

Shauna closes her eyes and shakes her head. After a moment, she reopens them. “Mary, I am so sorry. I had no idea you meant to do that, but my hands are tied. I'm one vote among two hundred.”

“It's fine.” I force a smile, and make small talk for a few more minutes before someone wanders up to ask Shauna questions about her timing. I take my chance to sneak away.

I run numbers in my head all the way home. Any way I slice it, I'll have to take out a home equity loan to pay the additional tax penalties for early distribution of my retirement fund.

By the time I reach the driveway, I've put things in perspective, I think. I had the money to help Troy, and with a home equity loan, I'll have the means to pay my taxes. I'll also be making more going forward, so I can catch up on retirement savings. I hope.

I put on my game face before I walk through the garage door. I won't let Trudy know what's happened, because she'll never forgive herself. The guilt she'd feel about a debt of that size would destroy her.

One of Shauna's favorite sayings comes to mind. 'It's only money,' she'd tell me, whenever I had a bad return to discuss with a client. It's not health, it's not livelihood, it's not a beloved family member in trouble. It's only money.

When I walk through the door, I'm so focused on my own drama, that I barely register that Trudy's on the phone. Tears roll down her cheeks from where she's curled in a ball in one of my chairs.

She has to be talking to Chris. I want to reach my hand through the receiver and pop him on the nose, but that probably wouldn't help things, and it's not scientifically possible anyway.

Trudy shakes her head. “Of course not. You were so busy that I didn't want to upset you.”

I can hear him yelling and swearing through the teensy phone microphone. I stride across the room and snatch it out of her hands. Chris continues to rant, and I'm glad I snatched the phone when I did. He's off the rails.

“You think you get to make all the decisions about my son? Well, you don't. You're pathetic, and you'll always be pathetic. That's why I left, you know. It was like, having Troy broke you.”

“Are you quite finished?” I ask.

“Excuse me?” Chris swears. “Who is this?”

“Merry Christmas to you too, Chris. This is Mary, Trudy's older sister.”

“Give the phone back to Trudy.”

“I acknowledge your request, but as you're an abusive, unfaithful loser, I decline to honor it. In fact, I won't be honoring any requests from you. Today, or at any point in the future. Trudy has been afraid to tell you about Troy because you told her she's a drag now. She was afraid to tell her son's father about his condition, because you're so selfish, she worried you'd like her even less if you knew Troy was sick. I'd suggest you think about that, but I doubt it would penetrate your tiny brain. Now she's finally gotten the nerve to call and dump you—”

“She can't dump me. I already left her.”

“Have you ever heard the saying, Chris, that behind every little sister is an older, crazier sister? People laugh about that like it's a joke. Except for us, it's true. I've got a baseball bat, a handgun, and a shovel and Trudy and me were raised to take care of problems ourselves. Keep it up, and I'll let you pick which one I use on you first.”

“Oh please.” Chris swears again. “Like I'm scared of a little girl. I could kill you both without breaking a sweat, except then I'd have to take care of Troy, which I don't wanna do.”

“Fine,” I say. “You may not be scared of me or Trudy, but you'll be very afraid of the lawyer I hired to ensure you only see Troy under limited visitation. Possibly only supervised custody once I play this recorded call. Thanks for being so creative with your threats and curses.”

Chris lets off a string of curses that are, in spite of what I said, more creative than I expected from him.

“I never understood why people said profanity was the crutch of the uneducated. I know plenty of educated people, and most of them swear. But after talking to you today, I'm starting to understand what they meant.”

“You stupid—”

“I think you're drunk, Chris. And as such, this conversation isn't going anywhere. But here are the main talking points. Get a pen, and write them down. Number one, my sister's new lawyer, Ann Stephens, obtained a temporary restraining order against you. With the holidays upon us, the judge granted it for two full weeks. If you call my sister, if you text her, if you come near my house, I'll call the cops so fast it'll make your head spin. And you'll get a restraining order against you for the duration of the pendency of this divorce. Bonus for me. Number two, when you realize you want to win Trudy back because your new girlfriend is a steaming pile of poop compared to my lovely sister, don't waste your time. She's done with you, and poop is closer to what you deserve. Number three, you will never criticize Trudy regarding her timing in telling you about Troy being diagnosed with diabetes. You left them. You were busy shacking up with a new lady and you didn't care about your family. I won't have you unloading your own guilt onto Trudy. Am I clear?”

Chris gives me the oral equivalency of the bird and hangs up. I text him to reiterate my three points and then toss the phone on the island in the kitchen.

I manage to get Trudy up off the chair, and onto her bed. I lay next to her until she's asleep. It gives me a long time to think.

I have a shiny shovel that's never been used, but I don't have a gun or a baseball bat. Maybe I should buy one of each.