of that.
He rehearsed the conversation in his mind as he followed her.
Tell me the truth. Have you ever had a meal like the other night? Quite the strategy Nathan Cornish was presenting last night at The Drake. What do you think, Sarah? Do you agree with his stance on metal futures?
Just as he was about to call out to her again, she winced, grabbed onto a light post, lifted her foot, and ran her finger along the inside of her left heel. She never should have walked this far in those shoes. Why did women insist on wearing such ineffectual footwear? She could blame herself for getting a blister.
He saw her glance toward the shop window. Just as he expected her to start walking again, just as he was about to catch up with her and engage her in a conversation that would both exalt his company and remind her how much she owed him, he saw her lean from the waist and whisper something to a child. A boy. One with a shock of straw-colored hair.
From this distance, the kid could have been Jonas.
She spoke with a slight grin, her eyes probing the kid’s face, the boy nodding and gesturing toward the sky. Tom realized then. For the entire length of the city block, the boy had been trotting at her side.
Tom stopped so fast that someone bumped him from behind. The lady apologized, and he answered without looking, “Oh yeah. Right. How about watching where you’re going?”
Tom shouldered his athletic bag as people darted around and jostled to fill the empty space on the sidewalk. One man struck him with a computer case. Still, Tom didn’t move. His feet might as well have been embedded in the concrete.
Seeing these two together left him feeling deeply angered and betrayed. What was Sarah doing with Mitchell in the middle of a workday? Didn’t she know this was no time to be distracted from her work? The kid galloped ahead, with Sarah smiling after him as if she’d never before noticed a kid’s legs pumping as he ran or a boy’s way of hitching up the seat of his pants. He didn’t want his employee thinking about her family during these dire times; he wanted her thinking about what she could do for his company. And Tom wasn’t watching Sarah anymore; he was watching himself with his own two sons, Jonas first and then Richard, seeing the days he’d missed bringing them along to show them the city or the days he’d missed their baseball games or missed watching them leaping along the lakeshore ahead of him, back when they’d been delighted to be in his presence, back when they’d both wanted something to do with him.
In Tom’s experience, boys never did anything except turn against you when it mattered.
“Why should you care what happens to me?” Jonas had snarled when Tom reminded him for the hundredth time how much he stood to gain by working for Tom’s company. “You never want me around any other time, so why now?”
And Richard, listless and without direction, whose hangdog expression seemed to imply,
Yeah, you’re right. I’m good for nothing.
Richard, with his head buried so deep in video games that he’d forgotten how to formulate a sentence. Richard, who had gotten picked up twice for shoplifting cigarettes and Pepsi. The shoplifting made no sense at all to Tom because he gave Richard money anytime he wanted it. Tom didn’t realize that Richard’s stealing was a rebellious act, a desperate attempt to get some kind of genuine attention from him.
Tom saw Sarah glance behind her as if she sensed she was being followed. He didn’t want to talk to her anymore. Tom stared at a black spot of discarded chewing gum imbedded in the sidewalk. He held his breath, as if that would make him invisible to her.
She must not have noticed him. Otherwise, why had she kept going without even speaking to him?
What did Sarah Harper think this was? Take-Your-Kid-to-Work Day or something?
He detoured at the next corner, cut through an alley with its stench of garbage, and beat her to the office while his agitation
He rehearsed the conversation in his mind as he followed her.
Tell me the truth. Have you ever had a meal like the other night? Quite the strategy Nathan Cornish was presenting last night at The Drake. What do you think, Sarah? Do you agree with his stance on metal futures?
Just as he was about to call out to her again, she winced, grabbed onto a light post, lifted her foot, and ran her finger along the inside of her left heel. She never should have walked this far in those shoes. Why did women insist on wearing such ineffectual footwear? She could blame herself for getting a blister.
He saw her glance toward the shop window. Just as he expected her to start walking again, just as he was about to catch up with her and engage her in a conversation that would both exalt his company and remind her how much she owed him, he saw her lean from the waist and whisper something to a child. A boy. One with a shock of straw-colored hair.
From this distance, the kid could have been Jonas.
She spoke with a slight grin, her eyes probing the kid’s face, the boy nodding and gesturing toward the sky. Tom realized then. For the entire length of the city block, the boy had been trotting at her side.
Tom stopped so fast that someone bumped him from behind. The lady apologized, and he answered without looking, “Oh yeah. Right. How about watching where you’re going?”
Tom shouldered his athletic bag as people darted around and jostled to fill the empty space on the sidewalk. One man struck him with a computer case. Still, Tom didn’t move. His feet might as well have been embedded in the concrete.
Seeing these two together left him feeling deeply angered and betrayed. What was Sarah doing with Mitchell in the middle of a workday? Didn’t she know this was no time to be distracted from her work? The kid galloped ahead, with Sarah smiling after him as if she’d never before noticed a kid’s legs pumping as he ran or a boy’s way of hitching up the seat of his pants. He didn’t want his employee thinking about her family during these dire times; he wanted her thinking about what she could do for his company. And Tom wasn’t watching Sarah anymore; he was watching himself with his own two sons, Jonas first and then Richard, seeing the days he’d missed bringing them along to show them the city or the days he’d missed their baseball games or missed watching them leaping along the lakeshore ahead of him, back when they’d been delighted to be in his presence, back when they’d both wanted something to do with him.
In Tom’s experience, boys never did anything except turn against you when it mattered.
“Why should you care what happens to me?” Jonas had snarled when Tom reminded him for the hundredth time how much he stood to gain by working for Tom’s company. “You never want me around any other time, so why now?”
And Richard, listless and without direction, whose hangdog expression seemed to imply,
Yeah, you’re right. I’m good for nothing.
Richard, with his head buried so deep in video games that he’d forgotten how to formulate a sentence. Richard, who had gotten picked up twice for shoplifting cigarettes and Pepsi. The shoplifting made no sense at all to Tom because he gave Richard money anytime he wanted it. Tom didn’t realize that Richard’s stealing was a rebellious act, a desperate attempt to get some kind of genuine attention from him.
Tom saw Sarah glance behind her as if she sensed she was being followed. He didn’t want to talk to her anymore. Tom stared at a black spot of discarded chewing gum imbedded in the sidewalk. He held his breath, as if that would make him invisible to her.
She must not have noticed him. Otherwise, why had she kept going without even speaking to him?
What did Sarah Harper think this was? Take-Your-Kid-to-Work Day or something?
He detoured at the next corner, cut through an alley with its stench of garbage, and beat her to the office while his agitation
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