Hold Me Close Read online

  “You don’t have to go.”

  “I...should get home. My kid...” She didn’t have to pick Polly up from her mom’s until the afternoon, but Mitchell didn’t need to know.

  “Right. Of course.” He sat, a lumpy shadow among all the others. “Let me walk you to the door—”

  “No,” she said quickly. “It’s fine. I didn’t mean to wake you.”

  Mitchell made a soft noise. “I know you didn’t.”

  She wasn’t sure what to say to that. So she simply put her clothes on, feeling him watching her even though she knew he could make out only the shape of her and no details. She went to the side of the bed to kiss him before she left. She did that much, at least.

  “I’ll call you,” Mitchell said.

  She let another kiss drift along his mouth. “Okay.”

  Then she let herself out.

  chapter twenty-two

  Naveen’s gallery wasn’t the biggest around, but he did have two locations, one in New York City and one in Philadelphia, which was as far as Effie ever wanted to travel. He was also fair with his commission, and he put her work in front of the bigger buyers, at least when she had something they’d like. When the phone rang in her pocket with his distinctive ringtone, Effie pulled it out even though it was almost her turn at the cashier and she hated it when people took calls in the grocery store line and held everyone else up.

  “Hello, lovely,” Naveen said without preamble. “Is this a bad time?”

  “For you? Never.” Effie gestured to Polly to inch the cart forward so they could start putting the items onto the conveyor belt.

  “Are you sitting down?”

  She paused, bending to keep the phone pressed to her ear while she rummaged in her purse for her store loyalty card. She handed it to Polly to give to the cashier. “No, I’m in line at the grocery store. Why?”

  “I sold your painting,” Naveen said. “I think you’re going to be very, very happy.”

  Effie laughed. “I’m sure I am. Are you going to tell me for how much, or do I have to get Elisabeth on your case?”

  “She’s not here. You have to settle for me.” Naveen sounded as if he was grinning from ear to ear, a Cheshire cat. “Sure you don’t want to sit down?”

  The woman ahead of her had paid her bill, and it was Effie’s turn. She shook her head to the question of if she had any coupons and gave the guy behind her an apologetic glance even though she hadn’t done anything so far to hold up the line. “Polly, keep unloading the cart, please. Naveen, just tell me.”

  “Twenty.”

  “Twenty...dollars?” Effie paused, confused.

  “Twenty thousand dollars. Twenty. Thousand. Bucks.” Naveen sounded giddy with glee, and could she blame him, hell no, twenty grand?

  “Twenty grand,” Effie breathed and for a second or so wished she could sit down right there on the cool tile floor. Thinking she might have no choice but to at least bend and put her head between her knees, since everything had sort of tipped. “Are you f... Are you kidding me?”

  Mindful that she had an audience, she lowered her voice. Polly gave her a curious look. Effie gave her a thumbs-up. Polly went back to loading eggs and yogurt and crackers onto the belt. Effie wished now she’d sprung for the pricey cereal the kid had wanted. Well, next time.

  “I’m not kidding you. It’s one of my best buyers. Her clients are all richer than Midas and trust her implicitly. Your piece, Effie, I have to tell you...I knew it was going to sell the second I saw it. It’s the best thing you’ve ever done. And I mean that,” Naveen said sincerely. “It was brilliant.”

  “And to think, if I could do a couple of those a year I’d be all set.” Already the buzz was fading. By the time Naveen took his cut and she covered her expenses, there’d still be a respectable amount left over, but it would be whittled quickly into zeros by groceries and new tires and sneakers for Polly.

  Still, it was worth a celebration, and when she disconnected with Naveen, Effie squeezed Polly’s shoulder. “Let’s get out of here, kiddo. We’re going out for dinner to celebrate. I just sold a painting.”

  “Oh, Mom, great!” Polly grinned. “Can we go to the Melting Pot? Can Heath come?”

  Effie, pulling out her credit card to slide it through the machine so they didn’t take up any more time, gave Polly a glance. “Yes, we can go to the Melting Pot. Yes, you can call Heath.”

  She hadn’t spoken to Heath in three weeks, though she knew he texted with Polly regularly and had picked her up from school a couple times to take her for hot chocolate or bowling or some other “Disneyland Dad” activities while Effie worked. She’d been swimming in an influx of orders from her store, last-minute rush orders she assumed were for holiday gift-giving. It was good for her own holiday budget, but it meant long hours of what could only occasionally be considered fulfilling work. She’d been grateful for the extra projects that kept her busy. Less so for the way Heath waited in the driveway for Polly to come out, and the way he wasn’t answering Effie’s calls.

  With a quick stop at home to drop off the groceries, Effie and Polly were at the Melting Pot in less than an hour. Polly had texted Heath, who didn’t answer at once. He called as they pulled into the parking lot.

  “Let me talk to him.” Effie held out her hand for Polly’s phone. “Hey.”

  “Hey.” He sounded taken aback. “I thought I called Polly.”

  “You did. I sold that piece. Naveen called me today. We’re at the Melting Pot to celebrate.” Effie kept her voice light, casual. Not trying too hard.

  “Congratulations, that’s great. I knew you would sell it. It’s an amazing piece.”

  Heath’s voice shifted, getting fainter. She could picture him holding the phone to his ear while he slid behind the wheel of his beat-up Camaro. Effie hadn’t realized how long three weeks was until they’d been without him. She closed her eyes against a sudden burning, twisting in her seat to keep Polly from seeing.

  “So, dinner. My treat? I’ll spring for the four-course meal.”

  “Nah, sorry. I can’t make it. Another time, maybe.” Heath’s voice was as light and casual as Effie’s had been, but his words struck her hard.

  Not in the chest, not in her heart, but in that gag-inducing spot at the base of her throat. Swift and fierce like the stab of two fingers. It hurt to swallow. Effie drew in a breath to keep her voice calm.

  “Polly was looking forward to it.”

  “I’ll see Polly another time.”

  “Heath,” Effie said sharply but with a quick glance at her daughter, who was pretending to be busy with something in her purse, but who gave her mother a sideways look that said she was listening to every word. Effie took another breath and let it out, forcing herself to smile. “Fine, then. Another time.”

  She disconnected without waiting for him to say anything and handed the phone back. Polly slipped it into her purse and gave her mother an expectant look. Effie took her keys from the ignition.

  “C’mon,” she said. “Let’s call Nana instead. I bet she’ll be excited.”

  chapter twenty-three

  Effie wants out of the hospital. There’s nothing wrong with her. Nothing physical, anyway. Nothing they can fix with bandages or stitches or a cast. She’s sure there are pills she could take that would make a lot of the memories go away, but she’s done with drugs. The doctors are concerned about withdrawal. They told her that, without knowing what exactly Daddy had been giving them, they can’t predict how she’ll react to not taking anything. They want to monitor her.

  Heath, they sent home.

  He’s not a minor, and she still is. He doesn’t have insurance, and Effie, through her parents, still does. It’s not fair, she knows that, but she’s not sure if it’s because it feels as if Heath has been set free or shunted aside.