TV. She and Cameron had spent the past twenty minutes fighting for control over the remote, and Charlie had prevailed.
“Let’s play,” Ashley said to Maura, trying to breach the barricade of books and papers surrounding her.
“Not possible, you cute thing,” Maura said distractedly, tucking a stray lock of hair behind her ear. “I’ve got a grant application and a case study due tomorrow.”
Ashley pushed at a thick black binder. A handful of papers wafted to the floor.
Maura folded her arms across her middle and took a deep breath. Then she said, “Tell you what. I’ll play for ten minutes and then I have to get back to work.”
She took the baby’s hand and they went upstairs where the toys were kept. Charlie went along, too, and suddenly the room was very quiet. Sean and Cameron looked at each other, then bolted for the remote control at the same time. Sean beat him to it.
“Friday night fights,” he said, switching to ESPN.
“I like American Chopper better.”
“Not tonight, you don’t,” Sean said, settling into his chair as Vladimir Klischko pummeled his opponent.
The flurry of punches caught Cameron’s attention and he offered no further argument. At the commercial break, he got two root beers from the kitchen and settled down to watch.
In precisely ten minutes, Maura came down in time to see a close-up of the contender’s eye bleeding, his nose stuffed with white absorbent pads.
“That’s disgusting,” she said.
“That’s entertainment,” Sean told her. He offered her a sip of his root beer, which she ignored.
“Right. Listen,” she added, gathering all her books and her laptop into a giant tote bag, “I really do have two major projects I need to work on. I’ve decided to do it over at my place.”
“You can work here,” Sean said. “Take over the whole dining room table. We never eat in there.” He elbowed Cameron. “What’s the story on dining rooms, anyway? Did you ever have dinner in there?”
“Thanksgiving, I think.”
“So you can have it until Thanksgiving.”
“Thanks.” She bent down and kissed his cheek. “I need to concentrate. I should also water my houseplants while I’m there….”
She left a few minutes later and a commercial came on. “I can’t taste my beer!” screamed the actors.
Sean felt Cameron staring at him. “What?” he asked.
“So did she just ditch you? Or did she actually dump you?”
“I don’t know what the hell you’re talking about.” Oh, but he did. Deep in his gut, he did.
“Ditching and dumping. There’s a difference.”
“I don’t think she—”
“See, when someone ditches you, it’s a one-time deal. It means she got a better offer.”
“Like watering her houseplants?” Sean asked.
“Well, that’s pretty lame. She must’ve really been bored with you.”
“That’s shit.” Sean’s neck prickled with unspoken awareness.
“Maybe it was an actual dumping,” Cameron suggested. “Now, if it was, you’ve got some work to do, because a dumping is permanent. Got it?”
“I’ve got nothing,” Sean snapped. “She’s not ditching or dumping anybody. She’s going to her apartment to get some work done.”
“I’ll bet she waters her plants and watches reruns of ER all night.”
“How did you know she likes ER?”
“Duh. I can put two and two together.” He got up and went to the kitchen. “I’m making popcorn in the microwave,” he added. “You want some?”
The conversation with Cameron nagged at Sean. He called Maura the next day but got her voice mail, so he left a message telling her where to find him. Then he dropped off his nephew to work at the golf course and took his nieces to Derek’s condo, where he’d arranged to meet Jane Coombs to finish clearing the place out for a new tenant. Though it was a prefurnished rental Derek had lived in since his divorce, all his personal effects were still there. Cameron had declined to help with the removal. Sean didn’t blame him.
Charlie and Ashley clutched each other’s hands as he unlocked the door and let them in. The air was chilly and still with disuse, though everything lay untouched since that day in April, waiting as though Derek had just stepped out and would return at any moment.
Sean glanced at the girls, who walked into the living room with the sort of breath-held hush of churchgoers. He could see Charlie trying to stay calm, pressing her lips tightly together.
“You sure you want to stay?” he asked her. “I can take you over to Lily’s if you—”
“We’ll stay,” Charlie said stoutly. “Won’t we, Ashley?”
“Suit yourself.” In fact, he hadn’t cleared anything with Lily. Maybe she had plans. Maybe those