CHAPTER 1
Washington, D.C., Suburbs
Present Day
There should have been a sign. A feeling. Some sense of impending doom. But Sean Serrat’s day started like any other.
“Daddy, guess what?”
Sean always felt a tiny rush of emotion when his children called him Daddy, a word that was fading to extinction in his home.
“Daddy,” Jack repeated. Sean glanced at his son, who was perched on a stool at the granite kitchen counter shoveling Cheerios into his mouth. Sunshine cut through the window and a shadow fell across the seven-year-old’s round face. Jack’s teenage brother, Ryan, sat next to him crunching a bagel.
“What is it, buddy?” Sean stood near the stove, bowl in one hand, spoon in the other, trying not to drip on his tie.
“I told my friend, Dean, about our family Money Jar.”
“Yeah?”
“I told him that some families have Swear Jars where you have to put money in if you say a bad word. But wehave a Money Jar that has money in it and you say bad words into the jar.” Jack cupped his orange juice glass over his mouth and demonstrated with a muffled, “Butt, poop, ass.”
Ryan blurted a laugh, spattering flecks of bagel over the countertop.
Sean tried to hold back a smile. “I don’t think you should tell your friends about the Money Jar,” he said. “And maybe let’s not tell Mommy about—”
“Don’t tell Mommy what?” Emily said, strolling into the kitchen. She wore black yoga pants and a T-shirt and her skin glistened from her morning jog. The boys snickered and Sean reached for the coffee pot and poured Emily a cup.
Emily’s eyes narrowed. “What are you boys up to?”
“Us? Up to something?” Sean said, handing her the coffee.
Emily gave a sideways look: Silly boys. She smelled the coffee, smiled, and took a sip. “You look so handsome,” she said. She set the mug on the counter and adjusted the knot on Sean’s tie. “The new suit looks great. Are you excited for your first day?”
Sean gave a fleeting smile, trying to look sufficiently enthusiastic, something he knew his wife would see through. The job change had been Emily’s idea. No, her demand.
“Hey Dad,” Ryan said, “what’s with the suit? I thought you were gonna be the boss, so doesn’t that mean you can just wear jeans or whatever you want?”
“It’s a big law firm, kiddo, and I’m not the boss. And anyway, I don’t take fashion advice from eighth-graders who need a haircut and can’t keep their pants pulled up.”
“Seriously, go with jeans,” Ryan said. “Set the tone. Show a little confidence.”
“Leave Dad alone,” Emily said. “He’s going to be the talk of the ladies at the office.” She clasped Sean’s chin in her hand and pressed his cheeks together. “How often do you think a tall, dark, and handsome man walks into that stuffy law firm?” She tippy-toed and gave Sean a soft kiss.
“Guys, please.” Ryan lifted a hand to shield his eyes.
Sean grabbed his wife’s bottom to torture his fourteen-year-old.
Ryan shuddered. “Really, stop.”
“You and Jack go get your backpacks together for school,” Sean said. “Unless you want us to make out a little first.” He wrapped his arm around Emily’s waist and pulled her to him.
“I’m out,” Ryan said. Hands on his temples like horse blinders, he marched out of the kitchen. His little brother imitated the move and followed after him.
“You said you might see Abby today?” Emily asked.
“Yeah. I’m going to a reception this afternoon at Georgetown for Justice Malburg’s retirement. Jonathan told me she’d be there.”
“Did Jon say how she’s doing?” Emily opened the refrigerator door. Its face was a collage of family photographs and Jack’s artwork held in place with magnets. Under one of the magnets, a bumper sticker: STAND UP FOR WHAT’S RIGHT, EVEN IF YOU’RE STANDING ALONE.
“He says Abby’s the star research assistant of all his students.”
“Tell her to call me. And that she’d better come to dinner tonight. She missed last week, and tonight’s a celebration.”
Sean nodded. “That reminds me,” he said, “did she talk with you yesterday?”
“No, why?”
“I missed her call when I was at Brooks Brothers. She left me a voice mail that she wanted to talk about something, but with all the running around to get ready for today, I forgot to call back.”
“Did she sound okay?” Emily asked. Her smile lines were always more pronounced when she was worried. “I haven’t heard from her in a couple days.”
“It didn’t sound urgent. And she didn’t call back, so I’m sure she’s fine. I’ll see what she needs today at Georgetown.”
Distorted music whined from the kitchen counter. “Who Knew” by Pink. Last summer Abby had changed her mother’s ringtone as a joke, and Emily never figured out how to switch it back. Abby and Emily both now walked around with Pink blaring from their phones whenever someone called.
“Maybe that’s her.” Emily scanned the iPhone, then tapped on the screen, sending the call to voice mail. “Just Margo,” she said with a frown.
“Abby’s fine. I’ll tell her to give you a call.”
Sean kissed his wife and called out good-byes to his sons. On the walk to the subway he thumbed a text to Abby. She didn’t reply.
Copyright © 2016 by Anthony Franze
