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“Hey there, peanut,” Eric said. “Thanks for helping Mrs. Lewis with those copies.”
Kaitlin nodded briefly and slid over next to him. She placed the files very carefully on the desk.
Jamie addressed Kaitlin gravely. “Why, hello there, Ms. Sinclair. I asked to speak to the president of the company, and they sent me right here to you.”
Kaitlin seemed to consider this statement, but then dropped her gaze. A tough customer, his daughter.
“That’s a nice outfit,” Jamie went on, apparently undaunted.
Kaitlin fingered the material of her checked blue shirt.
Jamie glanced toward the corner where Kaitlin’s blocks and puzzles and stuffed animals were scattered. She paused, as if debating something with herself. But then, as if she had all the time in the world, she strolled over and sat down on the floor among the toys, the skirt of her dress swirling around her. She gathered some random blocks and began stacking them one on top of the other. She didn’t so much as glance at Kaitlin, behaved as if she couldn’t care less whether anyone joined her.
For a minute or two Kaitlin remained right where she was, pressed against Eric’s desk as if to barricade herself. But then, at last, she sat down next to Jamie on the floor, too. She gathered some blocks and began making her own stack.
Over the next several moments Eric watched the interaction between his daughter and Jamie. Anyone else might say it was almost nonexistent. Jamie seemed intent on making her own tower of blocks and didn’t even glance over to look at what Kaitlin was doing. And that appeared to be exactly what Kaitlin needed. His daughter became absorbed in her own endeavor, trying to see just how high she could go.
Companionable silence. That was what the two of them were sharing.
Eric settled back, studying Jamie. She looked perfectly natural sitting on the floor next to one of Kaitlin’s favorite stuffed animals—a baby cheetah. She behaved as if she had no pressing problems on her mind, no search for a wayward groom in progress. She’d come here hoping to find Shawn and instead she was entertaining Eric’s daughter.
Again, entertain was probably not the proper term. Jamie seemed to be creating an atmosphere where his daughter could occupy herself without worry or self-consciousness. Kaitlin placed yet another block on her towering creation, then another, making her own skyscraper.
The last block was the fatal one. The whole pile toppled down as Kaitlin watched in dismay. So much for not worrying. His daughter looked as crestfallen as if she had demolished a real building.
“That,” said Jamie, “was stupendous. Here—watch this.” She enthusiastically sent her own tower of blocks crashing downward.
Kaitlin stifled a giggle, but not before Eric saw a trace of a smile. Undeniably, over the past several months, his daughter had grown too serious. Divorce was a serious matter, of course, but couldn’t he and Leah have done more to lighten the atmosphere for their child? They’d tried to do their best, to be unfailingly polite to each other in Kaitlin’s presence, to explain matters to her in clear, reassuring terms. He and Leah had also agreed that Kaitlin should see a counselor regularly to help her through this difficult transition. It had all been so well-meaning and earnest, so logical and carefully devoid of hurtful emotion. In the process, however, they’d dampened other emotions, such as simple happiness. No wonder Kaitlin tried to keep a tight rein over her feelings. She was imitating her parents.
Now Jamie and Kaitlin went back to stacking blocks, but they made a pile together this time. Jamie set one block in place, then waited as Kaitlin set her own block on top. Back and forth they went, taking turns. Another block, then another, higher and higher. Kaitlin’s eyes sparkled. The pile grew and grew, becoming wonderfully precarious. And then, at last, the tower came crashing down. This time Kaitlin had to clap both hands over her mouth.
Jamie leaned toward Kaitlin. “Isn’t mess fun?” she asked in a conspiratorial whisper.
Kaitlin nodded her head in agreement.
No one else might see anything of great significance happening here—just a woman and a little girl playing together—but Eric did.
Jamie Williams was special and unique. She seemed to know the secret to reaching his daughter.
In fact, Jamie Williams seemed to have something that his daughter needed.
“HELLO, MOM,” JAMIE SAID, gripping her cell phone perhaps a bit too tightly. One call from her mother and all the old emotions had kicked in.
“Jamie, I knew you wouldn’t find him.” Caroline Williams almost sounded pleased—in her dire sort of way. Expecting the worst had become her specialty. Jamie’s response was to pace back and forth in her Seattle hotel room. Eric had offered to put her up another night at his island home, but she’d decided to stay in the city. She needed solitude right now, a chance to gather her thoughts.
“I told you it was a mistake to go up there. Of course, you never listen. A letter came today, Jamie. By messenger. From him.”
Jamie felt herself go rigid.
“No return address,” Caroline went on in a biting tone. “That’s just like him, isn’t it?”
Jamie tried to think of some normal, ordinary way to proceed. A letter from Shawn. The lump in her throat was so large she could hardly speak. Only with effort did she get the words out. “I suppose—if you would just forward it to me—”
“I could…if I hadn’t already opened it.”
That was typical Caroline Williams. Jamie supposed she ought to feel outrage at her mother’s high-handed behavior, but at the moment she couldn’t seem to feel anything at all. A strange numbness had enveloped her.
“I’ll read it, of course.” Caroline gave a discreet cough, as if about to deliver a speech. “‘Dear Jamie…’ Can you believe it? He leaves you at the altar and then has the gall to write you a ‘Dear Jamie’ letter.”
“Mother.”
“Yes, very well. ‘Dear Jamie… You must hate me by now. You should hate me.’” Caroline Williams made a derisive sound. “Why, how kind of him. Giving us permission to despise him—”
“Mother,” Jamie repeated. She sank down in the room’s one armchair. “Please read it all the way through—without the commentary.”
“All right.” Caroline read on. “‘What I’ve done is terrible, unconscionable. I’m sorry, Jamie, more sorry than you’ll ever know. If only… Shawn.’”
Jamie closed her eyes. She’d experienced a sense of unreality listening to Shawn’s words spoken in her mother’s disparaging tone. If only… What did he mean? If only things had been different? If only he had loved her? If only they had another chance?
“That’s it,” said Caroline. “It’s really quite masterful when you think about it. An over-the-top, extravagant apology. Gives you everything and nothing at the same time. So he takes the heat and he leaves you with nothing but coldness underneath.”
Jamie considered throwing the phone across the room.
“Does he tell us why he left?” her mother persisted. “Does he give us any explanation? No, of course not. He doesn’t want to be real. He doesn’t want to be genuine. That would mean risking too much. Instead he gives us a smoke screen of excessive repentance—”
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