“I love you, too. I just wish—”
“I know what you wish. I wish it, too. But even when we’re not under the same roof, I’m always there for you. Call me anytime, even in the wee hours.”
“To bawl my eyes out?”
“Especially for that. I don’t mind.” He gave her hand another squeeze, then looked at his watch. “It’s ten to nine. Time to hustle. And I want a private showing of that art project when you’re finished.”
“You’ll have one.”
When they got outside, they hugged again; then she motioned toward the car. “Can I meet her?”
“Now’s not really a good time. You’ve got class, we’ve got an appointment.”
“Does she live in New York?”
“Yes.”
“Sweet. Is she young or old?”
“Younger than older.”
“Is she cool?”
“Define cool.”
“Is she hot?”
“First cool, now hot. Why are you asking all these questions?”
She grinned. “Because you got all weird when you were talking about her.”
“All weird?”
She laughed. “Gonna be late. Bye.” She bussed him on the cheek and jogged off, turning once to wave as she rounded the corner of the building.
He walked over to the car and got in.
Beth said, “She’s adorable.”
“Thanks.”
“Everything all right?”
“For the time being.”
Beth didn’t fish for information, but he felt she was owed an explanation. “Teenage angst, but she’s got some legitimate grievances. She’s a great kid who deserved better parents. Roslyn didn’t fool anybody about her affairs, especially Molly. She’s abnormally intuitive.”
“I wonder where she gets that.”
He shot her a look, and she smiled cheekily.
Then he returned his eyes to the road and continued. “The divorce followed close on the heels of the Mellin case. The split was contentious, a real shit show. I was a wreck. Drinking too much. Angry all the time.
“Molly felt betrayed by her mother and wanted to stay with me, but the judge wouldn’t grant even joint custody. She had to go with her mother. Then, a few months into the new normal, Molly ran away.”
“Oh God, John.”
“Yeah. She was fourteen. Barely. Didn’t show up for school, didn’t come home that afternoon. Roslyn called and accused me of harboring her, enticing her by spoiling her.
“Of course, I went crazy with worry. Mitch and I cruised the streets all night looking for her. The next morning, the manager of a twenty-four-hour gas station found her sleeping on the floor of the ladies’ room. He talked her into giving him my phone number.”
“You must’ve been frantic.”
“Pulling my hair out. Then about a year ago, she did it again. That time she was gone for three days before she called me, crying, asked if I would come get her. She’d been walking the streets by day, going to a mission at night. She got frightened by some of the people who wandered in there.”
Beth murmured a sorrowful sound.
“That’s when she and I made a pact. She’s very artistic. From the time she could hold a crayon, drawing, painting was all she ever wanted to do. After I picked her up at that mission, and scolded her severely, I told her that if she would stop endangering herself like that, and stick it out with her mom, I would send her to an art conservatory in Manhattan.” He named it.
“I know of it. It’s renowned.”
“And expensive as hell. I’m still not sure how I’ll swing it—especially now that I’m unemployed—but that’s my deal with her. Last night she was so upset, I was half afraid she wouldn’t show up this morning. My heart clutched when I saw her. The good cop wanted to hold on to her and not let go. As bad cop, I emphasized that our deal is off if she runs away again.”
“I don’t think she will.”
“At least she’ll think twice. She wants that bright lights, big city school.”
“She also doesn’t want to disappoint you.”