Right Back Where We Started Read online

  They'd been friends. She and Willow. Even when Crash was off doing conferences for Future Business Leaders of America or attending a track meet or at a soccer game, she'd go to the estate and poach Mrs. Sánchez's molasses cookies. They'd talk about fashion and celebrities and gossip about the town. Mrs. Carpenter had even let Martina borrow her clothes once or twice, and Martina had salivated over her wardrobe until her father said it wasn't appropriate to borrow another woman's clothes, especially a woman so much older than her. She'd felt like the daughter Willow never had, though she hadn't said as much. Still, in a family of four daughters, it was nice to feel unique.

  Martina sunk down under the water with a groan, blowing bubbles, pushing her floating hair back. What am I going to do? Even after what he'd done, she didn't want to punish him. Well, she didn't want to punish him too much . . . a little would be okay. She broke the surface of the water, brushing the bubbles out of her hair. Martina sighed. Not even a good bath was going to solve this problem for her. She didn’t need to ask what he and her mom and her sisters would think about Crash re-entering her life; they’d be firmly against it.

  After several tries with her wet, pruney fingers, she slid open her phone and called her friend Winnie.

  “Hello?” It sounded quiet in the background, but she wanted to be sure.

  “You birthing?”

  “Nope. You with someone who's dying?”

  “Would I call you if I was?”

  “I should certainly hope not. What can I do for you?”

  “I have a work question for you . . .”

  “Okay.”

  “It's not really an ethical question, but it sort of is . . .”

  “Okay . . . consider my curiosity piqued.” Winnie listened as Martina explained what had happened when she'd gone with Cindy, then what she'd seen at the grocery store.

  “Well, I don't think it's an ethical question. You were asked to treat her, and you didn't feel you could. You made no commitment.”

  “Yes, but you know as well as I do that she'll do much better with someone she knows. And someone who knows her.”

  “Probably. But as I say, you made no commitment. You were honest about your boundaries.”

  “I feel bad.”

  “You do?” Winnie sounded surprised.

  “What, it's so shocking that I have feelings?”

  “No, you're just usually so decisive. It's unlike you to waffle over a decision like this. The only thing I've ever seen you torn over was whether to watch Prince William's wedding in real time or as a recording.”

  “Well, watching it was a foregone conclusion.”

  “Naturally.” She could hear Winnie smiling. “Do you feel you're letting him down or her?”

  “Both.” Martina sipped her sparkling water. “We were friends, you know? When Crash and I were together, we usually had dinner with Willow on the weekends. She was so alone in that big house. And we just liked her, you know? She's a really sweet lady when you get to know her.” And she accepted my parents' dinner invitation when Mr. Carpenter refused. She raved over our empanadas and our Malbec like it was lobster and Champagne. She made me feel loved. “It’s like Maldonada and the puma.”

  “I don’t know that one,” Winnie said.

  “I think a close equivalent would be Aesop’s The Lion and the Mouse.”

  Winnie paused. “Let’s assume I don’t know that one, either.”

  Martina laughed. “Then I’ll tell you the Argentinian version, so you can sound cool throwing it around at parties.”

  “Please do.”

  She tried to think back to all the details of the story her father used to tell her at bedtime.

  “A long time ago, Spain was trying to conquer Argentina, and they set up settlements around the country. The indigenous people, the Querandi, laid siege to one of their settlements, preventing them from getting food.”

  “As is their absolute right against invaders.”

  “Exactly. A Spanish girl, Maldonada, asked for permission to go outside the walls and get food, but the captain forbade her from leaving. Being headstrong, she did it anyway, preferring punishment to starvation.”

  “Gotta side with Maldonada on this one.”

  Martina laughed. “I know, right? Anyway, our girl Mal, she sneaks out, and it’s getting dark when she hears strange noises, hurting noises, coming from a cave. When she investigates, she finds a puma who’s just given birth. Rather than running away, she decides to stop and help. Maldonada cleans up the cubs and stays with them while the mother goes out to hunt. She goes on like that for a few days. Then one day, she’s out looking for her own food when a Querandi scouting party catches her.”

  “That’s the people who laid siege to her settlement?”

  “Right. So she thinks she’s toast, right? But to her surprise, they’re totally nice to her and let her come live in their village. They teach her their ways and welcome her into the community with open arms.”

  “I feel like something is about to go wrong . . .”

  Martina chuckled. “You’re so smart, Win. The Spaniards launch a counterattack, and when they discover Maldonada, they take her back to the settlement. The captain is furious about her betrayal and decides to make an example of her. He ties her to a tree and leaves her for the wild animals to rip apart.”

  “Classy.”

  “Yeah, he’s a douche. But here’s the thing: the Querandi go to check on her a few days later, and she’s still there. The mother puma had come to bring her food every day and protect her. They untied her and she lived happily ever after.”

  Winnie was quiet for a moment. “So you think you’re the puma in this story? Since she helped you, you want to help her now?”

  “I guess so. I mean . . . I have my own mother. And she’s great. But Willow, she understood my love of clothes and fashion. Taught me how to get deals on nice stuff so I could dress the way I wanted to. She knew I was kind of overwhelmed with all my family at home, being the only introvert, so she’d invite me over to paint our nails and drink sparkling cider and eat frozen pizza. Without her, high school would’ve been really different. She helped me figure out who I was. And when I figured it out, she made me feel like the person I wanted to be was amazing.” And I wanted to be her daughter-in-law so badly, not just because I was in love with her son. “I think I have to do this. I want to.”

  “Martina?”

  “Yes?”

  “I think it’s very admirable, what you want to do. Just don’t forget that she is definitely going to get eaten, whether you protect her or not. There’s no one to cut her free from Alzheimer’s.”

  “I know,” Martina sighed, watching her bubbles slowly disappear as the water suddenly turned colder. “I know.”

  CHAPTER THREE

  CARTER HAD BEEN PACING in the foyer so long, he feared he was damaging the red Persian rug, despite his bare feet. She would be here any minute. Martina. The one who got away, she was coming. He wasn’t ready. Well, he was ready; he’d told his mom Martina would be coming by and the other people who needed to know and the house was clean and he was nicely dressed. But when Cindy called, she’d said Martina wanted to meet with him and his mom before she accepted the job, and he sure as heck wasn’t ready for that. Last time she’d come, it hadn’t gone well, and her reaction had been what he expected on some level. This time? He didn’t know what to expect. And that had his stomach twisting tighter and tighter, like an alarm clock being wound.

  Tires on the driveway gravel. They’re here, they’re here. Don’t freak out. He pulled back the curtains to see them. Martina wore a pale blue polo shirt with the company logo, her hair pulled back in a thick ponytail. She’d obviously straightened it first, then curled the ends. Her height was more obvious next to her boss, who wasn’t exactly short. She was still beautifully curvy, and she kept tugging at the hem of the shirt, like she felt it was too short. Maybe she was just nervous. Of course she was nervous. The real question was what had changed he
r mind, made her come back? She hadn’t even looked at him the last time she came here; now she was here preparing to accept his job offer.

  They rang the bell, and he waited two seconds before opening the door. “Hello again.”

  Cindy smiled brightly. “Hello, Mr. Carpenter. It's so good to see you again.” She stepped into the foyer, and Carter could see the way she appreciated the understated opulence. Some people needed to have a flashy house, a place that proved they'd made it. That wasn't Harrison and Willow Carpenter. Their wealth showed, of course: bamboo floors, paintings that had to be worth millions on the walls, the household staff standing by, the room-by-room environmental and stereo controls. But there were no random statues or fountains here, no marble, and he'd always found their house very comfortable, very lived-in. He and the twins, Chase and Christopher, had dumped their soccer stuff by the front door like regular teenagers, and their mother hadn't let the staff pick it up for them.

  Then he turned his attention to Martina; there was a challenge in her gaze, the same look she used to give him before she dared him to do something stupid.

  She stuck out her right hand. “Mr. Carpenter. Nice to see you again.”

  Crash cringed internally at her formal greeting, but he accepted her firm handshake, gesturing her inside. “Mom,” he called up the stairs. “Your new helper is here.”

  Willow appeared at the top of the stairs. Her hair was thrown up into a haphazard bun, and she wore thick glasses. Her yoga pants and t-shirt from last year's Turkey Trot were clean today, thank God. He glanced at Martina for a reaction, but her face was carefully pleasant.

  Willow's face lit when she saw Martina. “Darling! They didn't tell me you were coming.” Carter wished he could sit down; every time his mother said something like that, he wanted to bang his head against something.

  “Hello, Mrs. Carpenter,” Martina smiled. “How are you?”

  Willow came barreling down the stairs so fast, Carter was surprised she didn't face-plant. “What have you been up to? I want to hear everything.” It lifted his spirits a little to see her enthusiastic response to the person he’d like to hire to care for her. It made him feel like maybe he was doing something right after all.

  “Yes, I'd love to get caught up,” she said, then glanced at Carter.

  “Let's all go sit in the library,” he suggested, and Willow started in that direction, then stopped.

  “Who's she?” There was an ice to her words that Carter still wasn’t used to. She was staring daggers at Cindy, who just smiled kindly.

  “Oh, I'm a friend of Martina's,” she said, extending a hand. “I'm Cindy.” Sort of true. She must work with clients like this all the time; she probably had lots of tricks up her sleeve. Keeping a wary eye on Cindy, Willow shook her hand, then gestured them toward the library, as if she were in charge of this meeting. She'd always had that air about her; every party, every benefit Carter had ever attended that Willow had had a hand in, she was the one people turned to with questions. And she always had the answers. Always. It was one of the things he’d been most sure of.

  Martina settled into a deep burgundy, high-backed wing chair near the window while the rest of them took the couches. This was the room where he'd introduced her to his parents, and he tried not to get lost in the memory . . . squeezing her hand, the polite pleasure on his mother’s face, the unabashed rejection by his father.

  “Mrs. Sánchez,” Willow called, and the slender woman, dark-haired with gray highlights, appeared in the doorway. “Could you bring us some tea, please?” She nodded, then winked at Martina as she turned to go. That was a relief, at least; Mrs. Sánchez had always approved of her.

  “So, tell us, darling, what have you been up to the last few years?” Willow asked.

  “Well, I've been working as a nurse for a few years—”

  “Have you really? That's what you always wanted to do, wasn't it? Do you remember, Carter?”

  He nodded, his gaze on the unlit fireplace. He couldn’t bear to see how she was reacting to all this. Please, Martina. Please help us. Please don’t walk away. I don’t deserve it, but I need your help.

  “And now I've just gotten my degree in acute care to become a nurse practitioner.”

  Mom sat back hard in her chair, as if the news floored her. “Isn't that wonderful? I'm just so pleased for you, honey. Are you working with kids or adults or . . . ?”

  “Adult Gerontology, actually,” she said, and there was a strange note of apology in her tone.

  “I see. Well, that's wonderful, honey.” She hadn't used her name yet, and Carter wondered if she remembered it. She knew who she was, knew they were acquainted. Given how much time she'd spent here in high school, that wasn't surprising, but Carter was grateful. She was blowing up at him a lot. She knew she was forgetting. It would get easier once she didn't know, the internet and Dr. Rose had both promised. Carter wondered how long that would be. At any rate, this wouldn't be a quick assignment. This would be years. Did that change things?

  “How about you, Mrs. Carpenter? What have you been up to lately?”

  “Oh,” she waved away the question, “you know. This and that. I haven't done many events lately. The groups have gone all to seed, those women were impossible to work with. So I've stepped back to let others take the lead for a while. I'm sure they'll realize that my way is better, eventually.”

  “You were always a huge asset for the Ladies' Auxiliary, I remember that. No one planned events like you.”

  Willow blushed, and Martina smiled at her. Mrs. Sánchez came back in with a silver tray and four steaming cups of tea. She stopped first near Willow's chair, offering her one.

  “Who's that for?” Willow asked.

  Mrs. Sánchez's face stayed calm, like she’d been expecting the response. She probably did at this point. “You asked for tea, Mrs. Carpenter.”

  “Who, me? No, I didn't. You need a vacation, Mrs. Sánchez,” she giggled, making a face at Martina that said, 'Can you believe her?' Mrs. Sánchez shot Martina a pained look at that, a silent plea. Help us, her eyes said. We don't know what to do with her anymore. Help us, please. At least he wasn’t the only one begging. Silently, Mrs. Sánchez moved on to Carter, who also silently refused the tea, rubbing his forehead. He lifted his head and took Willow's hand.

  “Mom,” he said gently, “Martina's going to be here with you during the day while I'm at work.”

  His mother brushed imaginary crumbs from her pants. “Why, is she shadowing me for an internship or something?”

  “You know she's not.”

  Willow's lip trembled. “Is it because I fell? I won't get on the rolling chair again.”

  “No, no, it's nothing you did wrong. Remember how we talked about your memory issues? It's because of that. That's all, that's the only reason. Martina's a professional, and she can take really excellent care of you. I just don't want you to be in need when I'm not here.”

  “What was the diagnosis?” Willow asked, fiddling with the edge of her shirt.

  “We don’t have one yet, officially. When you hurt your wrist, Dr. Durand, he referred us to a neurologist, remember?”

  “Doctor . . .” She swallowed hard. “Dr. Rose.”

  Carter felt as proud as if she were a child who'd just written her name for the first time. “That's right, Dr. Rose. And once we get you diagnosed, she can help you remember to take your medications.”

  “And we can get caught up,” she said, casting a shy glance at Martina.

  “That's right,” Martina said, smiling. “It's been too long, anyway. We always had a wonderful time together, didn't we?” They did; it wasn’t manipulative to say so. It was the absolute truth.

  Willow's eyes filled with tears. “I'm sorry,” she whispered. “I'm sorry that I'm such trouble. I'm not trying to be.” He pulled her toward him and squeezed her tight into his side on the couch. She cried into his shoulder, and he pinched his eyes shut so tight, his whole face screwed shut, trying not to cry, letting her wi
pe her face on his nice shirt. As Willow began to wind down, Martina moved over to the couch, sitting next to him.

  “Willow, it would be my honor to take care of you. Will you let me? I want to make this as painless as possible for you. For all of you.” Carter’s heart swelled with relief, and he took the first deep breath he’d taken in days, but the tears were threatening to fall more than ever now.

  Cindy piped up. “Our company has been providing this kind of care for many years. Our employees are always professional and have the best training available. Ms. Lopez will be no different.”

  “Well,” Willow said with a watery smile, lifting her head, “if it's necessary, I'm glad it's this one.” This one; she couldn't remember her name. “I know you,” she said, reaching out a hand, and Martina took it immediately, letting their joined hands rest on Carter’s knees. He acutely felt the irony of being caught between them.

  “Yes, you know me,” Martina smiled, and a single tear slid down her cheek. That had all his self-control eroding like a mudslide. “And I know you. I'll make sure we get you dressed to your usual standards. No more slumming for you, lady.”

  Willow looked down at her clothes, then laughed. “I do look a little casual, don't I?”