Page 19 of Meet Me in the Garden

“You’re perfect,” I whisper into his tiny ear. “You’re the one I love most.”

EIGHT

ACOUPLE MONTHSLATER, LIONELis fired from the plant. “What a knucklehead,” Al rants on the drive home, his grip tight on the steering wheel. “Smoking a reefer in the break room with a couple of the secretaries. How’d he evenmeetthem?”

I can’t help but smile, picturing him charming two pretty girls in their dresses and heels, slipping a joint out of his T-shirt pocket. “We all know Lionel has no trouble meeting women,” I say. “Regardless of department.”

Al eyes me in the rearview. “It’s funny to you?”

“Honestly, a little.”

Bernard sets a hand on Al’s shoulder. “He’ll find another job. Plenty of them out there. Lionel’s a likable kid.”

“Not one secretary but two,” Al says. “Priceless.” But the next time he catches my eyes in the mirror, he’s smiling.

Inside the house, Adele and Claire rush from the kitchen to kiss their husbands before hurrying back to their discussion of doubling the green salad and how far the macaroni will stretch. “Lionel showed up with two friends,” Claire says. “They’re in the yard. Seems like they might be staying for dinner.” Clément locks his arms around my leg and it begins:Uncle Lionel came home at lunchtime! Was there a fire? Rudy looked but he couldn’t find one.

“Fired,” I say, washing my face, washing under my arms. “It means to lose your job. Come on, let’s see who’s outside.”

It’s a warm night, and they’re sitting in the fading light on the garden chairs: Lionel, Jeremy from the Art Department, and a woman I don’t know. She has short, dark hair tucked neatly behind her ears.

“Welcome to my retirement party,” Lionel says.

Al lights a cigarette. “That’s one way to spin it.”

“Hey there,” the woman says as I cross the lawn toward them. “I don’t think we’ve met.”

Clément perks up. “Ginny, this is my mommy.”

Ginny smiles, dimples flashing. “Clément and I were picking blackberries over there just before you got home,” she says, tilting her chin to the far end of the yard. She’s at ease in the lawn chair, her nails filed short, pink lips smooth. Seeing her—a flush, a vibration in my chest, sudden and unwelcome. An awareness I’d hoped only Hattie could spark. I hold Clément tight against me. There’s no room for this feeling in my life.

She’s waiting for me to introduce myself. “Odette,” I say.

She taps Clément on the knee with her index finger. “Otherwise known as your mommy.” And then, to me, “I work at the plant, too. The night shift.”

I’m striving for aloofness, but Clément smiles, bats his eyelashes. I take the open seat next to Lionel while Al hovers on the periphery. “You look a little uncomfortable,” Lionel tells him. “Feel free to join us.”

Al sits. Shakes his head. “Lionel Dumas. Wreaking havoc on the family reputation once again.”

“Mike’ll forget about me before the week’s through,” Lionel says. “Especially with you and Bernard showing up in your suits every morning. So respectable.” He adjusts an imaginary tie. Al draws on his cigarette, unfazed.

“What department are you in?” Ginny asks me.

“Finishing.”

“What’s it like?”

Clément wriggles off my lap, joins his cousins on the patio. “Strenuous,” I say. “Loud. But I’m used to it.”

Al leans forward. “Ginny,” he says. “You wearing your boyfriend’s clothes or something?”

She has on blue jeans and a button-down open over a men’s cotton undershirt. A gold chain with a medallion, white socks, and white lace-up sneakers. Everything neat and spotless. “These clothes are mine.”

“Huh,” Al says. Ginny’s watching, steady, to see if he’ll say more. Instead, he drifts back into the house once he’s finished his cigarette, and the mood eases.

“Nothing against your brother,” Jeremy says. “I just can’t relax when there’s a manager around. Even if he isn’t mine. I have problems with authority.”

“Don’t we all,” Lionel says.