Coached in the Act Read online

  “Oh, I see your car,” Sunny said, and up ahead I saw her Range Rover pull into her driveway.

  I parked and was out of the car first, and then I trotted over to hold Sunny’s car door open so that the windy day didn’t bang her door against her as she reached in to get Finley out of his car seat. The poor tyke was red faced and crying, and as Sunny backed up with him cradled in her arms, I was taken aback by the dark circles under her eyes and the sag to her shoulders.

  “Thanks,” she said. “The tickets are in my purse. Come on in and I’ll fish them out for you.”

  I held my arms out toward Finley, who was kicking and fussing in his mother’s embrace, and made a “gimme” motion with my hands. I’d been that overwhelmed and exhausted mother once. I knew when it was time to volunteer to take charge.

  Sunny’s expression was a bit apprehensive but also relieved. “He’s super fussy, Cat,” she said.

  “Yes, which is why you should give him to me so that I can help you, instead of standing around waiting for you to be supermom and super friend all at the same time.”

  Sunny hesitated one more second, but then she lifted Finley away from her and pivoted him around to me. I took the tyke and held him close, relishing the feeling of holding a small toddler again. It made me miss my sons even more than usual, but it was also the right thing to do.

  “Shhh, shhh, shhh,” I said to Finley, bouncing him gently in my arms.

  He pulled his head back, probably startled to be in someone else’s arms, and that was all the opening I needed. I made a goofy face, and his expression turned from sour to unsure and then to nearly a grin.

  “Who’s a boogley boo?” I asked him, still bouncing him up and down playfully, while Sunny retrieved a bag of groceries from the car.

  “We can go in through the garage,” she said, clicking a switch on her key fob. The garage door creaked open a few feet then stopped. “Oh, come on,” Sunny grumbled. “Not today!”

  “What’s wrong?” I asked as Sunny clicked the button on her key fob again and the door came down.

  “It’s the stupid garage door. It keeps sticking. Sometimes I can’t get it to come down. Sometimes I can’t get it to go up.”

  She clicked the fob a third time and the door slowly rose and this time it went all the way to the top. “Whew,” she said.

  I smiled, bouncing Finley in my arms as he played with my hair.

  “This way,” Sunny said, leading us into the garage. “Watch your step,” she added as she pointed down to a pile of supplies made up of a big carton of disposable water bottles, paper towels, laundry detergent, and various other household cleaning supplies. “I went to Costco yesterday,” she explained as I waited for her to unlock the door.

  “I love Costco,” I said, following her through the now unlocked door into the kitchen. “Gilley and I go once a month, so if you ever need anything from there, just ask, Sunny, and we can pick it up for you.”

  She glanced over her shoulder as she moved to set down her groceries. “You two are my angels,” she said. Then she pointed to a high chair at the table. “You can set Finley down in the high chair.”

  I shook my head because I wasn’t about to put the child down. He was mocking my facial expressions and giggling along with me, and it was a glorious exchange that was also allowing Sunny to get herself organized.

  “Oh, where did I set my purse?” she said, spinning around and looking at the counter and nearby breakfast table.

  “I didn’t see you bring it in,” I told her.

  Sunny sighed heavily. “It’s still out in the car,” she moaned.

  “Hey,” I said to her to get her attention. “When was the last time you had a proper meal?”

  Sunny pushed at a stray strand of her long blond hair that had pulled free of her ponytail. The way her hair was pulled back today showed how thin she’d become since the last time I saw her. It worried me.

  “I eat when he eats,” she said.

  “Uh-huh,” I said. “And I bet it’s about the same size meal too.”

  Sunny ignored my concern. “I’ll eat as soon as I get him down.”

  “Or you could fix yourself a little nosh right now, my friend, and let me put him down for a nap.” Not waiting for an okay from her, I edged toward the hallway leading to the stairs. “The nursery is the first door on the right past the stairs, correct?”

  Again, Sunny’s shoulders sagged with relief. Finley had fallen against my shoulder, the novelty of making funny faces at me having lost out to exhaustion.

  “Yes,” she said. “But, really, Cat, you don’t have to—”

  “I want to,” I told her. “Now, get yourself a sandwich or something. I’ll be down as soon as he’s asleep.”

  I took Finley up the stairs slowly and carefully so as not to joust him. I’d picked up a pacifier off the kitchen drying rack as I’d passed it on the way to the stairs, and the little tot was sucking on it with heavy-lidded eyes as I crested the landing.

  “Here we go,” I said, walking down the hallway and heading into the nursery.

  I’d last been here when Finley was a newborn, just as the pandemic was starting to exact its terrible toll on the world. I smiled as I entered, remembering the photos lining the wall that Sunny had been in the middle of putting up.

  A series on the far left wall was the most inviting—it began with a breathtaking shot of Sunny, radiant in the early evening light, her hands placed protectively over her belly, as she leaned against the porch railing of the D’Angelos’ old home in L.A. The twinkling lights of downtown could be seen at the bottom of the image. I knew from Sunny that Darius had taken the photo in the moments after Sunny had revealed her pregnancy to him. She’d said he’d been so excited to capture the moment that he’d insisted on the photo and every one after it, taken one a month for nine in total. The last one included a tiny baby, laid against the bare chest of his mother.

  What always took me by surprise was the look of unconditional love on Sunny’s face as she smiled at her husband while he chronicled her pregnancy. I didn’t really understand their marriage—Darius was gone far too often for my taste—but the adoration in Sunny’s expression was so obvious that it was unmistakable. They loved each other, and their marriage worked for them, so who was I to judge?

  I laid Finley down in his bed, then gently eased off his shoes and socks to expose his little feet and button toes. I placed my hand around one of his feet and smiled at the feel of baby skin against my palm. My mind’s eye filled with images of my sons, Matthew and Michael, at Finley’s age, and I teared up a bit as I laid a blanket over the toddler, who was already asleep, his mouth still working the pacifier.

  Pulling up the guard rail on his toddler bed, I moved over to the photos of Sunny through her pregnancy. Darius had quite the artist’s eye for photography. The backdrop for each photo was nearly as eye catching as the central figure.

  The second photo in the series, taken when Sunny was about two months along, featured Sunny perched atop the railing, staring out at the early evening view of downtown L.A., where a few twinkles of light could already be seen. It gave the viewer the impression of Sunny as the Greek goddess Aphrodite looking down from Olympus to Athens below.

  A few images to the right was one of a playful Sunny clad in a tiny bikini, which even five or six months along in her pregnancy she could still pull off beautifully. She was laughing in the spray of an outdoor shower, and there was such joy on her face. I stood in front of the image and mentally noted how different Sunny looked back then compared to today.

  As if on cue, I heard the sound of something behind me and turned to see her there, a weary smile on her face, watching me standing in front of the photos. “Did he go down okay?” she whispered, glancing toward the bed.

  I nodded.

  Sunny came over to stand next to me as I looked back to the photos. “Where was this one taken?” I asked softly.

  “Here,” she said, smiling at the memory. “That was the day
that Darius closed on the house in L.A. and we played in the surf most of the afternoon to celebrate. That shower is so cold,” Sunny chuckled. “Darius loves it but I don’t think I’ve used it since.”

  “You look like you’re having fun,” I said, grinning too.

  “Oh, he probably said something hilarious. I just remember I was so relieved to have Darius back here, and be rid of the fake, money-fame-success-focused crowd. I’d already moved back to this house, which we bought, oh, about ten years ago. It was our vacation pad, if you can believe it, but as soon as I found out I was pregnant, I packed up and moved. No way was I about to raise my kid in La-La Land.”

  “What’s wrong with L.A.?” I asked. I’d been there only a few times, but I’d found it okay.

  Sunny made a face. “It’s full of fake people with far too much money and privilege. I didn’t want our son to grow up a spoiled brat, surrounded by other spoiled brats, so I told Darius that I was headed home to New York, and I expected him to split his time between here and there. He agreed, and we sold the house, because it was a total drain on our finances. Anyway, that photo was taken the day Darius officially made his residence here in the Hamptons.”

  “Where does he stay when he’s out there?” I asked.

  “He bought a condo, and he rents out the spare bedrooms to two of his old college buddies. They’re very sweet men, actually. Noah and Jason used to be lovers, but now they’re just friends, and they watch over the place when he’s back here with me. I like the arrangement because it keeps Darius honest. If he’s living with those two, no way would they let him get into any mischief.”

  Sunny laughed softly, but I asked, “Mischief?”

  She shrugged. “He works in the music industry, Cat. Women, desperate to sign a contract with a successful music producer, throw themselves at him all the time.”

  My eyes widened. “How are you okay with that?”

  Sunny’s lids drooped heavily, and she yawned. “I trust my husband, and so far in our fifteen years together, he’s never given me a reason not to.”

  I placed a hand on her shoulder, knowing it was far past my time to take my leave. “I think I should let you get some sleep.”

  She nodded. “Thanks. I took half of a sleep-aid tablet, and it’s hitting me hard all of a sudden.”

  “A sleep aid?” I said with concern. “Did you want me to stay in case Finley wakes up?”

  Sunny yawned again. “No, it’ll be okay. I took only half a dose, because I’m so exhausted by this bout of insomnia that I need something to help me get a little rest. And I called Tiffany, and she’s coming over now to hang out and tend to Finley when he wakes up while I get some z’s.”

  “Ah, the famous Tiffany,” I said. Sunny raved about Tiffany. I’d never met her, but I’d heard a great deal about her over the summer, when the young woman had been touring Europe as a graduation gift from her parents.

  “Yes,” Sunny said, her eyes droopy. “She’s finally back from across the pond, and I’m so relieved. I don’t know that I could’ve held on one more day without her.”

  “I’m so glad you’ve got someone you can rely on to take up some of the slack.”

  Sunny nodded, stifling a yawn. “You know what’s a funny coincidence?”

  “What?”

  “It was Yelena who recommended her to me. She’s friends with the Blums—Tiffany’s parents. She’s known Tiff since the girl was a tiny tyke, so I felt good about trying her out with Finley. I never realized how well the two of them would get on together. It’s like they speak the same language.”

  “How long was she away in Europe again?” I asked.

  “Six long, impossible weeks,” Sunny said, with a tired smile. “But she’s finally back, and she’ll be here in ten minutes or so.” Sunny again put a hand up to cover another yawn. “Sorry,” she said.

  “Please don’t be,” I told her. “You look exhausted, and I should leave you to your rest.”

  I was turning to go when Sunny reached out to grab my hand, and holding it, she said, “I almost forgot. The tickets are on the island counter. When I told Yelena that two of my dearest friends were hoping to attend tonight, she gave me her best two reserved seats and said that tonight was a perfect night for you guys to come, because she just might name names before the night is through.”

  “Ooh,” I said, with an eager smile. “Sounds juicy.”

  Sunny giggled. “With Yelena, it wouldn’t be anything but.”

  After leaving Sunny in the nursery, I made my way downstairs and found the tickets in an envelope marked VIP. Taking a peek inside, I discovered that Yelena had generously offered us front-row-center seats, and I made a promise to myself to come up with a way to thank both her and Sunny for the generous gift.

  Looking back, I wish more than anything that I’d known then that I’d never be able to make good on my promise.

  Chapter 2

  Av fter a quick pit stop home, I arrived at my office building in the heart of East Hampton’s downtown. I’d purchased the building nearly two years earlier, even before my house—Chez Cat—had been built.

  Charmed by the office building’s historic roots and architecture, I’d invested a great deal of time and money to bring the neglected old relic to its current glorious state. And I was proud to say that every suite in the building was currently leased and bringing in a tidy income.

  My office occupied the largest suite on the first floor, with an entrance onto Main Street. The building itself took up a corner lot, so its main entrance was on Pondview.

  And because my suite was hemmed in by two walls of floor-to-ceiling windows, I had to ensure that it stood as the showpiece for the entire building, which was why I’d taken such care to decorate it in the most neutral but still stylish tones of stone, white, and sand. The combo gave the feeling of a fresh start, which was an important subliminal message to send to my clients, not to mention the subliminal message I was also sending to myself.

  After twenty years spent building a marketing firm, which I’d sold for a tidy profit a few years back, I was now a professional life coach, and I was proud of the fact that almost all the people who’d come seeking a little wisdom were in better positions now to tackle whatever life threw at them. Slowly but surely, my client base was building, and I now had at least two to three clients on the books at any given time.

  That afternoon I was meeting a brand-new client, and I was excited to see what life issues we could tackle together.

  “Gilley,” I said after pacing a little around the office.

  “Hmm?”

  “Did you confirm the time with Mr. Nassau?” Aaron Nassau, my new client.

  “I sent him an email yesterday.”

  “Did he reply?”

  “No.”

  I glanced at my watch. It was seven minutes past one, and I had to take a deep breath to push back the hint of irritation bubbling up from my insides. I’m a stickler for punctuality, and it drives me crazy when people show up late to their first session. I always wonder what they could be thinking, as it’s their first opportunity to make a good impression on me.

  Still, I realize not everyone places a high value on punctuality. But they should. They really, really should.

  I crossed my arms and tapped the sleeve of my blouse impatiently while glancing out the large front windows for any sign of Aaron.

  I didn’t know what he looked like, but I expected at any moment to see someone hurrying toward the door, perhaps a bit disheveled and certainly out of breath.

  Instead, the sidewalk was sparse of pedestrians, and those walking past hardly seemed to be in a rush.

  So, with a sigh, I moved to my wing chair, took a seat, and sat back to wait. Meanwhile, Gilley was busy at his computer, going through what looked like rescue sites, in search of his new pup.

  “Any of them stand out to you?” I asked into the silence.

  Gilley’s shoulders jumped slightly at the sound of my voice. “What?” he asked, peering o
ver his shoulder.

  “The dogs. Any of the dogs stand out to you?”

  “All of them,” he said wistfully. “I wish I could adopt every single one.”

  I made a sympathetic mewing sound. “I really get it, Gilley, but please don’t.”

  He chuckled. “Not to worry, Cat. I’ll keep it to one pup.”

  I headed over to stand behind him so that I could better see the screen. It was now a quarter past one, and I’d decided that Aaron had simply changed his mind and would be marked off in my book as a no-show. Bending down to have a look at the screen, I jerked when the door suddenly opened and in stepped an elegant man, whom I’d put somewhere in his midfifties, dressed in Versace loafers, silk khaki slacks, and a blue blazer with gold buttons mostly covering a crisp white shirt.

  “Hello,” he said, a bit flustered. “I have an appointment.”

  “Aaron?” I asked, taking a mental note at the hint of a European accent coming from him.

  He nodded enthusiastically and stuck out his hand. “Catherine?”

  “Yes,” I said, reaching my own hand forward. His palm was dry to the touch, and his handshake had the perfect amount of pressure. Still, Aaron’s gaze darted around the office a bit nervously.

  To put him at ease, I decided not to mention the fact that he was nearly twenty minutes late and instead smiled pleasantly and motioned toward the seating area. “Won’t you please come in and make yourself comfortable?”

  He gave a nod to Gilley, who was eyeing him curiously, and followed me to the plush love seat and wing chair that made up my seating area. I motioned again to the love seat, and Aaron sat down with a whoosh of air escaping his lips.

  I sat down, too, and leaned toward him slightly, hoping that my body language indicated that I was focused on him and intent on listening. “Can I get you something to drink?” I asked. The man had a bit of a sheen about his forehead.

  “Water would be wonderful,” he said. “Sparkling, if you have it.”

  “We do,” I said and nodded to Gilley, who got up and hurried to the beverage counter.

  I waited until Gilley had removed a small bottle of Pellegrino from the minifridge and brought it with a frosted glass over to Aaron before I got down to brass tacks. Taking up the yellow notepad I kept on the side table next to my chair, I said, “So, Aaron, what brings you to my little coaching corner?”