Saturday evening, January 24th
Tracy felt shell-shocked. Her divorce had been tough, especially the custody battle with Kim, but it was nothing compared to what she was feeling now. Thanks to her experience as a therapist, she recognized clearly the symptoms; she was on the verge of slipping into a serious depression. From having counseled other people in similar circumstances, she knew it wasn't going to be easy, but she wanted to fight it. At the same time, she knew she had to let herself grieve.
As she rounded the final bend in the road and approached her house, she could see Carl's yellow Lamborghini parked at the curb. She didn't know whether she'd be glad to see him or not.
Tracy pulled into her driveway and turned off the engine. Carl came down the steps to meet her, carrying a bouquet of flowers.
Tracy stepped out of her car and into Carl's arms. For a few minutes they didn't talk; he just held her in the late-afternoon darkness.
"How did you find out?" Tracy asked, with her head still pressed against Carl's chest.
"Being on the hospital board, I hear all the news," Carl said. "I'm so sorry."
"Thank you." Tracy said. "God. I feel drained."
"I can imagine," Carl said. "Come on. Let's get you inside."
They started walking up the pathway.
"I hear Kim really lost it. That must make it extra tough on you."
Tracy only nodded.
"The man's clearly out of control. Who does he think he is – God? I tell you, the whole hospital is in an uproar."
Tracy opened the door without responding. She and Carl went in.
"Kim's having a hard time," Tracy said.
"Ha!" Carl commented. He took Tracy 's coat and hung it along with his in the hall closet. "That's an understatement. As usual, you're being generous. I'm not nearly so charitable. In fact, I could club him for carrying on the way he did in the Onion Ring restaurant last night about Becky's getting sick there. Did you see the article in the paper? It's had a big effect on the Onion Ring share price. I can't tell you how much of a paper loss I've suffered from his lunacy."
Tracy went into the living room and collapsed on the couch. She felt exhausted and yet wired and anxious at the same time. Carl followed her.
"Can I get you something?" Carl asked. "Like a drink or some food."
Tracy shook her head. Carl sat across from her. "I spoke to some other members of the Foodsmart board," he said. "We're seriously thinking about suing him if the share price continues to fall."
"It wasn't an idle accusation on his part," Tracy said. "Becky had a rare burger there the night before she got sick."
"Oh, come on," Carl said with a dismissive wave of his hand. "Becky didn't get sick there. Hundreds of thousands of burgers are made in the chain. No one gets sick. We cook those burgers to death."
Tracy didn't say anything. Carl quickly realized what he'd said.
"I'm sorry. That was a poor choice of words under the circumstances."
"It's okay, Carl," Tracy said wearily.
"I'll tell you what bugs me about all this," Carl said. "Hamburger has gotten a bad rap with this E. coli brouhaha. It's now like a knee-jerk reaction: E. coli and hamburger. Hell, people have gotten the same E. coli from apple juice, lettuce, milk, even swimming in a contaminated pond. Don't you think it's unfair that hamburger has to take all the crap?"
"I don't know," Tracy said. "I'm sorry I can't be more responsive. I feel numb. It's hard for me to think."
"Of course, dear," Carl said. "I'm the one who should be sorry for carrying on like I am. I think you should eat. When was the last time you had a meal?"
"I can't remember," Tracy said.
"Well, there you go," Carl said. "How about we go out to some quiet place?"
Tracy looked at Carl in total disbelief. "My daughter just died. I'm not going out. How can you even ask?"
"Okay," Carl said, raising his hands in defense. "It was just an idea. I think you should eat. I suppose I could get some takeout food. What about that?"
Tracy lowered her face into her hands. Carl was not helping. "I'm not hungry. Besides, maybe it would be better for me to just be alone tonight. I'm not very good company."
"Really?" Carl questioned. He was hurt.
"Yes, really," Tracy said. She raised her head. "I'm sure there's something you should be doing."
"Well, there is the dinner at Bobby Bo Mason's house," Carl said. "Remember me telling you about that?"
"I can't say that I do," Tracy said tiredly. "Who's Bobby Bo?"
"He's one of the local cattle barons," Carl said. "Tonight's the celebration of his assuming the presidency of the American Beef Alliance."
"Sounds very important," Tracy said in contrast to how she felt.
"It is," Carl said. "It's the most powerful national organization in the business."
"Then don't let me keep you from it," Tracy said. "You wouldn't mind?" Carl said. "I'll have my cellular phone. You can call me, and I can be back here in twenty minutes tops."
"I wouldn't mind at all," Tracy said. "In fact, I'd feel bad if you missed it on my account."
The car's instrument panel splashed light on Kim's face. Marsha stole glances at him as she drove. Now that she'd had a chance to observe him, she had to admit to herself that he was a handsome man even with his two-day stubble.
They drove in silence for quite a ways. Finally Marsha was able to get Kim talking about Becky. She had a feeling it would be good for him to talk about his daughter and she was right. Kim warmed to the subject. He regaled Marsha with stories of Becky's skating exploits, something Tracy had not mentioned.
When the conversation about Becky lapsed, Marsha had talked a little about herself, explaining that she'd been through veterinary school. She'd described how she and a girlfriend had become interested in the USDA and had vowed to join the agency to make a difference. She'd explained that after graduation, they'd discovered there were obstacles for them to get into the veterinarian side of the USDA. The only entry-level positions available were with the inspectional services. In the end, it had only been Marsha who'd joined. The friend had decided the year or so it would take to be transferred was too big a sacrifice and had opted for private veterinarian practice.
"Veterinary school?" Kim questioned. "I wouldn't have guessed."
"Why not?" Marsha asked.
"I don't know exactly," Kim said. "Maybe you are a little too…" Kim paused as he struggled for a word. Finally he said: "…too elegant, I guess. I know it's probably unfair, but I'd expect someone to be more…"
"More what?" Marsha asked as Kim paused again. She was enjoying Kim's mild discomfort.
"I guess tomboyish," Kim said. He chuckled. "I suppose that's a stupid thing to say."
Marsha laughed too. At least he could hear how ridiculous he sounded.
"If you don't mind my asking," Kim said, "how old are you? I know that's an inappropriate question, but unless you are some kind of child prodigy, you're not in your early twenties like I'd guessed."
"Heavens, no," Marsha said. "I'm twenty-nine, pushing thirty."
Marsha leaned forward and turned on the windshield wipers. It had started to rain. It was already as dark as pitch even though it was only a little after six in the evening.
"How are we going to work this?" Kim questioned.
"Work what?" Marsha asked.
"My getting into Mercer Meats." Kim said.
"I told you, it won't be a problem," Marsha said. "The day shift is long gone along with the supervisors. Only the overtime cleaning crew will be there, along with a security guard."
"Well, the guard's not going to be excited about letting me in," Kim said. "Maybe I should just wait in the car."