Look Again - Lisa Scottoline [46]
“Beg to differ.” Sarah sniffed. “I pitched the piece in the first place and you’re screwing it up. We’re all ready, why aren’t you?”
“Ladies, hold on.” Marcelo stood up behind his desk, raising his hands. “Everyone, please, give Ellen and me a minute.”
“Good luck,” Sal said with a smile, plucking his coffee from the edge of the desk, and Larry followed suit, both of them edging past Ellen, who turned her head away when Sarah brushed by her, trailing perfume and adrenaline. After they had left, Marcelo put his hands firmly on his hips.
“Close the door, please,” he said quietly.
Ellen did, then faced him.
“What’s going on? You never miss a deadline.” Marcelo looked mystified, and his tone sounded more disappointed than angry. “Is she right? Was it the Sulaman follow-up that delayed you?”
“No.”
“Did you interview the mother?”
“Yes. Only once.”
“When?”
Ellen could hardly remember. She rubbed her face. Everything before the white card was a blur, as if a line had been drawn down the middle of her life, dividing it into Before and After. HAVE YOU SEEN THIS CHILD? Her head hurt so much she felt dizzy. “Tuesday?”
“But I asked you not to.” Marcelo’s tone wasn’t disappointed, Ellen realized, but hurt.
“I’m so sorry. I just had to.”
“Why?”
“I was just curious, I had to see her again.” Ellen knew it sounded lame, and Marcelo looked grave, his eyebrows sloping down.
“Ellen, let’s be honest with one another. Ever since I let Courtney go, I feel you’ve been distant. You’ve acted differently toward me. It’s as if we’re on different sides.”
“No, we’re not, I swear.”
“Please, don’t work against me. We have too much work for anybody to be doing that. We’re doing more with less, and every day it gets worse.”
“I’m not working against you.”
“But all this fussing with Sarah, it’s not needed.”
“It won’t happen again.”
Marcelo finger-raked his hair from his forehead and fell silent a moment, eyeing her. “I can tell something’s wrong. You’re not yourself. Is it Will? I know he was sick when he was little. Is he sick again?”
“No.” Ellen couldn’t tell him anything, as much as she would have loved a sounding board. “I’ll have the story to you early next week. I said Friday because I wanted to be realistic.”
“Tell me what’s wrong,” Marcelo said again, his voice even softer. “You look tired.”
“I don’t feel that great.” Ellen winced inwardly. You look tired was code for you look ugly.
“Are you sick?”
“I threw up last night,” Ellen blurted out, then watched Marcelo’s eyes flare in brief surprise. Throwing up was definitely not hot, and suddenly she felt like a frigging mess. Doing and saying the wrong things, exhausted and undone. “I should just go home. I really don’t feel well at all.”
“Okay, that’s fine, of course.” Marcelo nodded, walking around his desk toward her. “If you’re sick, you must go home. Take care of yourself.”
“Right, thanks.” Ellen moved to the door, feeling oddly dizzy. She broke out into a sweat. Her head was light. She hadn’t had time for breakfast. Even Connie had looked at her funny.
And in the next second, the office went black.
Chapter Thirty-five
“Surprise, I’m home!” Ellen called out from the doorway, slipping out of her coat. The living room was bright and peaceful, with a winter sun streaming through the windows, and the sight brought her back to reality, after having fainted in Marcelo’s office. She’d blamed it on her mystery illness when she regained consciousness in his arms, their faces close enough to kiss. Or maybe she had imagined that part.
“Mommy!” Will zoomed from the dining room, his rubbery sneakers thundering on the soft pine floors.
“Honey!” Ellen let her coat fall to scoop him up and give him a big hug, and Connie came out of the kitchen, looking pleased. She was dressed to go to Happy Valley for the weekend in her Penn State wear, gray stretch slacks and a blue Nittany Lions sweatshirt.
“Hi, El. Is there much ice on the road?”
“No, and thanks for shoveling the walk.”
“That’s all right. Will helped.”
“Good for you, sweetie.” Ellen set Will down, and he hit the