Ellen spent the evening in her home office, figuring out where and how to find the proof that Will was or wasn't Timothy. It was nutty to try to prove something she didn't want to be true, but she didn't have to decide now what to do after she learned the facts. She could find out, then decide whether to keep Will or, inconceivably, to give him up. It was a process, and she could take it in stages. At stage one, all she wanted was the truth. And, happily, if it turned out that Will wasn't Timothy, she could stop driving herself crazy and put the whole thing behind her. She took her BlackBerry from the holster and pressed speed dial C, and Connie picked up.
"Hey, El, how are you?"
"Fine, thanks. I have a huge favor to ask you, Connie. Something big came up at work, and I have to leave town for a few days." Ellen hated lying, but she couldn't risk telling even Connie the truth. "Is there any way you can cover for me?"
"Sure. Where you goin"?"
"Couple of different places, I'm not sure yet. It's a big story, and I'm sorry, but it can't be helped." Ellen rarely went out of town on business, but she was praying she could sell Connie. She wasn't Don Gleeson's daughter for nothing. "I'll pay you overtime, whatever it takes. It's that important."
Connie hushed her. "I never worry about that. I can do it, but we're having people over tomorrow. Can it wait until Monday?"
"Yes, I really appreciate it."
"I'll pack my toothbrush. See you Monday, regular time. How many days will it be?"
God knows. "Just a few, the situation is fluid. Can you live with that?"
"Yep. See ya then."
Ellen hung up, with one more thing to do. She logged onto Outlook, skimmed her incoming email, and found one sender that surprised her. Marcelo. She clicked Open.
Dear Ellen,
I'm concerned about you. I hope you're feeling better. Please do call a doctor. We lack a human face without you!
Best, Marcelo
Ellen felt a little thrill. He was such a great guy. It was worth fainting to get him to hold her. She smiled at the memory of being cradled against his chest, but it faded when she thought of what she had to do next. She hit Reply and started typing, then stopped. It was the point of no return, and the stakes were the job she loved and needed. Still, she typed on:
Marcelo,
Thanks for your nice note, but unfortunately, I need to take this week off. I have plenty of vacation time coming, and I'll take the time out of that.
Ellen paused, not knowing whether to mention the think piece, which was still due Friday. She continued, typing:
I'm not sure if I'll get my piece finished by deadline, but I'll stay in touch with you about this. I'm sorry, and hope this doesn't cause too much of a problem. Thanks and best, Ellen
She clicked Send and swallowed hard. Taking a vacation with a layoff pending could be career suicide, but she had no choice. The situation with Will and Timothy put everything into perspective, and her job would always be second to her child.
"So be it," Ellen said aloud.
Oreo Figaro looked up at the sound, lifting his chin from his front paws, regarding her with disapproval.