A Baumgartner reunion

“Oh Ronnie, you wouldn’t believe how big the kids are!” Gretchen smiled, shaking her head. I nodded, remembering them frozen in time: Janie as a gawky almost-twelve and Henry as a typical nine-year-old boy. Mrs. B had sent me a Christmas card that first year after Gretchen and I broke up, but then I moved, and the mail only got forwarded for so long. I still had that last photo tucked away in a box full of old diaries and journals marked: “Ronnie’s Private: Keep Out.” I remembered Janie’s big front teeth and honey-colored ponytail, Henry’s lopsided smile. Gretchen was still talking. “Janie’s just gorgeous, she’s got boys following her around like puppies. And Henry’s huge, like his dad. You’ll see-you’re coming to Key West with us, aren’t you? Carrie said she invited you…” TJ and I both said “Probably,” and “I don’t know” simultaneously. Gretchen sipped her wine and looked between us, her eyes sharp.

I held my glass out for more wine. “I still can’t think of her as Carrie. To me, she’ll always be Mrs. B.”

TJ poured me half a glass and then got up to check the sauce. I watched him stirring it, feeling warm and flushed and buzzed from way too much wine for me in too short a time. I noticed Gretchen watching him, too, and felt a twinge of something-jealousy?

“So how are Mr. and Mrs. B?” I asked Gretchen as TJ came to the table with a bowl full of spaghetti.

“Doc’s practice is going gangbusters, as always.” Gretchen held her plate out as TJ started to serve dinner. “With that bedside manner, though, go figure, right?” She winked at me and I smiled, remembering Doc’s easygoing teasing, but mostly I remembered his eyes and the way they would follow me around a room wherever I went, as if he could see right through me. It suddenly occurred to me, as TJ sat down, that he and Doc shared a great deal in common when it came to looks and temperament. Funny how I’d never thought of it before.

“Carrie’s real estate business hasn’t done as well recently,” Gretchen sighed. “The market is so bad right now. It’s one of the reasons… well… things are changing for the Baumgartners. And me, too. Kids don’t stay kids-can’t be a nanny forever.”

I nodded, feeling TJ’s knees touch mine under the table as he sat and I gave him a smile. “Still, Gretch, you’ve been with them a long time.”

“I couldn’t turn down the money they offered, Ronnie.” She shrugged, twirling noodles on her plate. “And, you know… all the fringe benefits.” That hung there, and I wondered if TJ understood as well as I did what she meant. It wasn’t just the trips to Key West and Aspen and the New England Sound. There was so much more to working for Mr. and Mrs. B…

TJ cleared his throat, his eyes moving between us. “So why did you two break up?”

“TJ!” I nudged him under the table, my eyes wide.

“I’m curious…” He shrugged. “Are we not supposed to talk about it?”

“I don’t mind.” Gretchen smiled, but her eyes were pained, and I looked down at my plate, spearing a mushroom. “Ronnie found a boyfriend.”

“The guy I dated before I met you,” I explained, wondering if Vince even remembered my name anymore.

“You know how we girls have a tendency to abandon our girlfriends when a guy shows up,” Gretchen teased. I wanted to say something, but the wine made my head feel fuzzy, as if it were too full.

“What about you, Gretchen?” TJ asked. “Did you find a girlfriend?”

“Or a boyfriend?” I chimed in, feeling desperate.

“Oh several.” Gretchen winked at TJ but the look she gave me was full of a meaning I didn’t understand. “Nothing lasting, though. I could afford to be picky, living with the Baumgartners.”

I tried to imagine what it might have been like, if Gretchen and I had never broken up. Would she have stayed their nanny, then, I wondered? Would we all have been one big, happy family? The thought filled me with a mixture of longing, regret, and a deeper feeling I didn’t even recognize at first-anger.

“This is the best spaghetti I’ve ever tasted.” Gretchen’s compliment made TJ blush and I smiled.

“He’s a much better cook than I am.”

“Like Doc?” Gretchen winked.

“Better.” I touched my knee to TJ’s under the table and he looked up at me, his eyes tender. “Although I admit, Doc could make a hell of a sandwich.”

“Mmm god yes.” Gretchen’s tone changed and she gave a low, throaty moan that reminded me immediately what it was like between us. Her eyes met mine and they said it all. “He still can.”

The double entendre didn’t escape any of us. I couldn’t help but remember-not only the night Doc and I snuck downstairs to make sandwiches and, while Mrs. B slept upstairs, he fucked me on the kitchen counter, but also there was the clear memory of being sandwiched between Doc and Mrs. B in more positions than I had ever imagined.

Gretchen’s hand found my knee under the table and squeezed. She leaned forward, eager, earnest. “You are coming aren’t you?”

I shrugged, not looking up. “I don’t know, Gretch…”

“Oh, Ronnie, you have to come,” she pleaded with both voice and eyes.