From the Heart

Jessica began to dab makeup on the smudges. If an illusion of strength was all she had left, she’d make the best of it.
    When the phone rang across the room, she jolted, knocking a small china vase to the floor. Helplessly, she stared at the shattered pieces that could never be put back together.
    Betsy answered the phone as Slade reached the bottom of the stairs. “Yes, he’s here. May I say who’s calling?” She stopped Slade with an arch look as she held out the receiver. “It’s a Mrs. Sladerman,” she said primly.
    Frowning, Slade took the receiver. “Mom?” Betsy sniffed at that and walked away. “Why are you calling me here? You know I’m working. Is anything wrong?” he demanded as annoyance turned to concern. “Is Janice all right?”
    “Nothing’s wrong and Janice is fine,” his mother put in the moment he let her speak. “And how are you?”
    Annoyance returned swiftly. “Mom, you know you’re not supposed to call when I’m working unless it’s important. If the plumbing’s gone again, just call the super.”
    “I could probably have figured that one out all by myself,” Mrs. Sladerman considered.
    “Look, I should be home in a couple of days. Just put whatever it is on hold until I get there.”
    “All right,” she said mildly. “But you did tell me to let you know if I heard anything from your agent. We’ll talk about it when you get home. Good-bye, Slade.”
    “Wait a minute.” Letting out an impatient breath, he shifted the phone to his other hand. “You didn’t have to call to pass on another rejection.”
    “No,” she agreed. “But I thought maybe I should call with an acceptance.”
    He started to speak, then stopped himself. Anticipation only led to disappointment. “On the new short story for Mirror ?”
    “Now, he did mention something about that too . . .” She let the sentence trail off until Slade was ready to shout at her. “But he was so excited about selling the novel that I didn’t take it all in.”
    Slade felt the blood pounding in his ears. “What novel?”
    “Your novel, idiot,” she said with a laugh. “Second Chance by James Sladerman, soon to be published by Fullbright and Company.”
    Emotion raced through him too swiftly. Resting his forehead against the receiver, he closed his eyes. He’d waited all of his life for this one moment; now nothing seemed ready to function. He tried to speak, found his throat closed, then cleared it.
    “Are you sure?”
    “Am I sure,” she muttered. “Slade, do you think I can’t understand English, even if it’s fancy agent talk? He said they’re working up a contract and he’ll be in touch with the details. Business about film rights and serial rights and clauses with numbers. Of course,” she added when her son remained silent, “it’s up to you. If you don’t want the fifty-thousand-dollar advance . . .” She waited, then gave a maternal sigh. “You always were a quiet one, Slade, but this is ridiculous. Doesn’t a man say something when he finally has what he’s always wanted?”
    Always wanted, he thought numbly. Of course she’d known. How could he have ever deceived himself into thinking he’d concealed it from her. The money hadn’t sunk in. He was still hearing the magic word published. “I can’t think,” he said finally.
    “Well, when you can, get the one you’re working on now together. They want to see it. Seems they think they’ve got a tiger by the tail. Slade . . . I wonder if I’ve told you often enough that I’m proud of you.”
    “Yeah.” He let out a long breath. “You have. Thanks.”
    Her chuckle was warm in his ear. “That’s right, darling, save your words for your stories. I have a few hundred phone calls to make now; I love to brag. Congratulations.”
    “Thanks,” he said again, inadequately. “Mom . . .”
    “Yes?”
    “Buy a new piano.”
    She laughed. “Good-bye, Slade.”
    He listened to the dial tone for nearly a full minute.
    “Excuse me, Mr. Sladerman, would you like your breakfast now?”
    Confused, Slade turned to stare at Betsy. She stood behind him—little black eyes, wrinkled skin, and graying hair on short sturdy legs. She smelled faintly of silver polish andlavendar sachet. The smile Slade gave her had her taking a cautious step back. It looked a bit crazed.
    “You’re beautiful.”
    She backed up another step. “Sir?”
    “Absolutely beautiful.” Swooping her up, he spun her in a fast circle, then kissed