I watched the back of my housekeeper's head, unsure where she was going with this and if I wanted to hear it. My grandparents had an amazing marriage, and I knew that much. But it was the only marriage I had seen that had not ended in disaster. And even though they loved each other until the end, I watched how much my grandfather struggled after her death. That was probably the worst outcome of all.
“What’s your point, Asta?”
“A good woman is a solution for her husband. She helps him just as much as he helps her. Bridget is not a good woman. You do not hurt someone this way if you genuinely love them. All I am saying is that I hope you can find a good woman.”
I stood there, stunned by her response. Asta was never one to give advice or butt into things uninvited. She was never the person I thought to turn to for advice, yet her words were the most comforting I had been offered thus far.
“Agotia is a good woman. Now, fix your hair. It would help if you looked neat when she arrived. A good woman deserves a little more effort than that."
As mulled over Asta words, I walked to my bathroom in a haze. Despite how frequently I thought of her, Agotia was one step away from being a stranger. I didn't know if she was indeed a good woman or not. I also didn't see how Agotia being a good woman, would influence my life. Frustrated by the circle of questions, I splashed cold water on my face hoping that would be enough to pull me out of it. Then, following Asta’s advice, I pulled a comb through my hair, urging it to sit cleanly against my head.
With one last spritz of cologne, I turned back to the kitchen but was stopped by the buzzing of my phone. I changed directions and headed for my office as I answered the call.
“Yes?”
“Mr. Fredericksons, you instructed me to call if there were any new developments with Bridget."
“Ah. Hello Mr. Morrison,” I greeted my public relations manager. “Thank you for calling. What is it this time?”
He paused for a moment. I was curious to know if my cordial greeting caught him off guard or if his news would be especially troublesome. Either way, I regretted answering his call. There was no way I would enjoy whatever he was about to say.
“We have received word that she is planning on releasing another story in next week’s paper,” he said slowly.
“Yes, well, what is the story this time?” I asked, my patience already wearing thin.
I could hear him sigh before he responded.
“She is pregnant. And she is claiming the child is yours.”
"What?" I exploded, slamming my hand on the desk in front of me as I stood in a fury. "Who told you this?"
"Bridget did. She called, knowing that I would be able to get in touch with you. She wanted to give you a week to think about it and return so you two could announce the child and your reconciliation."
“How considerate of her,” I bit out through clenched teeth.
"It would be remiss of me if I did not warn you that this could all be a dramatic stunt to trap you back into a relationship with her. She was not in her right mind when I spoke with her last."
I scrubbed a hand over my face, the entire situation wearing thin on my already stretched nerves.
“I suspect it is a ploy. What is your suggestion for what I should do?”
“My-my suggestion?”
"You are the public relations expert, are you not? If you cannot answer my question, find someone who can."
"No, no. I can answer. You should stay where you are. She knows we will demand a DNA test, and that could ruin her entire scheme, especially if you are not around to be manipulated further."
"So, stay put, and you will request a DNA test. Anything else?"
"It might sound crazy, but I think you must tell the public your own story. Right now, all they have is her story. If you came back and didn't engage with Bridget but presented someone with whom you are happy some great love story, the public would lose interest in Bridget."
A knock sounded at the door, and immediately, I no longer wanted to continue this conversation. Especially considering he was telling me to find someone else, which was the last thing I wanted to do right now.
“That is a big task to think about,” I told him dismissively. “I’ll be in touch.”
I tossed my phone onto the stack of papers cluttering my desk as I let the situation sink in—Bridget - pregnant. I wanted kids someday, but I didn't know that now was the time. She was not the person I wanted as the mother of my children. And while I doubted Bridget was indeed pregnant, the idea of becoming a father still appealed to me. Asta might have been right- and I needed a good woman.
The sound of laughter floated up from the kitchen, reminding me of the dinner guest who was now in my home. Asta’s commentary on the kind of woman Agotia was, came back to mind.
