37
Pop let himself into Mardell’s room at the hospital and beamed at her. It was a large, private, well-lit room with a lot of flowers in it that had come almost entirely from either Pop or Charley, with a little something from Maerose, and a bouquet from Freddie. Mardell, perhaps more beautiful because she had lost weight, sat under a blanket in the large upholstered chair, looked across the room at him, and smiled back.
“Mr. Partanna.”
“You’re looking very good. And when you look good, the whole world lights up.”
“You are so sweet. The fact that I am better is all your doing.”
“It’s a good hospital. I knew that before I had them send you here. Friends of mine own it.” He put a package near her on the bed. “I brought you some cookies. Or would you rather have rubies?”
“Cookies.”
He sat down in a chair facing her, near the bed. “The room smells great.”
“That gigantic pyramid of flowers in the corner is from Charley.”
“If he coulda done it he woulda picked every flower himself.”
“See that measly bunch of gladiola? They’re from Charley’s fiancée. I hate gladiola.”
“I didn’t know he had a fiancée.”
“Please, Mr. Partanna, not you, too.”
“She probably hadda phone the order in. You know, you say send twenty dollars’ worth of flowers to somebody and that’s what they send.”
“Twenty dollars?”
“Well—ten, anyway.”
“More like two.”
“It’s the thought that counts.”
“That’s what I mean. Is she really his fiancée, Mr. Partanna?”
“They grew up together. In the same environment.”
“That doesn’t answer my question.”
“I don’t think they’re engaged.”
“Was it one of those arrangements that families decide?”
“Circumstances change things.”
“How?”
“Well, for one thing—you came along. You are important to Charley.”
Mardell turned her face away from him.
“This is a short life they give us,” Pop said. “If we don’t decide what we want and try to get it, then time marches on and we’re left behind, right?”
“What is she like?”
“She’s a good woman. She’s smart. And a terrific competitor. I know her from since she’s a baby. I work with her father and her grandfather.”
“And I’m a stranger.”
“What has that got to do with it? I don’t count. I just want the best for Charley. The father and the grandfather don’t know you’re alive. Charley don’t really have much to say about it. It’s between you and Maerose. Whichever one wants Charley the most is gonna get him.”
“Does it come down to that?” she said, looking at the window, into the distance. “I don’t think it does. She wants him just as much as I do. All that wanting has no effect on Charley. He has to decide. Charley has just about everything to say about it.”
“Listen, you’re a fine young woman. No matter how it turns out—and God knows I don’t know what that’s gonna be—it ain’t gonna be the end of the world. We gotta pick ourselves up and get started again and after a while it ain’t as important as it used to be.”
“She has a grandfather and a father backing her up. What do I have?”
“Sure, Charley knows Maerose all their lives. But you have important things going for you. He loves you.”
“Does he love Maerose?”
“Sure. That’s the hard part for him—for alla youse.”
“When is he coming home?”
“Next Wednesday. You’ll be out of here by then.”
“I don’t know what to do.”
“Wait. That’s all. Everything will settle itself by the end of next week.”