Chapter Thirty-Two

Matt was at the Long’s at eleven o’clock. Jesse kissed him on the lips as he came in to Ali’s cries of glee. Sometimes, Jesse wondered who was more in love with Matt.

“That’s more like it,” he said as he looked into her eyes.

“I’m sorry for being a bitch these last few days. It’s just that…”

He put his fingers to her lips. “Shhh. It’s all right.” Ali had gone to get her grandmother. He pulled Jesse to him. “We talked about this. I’m the one who ruined Sunday night. You can be yourself with me. We’re soul mates. I knew it that first morning.”

Jesse hugged him and whispered, “So did I,” as she kissed him back.

“Ahem.” Alice cleared her throat. “Happy Thanksgiving, Matthew.”

“You too, Alice,” he said blushing.

He picked up Ali.

“Jeanne’s been up since six. So have my dad and Allen, ’cause Jeanne’s due in a couple of weeks.” He carried Ali in his right arm and put his left around Jesse. “Let’s get some turkey.”

****

It was almost nine p.m. The day had been nice—almost too nice. Matt lounged on the front porch watching as a jet glided toward Logan Airport. A beer bottle hung from his hand. A half empty bottle of Seagram’s Seven sat next to his chair.

Allen clomped down the stairs and slumped in a chair. Matt handed his brother-in-law a perspiring Budweiser. He and Allen had been trading stories and discussing the latest in the Matt and Jesse saga.

“Everything okay?” Matt asked.

“Yeah, the girls both told me to give you a kiss for them.” Allen blew a kiss in Matt’s direction. “But that’ll have to do.”

Matt grinned. “C’mon, Al, you can do better than that.” He stood.

His brother-in-law got up, pushing him back to his chair. “Maybe I can, but I’m not going to. Not tonight.” He winked and sat down.

“How’s Jeannie?” Matt asked.

“Good, she just wants to get it over with.” Allen shook his head. “I can’t imagine what it must be like, you know, to go through that. I don’t know how they do it. I’ve been with her when both girls were born and if it were up to me, mankind would be extinct.” He paused. “Anyway, I’m glad things are okay between you and Jess.”

“Yeah, today was like Sunday night never happened.” Matt gazed up at another jet. “You know, it’s scary how little I know about her.”

“Haven’t we had this talk before, sport? I swear to God, it’s like you’re trying to find something wrong with her.”

“I’m not. I love her so much.” Matt whispered, looking away, embarrassed.

Allen leaned over, putting his hand on Matt’s shoulder.

“I understand. I married your sister. I know what love’s about, Matt.” He took a long swallow of beer.

Matt pushed his chair back and drank from the bottle of Seagram’s.

Allen looked at him. “We’re more than just brothers-in-law, right?”

Matt nodded.

“Then I’ve got to tell you, I think you’ve been going at that”—Allen nodded toward the whiskey—“a little heavy. I know you’ve got a lot on your mind, but you should ease up on the hard stuff.”

Matt was about to argue, when he realized Allen was right.

“I know they say guys like Fitzgerald and Hemingway lived in a bottle but…”

Matt stood, holding his hands up. “All right. I’ll watch it.” He nodded.

“Hell, that was too easy. I think you’re blowing smoke up my ass.”

“Well, maybe I am.” Matt laughed as he picked up the bottle and headed inside. “But I’ll still try. All this cheap booze is putting me to sleep.”

Allen got up, giving Matt a high five.

“What’s up for you guys this weekend?”

“Not sure exactly,” Matt answered. “She’s got something keeping her busy all day tomorrow, so it’s me, the old hockey team, and Faneuil Hall again.” Matt turned as he got to the door. “But I’ll make every other drink a Diet Coke. Honest, Grandma.”

Allen laughed and blew him a kiss as he headed upstairs.

Later, Matt lay in bed, fighting off sleep. He kept reliving the last few days. She’d been kind, polite—that was the best way to describe it—polite. After kissing him in her apartment, the rest of the day seemed scripted, like she was playing a role.

Then this thing about the weekend. He had nothing until Monday. Last week she couldn’t wait until the recital was over so she could spend time with him. But when he’d asked her what she wanted to do Friday, she told him something had come up. When he pursued it, she dodged him like a boxer.

At first, he considered the unthinkable—that she’d found someone else, but it didn’t make sense. On Sunday, she’d wanted him as much as he wanted her. There had to be another explanation. He thought about the man who’d forced his way into her dressing room. Jesse downplayed it, saying that his name was Lawrence Webb, and he came from New York. Matt checked on him at the library. He was impressive. Webb was one of the biggest producers on Broadway. He was casting for a show and looking for fresh talent.

He’d asked Stephanie about Webb. “You’ve never heard of him? He’s the biggest theatrical producer in the last fifty years. Why?”

“Because he was in my girlfriend’s dressing room after her recital.”

“That’s great. The man’s a star maker. If he’s anywhere near Jesse…” Her voice trailed off.

“But she’s not that kind of singer. She does classical music.”

“I know his reputation. If he liked her she can write her own ticket.”

He sat lost in thought.

“Matt…Matthew…”

“Sorry. Yeah, I heard you. I’m just confused.”

Was it possible? She had given an incredible performance. She’d gotten serious ink from the Globe’s music critic, Ellen Pfeifer. Had Webb been so impressed he’d offered Jesse something? If so, why hadn’t she told him?

Jesse said Webb had gone back stage to offer her encouragement. But maybe there was more to his visit than she’d told him. As he drifted off to sleep Matt’s last thought was a prayer. As much as he wanted her to be successful, he begged God to let her stay in Boston—for Alice’s sake and Ali’s and most importantly, for theirs.