Chapter Fifty-One

It was the Tuesday before Thanksgiving. Matt’s eyes were fixed, looking out the front window of Flour Bakery and Cafe, a South End delicatessen and coffee shop. The atmosphere was thick and sweet. The fragrance of pastries baking, fresh deli meats hanging over the counter, and gourmet coffee battled for control. Mario was late. As Matt looked onto Washington Street snowflakes drifted lazily to the damp pavement.

Returning to the South End evoked vivid memories: taking Ali trick-or-treating; a night in a smoke-filled jazz club watching Jesse tempt him with a seductive rendition of “As Time Goes By”; their one Thanksgiving together. Visions crept in, teasing him—her perfume, the way she kissed him, the warm, soft touch of her hand on his…

“Wake up, my young friend.” Mario slapped his back. “Where are you?”

Matt shook his head. “Nowhere special.” He got up to shake Mario’s hand.

“It’s been awhile. Sorry I’m late. I had a dispute to deal with,” he said, sitting across from Matt.

“It’s been too long.” Matt nodded. “I’ve missed our talks.”

“How’s your dad doing?”

“Better every day. Thanks. How are you?”

“Can’t complain. If I did, no one would listen.” He chuckled. “So, now tell me…” Mario stopped, slapping the worn tabletop as the waitress approached. “The usual, dear.” Mario winked. “And for you?” He gestured toward Matt.

“Another Pepsi, thanks.”

“So,” Mario repeated. “What are you up to?”

“I’m going back on the road now that my dad can get around. I have a nurse coming every day, and Jeanne’s there whenever she can be.”

“Where’s ‘the road’?”

“Detroit, Cleveland, Pittsburgh, the garden spots of middle America.” Matt paused for a minute, turning from Mario as he focused on the sparse flakes dying on the asphalt. “I really tried, you know.”

“Tried?”

“To find out about Jesse, her life, the mystery keeping us apart.”

Mario’s expression softened as he patted Matt’s forearm. “I knew you would.” He nodded. “Can you tell me what you found out?”

Matt shrugged and turned back toward his friend. “Just more mystery.” Matt raised his eyes to meet Mario’s. “Some bad things happened to her—very bad things. Her brother and stepfather died—killed each other, I guess. I met this sad old neighbor who—” Matt stopped.

“Who what, Matthew?” Mario asked quietly.

“I think Jesse’s life was a living hell.”

“What’re you going to do?”

“Between my father and the book tours, I haven’t got much time, and I won’t for a while. And Stephanie would explode if she knew I was playing detective again.”

Mario shook his head.

“I know there’s something about her you don’t like, but she’s been great to me.” Matt looked toward the street again. “Look, there’s something else.”

Mario raised his eyebrows.

“Remember the letter?” Matt asked. “The one she sent after Alice’s funeral?”

Mario waited patiently.

“She said that if I found out too much about her my love would turn to hate or pity. That was exactly what she said.”

Mario said nothing. He seemed to be studying Matt.

“Well, all these months taking care of my dad, I’ve had a lot of time to turn this over in my mind and…” Matt’s words trailed off.

Mario nodded, touching his friend’s forearm again. “You’re afraid she might be right.”