Chapter Twenty-Two

Thanksgiving morning Libby was, as Bernie would say, up with the chickens. At five-thirty, she started the coffee pot, stumbled out to the garage, and retrieved the mammoth bird from the fridge. After an hour at room temperature, it was thawed and ready to roast. A few warm-up stretches later, she heaved the turkey into the sink for a proper rinse and reached in proctologist-style for the bag of organs.

Stump sniffed out the early morning commotion and settled in beside Libby for moral support.

Small footsteps behind her made her turn. “Happy Thanksgiving, Mom,” Charlie said as she rubbed the sleep from his eyes.

“Hi Charlie, Happy Thanksgiving.” Libby washed her hands and gave him a quick hug. “What are you doing up so early?”

“I couldn’t sleep.” His button mouth stretched into an enormous yawn as he sat at the kitchen table. “Nana snores; I can hear her in my room.”

Libby restrained a giggle. “Don’t tell her, it may hurt her feelings.”

“Okay. Can I help you cook? Like the chefs on TV?”

“Sure.” She placed two loaves of French bread in front of him. “Want to rip this up for the stuffing?”

“Okay.”

She brought over a large plastic bowl. “Break it into penny-sized pieces and put them in here. Then wait for Gram for further instructions.”

“Why?”

“Gram only lets me chop stuff up and get the bird ready. I’m not allowed to cook, that’s her job.” Libby wrestled the bird into the roasting pan. “She likes to make a lot of the stuff we ate as kids, and I like to let her. I guess it’s one of our traditions. You can help me sprinkle salt and pepper on the turkey, Gram lets me do that part. Then we shove it in the oven.”

Bob came in while Charlie shredded bread chunks. “Hi gang.” He gave Libby a quick kiss and reached for the coffee. “Anything I can do?”

“Nothing food-wise,” Libby answered. “But after you wake up a little, can you start the fire and bring in the folding chairs from the garage?”

“Sure.” He sat next to Charlie. “What are you up to, buddy?”

“I’m doing the bread for the stuffing. Gram has to do the rest ’cause Mom’s not allowed.” Libby and Bob exchanged grins. Bread torn, he dragged his chair next to Libby to help season the bird. “Eww gross! What’s that?” He pointed to the bag of organs.

“Oh, that’s just the extra parts of the turkey.” Libby explained. “Some people like to cook them and use some of it in the gravy or stuffing.”

Charlie picked up the neck. “They eat the penis? That’s disgusting!”

Libby spat coffee.

Bob stepped in to view the offending object. “I bet he was a popular guy in the henhouse.”

Libby pushed him away.

“No way, Mom!” Charlie tossed the neck in the sink. “I am not eating turkey penis!”

“That’s the neck, Charlie,” she explained. “No one cooks the penis. I’m pretty sure the farmers just throw that part away.”

“Well, that’s good.” Charlie sighed. Without missing a beat, he asked, “Can I eat my cereal in front of the TV? I’ll be careful, I promise.”

His puppy-dog eyes were hard to refuse. Libby loaded his favorite bowl and sent him to watch cartoons.

Bob refilled her coffee mug. “Kevin told me he’d bring Mae over around nine o’clock. What do we need before she gets here? Is there some type of anxiety medication I can get you?”

“I’m good for now.” Libby sprinkled a little more salt and pepper on the bird. “We need to set up the ironing board so Mom can press out the table cloth, but that’s it.”

Putting down his coffee mug, Bob motioned to the turkey. “Is that monster ready to meet his maker?”

Libby nodded and opened the oven.

“Don’t lift that, you’ll hurt your back. I’ll put it in.” Bob hefted the pan into the oven.

“I was in the market with Mom on Monday, and she insisted on the buying the biggest one they had. For some reason, she thinks everyone needs a pound of leftovers.”

Stump dropped his bowl at Libby’s feet and broke out the sad, feed-me eyes.

“Trying to tell me something, Stump?”

“I got it.” Bob was closer to the pantry and scooped out a helping of dog food. “I’ll go a little light on his chow; God knows he’s going to scarf up anything that hits the floor today.”

Libby grabbed Stump’s gas medication. “Don’t forget the pill. His digestive system will be in overdrive by the end of appetizers.”

While Bob fed the dog, Libby looked around the kitchen. “There’s nothing else I can do until Mom gets here. I’ll go shower during the lull.”

Bob made sure Charlie was engrossed in his cartoons before he spoke seductively, “Want some company in that shower?”

Libby rolled her eyes. “Bob, what’s the rule?”

He sighed. “No daytime sex when my mother is here. And if you see fit to grant me a conjugal visit at night, I must be exceptionally quiet and equally quick.”

“Good boy.”

“I hate the rule.”

“I hate your mother’s Jell-O salad, but the holidays make us all suffer in one way or another. Suck it up.”

After a steamy shower, Libby dug out her most comfortable jeans and a festive sweater. Mae, no doubt, would give her an earful for dressing down, but hosting a holiday full of cranberry sauce and red wine screamed for wash-and-wear.

In the living room, Bob set the ironing board up for Mae before shuttling folding chairs from the garage. Shelia, perfectly coiffed, sat with Charlie and Shannon on the sofa, watching the Thanksgiving parade.

A quick peek at the turkey assured Libby all was running according to schedule.

Kevin pulled into the drive ten minutes later and dropped Mae off. The back door swung open.

“Hello everyone!” Mae breezed in on a current scented with pumpkin pie and cinnamon. “Happy Thanksgiving!”

“Gram!” The kids swooped in for hugs and kisses.

“Guess what?” Charlie said.

“What?” Mae answered.

“I helped rip up the bread for the stuffing.”

“Marvelous!”

“Guess what else?”

“I have no idea.” She grinned at his effervescence.

“We don’t eat the turkey’s penis, we eat his neck. But they look the same so you could get confused. I didn’t want you to worry if you end up with the neck piece.”

“Well...uh...well...” Mae stammered. “Good to know, and thank you for sharing, Charlie. You are a surprisingly well-informed young man.”

She shifted gears and greeted Bob’s mother. “Wonderful to see you Shelia, how was the flight?”

“Lovely, thank you,” Shelia answered. “I sat next to a striking man from Hartford—a doctor on his way back from relief work in Africa. We exchanged emails and made plans to get together after the holidays.”

“How delightful.” Mae’s expression turned stern as she took Shelia’s hand and spoke in a hushed tone. “I do hope he didn’t contract that nasty disease the news programs talked about last week. Awful really, an odd strain of flesh-eating bacteria. Appendages and such just, plop, fall off without warning.” Shelia turned green. Mae continued. “I’m sure that wasn’t the case for your doctor friend.”

Wisdom shared, Mae turned her attention to Libby. “Is the ironing board set up so I can get started on the tablecloth?”

This is going to be a long, long day, Libby thought. She pointed Mae to the far corner where the board waited for duty. “Shannon, take the cloth over for Gram and plug in the iron. Mom, do you want a cup of coffee before you get started?”

“Yes dear, thank you. Black, please,” Mae said.

Libby knew how her mother took her coffee, but it never stopped Mae from telling her.

Shelia, Mae, Libby, and Bob sat at the kitchen table, coffees in hand. Bob spoke first.

“Mom, how did you sleep?” he asked.

“Like a log, sweetheart,” Shelia graciously replied. “That bed is very comfortable, it has that nice lived-in quality—soft and squishy.”

Lived-in equated to lumpy, but Libby appreciated Shelia’s attempt at tact. The homey aroma emanating from the oven reminded her it was time to baste. “Excuse me folks, it’s time to check the bird and give it a few coats of juice. Mom, when you’re ready, the iron should be hot. I’ve got all the china and silverware ready to go. Shelia, maybe you could set the table when Mom’s finished?”

“Absolutely, I’d love to help.” Shelia beamed, happy to be included. “While Mae is hard at work, I’ll pop upstairs and put on my face.” She left the table and went upstairs to beautify.

Bob returned to the garage for the final batch of folding chairs, leaving Mae and Libby alone.

“Put on her face?” Mae scoffed. “My ceiling has less spackle.”

“It’s Thanksgiving,” Libby begged. “Don’t make me put you in time-out.”

“Fine, fine. I’ll be on my best behavior.”

Mae ironed and Libby basted. The big meal was officially underway.

For years, mother and daughter followed the same holiday routine without deviation. There had been bumps in the road, and one sizeable pothole when Suzanne tried to introduce her Broccoli Surprise casserole into the mix, but for the most part tradition was tradition and nothing messed with it.

Shannon and Charlie abandoned the television and took Stump to the yard to run off excess energy before the rest of the family arrived.

Basting complete, Libby joined Mae in the living room. “The cloth looks nice, Mom, take a break.”

“I’m almost through.” Mae pressed the few remaining imperfections. “Do we have enough plates?”

“Yes, I took out the rest of Grandma’s china and washed it yesterday.”

She remembered the ballroom dresses. “And speaking of Grandma, I thought you told me you gave away her old dance costumes. I found a box of them under a bunch of stuff out in the cottage. Did you put them there when you moved and forget to tell me?”

Mae took a momentary pause from ironing, just long enough to collect her thoughts. “I was so frazzled back then, Lib. Daddy was gone, and I was moving forty years’ worth of junk from a big house into my tiny condominium. Honestly, I thought I did toss them away, but maybe I brought them over here for Shannon to play dress-up in. They are just old dresses. What’s this fuss about?”

“They were a part of my childhood, and my memories with Gram. I was shocked when you said you tossed them away. It was nice to stumble upon them, that’s all.”

With a sigh, Mae switched off the iron and faced Libby. “Sweetheart, those dresses do not bring me the same joy they do you. For you it was a fanciful time with your grandmother. I’m so glad you have those memories that you’ll treasure always.”

She took a long, soothing breath, collected her thoughts and continued. “I know this will be hard to understand, but when I look at those spectacular gowns and recall how vital my mother once was, I can’t help but remember the end of her life. How she went from one of the most exuberant and dazzling women I have ever known to a hollow shell.”

Mae wiped away tears. “Listen to me, Libby; I never want you three kids to go through that with me. If I ever get to that point, you just take me out back and shoot me. Let Suzanne do it, she’s been itching to have a shot at me for years.”

“Oh Mom, I’m sorry,” Libby said and hugged her close. “I didn’t want to upset you, especially today.”

Mae pulled away and ran her hand over Libby’s curly hair. “Enough. I’ve had my weepy moment, now let’s get back to making dinner. We have hoards of hungry people waiting.”

She held up the cloth and inspected for wrinkles. “This looks perfect. Grab the other end and let’s get this on the table.” They took the lace tablecloth to the dining room and lay it over the white linen under-cloth Libby had previously set in place.

The delicate lace cascaded over the table like a bridal veil. “Beautiful.” Mae smoothed out the cloth, lingering a small while, remembering holidays long past. The intricate Celtic heirloom had been handed down from Bernie’s parents, and their parents before them.

“I want you to have this, Libby. It belongs with a family, not on the top shelf of my closet collecting dust. Daddy would be happy to know it’s with you.”

Mae reverently stroked the cloth. “On her one trip visiting from Ireland, Daddy’s mother served us Easter brunch on this lace; I still remember that meal. God she could cook. After the meal, she took me aside in the kitchen and told me, she was leaving the cloth behind because her mother would have wanted me to have it. I cried for days. Of course, I found out later I was pregnant, and that explained the tears more than anything else.”

Moved by her mother’s gift, Libby answered. “I’ll take good care of it, Mom. Thanks for trusting me to carry on the tradition.”

“Just don’t let Suzanne near it.” Mae warned. “That insufferable woman will add glitter and beads and ruin it in less than ten seconds. My hand to God, she probably glues sparkles on Kevin’s underwear when he’s not paying attention.”

Shelia came into the room freshly made up. “I’m all yours, Libby. Ready to help. Where is everything for the table?”

Libby heard Caroline’s voice in the living room and left Shelia and Mae with the task of table setting.

“I know you said not to bring anything,” Caroline said. “But no one can refuse chocolate chip cookies.”

“Charlie will love you,” Libby said, “and so do I.” She put the cookies on the counter and turned to Trevor. “Hey Trev, Happy Thanksgiving.”

“Thanks. You too, Aunt Lib.” He took off his coat and hung it on the same peg he used ever since he could reach the doorknob. “Where are Shannon and Charlie?”

“Out back. Can you please go call them in for me?”

“Sure.” Trevor opened the back door and Stump jumped up to greet him. A massive paw on each of the boy’s shoulders, the pooch licked him until he begged for mercy. “Geez Stump, you need a girlfriend. Enough with the doggie love.”

Libby ran over and yanked the giant mutt off him. “Down Stump! Sorry, Trev.”

“No prob.”

“Out of curiosity, what did you have for breakfast?”

“Bacon and eggs, why?”

“Bacon, he can smell it hours after you digest. It’s a gift.”

“Nice. I’ll remember that from now on.”

Charlie and Shannon came in, and the younger generation vanished to the basement for the annual table tennis tournament.

Upstairs, the adults gathered in the kitchen. No matter how many seats Bob lugged, everyone stood in the kitchen.

The doorbell rang. Libby knew it must be Dolores since everyone else barged right in. Her boss was proper to the core.

“Happy Thanksgiving, Dolores,” Libby ushered her inside the house. “Please come in.”

“Thank you for inviting me, Libby.” She handed Libby a covered dish. “I hope it’s not too much trouble to have an extra person. I made my mother’s sweet potato casserole. It’s a crowd pleaser.”

“That sounds great, why don’t you pop your coat in the closet and follow me into the kitchen. We’ll put this in to warm up.” Libby took the dish and led the way to the stove.

Alone in the kitchen, she took the opportunity to question her friend. “Can I get you a glass of wine, Dolores?” Libby asked.

“That would be lovely. White please,” Dolores answered.

Libby generously filled the glasses. “So, before Dom comes over, tell me about your date. We haven’t had a chance to talk, and I want all the juicy details.”

Blushing like a schoolgirl, Dolores took a respectable sip of wine. “Dominic was a perfect gentleman. And as hard as this is to admit, his lasagna was top-notch.”

“Dom’s a fabulous cook, he’s bringing his famous stuffed shells today; they’re to-die-for delicious. How did he like your pineapple upside-down cake?”

“He ate two very large slices and was very complimentary.”

“I knew he’d like it. The man appreciates something special when he sees it. I’m glad you went. It’s nice to see two of my favorite people enjoying each other. I know Dom was happy to have your company.”

“Did he say anything about our evening?”

One of the joys in life, Libby thought, was witnessing a new love develop, no matter what age it bloomed. “He and Bob hit the hardware store last night to pick up a few more Christmas lights—like we don’t have enough, right? Anyway, Dom told him how nice it was to spend time with you, and that his friends thought you were terrific. Let me tell you, it’s no easy task to pass muster with that bunch, so you know you must have made a great impression.”

Dolores stood straighter. “They were a delightful bunch of people, a little rough around the edges at times, but overall enjoyable to spend time with. I can see why Dominic holds them in such high regard.”

Libby loved that she referred to Dom by his full name—no nicknames for Dolores. “Do you think you will be doing it again?”

Before she could get an answer, the back door swung in. An oversized Poinsettia balanced on an army-sized tray of stuffed shells blocked the newly arrived guest’s face.

“Happy Thanksgiving, bella!” Dom boomed.

“God, Dom. Make two trips next time—you live fifteen feet away.” Libby grabbed the plant and revealed a cheerful Dom. “Ah, there you are. Happy Thanksgiving.” She gave him a peck on the cheek and took the tray.

“Hello Dominic,” Dolores said with a blush. “Happy Thanksgiving. Libby tells me you brought another Italian delicacy to share with us today. If it’s anything like your fabulous lasagna, I’m sure it will be delicious.”

“Thank you, Dolores. And may I say you look lovely today?” Dom gushed.

Libby hid a grin as he continued. “The secret to Italian cooking is in the sauce. Charlie is doing well as my apprentice this year, Lib. He’s got the knack for mashing. Not everyone can mash with his enthusiasm.”

“That’s my boy, expert masher,” Libby said. “Why don’t you grab a glass of wine, Dom, and take Dolores into the living room? Mom’s entertaining the crowd with tales of her colonoscopy. They seem riveted. Word of warning though, Shelia’s visiting.”

Once upon a time Shelia had romantic designs on Dom, the feeling was not mutual.

“Thanks for the warning. Bob let me know she was in town at the store last night. By the way, you owe me—your landscape-challenged husband wanted to buy a chainsaw, but I talked him out of it. The man can’t master a weed trimmer; I can’t imagine the hospital bills with a chainsaw.”

“Oh God,” Libby put her hand to her heart. “I do not have enough life insurance on that man.”

Kevin and Suzanne arrived shortly after Dom, pink cupcakes in hand. Saratoga, dressed in what Libby guessed was an extraordinarily expensive baby turkey costume, sported brown fleece jumpsuit, red feather headband, and strategically placed zipper-waddle. Displeased with her ensemble, the baby wailed her way through the cheese and crackers. Kevin took her into the kitchen for a few laps of bounce-and-walk in hopes his little nugget would pass out before dinner.

Sean, always last to arrive, crept into the kitchen while everyone was in the living room gorging on appetizers.

Kevin and the somewhat-calm Saratoga rounded the corner. “Nice of you to join us,” he said to Sean. “At least tell me you had some incredible woman holding you as her sex hostage and you couldn’t escape until now?”

Sean patted his brother’s shoulder. “Still not getting any, huh?”

“No, damn it. Suzanne said no nooky until the baby’s six weeks old. Right now we’re at five weeks, four days; not that I’m counting.”

Sean kissed the drowsy baby; her chubby cheeks tear-stained and extra rosy. “Hi princess.” He looked at Kevin and whispered. “Why is she dressed like a chicken?”

“Hell if I know.”

“Is everybody in the living room?”

“Yeah, but don’t go there. Mom’s talking about her anal cleanliness, in detail. That woman is obsessed with her digestive tract. Want to take my chicken nugget while I get a drink?”

Sean took the baby-handoff and began pacing. “I’ll walk Sara for a while,” he said in a whisper. “Grab me a beer and leave it open on the counter. I’ll grab some on our laps around the kitchen.”

Kevin looked at Saratoga, instantly asleep in Sean’s embrace, and wondered how his brother, the childless family member, had such a gift with kids. “You’ve got the touch, big brother. I’ll never know how you do it; but at the moment, I don’t care.”

Sean patted Saratoga’s back. “Where do you want me to put her once I’m sure she’s out?”

“Lib’s got the portable crib set up in her bedroom.” Kevin grabbed two beers out of the fridge, popped the caps, and left one on the counter for Sean before joining the others in the living room.

Suzanne frowned. “Where’s Saratoga?”

“Sean’s here. He’s working his magic.” Kevin sipped and continued. “Seriously babe, we need to have him over more often, the man is a baby genius.” Murmurs of agreement sounded.

Sean, out of sight in the dining room walked the baby and overheard the conversation.

Bob walked over to the fireplace and added a log to the dwindling flames. “Lib, remember when we were down in Florida visiting Will with the whole family and Shannon? She was two and refused to go near the ocean no matter how much we begged. Sean scooped her up, and five minutes later she was splashing around like a dolphin. The man does have a gift.”

Sean smiled at the memory and continued to pace with Sara.

Mae chimed in. “He needs to find a nice girl and settle down with his gift. Sean deserves a family.”

“Mom,” Libby said, “he’s a grown man. Leave him alone.”

Whispering low to himself, Sean said, “Thanks for sticking up for me, Lib.”

“I am leaving him alone, but alone is what he’ll be if he keeps on like this,” Mae insisted.

“Appreciate the vote of confidence, Mom,” he confided to sleeping baby Sara.

“All I’m saying,” Mae continued, “is that he has a lot to offer and he’s been by himself too long. Last Sunday, after church, I introduced him to Lana Brown. She’s a lovely young widow who bakes a fabulous bundt cake and sings in the choir. She’s not perfect, and the tooth gap is a bit distracting, but in certain lights she’s pretty. The entire time we chatted Sean didn’t say more than two words to her. Honestly, what is wrong with that man? It’s like his heart’s been bruised or something.”

He continued his dining room laps. “I’m not a melon.”

“Maybe he’s gay?” Mae pondered. “William didn’t realize he loved men until later in life. Maybe Sean is a late bloomer also?”

Sean’s jaw hit the floor.

Caroline gagged on her wine. “He’s not gay,” she sputtered.

Kevin took note of her reaction, and recalled how cozy she and Sean looked in the backseat of his car. There was something there. “Leave Sean alone, Mom,” he said. “He’s got to find the right girl. Maybe he already has, and we just don’t know it yet.”

He grinned at Caroline. She paled. “After all,” he continued, “we’re a lot to take in, and McGinns scare the crap out of most women. It takes guts to join this family.”

“No argument there,” Suzanne said. The crowd laughed.

“We are an exceptionally loving and supportive family, and Sean is a true catch,” Mae scoffed. “A single woman searching for a handsome and devoted man would be blessed to have him.” Her gaze bore into Caroline. “Isn’t that right, Caroline?”

Caroline’s mouth gaped. “I, um, well...”

Sean peeked from behind the dining room door and watched her squirm. “Priceless,” he whispered.

Kevin jumped to the rescue. “Don’t rope Car into this,” he said. “Just because she’s a single cougar on the prowl for young meat doesn’t mean she can speak for the entire herd.”

Caroline smiled and offered up a silent “thank you.”

Dom, ever the diplomat, said, “Mae, I think Sean can handle his love life and I’m sure he’s going to end up right where he belongs. Give him time. Everything great in life is worth waiting for.”

Dolores rarely spoke in crowds, but when she did, the words carried a lifetime of insight. “I agree, Dominic,” she said. “Although I don’t know Sean well, he seems like a charming young man, and always returns his library books in the allotted time.”

Bob and Libby exchanged a grin.

“What I do know is opening up to someone, anyone, is an extreme risk. Perhaps Sean took the risk before and was hurt badly enough to keep his distance from the possibility of history repeating itself. A heart, once broken, is not easily mended.”

Family and friends stared into their drinks in silence. Dolores’s theory made perfect sense. None realized it more than Caroline did.

In the next room, Sean’s mind raced as Saratoga began to squirm. He had to get away before the baby started to cry, alerting everyone to his proximity, and revealing he’d heard their entire assessment of his love life. Gently, he rubbed the baby’s back and inched away, but he was not fast enough. The gas bubble Saratoga had been fighting all morning let loose in one enormous burst.

“What the hell was that?” Bob said, shooting out of his seat. “Where’s Stump?”

“That was no dog,” Kevin said and beamed with paternal pride. “That was my delicate baby girl’s mighty wind. I’d recognize those toots anywhere.” Suzanne hit him in the ribs.

Sean gave up the charade and strolled into the room with a contented baby in his arms. “In case anyone was wondering, Sara shares her father’s knack for clearing a room.”

He spoke to Kevin. “She makes the same butt music you did when we were kids; those bunk beds were murder.”

“I was very talented.” Kevin boasted.

“Was?” Suzanne raised a brow.

The flatulence debate continued as guests gathered stray napkins and wineglasses and moved to the kitchen to lend hands getting the meal on the table.

Sean, grateful the group moved off the subject of his bachelorhood, took the now sleeping baby upstairs, laid her down in the crib, and closed the door behind him.

A victory cry rang out from the basement and three children barreled up the stairs into the kitchen.

“I am the man!” Trevor proclaimed. “Three years running table tennis champion!”

“Humble aren’t you?” Caroline ruffled her son’s hair.

“Hard to be humble when you rock the paddle as great as me.” He snagged a dinner roll and took off running for the backyard; Shannon, Charlie, and Stump right behind. Caroline put on a coat and followed along for some fresh air. Libby and Mae removed trays of food from the oven as Sean came downstairs.

“Smells good Mom,” Sean said. “Need anything?”

“Mom?” Libby questioned. “This is my kitchen, you know? I did have some input with this meal.”

“Sorry, Lib,” he chuckled. “I temporarily forgot the essential salt and pepper you are entrusted to add to the bird. Whatever would we do without your culinary skills?”

“Wise ass.”

“Go relax, Sean,” Mae said. “I’ll have it on the table in about fifteen minutes.” She caught sight of Caroline alone on the back porch. “On second thought, dear, can you get some more firewood from out back? I would ask Bob, but he, Dom, and the kids are busy stringing more obnoxious Christmas lights.”

“They’re not obnoxious,” Libby snapped. “They’re authentically festive.”

“Really? Tell me Elizabeth, when the Virgin Mary gave birth to our Lord, Jesus, did it look like Las Vegas in the manger?”

“I give up.” Libby brought the first side dishes to the table.

Sean picked up the log carrier and left to fetch the firewood. Outside, he asked Caroline, “What are you doing out here all by yourself? Did the fart talk drive you away?”

She laughed and said, “After thirty years of McGinn humor, they go right over my head. I only wanted some fresh air. What drove you out?”

“Wood.”—he held up the carrier—“and a little escape from the pity glances. Poor sexually-confused Sean, how will he ever survive without children of his own to care for him when he’s old and toothless?”

“Heard that, huh?”

“Hard not to.” He shrugged. “Thanks for defending my heterosexuality.”

“My pleasure,” she chuckled. “For what it’s worth, they’re wrong about you ending up alone. Sean McGinn without a wife and brood of kids? Get real. There’s a better chance of Kev growing hair than you staying single in today’s market. Now toothless, that I could see. You do work with power tools, accidents happen on the job site every day.”

He smiled and sat down on the step beside her. “Yeah, what does your crystal ball say about my future? I’d love to hear it.”

“Kids, dog, house, the whole package. You’re born for it McGinn, It’s in your blood.” She slapped his knee. “Better get cracking, find a girl and get her preggo quick. You’re not getting any younger, and you sure as hell aren’t getting any better looking. Might want to borrow some of Kevin’s spray-on hair.” She ran a hand over the crown of his head. “Looks a little thin on top.”

“Funny, funny woman,” he said. “And you should talk, Mother-Of-Teenager. Who’s the old one now? At least I’m still dating women closer to our age. I saw the last guy you went out with. Tell me, does the shrimp taste better at the early bird special, or do you just eat at three o’clock in the afternoon so he can use his senior discount?”

“Low blow!” She laughed in spite of herself, and it felt fantastic. It was years since she and Sean were able to sit together without the awkwardness of their past coming between them. She missed him.

“But true.” He wiggled a brow. “If you’re into that particular age group I’m sure Dom has some buddies he can fix you up with. Of course you’ll have to date during the day; none of them can drive at night anymore.”

“Be nice! Dom is a sweetheart, and I’m sure his friends are very sexy.” She tried to keep a straight face. It did not last. “Okay, sexy may be a reach...and you have some nerve commenting on my dates, at least they’re old enough to drive. When I date we go out to elegant restaurants, not the senior prom.”

Although physically on Libby’s porch, Caroline’s comment rocketed them back in time, to the Immaculate Conception parking lot all those years ago, the moment their friendship changed into something more.

“I can’t believe our prom was over twenty-five years ago.” Sean picked at a stray leaf, unable to meet Caroline’s eye. “Do you regret it? You and me? We were so young.”

“Look at me Sean.” Caroline took the leaf from his grasp and replaced it with her own trembling fingers. “I have a lot of regrets, more than I’ll ever admit to, but there has never been a single minute I regretted falling in love with you.”

Her eyes misted. “In my life, I’ve made some horrid choices, trusted people I shouldn’t, and wasted a lot of time trying to make a perfect life in an imperfect marriage.” She let the tears fall. “But one of the best things I ever did was take a chance with you; I have absolutely no regrets in that regard.”

“I broke your heart, Car.” Sean hung his head. “I know I sound like a self-centered jerk, but I did, and I’m sorry, sorrier than any half-assed apology I can give. For what it’s worth, I thought I was doing the right thing back then. Now,”—he watched Trevor chasing Stump across the yard—“I’m not so sure. The what ifs are killing me.”

“Take it from me, life isn’t about the what ifs, it’s about what is, and appreciating what you have every day,” she said. “There is nothing to forgive. You were right, we were too young, and we needed to grow up, live a little away from each other and see what life was about, outside Rhyme.”

He looked down into the eyes of the seventeen-year-old girl he had fallen so deeply in love with all those years ago; the lines around them were new, but the girl was still there. “You are a wise woman Caroline Duffy. Do you know that?”

“I do, but it’s always nice to hear.” She placed a hand on his gruff cheek. “I need to know something, Sean.”

“Ask away.”

“Did I do that to you? What Dolores said in there. Did I hurt you without knowing it? When Trev and I came back to town, after the divorce, you seemed distant. You never look me in the eye or say more than ‘hello.’ I’ve been here three years, and you still leave the room every time I come in.”

Sean took her hand from his face, interlinked it with his, and held tight.

She continued, “This is the first time you’ve spoken to me for more than three seconds. Unless you count weather or sports.”

He grinned.

“What happened to us Sean? Why did you keep me at arm’s length? We were friends before anything else. I miss you so much I ache.”

“I’ve missed you too, Car, more than I probably should,” he confessed. “I’m sorry if I’ve been keeping my distance. It’s not because of anything you did. I probably should explain.”

He fidgeted, uncomfortable with how to proceed. “There’s something I need to tell you, something very difficult to share. It’s not going to be easy, but there’s no sense hanging onto the pride I have left.”

“Oh my God,” Caroline gasped. “You are gay!”

“I am not gay!” he shouted. “Why does everyone think that all of a sudden?”

His voice dropped to a deep whisper. “Let me ask you something, Duffy. Did you ever question my sexuality those nights on the beach? We made more runs to the drug store for condoms than I can count. Or how about the old house on Morgan Street that Dad was renovating? If those walls could talk—”

“Stop.” Her cheeks heated at the memory. “I believe you. You’re not gay.” She paused. “Bi?”

“For the love of Christ, Caroline, I like women! I am not now, nor have I ever been attracted to men. Okay?”

“Don’t yell at me! You made it sound like you had some big secret. Sorry I jumped to conclusions.”

“It’s not a secret.” He shook his head in frustration. “I can’t believe I’m actually going to tell you this. Mom is the only one who knows. Lib doesn’t have a clue. It happened a long time ago, and you deserve to know the truth.”

He swallowed hard. “When Lib told me you were marrying The Schmuck, I went a little nuts. I know, I know...I didn’t have the right to. We hadn’t even seen each other in years...but something about the guy rubbed me the wrong way. He seemed like trouble from the start.”

“Very perceptive of you.”

“Sorry,” he winced. “Don’t mean to rub salt in the wound. Anyway, you got engaged, and I went bonkers. And here’s the best part...not only was I going to steal you away from Steve, but I was going to get down on one knee, tell you what an idiot I was to let you get away and beg you to marry me instead.”

Caroline clasped his hand tighter as the breath rushed from her lungs.

Sean continued, “I went over to Mom and Dad’s and told them my plan. Mom started crying like a fool and gave me Grandma Shannon’s wedding ring. Dad tried to reason with me, told me to slow down and start by talking with you, but I wasn’t having any of it. I shoved past him and jumped in my truck, hellbent on getting to Boston...to you.”

He forced a laugh. “I was halfway there before I realized I had no freaking clue where you lived. Good plan, right? Steal the girl, worry about her address later. Obviously, I wasn’t clearheaded, so I pulled over in Sturbridge and called Lib. I gave her some bullshit story about going to Boston to visit friends and how I wanted to stop by and say hello to you and The Schmuck—you know, congratulate you on the big news. I wasn’t about to tell her I was on some crazy mission, chasing after the woman I loved.”

Sean paused and his expression fell. “I never got any further than Sturbridge. When I finally stopped talking long enough for Lib to get a word in, she was crying, screaming that I needed to come home right away.”

Caroline replayed the timeline in her head. “Oh God...Bernie.”

“Yeah,” Sean confirmed her suspicion. “Dad had his first heart attack that day. Things looked bad, really bad. The doctors said he wasn’t going to pull through. Mom alternated between panic and anger. One minute, she was furious at Dad for not taking better care of himself and the next she was on her knees begging God to save him. That man loved his red meat and Irish whiskey; his liver was a marinated brisket.”

Sean smiled, remembering. “You would think after something like that he would have made a few diet changes, but not Dad. Nope, he just kept living the way he wanted, thinking he was invincible. It took another ten years and two more heart attacks, but eventually fate proved him wrong. “

“I remember Lib’s phone call to tell me what happened like it was yesterday. She was beside herself,” Caroline said. “She must have called me right after she hung up with you. All I wanted to do was race to Connecticut and be with all of you, but Steve convinced me to stay put. He said I couldn’t do anything, and it was a family problem. I can’t believe I listened to him.”

“You are family, Car, always.” Sean brushed a stray hair off her cheek and went on. “By the time Dad recovered enough to go back to work it was two months later, and you had eloped into being Mrs. Schmuck. I was so wrapped up in keeping the business running and taking care of Mom, I missed my chance to get you back.”

He brushed a kiss across her forehead. “Story of my life; I’m the almost guy, almost got the girl, almost had the life. Almost isn’t good enough.”

“There you have it,” he finished, “my pitiful excuse for keeping away from you these last years, a fragile ego with a healthy dose of stupid. It’s hard to be around the one that got away, especially when she’s been part of your life since Tooth Fairies and flashlight tag.”

“I wish I’d known.” There was a resignation in Caroline’s voice. “I would have done so many things differently.”

Trevor ran past, cradling a football—his father’s image with his mother’s heart. Charlie and Shannon chased him into the front yard leaving the couple in private.

Caroline said, “Things happen for a reason, I suppose. Marriage brought me Trevor. And in an odd way, Bernie brought me back here, to the people I love most. I felt like such an outsider at the funeral, and all I wanted to do was belong again. Right then and there I made the decision to file for divorce, not that it wasn’t a long time coming, but something Mae said to me after the service struck a chord.”

“What’d she say?”

“It was strange and yet poignant at the same time. She said Bernie loved me like the daughter I was meant to be, and he knew I’d come home. My heart just needed to find the way.” She snuggled into Sean’s side and placed her head on his shoulder. “Can I tell you something?”

He buried his face in her hair. “Anything.”

“If you’d made it to Boston that day, tracked me down and gotten down on one knee like you planned,”—she took a deep breath, pulled back, and met him eye to eye—“I would have said yes. I would have run off with you faster than that old truck could drive, and never looked back.”

Don’t hesitate. Bernie’s words echoed in Sean’s head as he took her face in his hands and ran the calloused pad of his thumb along her supple lips. His voice, deep and graveled with a dormant need lay claim to her heart. “I wouldn’t have taken no for an answer.”

From the back window, Mae watched her son take the first step toward the rest of his life. “It’s about time,” she murmured. “Kiss her you bloody moron!”

A breath apart, Sean’s gaze traveled to Caroline’s lips, seeking her approval before capturing the forgotten taste of heaven he longed for. Her sly grin gave him all the permission he needed. He closed his eyes and leaned in.

He never saw the dog coming; she did.

“Look out!” Caroline warned, but it was too late. Stump pounced before Sean knew what was happening, and the soft lips he anticipated morphed into eight inches of drooling, flank steak.

“Damned dog,” Mae cursed. “I’m glad they fixed you! Just proves a man’s brains are in his testicles.”