Chapter Thirty

“You have got to be kidding me!” Libby bellowed. Sean’s call did nothing to brighten her Christmas shopping experience.

“I wish I were,” Sean said. “Gibbons and her Society cohorts are coming tonight to check the progress. Apparently, they need to be absolutely certain our plans will not diminish any historical elements, including framework.”

“What a load of BS! It’s two days until Christmas and those girdle-loving cronies have nothing better to do than pester me? Don’t they have lives?” Libby gathered her shopping bags and charged out of the mall. “What time are they gracing me with their presence?”

“Five. Though she did say after this the plans I provided would suffice until the plumbing is roughed in,” Sean explained. “We can start the main construction when Mom leaves next week for Will’s place, and if all goes as planned, finish ahead of schedule. It’s four-thirty now. Are you going to make it?”

“Do I have a choice?” Libby ripped open the car door and tossed the bags into the back seat.

In the driver’s seat, she fired up the engine and set the heat to full blast. “Bob took the kids to Kevin’s to help hang Christmas lights on the house. That’s a case of the blind leading the blind. So at least I will be able to get there without having to drop anyone off anywhere. God knows I’m only a taxi.”

Her temper seethed. “Are you meeting me at the house, or do I have to deal with these women alone?”

“Don’t yell at me. I’ll be there. I’ll stop home first and get a helmet, in case I have to pull you off Esther, but I’ll be there.”

His stab at humor did nothing to cool Libby’s temper.

“Mom wants to be there, too. I’m picking her up on my way over.”

“Marvelous. This gets better and better,” Libby groaned. “Are you all staying for dinner? I’ve got nothing in the house, so it’s take out or PB&J.”

“Mom made pot roast. She’s bringing it with her.”

“Well, that’s a bonus. I don’t have to cook.”

“Lib, it’s a bonus for all of us when you don’t cook.”

“Shut up.” Libby snapped like a dry twig. Unable to keep her emotions in check she let loose and blasted Sean with a mega-decibel rant. “I suck in the kitchen, I piss off old ladies...anything else you want to add to my shortcomings? Christ knows I have enough to deal with. We can’t all be as perfect as you, so keep your shitty comments to yourself!” She jabbed the off button and hurled the phone into the backseat.

Twinkling lights and festive decorations lined streets, but the beauty of the season was lost on Libby.

At home, she parked behind Sean’s truck and caught a glimpse of him through the cottage’s kitchen window laying blueprints on the card table. Dark under-eye circles and a five o’clock shadow, well on its way to midnight, framed his face.

“I’m an ass,” Libby said to herself. “He’s just as exhausted as I am.”

She went inside. “I owe you an apology,” she said to him, as she took off her coat. “No excuses. I was a bitch, and I had no right to go off on you like that and slam the phone down like a twelve-year-old. Sorry.”

“Don’t worry about it.” Sean yanked her hair the same way he had when they were kids. “We’re all on edge. None of this is easy, and you’ve got the brunt going on in your back yard.”

“The construction isn’t the problem. We grew up around job sites and the noise doesn’t even faze me. I woke up yesterday, and the reality of what is coming down the road hit me like a ton of bricks. I may complain about Mom, but the truth is I rely on her for answers all the time. I’m not ready to be the parent. I’m not ready to see her as anything less than the force of nature I’m so used to going head-to-head with. The thought of her fading away, losing that spark—it’s impossible to wrap my brain around.”

Sean crossed his arms over his chest. “I know, I was thinking the same thing the other night. Life snuck up and kicked us all in the ass with this one, but at least Mom is being realistic and not fighting the move. It’s a step in the right direction. Bob said he reviewed Mom’s will, and all the other paperwork, and she was abundantly clear on what she wants as far as medical and financial care. At least she’s got a plan. Hopefully we won’t need it for a long time to come, but it’s something.”

“I told Bob I didn’t want to know the details, all he said was it looked okay—typical Mae, organized right down to the last detail.”

“Was there a doubt?”

Brother and sister shared a smile as Mae opened the front door. “What are you two grinning about?” she asked.

“Libby’s cooking,” Sean fibbed. “And how grateful I am for your pot roast tonight in lieu of one of her more creative dishes. That stuffed pepper trauma still makes me queasy.”

Libby slapped his ribs. “Wise ass.”

“Watch the toilet mouth, Elizabeth.” Mae reprimanded. “The ladies from the society have no patience for cursing.”

“Well then I better get it all out of my system before they get here. After all, we wouldn’t want to offend Ms. Gibbons.”

“Esther Gibbons?” Mae questioned, her brow arched.

“Yes,” Libby answered. “Do you know her?”

The sound of a car engine halted the conversation. Four gray-haired women piled out of the garbage-barge-sized sedan and approached the door.

“Okay, best behavior everyone,” Sean said while eying Libby. “I’m talking to you.”

He greeted the women with his trademark sexy grin. “Hello ladies, please come in. I can’t wait to show you what we have planned.”

Esther made the introductions. “Hello Sean, these are my colleagues, Mary Watson, June Gunn, and Victoria Simmons.”

He shook each hand and motioned them into the room. “A pleasure to meet all of you.” He pointed out Mae and Libby. “I believe you all know my sister, Libby, and this is my mother, Mae.”

“Hello Esther,” Mae said with a sly smile, hinting at a history between the two women. “I haven’t seen you since our days together on the Parish Council. Those were fascinating times. Seems like yesterday, doesn’t it?”

“Why yes, it does.” Esther paled and ended the discussion faster than a celebrity marriage. She directed her attention toward Sean. “You have made a great deal of progress in here since the last time we met, Sean.” She motioned to the blueprints. “Are these the changes to the original design we discussed earlier?”

“Yes,” Sean answered. “These are a copy, and yours to keep.”

“That was very thoughtful of you. Thank you.”

“My pleasure,” he said while extending the crook of his elbow to Esther. “Can I give you ladies the nickel tour?”

Happy for his attention, Esther linked her arm in his and led the other women.

Once they were of earshot, Libby yanked Mae aside for an explanation. “Okay Mom, give it up. What was all that about between you and Esther?”

Mae feigned ignorance. “What are you talking about, dear?”

“Don’t give me that. You know darn well what I’m talking about. Esther looked like you hit her with a two-by-four the moment you brought up Parish Council. What’s the story?”

Mae grinned, and dropped her voice to a low whisper. “Let’s just say I have a little something to hold over Esther. If she wishes the history between the two of us to remain in the past, then she’ll know it’s in everyone’s best interest for our plans to receive the Society’s approval and move forward without delay.”

She went on, “After all, I’m sure Esther, a respectable teacher and upstanding member of society, would be devastated if one of her youthful transgressions resurfaced and stirred up scandal.”

“Scandal?” Libby’s eyes bulged. “I need to hear this. Spill it!”

Mae peered over her shoulder and made sure Sean had the women occupied before saying more. “You must never breathe a word of this,” Mae said.

Libby nodded, her eyes bulging in anticipation.

Mae explained, “Esther’s tenure on the Parish Council was short-lived, and for good reason. After a bit too much to drink at the Holy Mother Casino Night and Silent Auction, she and a visiting seminary student from Brazil had a little romantic interlude in the bingo room. I walked in and caught them in the act. And let me tell you, it was not an experience I want to relive.”

Libby’s bawdy laughter cracked the silence. “Oh my God! Esther’s a slut!”

“Shh!” Mae warned. “Keep your voice down, or they’ll hear you.”

“Mom, how could you not tell me this sooner?” Libby said. “You know how many run-ins I’ve had with that woman? She lives to make my life miserable. I could have used this ammo years ago!”

“It’s not Christian to gossip, Libby.”

“Oh, but blackmail is okay?”

“Blackmail is an ugly word, Libby. All I did was nudge Esther’s memory. How she proceeds is up to her.”

“You are a piece of work.”

“Quiet, they’re coming.”

Sean returned the group to the main room. “I think those are all the structural changes we need to review,” he said. “Does anyone have questions I can answer?”

Victoria spoke. “Sean, you seem to have things well in hand and have been very mindful of the integrity of a home this age...but I have a question about the plaster walls.”

“Of course, go ahead.”

“It is always important to use a contractor respectful of historical homes,” Victoria stated. “Do you have someone who specializes in that type of work? Plaster is delicate, and good masons are hard to come by.”

Before Sean could answer, Mae offered a solution. “Sean, dear, I believe Tomás would be an excellent choice. He did all the work over at that lovely 1790’s bed-and-breakfast in Groton.”

Sean nodded. “You’re right Mom. Tomás does a lot of our restoration work, and he’s local. We always make an effort to use contractors from the area and support our economy.”

“The bathroom needs more than repairs, it will require extensive work and two additional walls,” Victoria continued. “Do you feel this Tomás-person’s experience is capable of that level of craftsmanship?”

“Oh Tomás is wonderful,” Mae protested. “He is a real gentleman and intensely hardworking, but I’m not surprised. I believe his marvelous work ethic has a great deal to do with his Latin heritage.” She took a long look at Esther and went in for the kill. “Sean dear, where is Tomás from again?”

“Brazil.” Sean said. “His whole family came over in the 1980s. The father was a master plasterer and taught all four of his sons the trade. Well, all except the youngest brother, Juan; he’s a priest in Boston.”

Esther gripped the card table for dear life. She stammered, “Ladies, we’ve taken up quite enough of the McGinns’ time.”

She backed toward the door with the blueprints clutched to her chest like a shield. “Everything looks in order Sean. You may proceed as planned. Please call before you select paint colors and I’ll assign one of my colleagues here to do the final inspection. I trust their judgment. No need for me to return, ever.”

She ripped open the front door. “Merry Christmas—get in the car, girls,” she said, and made a beeline for her sedan. Her orthopedic shoes kicked up gravel as the remaining trio, baffled by their leader’s sudden about-face did nothing to oppose Esther’s stamp of approval.

Sean closed the door and turned to Mae and Libby. “Someone want to tell me what the hell that was all about?”

Libby collapsed to the floor in a fit of laughter and pointed to Mae.

“Mom?” Sean looked to her for an explanation. “What’s going on?”

Mae slipped on her coat and gloves and meandered out the door. “I haven’t the slightest idea what you’re talking about.”

A satisfied grin splintered her face. “Pot roast in twenty minutes. Don’t forget to wash your hands.”