Here we are, ma’am.”
The taxi driver’s words broke into the chaos and confusion buzzing through Gail’s head. She hadn’t noticed that the taxi had stopped and now sat in front of the Wolfe brownstone. On her way from the train station, she’d tried repeatedly to stop seeing the image of Alan crouched over that broken lamp, to no avail. The man just wouldn’t leave her thoughts or her heart. She nearly sobbed in the back of the taxi when she realized she spent more time thinking of Alan than Troy.
She paid the driver and got out. After the car left, she stood glued to the sidewalk, loathing the idea of seeing her sister. She believed Alan when he said he had no interest in Marcia. His integrity exceeded most men she’d met, matching her own father’s high standards. In fact, her father would probably approve more of Alan than Troy.
But she’d made a commitment. She knew she could help Troy become a man of potential. He needed a woman to stand by him and support him through his endeavors, especially with his health issues. And maybe he’d even help her pursue her dream of helping underprivileged teens.
She tried to picture him in that capacity, but every time she did, his face changed to Alan’s. Why could she see so much more with him? She straightened her spine and harrumphed. She had a plan, and she would stick to it.
“You know, you can stand there all day, but it won’t change a thing.”
Gail shot her attention up the stairs to the front door. Marcia stood with her hand on one hip and the other on the doorknob. Gail tugged the short straps of her purse to sit in the crook of her arm and marched to the door, fully intending to ignore her sister.
Marcia blocked her way. “It’s clear he’s in love with you.”
Gail stared at her sister, and for the first time, didn’t bother to school her expression. She hoped every bit of her anger showed. “Why do you even care? You’ve done everything you could think of to try and catch Alan’s attention. Why? So you can use him like you’ve done all of Patrick’s other friends? Well, guess what? It didn’t work. He sees right through you.”
Her sister shifted to face her, both hands on her hips. Defiance blazed a twisted trail on already-hardened features. Gail was ready for it, ready for the fight to end all fights. She’d had enough and had no qualms about putting an end to her sister’s antics in her life.
But then Marcia’s facade completely crumbled. That’s when Gail noticed her sister’s eyes were already red and swollen. Had she gotten bad news about Patrick?
“What’s wrong? Is Patrick okay?” All her anger dissolved in the flash of pending grief. Suddenly Gail found herself wanting to pray and ask God to bring her brother-in-law home safely, to pray as she had as a child. Why hadn’t she done this sooner?
Marcia shook her head then swallowed her sobs. “Are you kidding me? Your first thought is Patrick? Maybe you should have married him.” She let out a bitter laugh. “Patrick is just fine and dandy with his good ole boys in Vietnam. In the meantime, I’m stuck here with his latest brat in my belly and no life whatsoever.”
She spun around and slammed the door behind her, leaving Gail on the stoop alone. Pregnant? Another baby? Any hope she had for her sister fizzled with a pathetic pop in her heart. What she would give to have a family like hers. Her sister never saw it as anything but a burden.
Her nieces and nephew would need her even more now. Marcia’s moods tended to be long and wicked, and pregnancy only seemed to compound them. She should talk to Troy and discuss this with him. What affected her future would affect his, too.
Tomorrow she’d go into the city again and surprise Troy with a visit, maybe entice him to lunch and some time in Central Park. She could show him Bow Bridge….
Again Alan’s face nestled into that place in her mind that had a direct connection to her heart. He’d almost kissed her that day.
Gail ignored the part of her that still longed for that kiss. The sooner she put that behind her, the sooner she could make plans for her next little niece or nephew. She’d do whatever was necessary to make sure that little one came into the world knowing he or she was loved.
Alan shoved the box onto an upper shelf in the back room. The contents shifted, clinking the glass bits of the broken lamp inside. Maybe he’d need parts of it to repair another Tiffany down the road. Didn’t matter. He’d find another one for Mr. Winston eventually.
“You know, you could send Marcia Wolfe the bill for that lamp.” Tara passed him and plopped into the seat at her desk. “Maybe she’d take responsibility for herself for once.”
“What delusional dream world are you residing in now, little sister?” Alan tucked the side of his shirt back into the waistband of his jeans. “I seriously doubt that will ever happen.”
She leaned forward and propped her chin in her hand. “I just don’t get it. Marcia and Gail are so different. I see the family resemblance, but beyond that, it’s like they’re from completely different families.”
Alan ignored the way his stomach clenched right into his chest with the mention of Gail’s name. “Nobody’s perfect, Tara. Some just have more awareness of how they impact the lives of others. Some don’t.”
“I think you should call her.”
“Marcia?”
“No, you idiot. Gail. Clearly you both have feelings for each other.”
“I’d really rather not talk about it. Gail made her choice. She’s engaged. End of story.”
“I disagree.”
Alan laughed. “Cool it, okay? The subject is closed.”
She just sat there and stared at him. Wouldn’t stop staring at him. He threw his hands up and blew out the breath he was holding. He wanted more than anything to believe Tara was right, but Gail had made her choice clear. She hadn’t just said a simple good-bye yesterday. She’d said good-bye as in good-bye forever. The door had closed and rung the bell….
He stomped out of the back room and started unloading the small box of salt dishes that had arrived earlier that morning from an estate sale in the Hamptons. Several more boxes were due to arrive the next day, bearing his latest acquirements along with some additional inventory to keep the shop going for quite awhile. Tara wouldn’t need to do any estate sales for the first six months of his absence.
Alan finished arranging the salt dishes and went to toss the box in the back room, but a small clunk stopped him. He weeded through the tissue and found another dish. A loner, almost identical to the one he’d given Gail. Small in size, round and simple in design, yet this simplicity was probably what gave it more beauty than some of its detailed counterparts. He pocketed the antique, chiding himself for still holding on to an impossibility but loathe to let it go.
He returned to the back room and disposed of the box. Tara still sat at her desk and resumed her vigilant stare at him.
“What now?”
“You said cool it, so I’m not saying a thing.”
“Yeah, well, with that stare you don’t have to.”
“Does that mean I can say something then?”
“No!” At her hurt expression, Alan’s anger bottomed out to regret. He’d let his emotions take over again. He crouched down in front of Tara and held her hands. “I’m sorry, Sis. Forgive me?”
She nodded then hugged him. Her small form hiccupped slightly with her tears. “It’s okay. I really liked her, too.”
How’d he let this happen? In the past, he’d always protected their family—what was left of it—and didn’t easily let outsiders in. Patrick had been the only one to get close to both of them. He should have been more cautious. Tara didn’t need more emotional strain added to what she already faced with his leaving for Vietnam. He only had a few weeks left.
“That day at the station… Patrick said something to you that seemed to upset you. Do you mind me asking what it was?”
She shrugged. “Yes, but I’ll tell you anyway. He said that I shouldn’t bother praying for him. That you need those prayers more.”
His friend’s words struck him to the core. He kissed the top of Tara’s head. “Let’s split early and see a movie. Sound good?”
She braved a smile and nodded. “How about a romance?”
Alan glared halfheartedly at her. “You’re kidding, right?”