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SIOBHAN
In between appointments, with too much time on my hands, my overactive brain came up with a new issue in need of a quick solution. As big a pain in the butt as Mrs. Haley had been, she’d made one obvious point. The décor for my holiday photos was sadly outdated and required serious updating. I couldn’t rely on taking all my clients outside to use the ambience of the neighborhood. My wallet, unfortunately, couldn’t afford anything new right now, either. I considered driving to the dollar store for plastic greenery and fake poinsettias, but with my high-resolution equipment and the bright studio lights, they’d look shoddy, no matter how I tried to camouflage them.
Luckily, I had an ace up my sleeve. My best friend owned Pandora’s Petals, the local flower shop. I could borrow a couple of display items from her to dress up my shabby backgrounds.
When I walked into the store around six that evening, the smell of sweet flowers and sharp pine brought back memories of Christmases past. My house used to hold those same scents when it was still Nana and Gramps’s place, back when I was a kid and still considered Nana Thea the “cool” grandparent because she always had a secret present tucked into the pocket of her housecoat for me. “Don’t tell your parents,” she’d whisper as she slipped a small toy or piece of jewelry I’d wanted but never expected to get into my palm. When I got older, it was money—never much, five or ten dollars, but it was enough to pay for the vices of my teenage years for a week or two, and I always appreciated how Nana understood me so well. Part of me wished to go back in time, to be twelve again and recapture that closeness we once shared. Of course, that meant I’d have to relive those years when my weight became an all-consuming issue, so I was better off leaving the past firmly in the past.
Pan stood behind the counter, ringing up a customer with an enormous fruit basket full of goodies, but she spotted my entrance and gave me a subtle nod to go on into the back room.
The workroom buzzed with frenetic energy. Employees slid thorns off roses with sharp blades, arranged mums and baby’s breath in slender vases, or laid out greenery to form into grave blankets. I greeted the workers, sidestepping puddles of water and hoses on the floor, continuing on to the battered metal desk in the farthest corner of the work area. I took a seat in the folding chair facing the wall and waited for Pan to make her way back.
As it always did, the piles of paperwork on her desk gave me the shivers. Invoices, receipts, and blank order forms lay scattered among spools of coated wire and colorful ribbons, glue sticks, foam shapes, empty water tubes, boxes of pins, two uninflated smiley foil balloons, and an aerosol can of something called “Shiny Leaf.” My organized self itched to grab a garbage bag and keep tossing out junk ‘til I reached the desk’s surface beneath the mountain of flotsam and jetsam. Instead, I sat on my hands and waited for the urge to pass.
“How does she work in this mess?” I muttered.
“It’s not a mess,” Pan said from behind me. “It’s ‘creative chaos.’”
I turned and made a face at her, curling my lip in disgust. “It’s a mess.”
She spread her hands wide, encompassing the sea of debris as she sat behind the desk. “Potay-to, potah-to. So, what’s up? What do you need?”
The question got my back up. “What makes you think I need something?” I did, but I hated she automatically jumped to that conclusion.
“I doubt you came here at this time of night to comment on the condition of my desk.” She frowned. “Don’t tell me you’re backing out of the bridal expo next month. I’ve already paid for our booth.”
I waved a hand. “No. I’m going.” I had to. The expo, a trade show for businesses that dealt with weddings and all they entailed, was a way to get my photography services in front of hundreds of future brides in one Saturday afternoon. I refused to consider how many other photographers would be vying to be hired by those same brides at the same expo. “And I’ll pay you back what I owe you right after Christmas.”
“Good,” she said on a deep sigh. “You had me worried there for a second. So, what is it? Is something wrong?”
I didn’t want to dive into the real reason for my visit and confirm her suspicions so I began with, “Did you know the Vais brothers are back in town?”
“Yeah, Justin bought Snug Harbor Landscape Design last month.”
“How’d you know?”
She picked up a spool of red-and-green-plaid ribbon and proceeded to unroll then reroll the fabric again and again. “We use a few of the same suppliers. Word gets around fast in the floral industry.”
“And how’d you know about Jimmy?”
She dropped the ribbon on the cluttered desk. “I didn’t. Jimmy’s back, too?”
“Hello? I did say the Vais brothers. He moved back into his parents’ house yesterday.”
“Whoa. No wonder you’re stressed.”
I anchored my eyes to keep them from rolling. “First of all, I’m not stressed. And second of all, he has nothing to do with anything I’m feeling. Today or any day.”
Her lips twisted, bringing a dubious expression to her face. “Okay, we’ll go with that, if it makes you feel better. So, what’s his wife like? Do they have any kids?”
“No wife in attendance. No kids. I’m guessing the marriage went to Splitsville.”
“Oh, yeah?” She nudged me with an elbow. “Score one for you. How does he look? Is he still a hunk?”
“In looks, yes. His personality needs work, though.”
“He’s probably bitter since the divorce.” She shrugged. “Maybe the wife cheated on him or something.”
“It’s more than that. I mean I’m no psychologist, but she must have done a major number on him in order to justify his level of attitude. I’m talking cheating with the divorce court judge to get the house and eighty percent of his income for the next fifty years kind of bitter.”
She rubbed her hands together. “Well, you’ve always loved a challenge, and you staked your claim to that particular Mount Everest years ago. You’ll win him over in the end.”
I was not amused. “Let’s get a few things straight. I never staked anything on Jimmy. Sure, I had a crush on him when I was fourteen—when I was young and stupid and thought looks were everything when it came to picking a man. At least, I was smarter than you and the rest of the ninth-grade girls who panted after Evan Rugerman. Talk about a challenge.” I must have realized, even in my teenage naiveté, Evan was a useless pursuit, despite his many charms. He was always the nicest, most popular guy in class, good-looking, approachable, with a great sense of humor. It was a day of mourning for all the other local females when he publicly came out as gay.
Pan waved a hand. “Maybe, but Evan’s still a nice guy, which you seem to believe, can’t be said of Jimmy.”
“That reminds me. What do you know about his dad?”
“Mr. Vais? I don’t know. I think you’d know more than me. He lived across the street from you for...like...a hundred years.”
I loved Pan, but sometimes she could be so dim. “Not Jimmy’s dad. Evan’s.”
“Captain Lou?” She toyed with the ribbon again. “I know he still sends flowers to his ex-wife every year on Evan’s birthday.”
Okay, that was weird. “He does? Why?”
“To thank her for the best gift he ever received.”
“Really?” My suspicions melted, along with my heart.
“Honest to God. He does it on each of their kids’ birthdays. Isn’t that the sweetest thing you ever heard?” Ever the romantic sap, she hugged herself and sighed, then leveled a sharp gaze my way. “Why do you wanna know about him? Don’t tell me you’re looking to date from the senior set these days.”
“Ew. No.” Her words put an ugly picture in my head, and I shuddered. “God, no! He’s dating Nana Thea.”
“Really? Wow. That’s a heckuva long distance relationship, Long Island to Florida.”
“Oh, right. News flash. I forgot to tell you. Nana’s moved back home with me.”
“Since when?”
I stared at my hands, noticed my manicure had lost its shine and one of my nails was in dire need of an emery board. “Since yesterday. Apparently, she was bored and lonely down in Florida. Sold the house, packed up her stuff, and grabbed a flight to New York. She didn’t even tell me she was planning to come back, just called me when she landed at MacArthur to come get her.”
She arched both brows at me. “And that surprises you...how?”
“It doesn’t, actually. Nana always did everything by the seat of her pants. Captain Lou asked her out on a date tonight. Dinner at the Gull and Oar.” I chewed on the ragged nail in a misguided attempt to smooth out the edge.
“Aww...that’s cute. Well, I don’t think you have to worry about him taking advantage of her. He’s a perfect gentleman.”
“Yeah, but she’s not. She’s impulsive and stubborn and a total wack-job at times. I’m afraid he can’t handle her.”
Pan giggled. “Oh, come on. They’re in their sixties. It’s not like she’s gonna get pregnant.”
I squeezed my eyes shut and slapped my hands over my ears. “Ew. Ew. Ew. Stop putting those images in my head.”
Pan’s giggles grew louder. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t tease you since I don’t want to picture it either, but the expression on your face right now is so worth it!”
I opted to change the subject before the topic became even more perverse. “As long as I’m here,” I said, still pretending what I was about to say wasn’t the entire reason for my impromptu visit, “I’m looking to update my holiday backgrounds for the rest of the month. You don’t happen to have any decorations or flowers you don’t mind parting with for a few weeks?”
“Yeah, sure.” She got to her feet. “Come on up front and help yourself.”
Her generosity and easygoing attitude broke through my last shield of pride. “If things don’t turn around for me soon, Pan—”
She cut me off by pulling me into a hug that smothered the rest of my statement. “It will. Give it time. I have a feeling good things are right around the corner for you.”
♥♥♥♥
ALTHEA
I couldn’t sleep after my dinner date with Lou. He remained on my mind long after his car had driven away. With his kiss still tingling on my lips, my memory tumbled around those lost days after my miscarriage and the teenager he used to be. I struggled to recall the events as they’d unfolded, rather than with the faraway look he accused me of viewing the world through. How could I have seen him as confident and in control when he admitted to being terrified at the time?
No. I fisted my hands as I paced my bedroom carpet until I probably wore down the nap. Door to window, door to window, and back again. No. Lou might want to minimalize his role now, but I remembered events exactly as they’d happened that day. He didn’t panic; he didn’t cry; he didn’t show a lick of fear. I was the mess, I wailed and cried and carried on like a wounded animal—because I was one.
Lou had taken control of everything for me, sleeping in the chair at my bedside. No one questioned his presence. I think the nurses figured he was the father, and the way he fussed over me would have only confirmed their assumption anyway. No one had bothered to tell me if the child I lost was a boy or a girl, and I knew my heart would break deeper either way, so I didn’t ask.
When the doctor discharged me from the hospital two days later, Lou was the one who took me home. It was his shoulder I cried on, his arms that held me close until I fell asleep on the couch. Then he made me comfortable with a pillow and slipped out of my apartment, silent as a mute cat.
In the days that followed, he contacted my boss so I wouldn’t have to. He spoke to my parents. He drove me to my follow-up appointment with the obstetrician. He prodded me out of my half-life, dragged me from my self-pity stupor. He insisted I walk around the neighborhood with him every day, making sure I felt sunshine on my face, heard the joy of other people around me, and discovered reasons to rejoin the living, slowly but surely.
We talked a lot in those days—mostly about him, as if he sensed I couldn’t bear to face my newly uncertain future. I hadn’t told Archie about the miscarriage yet. It wasn’t the kind of news you put in a letter, and he hadn’t called me in over a week, which only added to my depression.
“He’s okay,” Lou said one evening as we walked around the block.
I shook my head. “There’s a lot of heavy fighting in that sector. What if the officers went to my parents’ house and they didn’t bother to tell me?”
I had nightmares about that moment almost constantly, awake or asleep. The knock on the door, the two officers and a somber-faced priest standing on the porch, the stupid flag “from a grateful nation” at the service. I couldn’t go through all that again.
“They have my number,” Lou said. “Your parents, I mean. If something happened to Archie, they’d call.”
I snorted, skirting around little Bobby Schecter who chased a baseball up onto the grass. “They hate Archie.”
“They do not.”
“Yeah, they do. They blame him for getting me ‘in the family way.’”
“You should talk to them, dollface. They made a mistake. They realize that now.”
“Hmmph.” I tossed my head. “I bet.”
He took my forearm and stopped me in mid-stride. For a second when he looked down on me, I thought for sure he meant to kiss me right there on the sidewalk in the middle of Siren Street with all the residents in full view. The moment passed, and he broke his gaze from mine to stare at Bobby and his friends playing baseball on the cul-de-sac. “You’re all they have now. And until Archie comes home, they’re all you have. Talk to them. I’ll go with you, if you want.”
“No. I should do it on my own.” And I did—several months later, but I went. And we made peace between us: me, Mom and Dad. I had my family again, thanks in no small part to Lou Rugerman, the kid wise beyond his years.
A sudden motion in the corner of the room snapped me out of the past. One of my kitties, Shaggy, woke and stretched. He regarded me with green eyes full of ancient wisdom.
“Lou thinks I don’t remember things clearly,” I told the cat.
Shaggy yawned, extended his front paws, then settled into sleep again.
I stopped pacing and crawled into bed.
No. He could say whatever he wanted to now, but I knew the truth. There was no faraway look, except maybe on his end. Lou Rugerman had saved my life—more times than I cared to count.