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SIOBHAN
It was already dark when I pulled the van into the driveway at home after an exhaustive shopping excursion at the mall with Nana, where she bought ab-so-lute-ly nothing. I never minded winter nights starting so early, as long as I didn’t have to drive in snow. There was something cozy about being warm indoors while the temperature dropped outside, even if indoors was in the confines of my van. This early in December, we rarely saw the white stuff. Tonight was no exception.
“Perfect timing,” Nana said when my headlights reflected off the garage door. “You’ll have just enough time to clean yourself up before dinner.”
I glared at her from the driver’s seat as I slid the gear into park. The fine hairs on my arms danced in suspicion. “Clean myself up?”
“Mmm-hmm.” She opened the passenger door and unclipped her seatbelt. “We’re having guests tonight.”
A shiver went up my spine. “What kind of guests?”
“Dinner guests,” she replied and climbed out, slamming the door behind her.
I followed more slowly, thanks to the shock of her statement, which, I’m sure, was what she intended. “Nana! Who’s coming over?”
She stopped when she reached our front door and turned to watch my approach. “Hurry up, Bon-Bon. I’m freezing my noonies off out here.” She hugged herself and bounced on her toes.
I strode the next few dozen feet in determined lengths, my keys jangling idly in my pocket. “I’m gonna keep you out here ‘til your noonies hit the pavement, if you don’t tell me what you did this time.”
“What did I do?” She feigned shock, slapping a hand on her chest and widening her eyes in childlike innocence. “I invited a few friends for dinner. It’s not like I ate a baby.”
God, the things that came out of her mouth never ceased to leave me speechless. I think she said this kinda stuff to keep people so stunned they wouldn’t reply. Not this time. “Who’s coming?”
“Lou, of course.”
Okay. Lou was okay. I almost breathed a sigh of relief until my logical brain silently chastised me. Don’t trust her. If she’s willing to tell you she invited Lou, it’s because the identity of one of the other guests will cause you to blow a gasket. “Who else?”
She shrugged. “One of our neighbors.”
Oh, God. No. “Which one of our neighbors?”
“Just Jimmy.”
Just Jimmy. It took a full minute for my brain to click. “Jimmy Vais?”
“He’s all alone, Siobhan,” she whispered, her brow etched with concern. “I had to invite him. I felt bad. You should see the house. He keeps it dark all the time. I think he might be depressed. Maybe he’s not over his divorce yet.” She stamped her feet on the patio, and her voice grew in volume and energy. “Now, come on! Open the door. We can talk more about tonight’s plans inside, where it’s warm, and I bet it smells delicious in there.”
Did you ever see those old movies where someone’s stuck on the railroad tracks and a train is coming? You find yourself yelling at the screen, “Move! Hurry!” but the character seems to be stuck or deaf or too stupid to get out of the way. Nana was my oncoming train. I knew she was dangerous to my well-being, but I couldn’t seem to get out of the way. On a defeated sigh, I unlocked the front door and stepped inside with Nana on my heels. The aroma hit my nostrils, and I had to score one point for her. The house smelled of meat and gravy and yeasty bread. My stomach’s desire for sustenance rebelled against my brain’s resentment for her meddling in my life.
Nana closed the door, leaned against it, and took a deep inhale. “Mmm. I told you. Why don’t you go change while I set the table?”
Removing my coat, I glanced down at my jeans and sweater. “What’s wrong with what I’m wearing?”
She took off her own coat and hung it in the hall closet. “Nothing I guess,” she said, handing me a hanger. “But you might want to brush your hair.” While I draped my coat on the hanger, she yanked a hank of my hair. “Between that wool hat you wore and the wind outside, you’ve got a rat’s nest on your head.”
I slapped her hand away and placed my coat in the closet. “My hair’s fine. I’m not trying to impress anyone.”
“Well, I am,” she retorted and closed the closet door with a strong click. “I don’t want Lou thinking I’ve raised my granddaughter to look unkempt for company. So, don’t argue. Go freshen up. Don’t embarrass me.”
I folded my arms over my chest, and she mirrored my posture. We both knew my appearance wasn’t lacking because of Lou. “Fine. But don’t you try to fix me up with Jimmy Vais. I’m not interested.”
She blew out a breath in exasperation and twirled away from me in a billow of orange caftan. “I told you. I feel sorry for him. I can’t imagine it’s easy for him, being in that house all alone.”
I followed her toward the kitchen. “That’s none of your business.”
“Don’t be silly. Our fellow man’s welfare is always our business.”
Oh, please. The old lady’s grip on reality was slipping if she thought I’d buy that sorry line. I sidled past to get in front of her and stopped her in her tracks with an upraised hand. “Promise me, Nana. No matchmaking.”
“Okay, okay. I promise. We’ll have a nice dinner—the four of us.”
Bing-bong! The doorbell rang, drawing our attention from arguing to panic—each for vastly different reasons.
“Great,” Nana mumbled. “One of our guests is early. Hurry.” She practically shoved me out of the way and down the hall toward the bedrooms. “Go. I’ll hold them off ‘til you look presentable.”
Now I wasn’t even presentable? Jeez. I didn’t argue for fear I’d fall even farther in her eyes—and on the floor.
One dinner. I could get through one dinner. I only hoped Jimmy would be a little more charming tonight than he’d been the other morning. Although, if he behaved like a bear, chances were good Nana would realize that much faster that he wasn’t the man for me. Inside my room, I ran a brush through my hair—because, honestly, my grandmother was right about how tangled it had become. I couldn’t decide which option I wished for more: the charmer or the bear.
“Whatever,” I told my reflection, slapped my brush on the dresser and returned to the living room.
“Siobhan, look who’s here,” Nana announced. “It’s Jimmy.”
Of course it was. I pasted a happy expression on my face, and Nana propelled me toward our guest with a palm flat against my back. Once this dinner ended, she and I were going to have a long talk about how pushy she could be.
“Why don’t you two kids chat while I finish setting the table?”
I thought I felt self-conscious until I got a good look at Jimmy. He stood in the middle of the room, stiff as a steel girder, his hands shoved into the pockets of his chinos, the sleeves of his red-and-tan buffalo plaid flannel shirt rolled to the wrists and buttoned tight at the cuffs. His eyes darted around the room before landing on me.
When Nana bustled away into the kitchen, I took a seat on the couch and gestured for him to do the same. He remained standing, a short dash from the front door, I surmised. Not that I’d blame him. I’d bolt too, if I could.
“I’m sorry,” I said, hoping to loosen him up or at least, give him a reason to see me as an ally. “She literally told me about this dinner five minutes before you got here. I had no idea. Honest.”
“She called my mother,” he grumbled through gritted teeth.
“Excuse me?” I couldn’t possibly have heard him correctly.
“When she first invited me this morning, I turned her down. She called my mother, who called me from their place in Arizona and insisted I had to come.”
“I’m sorry,” I repeated with a wince. Yes, it was dumb, but what else could I say? I waited for him to acknowledge my apology and got nothing. I squirmed on the couch while the wall of resentful silence built up between us, breath by oppressive breath. At last, I couldn’t take it anymore. “I think she’s trying to set us up.”
He quirked a brow—the sole weakness in his stony visage he’d shown since I first clapped eyes on him tonight. “Set us up for what?”
“You know. On a date.”
I told myself I didn’t hear the snort he made in reply. But I did. I chose to ignore it, though, for Nana’s sake, and changed the subject. “I...umm...saw your brother today.”
I didn’t think it possible, but he stiffened even more. “Good for you. I haven’t seen him in six months.”
“Really? How come?” His eyes narrowed to slits, and I realized, too late, I’d said the wrong thing. “I mean, I would think since you’re both living here again—”
“Justin’s here? In Snug Harbor? Since when?” The questions came rapid-fire, with a fair amount of anger laced into each one.
What on earth had I stepped into between the Vais brothers? I shrugged. “About a month ago, I guess. He bought Snug Harbor Landscape and Design. I’m working on new brochures for the company.”
The anger became less confrontational, more dispassionate, but still a physical wall between us. He shot his weight to one hip. “Uh-huh.”
“Maybe you should give him a call. I have his number, if you need it.”
“No, thanks. I had his number a long time ago.”
Once again, I reverted to the only answer that came to mind. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to upset you.”
His eyes spit cinders. “I’m not upset.”
Right. And I wasn’t wishing I could dig a hole through the floor to escape this farce, either. Once again, I tried to steer the conversation in another direction. “Can I get you something to drink? Soda? A beer?”
Stoneface didn’t blink, didn’t loosen up in the slightest. “No, thanks.”
Stifling a sigh, I glanced at the grandfather clock in the corner and squirmed some more. Two minutes down, two hours to go. It was going to be a very long night.
♥♥♥♥
ALTHEA
Lou showed up at precisely six-thirty, and unlike his younger counterpart, he did not come empty-handed. Honestly, what was it with young people of today? The men have no idea how to romance a woman, and the women sell themselves short. Maybe Lou and I could set an example for Siobhan and Jimmy to emulate. As I reached for the cello-wrapped grouping of red roses and white carnations Lou held, he slid a soft kiss across my cheek.
“It’s good to see you again so soon,” he murmured against my ear. “Does this mean we’re officially dating?”
I took a step back and held the flowers in front of my face to hide the smile his words brought me. “Slow down, cowboy. What’s your hurry?”
He shrugged out of his coat and winked at me. “I’ve waited forty-eight years to call you my girl. I think that’s world-record patience, don’t you?”
“Maybe.” I took in the sports coat and wool slacks he wore under the army green pea coat with appreciation. For God’s sake, he even dressed better than Jimmy! And did my eyes deceive me? He’d shaved. Again! Twice in one week must be some kind of record for the old sea dog. I held up the flowers. “Come help me put these in water?”
“Sure.” He gestured to the coat slung over his arm. “Where should I hang this?”
I pointed to the closet door behind me with the bouquet. The cellophane crinkled, loud as a gunshot in the quiet of the room. “In there. Then come into the kitchen.” I gave him a meaningful nod toward where Siobhan and Jimmy sat in the living room, miles apart on separate chairs, neither speaking. “Leave the young people alone for a while.”
He glanced at them, then back to me, his eyebrows arched in question. “You sure about that?”
“Don’t worry. I searched ‘em both,” I retorted. “No weapons.” His rich chuckles warmed my belly as I strolled away, secure in the knowledge he’d be behind me in the amount of time it took him to hang up his coat and eat up my small strides with his much longer ones. Twenty seconds, tops. One...two...three...four...
His hands were on my hips before I reached fifteen. “Gotcha,” he whispered in my ear.
His warm breath skittered across my skin, and I shivered with delight then mentally slapped myself in the head. What was I thinking? Tonight was about Siobhan and Jimmy, not Lou and me. “Behave yourself,” I said to Lou as I stepped out of his embrace, “or you’ll go hungry tonight.” To regain control of the situation, I fussed with removing the plastic wrapping from the flowers he’d brought.
Although, come to think of it, there was nothing wrong with letting Lou get my blood up a little. He was an attractive man; I was a vital woman. Besides, it might do those two in the living room a world of good to see how a man and a woman were supposed to interact in a romantic relationship. Not that Lou and I were in a relationship, romantic or otherwise. We were...
I snapped the rubber band off the flower stems. What were we exactly? Friends, yes. We’d been friends for decades. But once Archie came home from ‘Nam, Lou made himself scarce and finally started dating girls his own age. Within a year, we’d moved out of the Rugermans’ basement for a house of our own—this house, to be precise—and I moved on with my life with Archie, forgetting all about the sweet kid who’d had a crush on me.
Decades passed, and we’d see each other now and then at local social events, but always with our spouses in tow. I’d always found Ruth to be a pleasant lady, but to be honest, I didn’t really know her well. She and I had nothing in common. I knew about their divorce, of course. Nothing escaped the small town gossipmongers. And I’m just as sure Archie’s passing made the local papers. Although, thanks to Valium, the identities of people who sent me cards and letters during that time were a blur.
“What can I do?” he asked me now, distracting me from the past.
I reached into a cabinet above the range hood for a good-sized vase, then pointed to a drawer in one of the golden oak cabinets near the cranberry-hued, Formica-topped breakfast nook. “Can you look in there and see if I have a pair of shears? They’d be on the right side, pink handles, if no one’s moved them in the last ten years or so.”
He did as I asked, fumbling noisily among the flotsam and jetsam accumulated in what was known in our household as the “junk drawer.” Every home has one. It’s the place where you store spare keys for things you can’t remember, adapters and power cords to assorted small appliances and gadgets you can’t readily identify, rubber bands of various sizes, the occasional penny or dime, bread bag clips, an errant Scrabble tile, pens and pencils that may not write, a keychain from some family vacation years ago, and the pack of playing cards that might or might not be a full deck. He held my shears aloft, scissoring the air. “These the ones?”
“Yep. Bring ‘em over.” I turned on the tap and filled the vase. While I cut the ends off the roses and placed them in the water, Lou hovered nearby.
“So, what’s with the staring contest going on in the living room? I didn’t interrupt anything, did I?”
“God, no.” I sighed and fussed with the arrangement of flowers. “I wish you had.”
“Why? What’s going on?” He snaked an arm around me to filch a carrot stick from the crudité tray I’d set up on the counter.
I slapped his hand with my wet fingers, splashing water on both of us. “Hey! Don’t touch.”
“Ouch!” He yanked his hand to his chest and pouted. “Meanie.”
I returned to my task, spearing the plumes of baby’s breath between the red blossoms. “Never mind that. I need your help with those two.” I jerked my head at the wall separating us from the younger generation. “I’m trying to fix them up, but neither of them is cooperating.”
He shrugged and leaned against the counter, folding his arms over his chest. “Maybe they don’t want to be fixed up.”
I dropped my hands to the sink. Really? The thought had never occurred to me. “No, that can’t be right,” I replied. “Bon-Bon’s had a crush on that boy since they were teenagers.”
“You mean...” He leaned closer and dropped a kiss on my shoulder. “...like me and you?”
“Hmmph. There was no ‘me and you.’” Finished with the flowers, I carried them into the dining room to place some distance between us and settled them in the center of the table. Their vivid color added the perfect burst of joy to the dark green tablecloth and rich walnut furnishings against the bone white china.
“You may not want to admit it,” Lou said as he sidled up beside me, “but there’s always been a ‘me and you.’” He toyed with one of the blue beads on the choker around my throat. “Do you remember your twenty-fourth birthday?”
His touch on my skin, light as a butterfly, stole my voice and I nodded.
“Your parents weren’t speaking to you, Archie was thousands of miles away fighting the VietCong, and you were recuperating from losing the baby.”
Sniffing back tears, I struggled to find my voice. When I did, the words came out hushed, almost in reverence. “I thought I was going to spend the day alone and forgotten. I had nobody who loved me.”
“You had me.” His fingertip brushed my snuffling nose, and I swear my whole face flamed up at his touch. “You still do. And I would never let that happen to you. Not then, not now.”
The conversation had taken a too-intense turn so I reverted to discussing my oh-so-long-ago twenty-fourth birthday. “You made me dinner that night.”
“Grilled cheese and canned tomato soup,” he said with a smirk. “It was either that or those green beans with crumb topping my mom used to make as a side dish on special occasions. My only two culinary masterpieces in those days.”
I smiled as the memories washed over me: how lonely I’d been, Lou’s sweet gesture soothing my pain, and how he’d managed to dig out the happiness buried inside my heart that night. “For dessert, you stuck a candle in a Twinkie and sang ‘Happy Birthday’ to me.”
“And then I took you sledding at the golf course. You got cold when the wind picked up, and we went back to my car where I wrapped my arms around you as we snuggled under that thick quilted blanket from my bed.” His voice was as strained as mine, and he dipped his head toward my lips. I arched up on tiptoe, meeting him halfway.
“Ahem!”
At the sudden intrusion, we broke apart. Siobhan stood in the doorway separating the two rooms, a knowing grin on her face. “I thought I could help you set the table, but it looks like you two are doing all right in here by yourselves.”
I quickly regained control. “Of course we’re doing all right. In fact, dinner’s ready. Lou, why don’t you take a seat while Siobhan asks our other guest to join us? I’ll grab the roast and the biscuits.”
My granddaughter’s lighthearted expression dimmed. “I’ll make a deal with you. How about you ask our other guest to join us while I take care of the roast and biscuits?”
Hmm...
I studied Siobhan with a twinge of concern. Maybe Lou was right. Maybe they didn’t want to be fixed up. Then again, maybe they just needed more time to sort out their feelings. After all, it had been years since they’d spent any time together. This dinner could be the jumpstart to something magical.
“Nonsense,” I said, waving my hand at her. “Now, go.”
As I watched her walk away, Lou placed an arm around my shoulder. “You sure about this, Thea?”
“No. But I’m not ready to give up yet.”
He chuckled. “That’s my girl. ‘Never say die.’ Okay then. Let’s show them how it’s done.”
I knew I wouldn’t have to explain it to him. Lou understood me. He always had.