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SIOBHAN
I woke up the next morning, renewed in spirit and ready to face whatever life threw at me. Last night’s visit to the church pantry with Justin had given me a clearer perspective, which I assumed, was his intention. I got dressed in a bright red sweater with white stripes at the cuffs and black jeans before heading down to the kitchen where Nana Thea sat with a cup of coffee cradled between her hands.
“You look chipper this morning,” she remarked.
“Thanks. So do you.” Actually, she looked...serene. In fact, she resembled some wise old goddess of home and hearth. Her hair lay loose around her shoulders in thick and lustrous silver waves. She wore a forest green-and-tan tie-dyed tunic with long fluttery sleeves and chocolate brown leggings. One of her kittens lay curled in her lap. Nana’s eyes, bluer than a September sky, sparkled with ethereal light as she ran a loving hand over the kitten’s soft, gray fur. She drove me crazy, but I never doubted how much she loved me. I loved her, too.
“You had a good time last night?” she asked over the rim of her mug.
I filled a mug with coffee at the counter and dug in the fridge for my almond milk. “Surprisingly, yes.” I leaned a hip against the counter and sipped.
“Pan’s in a better place now?”
I almost slipped up and asked her about what, but my brain kicked in a second before my tongue gave me away. Right. Pan. My alibi. “Yeah. We both are.” I glanced out the window, and my gaze caught the green wires of the Christmas lights that dangled from the gutters outside. “I didn’t get a chance to tell you.” I jerked my head toward the window. “The decorations look nice.”
She set her mug on the table and folded her hands together. “You really think so? I wanted to surprise you, to brighten your mood, and Lou decided to help.” She frowned and added in a conspiratorial whisper, “Personally, I think he went a bit overboard.”
I swallowed a smirk. “A bit” was the understatement of the century. Still, I understood they both meant well. “He might have overdone it a little, but it was a nice gesture. And it’s the thought that counts, right? Besides, maybe you and I can do some editing in the next few days, if the weather turns mild.”
She clapped once, then held her clasped hands near her chest. “That’s a wonderful idea. I hoped a little holiday levity would help get us into the Christmas spirit. I would’ve waited for you to help decorate if I’d realized you’d be interested. I wasn’t sure you were up for the fuss this year. We’ve had a rough few months, you and I—and Deirdre, too, to a lesser degree.”
I stifled a grimace. I wished she wouldn’t separate Dee and me so callously. “They were her parents, too, Nana.”
“Yes, but she has a family of her own, she lives thousands of miles away, and...well...distance makes loss easier.”
Wait. What? Where’d she get that idea? “You think so? Did you being in Florida make the loss of your son easier for you when Dad died? Or Mom? Because I know for a fact Daddy took Grampa’s loss really hard when it happened.”
She sat up straighter and gripped the edge of the table. “Really? How do you know that?”
I shrugged. “I lived here with him. I know he had trouble sleeping because I heard him walking the floors every night. I’d watch him spend hours going through old photo albums, tracing his fingers over the pictures of the two of them together—or even snapshots of you and Grampa, some going back before he was born. He’d putter around the garage all day, just to handle Grampa’s old tools. Mom thought it might be because you and Grampa lived so far away when it happened. Dad didn’t get a chance to say goodbye the way he would’ve liked.”
“Is that so?” Nana stared past me, her eyes unfocused, perhaps trying to imagine the pictures my words painted. “I had no idea he felt so strongly about it. Neither he nor your mother ever mentioned anything.”
“Why would they? You were dealing with your own grief.”
With her gaze still pinned to some spot beyond me, she nodded. “Yes, that’s true.” She sighed and rested her chin on her hand. “I’ve made a lot of mistakes in my life. I want to use whatever time I have left on this earth to make amends wherever I can.”
What amends? Surely, she hadn’t moved in here for any of the embarrassing things she’d done to me over the years? Because a quick, “I’m sorry” over the phone would’ve more than sufficed. Or did her statement have more to do with amends I might owe her? My guilty conscience chided me. Did she know I lied about being with Pan last night? Was this her way of giving me an opportunity to confess? Nana Thea’s head was like an attic in a haunted house, chock full of scary stuff no one else knew about or recognized. You never could tell what went on up there.
While I pondered my next move, she shook off the foggy distracted expression and focused on me, clear-eyed again. “I was thinking of doing some baking today. Christmas cookies and maybe my famous rum torte. Want to help?”
More time together? Oh, yeah. She definitely wanted to talk about last night. Okay. I’d have to ‘fess up. I settled in the chair across from her and leveled my attention on her. “Nana? Can I tell you something?”
“Of course, sweetheart. You can tell me anything. You should know that by now.”
Anything. Including any secret or fallacy I’d let build up between us. I took a deep breath and on the exhale, admitted, “I wasn’t with Pan last night.”
She sipped her coffee but never blinked. “Oh?”
“I was with Justin. Vais,” I clarified for no reason I could fathom—except, well...it was Nana, who interrogated better than the most thorough FBI agent. And she succeeded with just a look or simple question!
“Oh?” This time, the syllable came out laced with disappointment, and she stroked the cat with more fervor. Great. I’d upset her.
“I...umm...” I stared into my cup, noted how the almond milk had created a grainy substance on top of the remainder of the coffee. How come I’d never noticed that before? “I was feeling a little off, and I got scared. Pan wasn’t available and neither were any of my other friends, and I didn’t feel comfortable coming in here where you and Lou were doing...whatever you were doing. So I called Justin.”
“Whatever Lou and I were doing?” She laughed. “We were eating pizza. I told you that.”
I waved her off and pushed my coffee mug to the side. The gritty film on top had left me too disgusted to finish it. “Whatever. Anyway, I called Justin and he picked me up and we went to this church on the other side of town where they have this food pantry that serves hot meals to people with nowhere to go and oh my God, the kids! I never thought about how many kids go hungry at this time of year. We always had so much, you know? So much food, cookies and chocolate and fruit and pies and turkey and lasagna and eighteen kinds of vegetables. And these kids have nothing.” On a bitter laugh, I shot to my feet so fast the chair wobbled. I managed to catch it with one hand before it clattered onto the wood laminate floor. The kitten, spooked by my sudden movement, shot off Nana’s lap and raced out of the room. With my chair returned to its place at the table, I paced the narrow space between the refrigerator and the stove. “God, I can’t believe what a monster I am! Here I am, worrying about stupid stuff like rent on a space that’s way too expensive for my line of work when, by the way, I’m sitting on an offer that could get me out of my lease tomorrow and probably give me enough of a cushion to prepay six months in another, cheaper locale. Will I take it? No, because that would make me look like a failure! I’m too proud to give up that stupid suite because of its location on Main Street—like the address gives me some kind of cachet when all it really gives me is a whole bunch of headaches and a hole in my bank account. What kind of decent photographer needs cachet anyway? Meanwhile, these little kids don’t have enough food to eat every day.” My voice rose, and tears filled my eyes. A mountain of shame sat on my shoulders. “I keep thinking about all the food I’ve wasted over the years, and I can’t...” The dam broke, clogging my throat, and no other words escaped. I dipped my head and let the tears fall unheeded.
“Hush. I won’t have you talking like that. You were sick, baby. That doesn’t make you a monster. You were sick. But you’re better now.” Nana got to her feet, slower than I did, so her chair stayed steady. She glided toward me, her arms open wide and the next thing I knew, I was enveloped in her lavender-perfume-scented hug. “What would you like to do, Bon-bon? How can I make you feel better? We could bake a whole bunch of cookies and bring them to the church, if you want. Though, I think we should leave the rum torte here.”
I sniffed, choking back an inappropriate chuckle at the torte comment. Nana’s rum torte consisted of a sponge cake soaking in a full bottle of rum for three days. Definitely not for the kids! “Justin said he can talk to the staff there about allowing me to set up a photo shoot for their Santa visit next week. I’ll take pics of all the families for free.”
Nana’s hug grew stiff, and she loosened her clasp on me. “Hmmph. Justin. Why are you wasting your time with that shady character?”
That stab at Justin’s character roused my protective side. “Because he came the minute I said I needed him, no questions asked, no hesitation.”
“You didn’t need him,” she said as she spun away from me to return to her seat. “You had me.”
“You had Lou,” I retorted. “I needed someone’s full attention. And it turns out calling Justin was the smartest thing I could do. He gave me something else to focus on, made me care about others who are less fortunate, and helped remind me what a charmed life I’ve lived. I’m grateful he was around, so don’t say anything negative about him. You haven’t seen him since he was a kid. And let me tell you, he’s not a kid anymore. And don’t you dare mention his brother to me. As far as I’m concerned, Jimmy is the shady character these days.”
The good girl in me wanted to clap a hand over my runaway mouth, but the part of me who’d been with Justin last night, the part of me who’d awakened from whatever slumber she’d been under, decided it was long past time I stood up for myself and those I cared about.
“Well,” Nana said, her hands clasped in front of her on the table again. “You sure told me off, didn’t you?” There was no animosity in her tone, only admiration. “Shall we get started on those cookies now?”
♥♥♥♥
ALTHEA
My granddaughter’s attitude surprised me—in a good way. So, okay. Maybe my instincts had originally focused on the wrong Vais brother, and I still wasn’t one hundred percent onboard with her appraisal of Justin, but I was liberal enough to give them both the benefit of the doubt until I could perform my own recon. While we baked all day Sunday, I kept our conversation light, but occasionally tossed in a Justin-related question. She didn’t give me much to go on. He was nice; he was funny; he was personable. Ick. Personable. The kiss of death in romantic terms. I would have to do more digging on my own to get to the meat of Justin Vais.
On Monday, when Siobhan headed off to work, I sat in my late son’s study, a pad and pen on the desk in front of me, and made a phone call. I hoped the professional atmosphere would keep me focused on my objective. This was meant to be an interview, nothing more.
“Snug Harbor Landscaping and Design,” a smooth male voice on the other end said after the second ring.
I cleared my throat quietly and said in my haughtiest tone, “Good morning. I’d like to speak with Mr. Vais, please.”
“Speaking.”
Wow. That rich baritone belonged to little Justin Vais, the miscreant? Well, well. I was beginning to understand his appeal. Still, a man needed more to recommend him than a golden throat. “Justin, this is Althea Bendlow.”
“What’s wrong?” His speech pattern went from polite to urgent. “Did something happen to Siobhan? Where is she? What’s going on?”
He put Siobhan first. I appreciated that and gave him another point in his score column.
“She’s fine. She’s at work. This isn’t a personal call.” Not yet, anyway. “I was wondering if you had some time to see me about a possible job here at our house. I’d come to you, but I don’t have a car. Plus, it would help if you could see the property, so we can discuss the plans appropriately.”
“A landscaping job? Sure, I’d be happy to stop by to discuss particulars. How’s next Wednesday? I could come to you around...two p.m.?”
Wednesday? Ridiculous! I put on my best old lady wheedling tone. “Couldn’t you come today? Just for a few minutes?”
“I’m sorry, Mrs. Bendlow—”
“Call me Thea,” I corrected with sweet-tea charm.
“Thea. I’m sorry, but I’m slammed right now. As it is, I have to be at two different job sites today, and—”
“Lunchtime then,” I interrupted. “Please. Don’t disappoint an old lady.” Old lady, my butt. I could still hold a plank for a full two minutes. But I wasn’t above playing the venerable age angle when it suited me. “Come for lunch today. I make a great chili with home-baked cornbread. I can have it ready around one o’clock. We’ll have a nice meal, we’ll talk, we’ll make plans...”
His sigh was a sweeter surrender than diving face-first into a triple-scoop sundae. “Okay, but make it one-thirty. And I can only give you a half-hour. I’ll stop by between sites. Unless, you’d rather wait ‘til next week when I have more time...?”
“No, the half-hour will be fine.” Once I got him in the door, I’d figure out a way to convince him to stay until I was satisfied he was the right man for my Bon-bon. I wouldn’t make another mistake like I had with Jimmy. “I’ll see you at one-thirty. Thank you, Justin.” I hung up and got to work on my lunch plans, using the culinary skills I’d acquired over my homemaker years.
During my second pregnancy, both doctor and husband insisted I give up my job and rest with my feet up as much as possible. Those six months made me antsy, but I heeded their wishes and was rewarded with a healthy baby boy. My career, meager as it was, ended, and I transitioned into stay-at-home mom mode.
It was an odd time in our country’s history, post-Watergate, in the middle of the disco era, and I struggled to adjust to a life of housework and soap operas. My only outside entertainment came from Tupperware parties. Trust me. I did not go gently into that half-life. Then I discovered Julia Child and the Galloping Gourmet. I had always loved to cook, and finally having my own well-stocked kitchen gave me a chance to turn what I saw these famous chefs do into dishes I could make at home. Archie had an adventurous palate and never turned his nose up at any of my creations. I wish I could say the same about our neighbors.
I once invited the Vaises over when they first moved onto the block. They were a much younger couple, childless at that point, while we had our two boys in high school at the time. I spent all day cooking roast duck breast in brandied cherry sauce with rosemary-and-garlic-roasted potatoes, asparagus with Hollandaise sauce, and a gorgeous baked Alaska for dessert. I thought the meal came out perfectly. All three of my boys devoured it, and Archie assured me I had outdone myself. James and Janet Vais barely touched a morsel on their plates, skipped dessert, and never accepted another dinner invitation from us. In fact, they reciprocated once, serving a boring meal of chicken breasts baked until no moisture remained, canned peas and carrots, and a yellow cake from a boxed mix with canned frosting for dessert. Now, far be it from me to look down my nose at someone who can’t cook. We all have our skills and our weaknesses. I may be a whiz in the kitchen, but Archie had to do all the sewing in the household. I couldn’t even replace a button on the kids’ coats. I’m also a lousy bowler.
So, no. I really didn’t mind the meal Janet served that night—except for the fact that, like everything with this family, the choice showed no imagination. What else could you expect from a couple who gave their kids names that began with the same initial as theirs? James; Janet; James, Jr.; and Justin. Bor-ing!
I know what you’re thinking. Like Tim and Charlie are so original. In Tim’s case, I didn’t want to name my son after my late brother. Archie and I argued about it for months. I wanted Harmony for a girl and Archimedes for a boy. We’d call him Archie for short, which would honor his father, but still give him a unique name of his own. Archie wouldn’t consider either option. He wanted the more conservative Helen for a girl and Michael for a boy. Half the neighborhood families had a boy named Michael in those days. We debated up until the moment we laid eyes on our son for the first time. The resemblance to my brother startled me. He had the same upturned nose, the same curls of dark hair, the same deep blue eyes. He was Tim in miniature, no doubt. I couldn’t name him anything but Timothy. Timothy Archimedes. And three years later, when I gave birth to another boy, I named him Charlemagne Michael, a compromise of epic proportions. Though we called them Tim and Charlie, neither of my children actually had a boring, run-of-the-mill name that lacked originality.
So maybe, Justin, growing up with his imagination stifled, allowed his creativity to grow and flourish as he grew and flourished in body and mind. Maybe he had achieved success in his chosen artistic career, despite the influence of his bland parents, not because of their guidance. At least I hoped so—for Siobhan’s sake. I hated the idea of all my great-grandchildren having “J” names.
By one-thirty, I’d set the table, and the spicy aroma of lunch sharpened the air in the kitchen/dinette. He arrived eight minutes late, full of apologies, on my doorstep, but I waved off his pretty words and gestured for him to enter the living room.
“I appreciate you making time for me,” I said. “Come in. Let’s eat. Everything’s ready.” I wanted him on my territory—off his game, the sooner the better.
He stepped inside, unzipping his heavy canvas jacket, then bent to unlace his work boots. “Okay if I leave these here on the mat?”
I took in the mud and water spots speckling the tan suede tops of his boots and imagined how dirty the bottoms must look. “That’d be nice, thank you.” He’d learned manners in the last fifteen years. Another point for him.
He sat on the low bench against the wall and pulled off the boots, revealing thick gray work socks.
“It must be cold working outside all day,” I remarked.
“Brutally cold in winter, brutally hot in summer,” he said in an affable manner and shrugged. “Nature of the work.”
“You must love the work then.”
He rose, slipped his arms from the sleeves of his jacket, and hung it on the rack next to the parson’s bench. “I do.” Leaving his boots lined up on the indoor/outdoor mat, he moved deeper into the house and closer to me with a slow, steady stride.
I couldn’t help but notice the changes from boy to man: the sharper cheekbones, angular chin, a day’s worth of scruffy beard, his tall, muscular frame.
“Last time I saw you with a lawnmower, you were walking away from my yard after only doing half the job.”
That crooked smile he flashed at my accusation was the only feature I still recognized. “I guess I owe you an apology for that.”
“You owe me ten bucks for ditching me, but I’m willing to forgive and forget.” I tapped my cheek, hinting for a little affection and adoration. At my age, I’d earned it.
He leaned in and kissed me where I’d indicated. “Thanks, Mrs. B. You’re the best. It’s been a long time. You look gorgeous as always. How are you? I was sorry to hear about Mr. B. He was a great man.”
My own smile was wistful as I calculated the truth behind his list of compliments. “Thank you. That’s kind of you to say—especially about Archie.”
“It’s true. All the neighbors loved him.”
Folding my arms over my chest, I smirked. “Unlike how they felt about me.”
He ducked his head. “I...umm...I don’t know—”
“Don’t coddle me, Justin. Your brother already told me what your father used to call me.”
“Yeah, but, Jimmy’s not himself these days...”
“I’ll say.” I turned and walked toward the dinette and the set table, with Justin on my heels. “Let’s forget about him. Right now, I want to hear about you. I already know what most of the neighbors thought of me, including your parents. That’s ancient history.” When he stopped at the table, I gave him a gentle push into the closest chair. “Sit. Tell me, when did you discover you had a passion for gardens?”
He looked up at me with that same crooked grin. “Long after I ditched you and your lawn.” He cast his glance around the room. “Does Siobhan know I’m here?”
No. “Of course she does.” I ruffled his hair the way I would when he was six. “Any gardening plans I make would have to include her input.”
He was far from six, and he shook his head, his eyes narrowed. “I’m not here about a job, am I?”
I whirled toward the stove. “Let’s eat and then we’ll talk.”
“Mrs. Bendlow—”
“Thea.” I didn’t turn around from the pot as I spooned the thick, spicy chili into bowls and littered the tops with freshly grated cheddar cheese.
“Thea, I’m not sure what you want with me, but my time is too valuable, and I don’t appreciate someone taking advantage of a long-term relationship to waste that time with false pretenses.”
“What false pretenses?” I presented the bowl to him with a flourish. “I promised you lunch and here it is.” He glared at me with more heat than the jalapeños in my chili. I stood my ground and fisted my hands at my sides. “What?”
“You know what.” He pushed away from the table. “This has been fun, Thea, but I have to go. Tell Siobhan I’ll call her later to discuss our business arrangement.”
Well, shoot. I didn’t think he’d be so petty as to threaten my granddaughter’s livelihood over a simple lunch. Apparently, some part of the miscreant still resided inside the grown man. I slammed my bowl on the table beside him and waved my hands. “No. Wait. Please.”
Frowning, he got to his feet. “Can’t. I’ve got too much work to do.”
When he turned away from the table, I panicked. “Okay, okay. I’m sorry. I lied about the landscaping job here, but it was the only thing I could think of to get you to come here today.”
He arched a dark brow. “Why?”
I sighed. “I wanted to talk to you about Siobhan.”
His hand drifted to the chair back, but he didn’t resume his seat. “What about her?”
I sank into my seat, hoping he’d take the hint, and rested my chin on my fist. “You took her to that place the other night. The church. Got her to forget about her panic attack and consider someone else’s troubles. That was smart. What made you think of it?”
His posture relaxed, and a smile twitched his lips. “I’m not the teenage boy who abandoned your lawn anymore, you know.”
I let my own smile beam wide. “I’m beginning to see that. How’d you know what to do with her?”
“Jimmy.” At last, he resettled in the chair at the head of the table.
“Jimmy taught you how to do that?”
He picked up his fork and shoveled some of the chili from the bowl. “Not in the way you’re thinking.” After tasting the spicy dish, he nodded in appreciation, but his expression grew more solemn. “Jimmy’s going through...” He cleared his throat. “He’s not himself these days.”
“So you’ve said.”
“Yeah, well, I’ve learned the best way to deal with him is to focus his attention on someone else’s problems instead of his own. I used the same theory on Siobhan, and it worked.” He scooped up more chili and pointed at the bowl. “This is delicious, by the way.”
“Thanks. I’m glad you like it.” I stifled another sigh as I realized I should’ve planned a six-course meal. Clearly, there was more to Justin Vais than I’d thought.