Iris Avenue (21 page)

“People are choosing to do most of those things, Maggie, not God.”

“But God is supposed to send angels to intervene. Why do they show up for some things but not others? Is there a seven-year curse on us or something? Did we forget to invite some bad fairy to a christening?”

“I don’t know, Maggie. It’s definitely been a rollercoaster this year.”

“That’s exactly right,” Maggie said. “You said a true, right thing, right there, you just did.”

“I think it’s time for some plain coffee, Maggie, what do you say?”

“Alright, I’ve had enough,” she said, but took another sip of her whiskey-laced coffee.

“You let me have that and I’ll go make you a fresh one without whiskey in it.”

“You always take good care of me,” Maggie said. “You’re a good man, Scott, a fine man.”

“I think I like her better drunk,” Scott said to Hannah in the kitchen.

The crowd had thinned out somewhat. Father Stephen had gone, and Bonnie was upstairs lying down. Hannah was washing coffee cups and Sean was drying.

“I’m getting her some plain coffee,” Scott said.

“She never gets drunk,” Hannah told Sean. “Never.”

“She doesn’t like to lose control,” Sean said, “in contrast to our role model in there.”

Fitz could be heard in the front room singing a sad Irish folksong, although you couldn’t understand a single word. Patrick, on the other hand, had a beautiful voice, and wasn’t quite as drunk. He was playing an old upright piano in desperate need of tuning.

When Scott got back to the sunroom, Maggie was lying down on the glider’s cushions, snoring. He set the coffee cup down, covered Maggie with his coat, and then sat in the wicker rocker.

She woke up startled and asked, “Where is everybody?”

“I’m right here,” he told her, and covered her up as she lay back down.

“Don’t leave me,” she said.

“I won’t, I promise,” he said.

Scott made himself comfortable, put his feet up on the wicker coffee table, and sipped the coffee he’d brought out for Maggie. Lazy Ass Laddie groaned and rolled over to expose his other side to the small heater. Banjo moaned a little and looked longingly at the door to the kitchen. Patrick had told him to stay, and while he lived to please Patrick, he wasn’t happy about it.

Hannah stuck her head out the back door of the kitchen.

“You want me to sit with her?”

“No,” Scott said. “There’s nowhere else I’d rather be.”

Hannah went back in the kitchen and leaned down close to Sean, who was sitting at the table eating some rolled up cold cuts impaled on toothpicks.

“Ava may not have won the battle after all,” she said.

She’d been filling Sean in on every subject.

“Good,” said Sean.

Hannah sat down, speared some olives, and ate them.

“I can’t seem to get enough olives lately,” she said. “Black ones, green ones, with pits or pimentos.”

“The food is the only good part about these things.”

“I’ve been wearing your ear off telling you all the Rose Hill gossip, and you haven’t said a thing about you. How’s Pittsburgh?”

“It’s fine, I guess. I’m getting to that place in my job where I know how to do everything, I’ve done it all a million times, and I’m bored to death.”

“So do something else.”

“I make too much money to just walk away. A few more years and I can retire.”

“What is it you do, again? I know it’s in a bank so there’s money involved.”

“The official answer is that I manage people’s money by helping them invest it wisely; by setting up trusts for their heirs, and by finding the lowest cost way to distribute the earnings.”

“What’s the truth?”

“I manage people’s greed, vindictiveness, and unreasonable expectations.”

“Uh oh, you’re using your powers for evil. Jesus hates that, you know.”

“I do encourage people to donate to charity, for the write-off, of course.”

“Come back from the dark side, Sean. The force is strong with you.”

“I get six weeks of vacation every year and I can’t take any of it. I have to be available every moment of every day to hold hands with jumpy clients. I work at home for two hours in the morning before I even go into work at the bank. I stay until eight or nine every night, and I take work home on weekends. I work for a bunch of conservative backslapping pinheads who love nothing more than to provide each other with alibis so they can cheat on their wives. Then there are the board meetings, committee meetings, and management meetings where no one actually says anything, they sling around phrases like, ‘value-added,’ ‘core competencies,’ and ‘performance indicators.’”

“Those aren’t real words,” Hannah said. “Use them in a sentence.”

“We need to re-examine our core competencies to ensure that the end product is value-added, results-driven, and comparable in synergy with the bottom line of our targeted performance indicators.”

“What in the world does that mean?”

“Make more money or we’ll replace you.”

“That sounds like a soul-sucking job.”

“It is. How’s your job?”

“I helped someone kill four dogs today.”

“I’m so sorry. You win. My job is never, even on the worst day, on par with that.”

“Thank you. How’s your love life?”

Sean gave Hannah a wary look.

“There isn’t one right now.”

“A handsome single man like yourself? What’s wrong with those Pitt chicks?”

“Um, actually it may have more to do with me being gay.”

Sean looked as if he was bracing himself for rejection and judgment.

Hannah did look shocked.

“Jiminy Christmas. Does anybody else know?” she asked him. “I mean, here.”

“Maggie and Patrick know. I thought Maggie probably told you.”

“No, that little scamp never said a word.”

“I haven’t told Mom and Dad yet, but I plan to.”

“It’ll be fine,” Hannah said. “It’s much more accepted now than it was.”

“Sure, Hannah,” Sean said as he gave her a dubious look.

“Well, what do you want me to say, Sean? It will shock the hell out of them, they’ll be pissed off about it for awhile, and then they’ll either get over it or they won’t.”

“You’re right. I know.”

“But it doesn’t matter to me,” Hannah said. “I’m a skilled matchmaker and I’ll just have to use my core competencies to find you a value-added boyfriend. What kind of performance indicators are you looking for?”

“No thanks,” Sean said. “I’ll figure it out myself.”

“Well, since you told me a big secret I’ll tell you one. I am great with child.”

“Hannah, that’s wonderful!”

“Nobody else knows about it though, not even Maggie, so don’t tell.”

“Sam must be thrilled.”

“He doesn’t know. He’s been gone for a few weeks, on business.”

“I bet he’ll be excited when he finds out.”

“We’ll see.”

Some ladies arrived with more food, so Hannah rose to greet them.

By six o’clock Maggie was awake with a headache. Scott’s back was stiff from sitting so long in an uncomfortable chair.

“Hi,” she said to Scott. “When did you get here?”

“A little while ago,” Scott said.

“Sorry I was asleep,” she said. “Being nice to so many nosy people is very tiring. My teeth hurt from grinding and my face hurts from smiling. It sounds like the piano bar in the front room has finally closed. Where is everybody?”

“Your mother is upstairs in her room; she’s had a sedative. Your father is asleep in the front room. Patrick took Doc home. Your uncles went back to work.”

“Heaven forbid we would close a business when somebody dies,” she said.

“I’m sure your uncles were fond of your Grandpa Tim, but he wasn’t their father-in-law.”

“Did Mom close the bakery?”

“No, Mandy was there and now she’s over at the Thorn.”

“Aren’t you supposed to be at Ava’s?”

“No, that’s done with. The FBI agents are keeping an eye on her.”

“Hmph,” Maggie said. “Did Ava come over?”

“She called to ask if she should come, and your brother told her not to.”

“Figures. Who told you?”

“Patrick called and I came right over.”

“Thank you.”

“You’re welcome. How are you feeling?”

“Numb, with an aching head. I had some whiskey earlier, which is never a good idea.”

“I’ll get you some aspirin and a big glass of water.”

“Thank you.”

“It’s the least I could do. You’ve nursed me through a few headaches.”

“How’s your head been?”

“Fine. The front room smells like a barbecue smoker, though, so I may leave by the back door.”

“Don’t go. I mean, unless you need to.”

Scott smiled at her.

“I’ll stay,” he said. “I’ve got nothing better to do.”

After Scott went to the kitchen Maggie leaned back and rubbed her temples.

Ed came by to say how sorry he was, and that he had to get home for Tommy. Maggie thanked him for coming. Sean came out and sat with her.

“Thanks for coming home so fast,” Maggie said.

“Thanks for offering to let me stay with you. This house is going to be like a drunken wake for several more days to come.”

“I forgot I’m supposed to be staying with Hannah. Where is she?”

“She’s staying at her parents’ house tonight,” Sean said. “Don’t worry about it.”

“Remember when Grandma Rose died?”

“And the drunken sons of the sainted Mother Rose drowned their sorrows for forty days and nights.”

“She and Mom were like oil and water.”

“More like hydrogen and whatever else you need to make a bomb.”

Scott came back with her aspirin and water.

“Anything else I can do for you?” Scott asked Maggie.

“No,” Maggie said. “I probably should go do my daughterly duties and put away all the casseroles and pies that are bound to be stacked to the ceiling in there. I’m sorry, that sounds ungrateful, and I’m not. One of the nice things about this town is that there will be many good-hearted, religious women available to form a buffer between me and my mother for the next few days.”

“Hannah and I took care of the food. Let me take you home,” Sean said. “I need to check my e-mail and voice mail and clear my calendar.”

“Any word on when the funeral will be.”

“Sunday,” Sean said. “Right after church.”

“Which means a buffet lunch for two hundred at the Community Center afterward,” Maggie said.

“Probably.”

“Oh, take me home, Sean. I get tired just thinking about it.”

Scott and Sean helped her up and she wobbled a bit, but swore she was fine.

“Thanks again for coming, Scott,” she said. “It was very kind of you.”

“No problem,” Scott said, and brushed her forehead with the briefest kiss before he left.

Sean drove her home and helped her up the back steps to her apartment.

“Excuse the mess,” she said. “I’ve been running around like a chicken with its head cut off for days.”

“Don’t worry about it,” Sean said as he picked up the phone handset in the kitchen. “Hey, Maggie, the light’s on. You have a message.”

“Oh, that’s right,” Maggie said. “I had two yesterday and only listened to the first one. It was Mom yelling at me to get my butt down to the bakery.”

Maggie took the receiver out of Sean’s hand and dialed her voice mail service. When prompted, she pushed the button that corresponded to “listen to your first message.”

“Maggie,” it began. It was Gabe.

Maggie slammed the phone down and Sean was startled.

“What?” he said. “Was it Brian?”

“No,” Maggie said. She was trembling and had gone two shades paler than usual.

“What was that?”

Maggie shook her head.

“Did somebody threaten you?” he asked.

“It was Gabe,” she said. “Sean, I don’t want this.”

Maggie started crying and Sean took her hand and led her to a chair by the kitchen table. He sat silently with her while she cried. Then he took a dish towel and made a cold, wet compress out of it, and put it on her eyes.

“Listen,” Sean said. “This may not relate to your situation in any way, but it’s the only comparison I can make to what you’re feeling right now. Brad Eldridge was the love of my life. I’ve been in love since then, of course, and I’ve had my heart broken a few times. But no one has taken his place. No one could. I loved him with every fiber of my being. That sounds corny but I don’t know how to explain it any other way. I loved him regardless of anything he did to hurt or betray me. What I want to tell you is this: if Brad was alive and called me right now, I’d get in my car or get on a plane and go to wherever he is. I’d go to him and be with him and help him if I could. Does that make sense to you?”