The Company You Keep (30 page)

Brigid stopped lunging for a falling balloon to look at her. “Don’t worry. If we get separated I will go to stand next to the Heisman Trophy and you or Mom or Dad or Press will come find me.”

“That sounds like a good plan. Wait a minute. You know what the Heisman Trophy is?”

“Dad takes me to see it before every Grantham football game. He tells me it’s a shine,” Brigid said proudly.

“A ‘shine’?”

“She means a shrine,” Press explained coming up next to her. “What a zoo, huh? I’m supposed to meet Matt, but I doubt I’ll find him.”

Brigid tugged on his black shorts.

Press’s class outfit was a Tyrolean lederhosen look, and somehow he managed not to appear totally stupid. Mimi couldn’t quite figure out why. Maybe it was because he wore a Hoagie Palace T-shirt instead and let the suspenders hang down from his waist.

“I want ice cream,” Brigid announced.

“Ice cream? They don’t have ice cream,” Mimi replied.

“Yeah, they do—Creamsicles. What would you expect,” Press answered bouncing on the heels of his boat shoes. Creamsicles were vanilla ice on a stick encased in orange sherbet—perfect for Grantham’s colors.

Mimi made head-bobbing motions toward Noreen, who was standing off to the side with Conrad. “Ix-nay on the eamsicle…oh, whatever. I can’t figure it out,” she said to Press.

He took no notice and waved at Noreen. “Hey, I’m going to get Brigid some ice cream,” he announced. Miracle of miracles, Noreen nodded affirmatively. “Ta-ta,” Press wiggled his fingers goodbye to Mimi, then hoisted Brigid on his shoulders. “Up we go.” He settled her firmly. “You can be the scout and let me know when you see the ice cream, Brig.” He pushed his way through the crowd.

Which left Mimi with Noreen and her father, both of whom, she couldn’t help noticing, were uncharacteristically subdued for the occasion. Oh, her father was doing his usual glad-handing and superior up-and-down chin acknowledgment of fellow alumni, but his skin was pale, his smile not exposing the normal number of top teeth and gum.

Maybe there were problems with the marriage, after all?

Oh, forget about Noreen and her father.
There was only one person she was concerned about seeing. Vic.

Mimi scanned the crowd. Someone knocked into her from behind with a murmur of “Sorry.” “That’s okay,” she heard herself saying. And it was, she realized. She could stand in a crowd, people pushing, and she wasn’t afraid.

For once, she wasn’t thinking about the past. She was focused on the here and now. And the smile spreading across her face? It hinted at the future.

CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO

PRESS RIPPED THE PAPER COVER off the Creamsicle and passed it to Brigid. “Tell you what. How about I put you down now so you don’t drip all over this outfit? It cost me some serious cash.” He scooped his sister off his shoulders and lowered her to the floor. “And you better take some of these, as well.” He grabbed a wad of paper napkins and held them out.

Brigid was too engrossed with her ice cream to bother to reply.

Press kept the napkins anyway, waiting for the inevitable moment when Brigid would get ice cream all over her black polka dot dress.

“See, Tommy, that girl got ice cream. I’m sure we can get you one, too,” a young woman’s voice sounded off to Press’s right. “Ice cream’s much better than an old balloon anytime.”

He glanced over. The waitress from the Circus diner. “Basia, right?” he said to her. “My friend Matt and I met you the other morning?”

Basia glanced up. “Oh, right. Press, isn’t it?”

He nodded. He looked down at the boy clutching her hand with both of his. “And this is your son?”

“That’s right. Tommy, say hello to Press.”

Tommy hid farther behind his mother’s legs, poking his head around the side of her pants to barely sneak a peek.

Basia looked down. “He’s kind of shy with strangers.”

“That’s okay. He makes up for my half-sister, Brigid, here, who’s not shy at all. Brigid, say hello.”

Brigid stopped licking. “Hello. Why is he crying?”

“Oh, he’s upset because the balloon he had burst. I told him I’d get him an ice cream instead.” She ruffled Tommy’s dark hair.

Brigid stepped closer to Tommy. “Ice cream’s much better,” she announced confidently. “How old are you? Are you a baby?”

Tommy stuck his head between his mother’s legs. “I’m not a baby. I’m three.” He held up three fingers.

Press got down on his haunches. “Well, three-year-olds need to have ice cream, that’s for sure.” He stood up and spoke to Basia. “If you guard the brood, I’ll get another Creamsicle.” He looked down at the napkins in his hand. “And you better take these. You’re more in the line of fire.”

Press moved closer to the table where a couple of students in orange polo shirts were digging through orange-colored coolers, handing out the free ice cream. An orange paper cloth covered the table and two bunches of balloons were taped to the corners. “Could I get another ice cream?” Press called out. “And if you don’t mind, I’m going to swipe one of your balloons for a friend of mine.” He gave a wink to one of the young women working, and she didn’t seem to mind one bit.

“I can get more than one for you,” she said, smiling back.

“Oh, that’d be great. Four if you can spare them.” He flashed her a killer smile.

“Up to your old tricks, I see.”

Press looked sideways, but he already knew it was Amara. She acknowledged him with a shoulder bump.

“Hey, yourself,” he responded. “I thought you were working this Reunions?”

“I am. Can’t you tell?” She wore the same orange polo shirt as the students working the ice cream table. “I’m in charge of ferrying around one of the old alums in a golf cart, but since the Parade got pushed inside, he’s happily ensconced at a table, and I’m supposed to get him some ice cream.”

“Here’s your ice cream and balloons, then.” The female student behind the table held them out to Press. Then she noticed Amara and abruptly turned to help the next customer.

Amara bit back a smile. “Another heart broken by the heartthrob of Grantham.” She grabbed an ice cream and spied Press’s haul. “So who’s the loot for?”

“My new best friend. C’mon, I’ll introduce you.” Press escorted Amara to where Basia was waiting with the kids. “Here you go, Tommy, one ice cream.” He handed it to Basia when she held out her hand. “And two new balloons for you.” He separated them from the bundle. The boy clapped. “Why don’t we tie them around your wrist so they don’t fly away.”

“No balloons for me?” Brigid pouted. Ice cream dripped down her hand and forearm.

Press scratched his head. “I guess these must have your name on it.” He attached the other two balloons to Brigid’s sticky wrist.

Then he regarded the two young women. “I ran into a friend at the table. Amara, this is Basia and her son, Tommy. And you know my kid sister, Brigid.”

“How you doin’, Brig.” She high-fived the girl. Then she looked up. “Pleased to meet you, Basia. Are you a classmate of Press’s?” Amara asked coolly.

Press couldn’t believe it. How come all his friends acted so weird?

Basia shook her head. “Oh, no. We only met yesterday. I work at the Circus and he came in with his friend Matt. Do you know him, too?”

“Oh, yeah, Matt’s great.”

Press really didn’t need to hear that.

“I go to Rutgers. I should have finished up sooner, but I’m a single mother and…”

“Say no more. My mom raised me alone, too. I mean, I get along with my dad now and everything, but they were divorced. It’s a long story.” Amara was now all smiles, and she knelt down and played a brief game of peek-a-boo with Tommy. Then she straightened up. “I love kids. If you ever need any babysitting, just let me know.”

“That’s very nice, but my family usually picks up the slack when Tommy’s not in nursery school.”

Amara nodded. “So, I bet Press told you how I threw myself all over him last year at Reunions, but he brushed me off because he said I was too young.” She scrunched her shoulders forward as she shared the news.

Basia shook her head. “I don’t know anything. We barely talked. It was really more about Matt asking me about playing the violin.”

“Speaking of Matt. I think that’s him now,” Press said. He waved toward one of the front glass doors where Matt was coming in.

Matt crossed over, nearly tripping over a double baby stroller with Lion’s tails hanging off the handles. “Sorry I’m late. Have you seen what the parking’s like?” He gave Amara a quick peck when she offered her cheek. And then he saw Basia. “Oh, hi,” he said without much enthusiasm.

“I’m so glad you’re here,” Basia gushed. “I’ve been keeping this secret—even from my family, but I just have to tell someone, and you’re the perfect person to tell. Our violin teacher—Tina Chang—she helped get me an audition at Juilliard. Can you believe it? I mean, I’m sure I won’t be accepted, and I can’t even imagine how my family’s going to react, but can you believe it? An audition with the best music conservatory in the country?”

“That’s great,” Matt said.

Press slanted him a look. Couldn’t his friend sound even slightly more enthusiastic? “I’m sure impressed,” he said quickly to make up for it.

“Listen, I gotta run before this thing melts.” Amara held up her ice cream. “Nice meeting you. Bye, Brigid. Bye, Tommy.” She waved, then turned to Matt and Press. “Catch you later, guys.”

“I should be going, too,” Press added. “My folks will be wondering where Brigid and I have got to. Hey, Brigid, let’s rejoin the family.” He twirled her around to point her in the right direction. “We’ll be seeing you then, but you can stay and talk, Matt.”

“No, I need to talk to you about something important,” Matt answered. He seemed cross.

“Sure, whatever.” He held up his hand to Basia and Tommy. “Great news, again.” And he pushed Brigid in front of him. Then he spoke in a low voice that was barely loud enough to be heard above the din. “Couldn’t you have been civil at least? She was so excited. And she saved the news for you, for Pete’s sake.”

“That’s exactly what I want to talk to you about. I don’t want you pushing me at her.”

“Pushing you at her? I’m not pushing you at her. It’s more like all the women push themselves at you. Look at Amara.”

Matt shook his head. “Amara? I don’t know what you’re talking about. I’m talking about Basia. I need to stay far away.”

“Hold up a sec, Brigid.” Press placed a hand on her shoulder and glanced sideways at Matt. “What’s so bad about Basia that you would just blow her off like that? Back at the Circus, you looked like you really liked her.”

“I did. But that was before the kid.”

“What’s wrong with that?”

“Like I said before. She’s probably married.”

“No, she talked about being a single mom.”

Matt let out an exasperated sigh. “Even worse.”

Press shook his head. “I don’t get it.”

“You don’t know what it’s like to grow up with a single mom. All you see is my family now—Katarina, my dad, Babička
.
But it wasn’t like that when I was growing up.”

“But Basia’s not you,” Press argued. “Get over your hang-ups. Open yourself up to the possibilities. Let someone in.”

“The way you let in Amara,” Matt shot back.

“That’s different.”

“Tell that to Amara. How do you think she feels?” Matt asked.

“Well, you can be there to hold her hand, then?”

“Don’t think I won’t,” Matt answered.

Which was exactly what Press was afraid of.

CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE

EVEN THOUGH VIC TOWERED over most of the crowd, the crush of people made it almost impossible for him to pick out individual faces unless he was right on top of them. He’d arrived at Baldwin more than a half hour ago with Basia and Tommy, and now that they’d gone off to get ice cream, he could concentrate on trying to find Mimi.

He figured she wouldn’t be hard to spot, but he was surprised by the number of people in his class who’d come back and felt no compunction about dressing up. They all looked like escapees from
Alice in Wonderland,
and it was honestly hard to keep a straight face when they came up to greet him.

“Yo, brother of mine.” Joe came up behind Vic and wrapped his arm around his shoulder. “How come no funny hat?”

Vic stepped back. Basia had texted Joe in the car ride over about the change of leave, so he’d been expecting his brother. But he hadn’t expected Joe to be three sheets to the wind. “Whew! It’s too early to be hitting the sauce, don’t you think?” Vic glanced down at his watch. It was only eleven o’clock in the morning.

Joe removed his arm and gestured dramatically. “What do you mean? I’m merely getting into the spirit of things. You don’t think half the people here aren’t already a bit tipsy?”