Beloved (29 page)

"
If I might just finish,
"
he said stiffly.
"
I try to encourage my son, try to set myself as an example of the way
not
to go,
"
he said, flushing.

He seemed determined to make a full confession.
"
No one wants Jerry to get a college degree more than I do,
"
he said.
"
No one knows more than I do what it means not to have one nowadays.
"

"
No, that
'
s not true,
"
she said, interrupting him.
"
You can do great things without one and you can be useless
with
one
—
"

"
Will
you let me finish?
"
H
e gripped a slat of the ladder
back chair and stared at the little cracked sugarbowl on the table, choosing his next words.
"
For all the value I place on a good education
—
and that
'
s a great, great deal
—
I still think there
'
s more to life than a hotshot job and a big salary; more to life than a mad scramble for power and control.

"
Let me put it another way,
"
he said, struggling to make himself clear.
"
There
'
s a T-shirt they sell in town
—
for all I know, it
'
s sold everywhere. It says,
HE
WHO
DIES
WITH THE
MOST TOYS
WINS.
"

He lifted his head. His hazel eyes were shining with emotion.
"
I don
'
t want my son
wearing that shirt or
winning that contest.
"

"
N-no, I can see that,
"
she said quite honestly.
"
But just because he graduates from college doesn
'
t mean he
'
ll turn into Donald Trump.
"

Mac made an impatient gesture with his hand, sweeping away her objection.
"
It
'
s not just the schooling, it
'
s every
thing. I think Celeste just ..
. controls him too much. She wants to protect him from any influence that could possibly be harmful.
Any
influence
—
physical, psychological, you name it.
"

Now that he had begun to confide in her, it poured out in a torrent.
"
I gave Jerry a
small
Swiss Army knife
for his birthday
;
Celeste threw it in the trash
can," he said.  "Another time, s
ome bully in school kept cornering him, so I bought him a pair of gloves
and taught him how to defend himself. She made noises about child abuse. And why do you think I tried to stop you when you went on and on about the Legend of the Cursed Rose? Because if it got back to her that I was filling his hea
d up with stories like that ...."

He grimaced and shook his head. It was over, as quickly as it had begun. He was done spilling out his frustrations. He took out two plates and some flatware and began setting the table.

"
I
'
m sorry I put you on the spot like that about the rose, I really am,
"
Jane murmured.
"
If it
'
s any consolation, my parents yanked me off Nantucket permanently once they found out Aunt Sylvia had been telling me ghost stories, and I
'
m still feeling deprived about it. Everybody needs a supply of ghost stories.
"

He gave her a look that was quick, wry, and sympathetic. And then he smiled. It was the first time he
'
d ever come close to sharing an emotion with her, and it threw her for a loop. How could he be so appealing? How could he be so warm? The surprise must have shown in her face, because he turned off the smile almost as soon as he had turned it on.

He pulled a wooden spoon out of a crock and plunged it into the pot of boiling water, swirling the spaghetti with a vengeance.
"
What
'
ll you have to drink?
"
he said gruffly.

"Sparkling water will be fine, any kind,"
she said. She didn
'
t dare ask for Perrier; probably he bought A
&P'
s house brand.

Mac took down a glass, went over to the sink, and turned on the tap. He filled the glass and set it down next to one of the plates.
"
Water it is,
"
he said with a derisive look.

Here we go again,
she thought, biting her lip. No matter how hard she tried to keep the peace, he managed to turn her good intentions into yet another skirmish in their class war. She could see it in his eyes: Snob. Snob. Snob.
Okay, fine.

"
On second thought, gimme a beer,
" she said in a belly-
up-to-the-bar tone.

He rubbed his chin, hard-pressed not to smile.
"
Perhaps you
'
d prefer wine,
"
he said in a smooth turnabout.
"
I have a very nice
Beaujolais
—
robust, rich, and well balanced.
"

She looked startled, then burst into laughter.
"
Just give me the goddamned beer, McKenzie, and let
'
s stop playing games. Yes, I
'
ve had all the
—
quote
—
advantages. And no, I
'
m not so
rr
y about it. That
'
s no reason to shoot me.

"
And if you care to know what I thought about that little scene I witnessed between you and your ex-wife,
"
she added recklessly,
"
I think you were
both
grandstanding for Jerry
'
s benefit. It was a lousy thing to do, but I probably would have done the same damn thing. All
'
s fair in love and war.
"

She flipped her ponytail back in a small defiant gesture, then held her breath while her little speech sank in. Mac was standing with a potholder in each hand, getting ready to lift the pot of boiling water from the stove. She thought he looked endearingly quai
nt: powerfully built, in straight-legged
jeans and a blue flannel shirt, his hair curling wildly over his forehead, clutching two little country-theme potholders, one with ducks, the other with bunnies, in his massive hands.

He stared at her with an impenetrable look. Then he said,
"
I like that in you. You
'
re very fair.
"
And he lifted the pot of spaghetti and dumped it into a colander in the sink.

The last time Jane felt that good about getting someone
'
s approval was when she was sixteen and the Motor Vehicles Bureau granted her a driver
'
s license. She stared at Mac
'
s broad back as he shook the colander free of water and thought,
Why do I feel this need for his approval?
Was it because if he accepted her, it would prove she wasn
'
t a snob?

Mac turned and said casually,
"
Help yourself.
"
No appetizer, no salad, definitely no candles. She brought her plate to the sink and speared a little spaghetti, then went over to the stove for the meat sauce. Mac popped open two beers and joined her at the table.
"
Cheers,
"
he said, tapping her can with his.

Two days, two men, two meals. They couldn
'
t be more different. She
'
d adored her time with Bing; it was filled with charm and romance and free-flowing confidences. But tonight? Up, down, and everywhere between. Even now she hadn
'
t a clue what Mac McKenzie was thinking. It occurred to her that with a man like him, you never
would
have a clue.

"
A penny for your thoughts,
"
she ventured, partly to provoke him.

He took a slug of beer and surprised her by saying,
"
I was thinking I didn
'
t handle my divorce very well. You
'
re right; it really was a war. The thing is, I
'
m the only one in my family who
'
s had to go through one. In our family,
"
he added grimly,
"
we tend to stick it out.
"
He heaved his fork into the spaghetti like a pitchfork into a haystack. End of discussion.

They began eating in silence. Jane found herself sneaking glances at his face. After a lifetime of exposure to the sun, it was etched and lined, well beyond his years. He had none of Bing
'
s prime-of-life glow or Phillip Harrow
'
s smooth indoor looks. He was like most of the homes on
Nantucket
, she decided: weathered and a little beat up, but full of character and strength.

"
What
'
s wrong? Sauce on my chin?
"
He picked up a paper napkin and dabbed elaborately at the lower half of his face.

Jane blushed, ignoring the sarcasm.
"
Do you have much family still living on
Nantucket
?
"

He shrugged.
"
Not many; they can
'
t afford it. Scattered cousins, a couple of aunts, and the uncle I told you about, the one too old to drive anymore. My brother and my sister both bailed out of the farm after my father died; they
'
ve gone to live on the mainland. In case you
'
re wondering: I
'
ll be paying them off until I die.
"

"
I wasn
'
t wondering at all,
"
she said, but of course she was. She added,
"
It must be hard, trying to squeeze a profit from a nursery when you have
a big mortgage
hanging over your head.
"

"
Hard, I can handle,
"
he said grimly, twirling spaghetti around his fork.
"
It
'
s the impossible that scares me.
"

"I know what you mean
. Sometimes my plan to start my own agency terrifies me, too.
"

He looked up, surprised.
"
I didn
'
t know you planned to go solo. Wel
l ..
. good luck.
"
After a pause he added casually,
"
Any nibbles on Lilac Cottage?
"

"
No, but Phillip Harrow dropped by recently and he thinks he may have someone in the offing. He told me not to sign on with a realtor quite yet; he may be able to save me the commission,
"
she said, feeling vaguely indiscreet.

She saw Mac stop his fork
mid-twirl, then resume. "Phil
lip Harrow is a licensed broker,
"
he said coldly.
"
It
'
s a violation of their code of ethics for him to try to skirt around a formal contract.
"

"Oh ..
. I didn
'
t know that. Please don
'
t say anything around town,
"
she said, distressed.
"
He was trying to do me a favor; I wouldn
'
t want him to get in any trouble.
"

Mac snorted.
"
Phillip Harrow is very good at not getting into trouble,
"
he said cryptically.
"
I wouldn
'
t worry about him.
"