False Start (11 page)

 He was right. It was Frank.

"Sorry, man, but it sounded like you were in some kind of trouble in there."

"Nah, just a bad dream." The memory of it was already evaporating like vapor.

Opening the door a little wider, he noticed Frank was wearing his rumpled black suit and white shirt, no tie, and holding his horn case. That he reeked of cigarette smoke, tipped Nick off to the fact that the non-smoker had just spent a couple of hours in either a bar or a lounge. Since he didn't detect the smell of alcohol, he asked, "Did you have a gig tonight?"

"Yeah, down at Kincaid's. Packed house." After a prolonged cough, he added, "Just two dozen seats, but they were full."

Nick smiled. "Nice. All right, Frank. I'll see ya 'round."

He started to close the door when Frank asked, "Hey, you got any plans for Thanksgiving? I'm going to my brother's down in Cicero. I'm sure he wouldn't mind if I brought a friend."

"Oh, thanks, but I'm going to my folks then volunteering down at the shelter. Maybe next year, huh?" With that, he tried closing the door again, when Frank used his foot as a stopper.

"Hey, man. One more thing. "

Nick rested the side of his face against the doorframe and lifted his eyebrows expectantly. "Shoot."

"Who's Mattie?"

*  *  *

"Happy Thanksgiving," Mattie called out after letting herself in the front door of her home away from home. Like so many other houses in the Lincoln Square neighborhood, Claudia and Tom's had a narrow, but deep floor plan, and its décor was warm and inviting. The air was filled with the intoxicating aroma of sage dressing, roast turkey, and pumpkin pie. She closed her eyes, inhaled through her nose and groaned.

As she made her way down the foyer hall toward the kitchen, Tom blocked her path and greeted her with a warm hug.

"Hey Matt. How are ya? Let me take your coat. Claud's in the kitchen."

"Thanks, bro. I'll go see if she needs help."

"And I'll go watch the game," he replied as he snuck in the opposite direction toward the family room.

The bag of salad Mattie had brought dangled haplessly at her side as she entered the kitchen. It was her only contribution to the otherwise starch-laden feast.

She found Claudia standing in front of the kitchen counter that jutted between them. With one hand, she had a white-knuckle grip on the rim of an over-sized stainless steel bowl that, by the smell of it, was filled with the ingredients for their mother's traditional sage stuffing recipe. In her other hand, she held a large stainless steel spoon. Mattie watched in awe as her sister stirred with the intensity of a high-speed blender.

Given the size of the bowl and the angle at which Claudia was gripping the spoon, she suspected her diminutive sister was standing on a step stool. It was likely the same one she used to reach items on the top shelves of her kitchen cabinets.

Strands of Claudia's otherwise smooth blonde hair had fallen across her pink, sweat-beaded face. When her eyes darted from the contents of the bowl to her sister, she cried, "What's that?"

Mattie jumped. She dropped the bag of salad on the counter and backed away slowly, out of Claudia's spoon-swinging radius.

"What does it look like?"

After dumping the ingredients from the bowl into a greased roasting pan, Claudia shoved it in the oven, slammed the door shut and responded, "I know what it is, but why did you bring it? We never have salad on Thanksgiving. The whole day is about indulging, not dieting. I made three different kinds of pie, for Pete's sake."

She ripped a paper towel off a nearby roll and dabbed her forehead, waiting for a response.

Mattie looked forward to this day of unbridled gluttony more than any other. Even Christmas. Gritting her teeth, she replied, "I know, I know, but I'm in training. Remember?"

"All right," Claudia conceded. "But you got to have at least one piece of pumpkin pie. Pumpkin's a vegetable, right? Or is it a fruit?"

After a week of following Nick's rules to the letter, Mattie had already managed to lose three pounds. Still, it took every ounce of will power she had to keep from lunging for the whipped cream canister she knew was in the refrigerator and spraying the entire contents of it into her open mouth.

Something distract me, quick.

"Where are the kids?"

"Tommy's napping, but I think the twins are with Tom, watching the game."

Watching a football game without the usual beer, chips and dip at her fingertips held little appeal. She decided to try a different tactic.

"How about I set the table?"

Claudia wiped her hands on her apron. "I did that first thing this morning."

Mattie peeked into the dining room. The table, draped in a gold, lightly patterned tablecloth with matching napkins and candle tapers, looked exquisite.

"Wow. All that's missing are little pinecone turkey napkin holders," Mattie teased, as she did in her column that ran the week before, off-handedly dissing stay-at-home moms who have too much time on their hands.

"Look behind you," Claudia said dryly.

There, on the kitchen table sat seven perfect little pinecone turkey napkin holders.

Mattie picked one up and examined it. "How cute. Did the kids make these?"

Claudia folded her arms and tried to look upset, but burst out laughing instead. "I don't want to talk about it. How about some wine before Aunt Viv gets here?"

Before Mattie could reply, she poured them both a glass and asked, "So how's it going with you? Tell me about the training."

"I have to admit it's going really well. I hardly get sore at all anymore and can almost run a mile without feeling like I'm going to die."

"Almost a mile? Already?"

"Without stopping," Mattie boasted.

"I'm impressed. And jealous. I haven't been able to work out since I had Tommy."

Setting her glass on the counter, Claudia snapped her fingers.

"Oh, I almost forgot. I was going through clothes for Goodwill when I came across the workout stuff I wore when I was expecting the twins. Would you be interested in any of it?"

"Ouch," Mattie exclaimed. "Do I look pregnant with twins to you?"

"Of course not. I had to stop exercising when I was in my fourth month, so they're technically not even maternity clothes. Besides, I'm not using them. I put everything in a bag for you by the front closet. Just remember to grab it when you leave later."

Mattie's spirit brightened. She was getting tired of having to wash the same sweats night after night.

"So, what's your coach like?" Claudia asked. "Would you recommend him?"

Mattie looked away and stammered, "He's uh, well, you know, he's OK. He's the first trainer I've ever had, so I don't really have anybody to compare him to."

Her sister leaned forward and whispered, "Is he hot?"

Taking another sip of wine, Mattie sank into a kitchen chair and examined one of the turkey napkin holders. "I don't want to talk about it."

"What's the matter? Is he a jerk?"

Mattie knew it was now or never. If she didn't tell Claudia the truth, she'd learn about it with the rest of her readers when the feature kicked off in January. And that would be bad. Very bad.

She sat up. "No, Claud. It's just that, well—" She took a deep breath before blurting, "It's Nick."

Her sister stared at her. "Nick who?"

Taking another deep breath, Mattie clarified. "DeRosa. My coach is Nick DeRosa."

Claudia covered her mouth with her hand. Her eyes were as wide as saucers.

"Oh. My. God," she shrieked. Lowering her voice, she asked, "When were you going to tell me?"

Tom came bursting into the kitchen in full paramedic mode. "What happened? Everything OK?"

Claudia started fanning herself with an oven mitt, smiling at Mattie who was five shades of red and covering her face with both hands.

"I knew I shouldn't have told you," her muffled voice moaned.

Shooing her husband away, Claudia exclaimed, "I'm so excited for you."

Truly concerned that her sister could be so clueless, Mattie scrunched her face in disbelief and asked, "Why?"

Having successfully paired an old college buddy with her best friend's brother, a union that blossomed into marriage, Claudia fancied herself a matchmaker. Mattie did not. Still, it didn't keep Claudia from giving it her best shot.

She beamed at her little sister. "Just wait. You'll see."

Laughing, Mattie held up her hand and said, "Please, don't embarrass yourself on my account. The man despises me."

"He does not."

"He does. Claudia, he does. On so many different levels. I'm sure he's as eager to get this assignment over with as I am."

Her sister smiled at her and sipped at her cabernet.

Mattie continued, "Okay. Whatever. Listen, this leads me to my next question."

"What's up?"

Mattie took a long slog of wine this time. When she felt a wave of intoxication warm her face and melt her reserve, she asked, "Is the offer to move in with you guys still open?"

Her sister seemed relieved. "Of course, hon, anytime. You know that. For how long?"

"Ten months?" she ventured.

"Oh. Wow. Sure. Absolutely."

"And Tom would be okay with it?"

"Are you kidding? You know he loves your cooking. Besides, having another adult around to watch the kids, take them to and from school, and help with the chores? He'd be ecstatic."

Wait a minute…

Claudia nodded. "So what's your game plan? Are you subletting your apartment?"

"My apartment?"

Claudia frowned. "Yeah. You just renewed your lease didn't you?"

Mattie hadn't thought that far in advance. She hadn't thought much beyond what Dianne had said. Moving in with her sister and her family so she would remember that she's supposed to be a married working parent suddenly didn't seem like a very good idea, especially if it would mean losing her beloved Lincoln Park apartment.

Responding with the only truth she knew, Mattie sighed, "I haven't gotten that far yet."

She was spared from further questioning by the sound of the doorbell.

The sisters' eyes met.

"Aunt Viv," Claudia announced with a smile.

Contrary to her gruff exterior, their aunt was the only one who had welcomed the girls into her home with open arms and raised them as her own after Mattie and Claudia's mother had died unexpectedly. As such, they were exceedingly fond of her despite her lack of social graces.

After dinner, the family matriarch sat at the head of the table opposite Tom. Her dark blond hair, infused with white strands, was pulled into a bun at the nape of her neck making the lines in her face more pronounced and her features more severe. Square-shaped, gold clip-on earrings covered her earlobes. With her elbows on the table, she surveyed the empty platters and bowls that just a few minutes before had been brimming with whipped garlic potatoes, candied sweet potatoes, green bean casserole, homemade drop biscuits, and roast turkey you could cut with a fork.

"Well, Claudia, you may not be the cook your sister is, but you have definitely mastered your mother's Thanksgiving menu."

Claudia rose from her seat, kissed her on the check, and replied, "Thanks, Aunt Viv."

Mattie took a more direct route to deliver the compliment. "Everything was fantastic, Claud."

After their Dad walked out on them, Thanksgiving marked the one day their mother considered cooking for her girls a joy, not a burden. Every bite was a soothing balm, taking away the sting of rejection and replacing it with just a couple of unwanted pounds. In Mattie's mind, this always seemed like a fair trade, and this year was no exception. Deprived of the starches, sugar, and alcohol for the past week, each bite was a culinary dream.

"Listen, girls," Aunt Viv said after setting down her napkin. "I was going through some old things. Books, letters. You know."

Mattie glanced at Claudia who had already started clearing dishes.

"Uh-huh," she prodded.

"And I found some pictures of you, dear," she said pointing to Mattie. "I was thinking maybe you could stop by if you wanted and pick them up." Vivienne then launched into an unsolicited update on her own daughter. "Did I tell you Linda is staying at her in-laws until Helen recovers from her hip surgery? I told you Helen had hip surgery, right? The doctor thought she should have both hips replaced, but he'll only do one at a time. And of course, Medicare will only pay for—"

"Aunt Viv?" Mattie interrupted, while Tom got up to help Claudia clear. "You found some pictures?"

"Oh, right. Well, I thought if you weren't doing anything tomorrow…"

Thinking of the train-bus-another-train-cab route she'd have to take to get to her aunt's after her morning workout, she replied, "Oh, Aunt Viv. I'm sorry, but I have plans tomorrow. Maybe some other time?"

 "Sure. Another time then."

Craning her neck to see that Claudia and Tom were out of earshot, Vivienne whispered, "And tell your sister to stop spoiling her children. They'll be walking all over her before she knows it."

"Yes, Aunt Viv. Are you finished with that?"

Mattie reached over and took her aunt's plate that looked as if it had been licked clean and retreated into the calamity of the kitchen.

After the last dish was cleaned and put away, Tom offered to drive Aunt Viv home so she wouldn't have to take the bus. Claudia asked Mattie if she wanted to help put the kids to bed. Considering they were still bouncing off the walls at the news that Aunt Mattie might be coming to live with them, she begged off and headed for her train.

*  *  *

"Hey, Mr. D. What you got for me today?" The homeless man with a few teeth missing from his smile stood before Nick holding a tray with an empty plate on it.

"Hey, Happy Thanksgiving, Cyril. How about some turkey?" He lifted a generous portion onto his plate.

"God bless you."

Nick watched as the man shuffled over to the large vat of steaming mashed potatoes. After grabbing a dinner roll, he sat at a round table already crowded with five others, all regulars, except one. The youngest-looking one in the bunch dove into his food with ravenous abandon.