One Year (44 page)

“Quite true. The option,” Megan went on, “allows me to hold the estate for four months, during which time a sale to the OWHA will be completed, thanks to our financial angels. The owners were more than happy to work with me, especially once they'd heard the, the
rumor
of Mr. Meadows's intended use of the land. The Baker family might need the money, but their dedication to the history of Oliver's Well is staunch. So you see, Mr. Meadows, even if we hadn't been able to vote you off the board, the property would still be safely in the hands of the OWHA, during which time I guarantee you I would have been able to find another group of donors to help us complete the purchase.”
At least,
Megan added silently,
I hope I would have
.

“Hear, hear!” Neal cried.

“You're worse than the old one!” Meadows spat.

Richard made to stand, but Megan shook her head to stop him. She opened the leather portfolio on the table before her. “I would now like to present a document that assigns rights under the option to the Oliver's Well Historical Association. Neal, I believe you are a notary?”

Neal grinned. “And I happen to have my seal with me.” A moment later, the transfer was made official. Richard began to clap, and the others joined in. All, of course, but Wynston Meadows, who got to his feet, roughly pushing his chair away from him.

“You provincial idiots can go to Hell.”

“There are ladies present, Mr. Meadows,” Leonard said in his voice of peacekeeping authority. “I suggest you watch your language.”

Without another word—really, Megan thought, what could he say now?—Wynston Meadows stalked from the room. A moment later the front door of the Wilson House slammed shut.

“What bad manners that man has,” Jeannette said with a laugh.

Joyce sniffed. “I never liked him from the start. I was just pretending to go along with his ideas so that . . .” She cast her eyes down at her bony hands on her bony lap.

“Well,” Wallace huffed. “Well, well, well.”

Anne shook her head. “Frankly, he frightened me. He had so little respect for any of us.”

Neal nodded. “A bully. And most certainly not a gentleman.”

“To think I invited that man into my home,” Norma said, her hand to her heart. “What made him do it? Why did he even bother with us in the first place if he didn't care about the OWHA?”

“I don't think we'll ever know the entire truth behind his motives,” Megan said. “Greed, a need for power and control, a desire for notoriety?”

“Well, whatever his motives, good riddance,” Richard said. “A huge burden has been lifted from the OWHA.”

“And from Mary Bernadette,” Leonard added. “And it's all thanks to Megan.”

“No,” Megan said firmly. “In the end we all pulled together.” She looked purposefully at Joyce and Wallace. “In the end it was our dedication to the ideals of the OWHA that won us the day.”
And a good bit of luck,
she thought. “Let's never again forget our true purpose.”

“Amen to that,” Richard said. “And I think Megan should be the one to share the good news with Mary Bernadette. And the one to tell PJ that he still has the Stoker job.”

Leonard nodded. “I'll have our lawyers expedite the contract. And I'll inform the other contenders that the job is no longer open.”

Megan gathered her leather portfolio and her tote. “Then I'll be off,” she said. There was another round of applause.

“I
have some good news to share with you all,” Megan announced. The family was gathered in the living room of the Fitzgibbon House on Honeysuckle Lane.

“You're having the twins baptized,” Mary Bernadette said.

Pat groaned. “Mom!”

“What is it, Megan?” Paddy asked, putting a hand on his wife's shoulder.

“Yeah, Mom,” PJ said. “Don't keep us in suspense.”

Megan took a deep breath. “Wynston Meadows,” she said, “was voted off the board of the Oliver's Well Historical Association.”

Mary Bernadette put a hand to her heart. “But his pledge . . . the Branley Estate . . . What will happen to it now?”

“All taken care of,” Megan said. “I'll tell you the details later. All you need to know for now is that the threat is gone. The OWHA will go on as always. And there
will
be enough money for the purchase of the Branley Estate.” Megan turned to her older son. “And PJ, the board would be honored if you would accept the contract for the Joseph J. Stoker House. Again.”

“You bet I will!” PJ drew Alexis into his arms.

Grace clapped, and Danica joined in.

Pat beamed. “And my genius wife did it all singlehandedly!”

“Now, Pat, I—”

“How?” Mary Bernadette asked, her voice agitated. “How did you do it?”

“I was voted onto the board as a temporary member,” Megan explained carefully. “I was accepted as a voice for the Fitzgibbons. I hoped to be able to set things right again. Frankly, I wasn't at all sure I would succeed. I'm still having trouble believing things turned out as well as they did.”

“Here, Mom,” David said, looking up from his iPhone. “Listen to these headlines. Some are from papers in D.C.”

“Headlines already?”
Well,
Megan thought,
anything to do with the Not So Great Man probably makes the papers. Even an ignominious defeat
.

“Washington Area Big Wig Brought to Heel by Mom of Three.”

Danica peered over her brother's shoulder. “Local Family Takes Down Corporate Giant. That's pretty good. And listen to this: He Thought He Could Pull the Wool Over Our Eyes: The Takedown of a Hedge Fund Billionaire by a Local Historical Society
.”

“That's a bit dramatic,” Grace said. “But I like it.”

“Here's another,” David said. “Part-Time Lawyer Stops Bigwig in Tracks.”

Megan raised her eyebrows. “I'm a bit more than just a part-time lawyer!”

PJ laughed. “Oh no, the fame is going to her head!”

“God forbid!” Megan laughed. “I'm not cut out for the limelight. I do very well working behind the scenes.”
But I did enjoy my little performance.
...

Mary Bernadette still seemed stunned. “I don't understand,” she said. “You did all this for . . .”

“For us,” Megan said firmly. “For the Fitzgibbon family and for Oliver's Well.”

“This calls for a celebration,” Paddy announced. “Dinner at The Angry Squire!”

“Great idea, Dad,” Grace said. “Mom, I'm going to have to borrow something decent to wear.”

Alexis smiled. “I do love their steak. But I think that tonight I'll try the lamb.”

Mary Bernadette cleared her throat. “The lamb,” she said, “is also excellent.”

M
ary Bernadette was in her temporary bedroom on the first floor. She had asked to talk to Megan alone before they left for dinner at The Angry Squire. And while she waited for her daughter-in-law, the words of the proverb came to her. “Who shall find a valiant woman? . . . Strength and dignity are her clothing.... She opens her mouth with wisdom, and the teaching of kindness is on her tongue.”

Perhaps, Mary Bernadette thought, Megan was the truly valiant woman of the Fitzgibbon clan, and in her blindness and arrogance she had failed to see the truth. Maybe it was now time to become a promoter of happiness, rather than the person who inhibited the individual members of the Fitzgibbon family from claiming their rights.

There was a knock on the door and Mary Bernadette called, “Come in.”

“You wanted to see me,” Megan said.

“Yes.” Mary Bernadette gathered her native courage and generosity. “You've saved the good name of the Fitzgibbons,” she said. “I'm grateful. More grateful than you can know.”

Megan nodded. “Thank you. It was my pleasure, Mary Bernadette. This family means a lot to me, as does Oliver's Well.”

“You're sure the finances of the OWHA . . .”

“I'll explain it all to you tomorrow if you'd like, but there's nothing to worry about. Wynston Meadows isn't the only one with deep pockets. And as I'm sure you suspected, his concerns were entirely selfish. He didn't care at all about Oliver's Well, its past, present, or future.”

“I must say it all seems a bit of a miracle.”

Megan laughed. “Honestly, it seems the same way to me. There were too many moments when I thought I'd never be able to convince the board members to trust me. It was almost as if Wynston Meadows was holding them under a spell.”

“He was,” Mary Bernadette said. “The spell of money.”

“Yes.”

“Well, I'm forever grateful to you, Megan. I'm sure we all are.” Mary Bernadette straightened her shoulders. “And I do hope that you will forgive my earlier—my earlier unhappy words.”

“Yes,” Megan said. “I do forgive you. But I must also request that from now on there will be no more unhappy words. No more criticism of my parenting choices, or of Pat's, either. Harsh words linger far longer than physical wounds.”

Mary Bernadette agreed with a firm nod. “Now,” she said, “I think we should meet the others for our celebration.”

I
t was the day after the celebratory dinner at The Angry Squire, and Alexis and her husband were having tea with the family. It really had been an amazing evening. People had never stopped coming to the table to shake Mary Bernadette's hand and tell her that she looked well, to congratulate Megan on having ousted Wynston Meadows (word, of course, had gotten around), and to wish PJ the best of success on the Joseph J. Stoker House project. The Fitzgibbon family was indeed local royalty.

“Did you enjoy the lamb?” Alexis asked Mary Bernadette now.

She nodded. “I defy any big-city chef at one of those overpriced fancy restaurants to best Richard's kitchen.”

“And those mashed potatoes!” Paddy turned to his wife. “Not as good as yours, of course,” he added.

“Grandmother, Grandpa. Everyone.” PJ put down his cup and got up from his perch on the arm of the couch. “Alexis and I have some good news to share.” He smiled and nodded at his wife.

“I'm pregnant,” Alexis announced, her voice breaking with emotion. “We're having a baby!”

“A great-grandchild,” Mary Bernadette said, tears glistening in her eyes. “That I would live to see the day. . . .” Paddy took her hand, tears in his own eyes.

Pat shook his son's hand and kissed his daughter-in-law's cheek. Megan hugged them both.

“I'm going to be an uncle,” David said. “Cool!”

“And I'm going to be an aunt. Awesome! Wait.” Danica made a face. “I won't have to change diapers, will I? 'Cause, ew.”

“I'll change diapers,” Grace assured Danica. “I just love babies!”

“And if I'm going to be a grandmother,” Megan said, “I should probably learn to knit.”

Alexis laughed. “Not unless you want to.”

“Thank God. I tried to learn once and I hated it.”

“We brought some champagne for a toast,” PJ told them. “It's in the fridge.”

“I'll get it.” Alexis turned to her mother-in-law. “Megan, would you help me?”

“I know what you're thinking,” Alexis said as she brought the bottle of cold champagne from the fridge and her mother-in-law took glasses from a standing cabinet reserved for Mary Bernadette's good Waterford crystal. “Getting pregnant now probably wasn't the smartest thing to do. But PJ told you that we're seeing a therapist. We're totally committed to making our family work. I promise.”

Megan smiled. “I have faith in you and PJ. You have my full support. Pat's, too.”

“Thank you. I love your son very much. I have since the moment I first saw him.”

“I'm sure of it. Now, shall we?” Megan carried the tray of glasses back into the living room while Alexis followed with the champagne.

“Can I have a taste?” David and Danica asked in unison.

To which Megan, Pat, Mary Bernadette, Paddy, and Grace replied, “No!”

A
lexis stood outside the tiny used bookstore on Main Street. Maureen had just sent her a text to say that she was running a few minutes late.
No matter,
Alexis thought. The sun was warm and after too many months of resenting Oliver's Well, she was happy to once again appreciate its charms.

Alexis waved to a woman she recognized from church. The man who supervised the produce section at the grocery store passed by and smiled. And there, across the street, was Morgan Shelby, coming out of the post office. Alexis's heart contracted for a moment, but she knew without a doubt that she had made the right decision in walking away. She wished him well and she hoped that he soon forgot—and forgave—her.

“Alexis! Sorry I'm late.” It was Maureen, hurrying toward her, hair flying.

Alexis smiled. “No worries. It's a beautiful day. I'm enjoying the sunshine.”

“Some idiot—sorry, some annoying—customer forgot his appointment and came running in at quarter to five. When I told him he'd have to reschedule, as I had an appointment of my own to keep, he had the nerve to throw a fit.”

“Yikes. What did you do?”

Maureen shrugged. “I told him I was sorry he was upset and that I would be glad to see him tomorrow, and I left. For all I know he's still there, making a fool of himself.”

“I'm glad I don't have your job! Do you want to walk down to Oliver's Grove?”

“Sure. I could use some fresh air. The person who sits next to me at the office—and I name no names—wears the most dreadful cologne I have ever smelled in my life. It's like a combination of frog sweat and bear urine.”

“Maureen!” Alexis laughed.

“Well, it's pretty bad.”

“Another reason I'm glad I don't have your job!”

“So, enough about me,” Maureen said. “What's going on with you? You look great, by the way. Pregnancy agrees with you.”

“So far, so good. I want to share something with you. Top secret, of course.”

“Mum's the word.”

“PJ has made some real personal progress in therapy,” Alexis told her friend. “It's been tough for him, but the other day he finally was able to admit to Roz—well, and to me—that he realizes he'd grown too attached to his grandmother. He talked about how abandoned and confused he had felt when the twins were born and his parents were so concerned about David. He said that his grandmother saved him—his exact words—and made him feel like he mattered again.”

Maureen let out a whistle. “For a Fitzgibbon that's an amazing bit of self-awareness.”

“I thought so. Look, Maureen, I really want to thank you again for helping me when I thought I was losing my mind.”

“No big deal. We all threaten to lose our mind at some point in our lives.”

“Do you think that's really true?” Alexis said. “I mean, I wonder if there are some people who have it all figured out from the start. Life, I mean.”

Maureen laughed. “I don't believe that for a second.”

“Yeah, I guess I don't, either. But I really did think for a while that Mary Bernadette was perfect. That she never had a doubt or a worry.”

“We do that sort of person—the sort who appears to be in complete control of her life—we do that sort of person a big disservice when we forget that she's only human. Who knows how many times over the years Mary Bernadette wanted to ask for help and just couldn't because she felt trapped in the character she'd created for herself—or that others had foisted on her.”

“Do you know something I don't know?” Alexis asked.

Maureen shrugged. “My mother is Mary Bernadette's dearest friend. Over the years she's let enough information trickle through to allow me to know that Mary Bernadette was never quite as tough as people thought she was. Things were hard for her. She took on so much responsibility. She didn't make life easy for herself.”

“Or for other people! Sorry. I guess I shouldn't say that after all she's been through.”

“Well, all that's in the past now,” Maureen said. “At least, I hope that it is. I hope that Mary Bernadette can find real peace in the years she has left.”

“Yes. I do, too,” Alexis said. “And there's something else, Maureen. PJ and I were wondering if you would be godmother to our baby.”

Maureen gave Alexis an enthusiastic one-armed hug. “Of course! Wow, thank you both! That's the second piece of good news I got today.”

“Oh? What's the first?”

“Remember when I was going on that day at the café about how my life just stopped after the divorce? How I
let
it stop?”

“Yes?”

“Well, since then I've been doing a lot of thinking. And while I'm not saying I'm ready to make huge changes in my life—or lots of small changes, at that—I am ready to start doing something other than just going to and from work every day.”

Alexis laughed. “The suspense is killing me.”

“And so I signed up for swimming lessons at the Y in Somerstown! The deadline for registration had already passed, but someone dropped out and I got her place.”

“Good for you, Maureen.”

“And it's really thanks to you. You're my inspiration.”

“Me? But I'm just stumbling around.”

“Stumbling forward, more like. And that's a lot better than standing still.”

It was something she had never expected to be, Alexis realized. Someone's inspiration. It felt pretty good.

“Well, here's the park,” she announced as they came in sight of the lacebark pines and magnolia trees the Grove was famous for. “What now?”

Maureen made a face. “I know you can't drink, but we each have things to celebrate. . . .”

Alexis laughed. “The Angry Squire it is!”