Table for five (24 page)

“He means he’s reaching the next level,” said Charlie, looking up from the puzzle she was putting together. If golf were schoolwork, she’d be a straight-A student. She had applied herself to learning the game like the most dedicated scholar. Then she turned her attention back to SpongeBob on the TV. She and Cameron had spent the past twenty minutes fighting for control over the remote, and Charlie had prevailed.

“Let’s play,” Ashley said to Maura, trying to breach the barricade of books and papers surrounding her.

“Not possible, you cute thing,” Maura said distractedly, tucking a stray lock of hair behind her ear. “I’ve got a grant application and a case study due tomorrow.”

Ashley pushed at a thick black binder. A handful of papers wafted to the floor.

Maura folded her arms across her middle and took a deep
breath. Then she said, “Tell you what. I’ll play for ten minutes and then I have to get back to work.”

She took the baby’s hand and they went upstairs where the toys were kept. Charlie went along, too, and suddenly the room was very quiet. Sean and Cameron looked at each other, then bolted for the remote control at the same time. Sean beat him to it.

“Friday night fights,” he said, switching to ESPN.

“I like
American Chopper
better.”

“Not tonight, you don’t,” Sean said, settling into his chair as Vladimir Klischko pummeled his opponent.

The flurry of punches caught Cameron’s attention and he offered no further argument. At the commercial break, he got two root beers from the kitchen and settled down to watch.

In precisely ten minutes, Maura came down in time to see a close-up of the contender’s eye bleeding, his nose stuffed with white absorbent pads.

“That’s disgusting,” she said.

“That’s entertainment,” Sean told her. He offered her a sip of his root beer, which she ignored.

“Right. Listen,” she added, gathering all her books and her laptop into a giant tote bag, “I really do have two major projects I need to work on. I’ve decided to do it over at my place.”

“You can work here,” Sean said. “Take over the whole dining room table. We never eat in there.” He elbowed Cameron. “What’s the story on dining rooms, anyway? Did you ever have dinner in there?”

“Thanksgiving, I think.”

“So you can have it until Thanksgiving.”

“Thanks.” She bent down and kissed his cheek. “I need to concentrate. I should also water my houseplants while I’m there….”

She left a few minutes later and a commercial came on. “I can’t taste my beer!” screamed the actors.

Sean felt Cameron staring at him. “What?” he asked.

“So did she just ditch you? Or did she actually dump you?”

“I don’t know what the hell you’re talking about.” Oh, but he did. Deep in his gut, he did.

“Ditching and dumping. There’s a difference.”

“I don’t think she—”

“See, when someone ditches you, it’s a one-time deal. It means she got a better offer.”

“Like watering her houseplants?” Sean asked.

“Well, that’s pretty lame. She must’ve really been bored with you.”

“That’s shit.” Sean’s neck prickled with unspoken awareness.

“Maybe it was an actual dumping,” Cameron suggested. “Now, if it was, you’ve got some work to do, because a dumping is permanent. Got it?”

“I’ve got nothing,” Sean snapped. “She’s not ditching or dumping anybody. She’s going to her apartment to get some work done.”

“I’ll bet she waters her plants and watches reruns of
ER
all night.”

“How did you know she likes
ER?
”

“
Duh.
I can put two and two together.” He got up and went to the kitchen. “I’m making popcorn in the microwave,” he added. “You want some?”

The conversation with Cameron nagged at Sean. He called Maura the next day but got her voice mail, so he left a message telling her where to find him. Then he dropped off his nephew to work at the golf course and took his nieces to Derek’s condo, where he’d arranged to meet Jane Coombs to finish clearing the place out for a new tenant. Though it was
a prefurnished rental Derek had lived in since his divorce, all his personal effects were still there. Cameron had declined to help with the removal. Sean didn’t blame him.

Charlie and Ashley clutched each other’s hands as he unlocked the door and let them in. The air was chilly and still with disuse, though everything lay untouched since that day in April, waiting as though Derek had just stepped out and would return at any moment.

Sean glanced at the girls, who walked into the living room with the sort of breath-held hush of churchgoers. He could see Charlie trying to stay calm, pressing her lips tightly together.

“You sure you want to stay?” he asked her. “I can take you over to Lily’s if you—”

“We’ll stay,” Charlie said stoutly. “Won’t we, Ashley?”

“Suit yourself.” In fact, he hadn’t cleared anything with Lily. Maybe she had plans. Maybe those plans didn’t include looking after two kids. He had to quit assuming she’d drop everything anytime he needed her, even though that was exactly what she did. She wasn’t just a schoolteacher and grieving friend, he reminded himself. Maybe she slept in on a Saturday morning or went to the beach. Hell, maybe she was seeing someone, not that it was any of his business.

He found the TV remote right where Derek would have left it, on a table to the right of the lounge chair, and when he turned it on, the Golf Channel came up.

Sean handed the remote over to Charlie, who quickly switched to cartoons. Because she wanted to help, he gave her a box and two bags and told her to empty the TV console in the living room.

“Everything?” she asked.

“Everything. If you think we should keep it, put it in the box. If not, in the trash bag or the Salvation Army bag. You decide.”

“What if I can’t decide?”

He kissed her head. “Then keep it, honey, just in case.”

He turned away then, because the anguish hit him hard. Here in this house, with its beige walls and furniture, he could still sense his brother’s presence, could imagine him here, never knowing it was his last day alive.

He hoped it had been a good day. He hoped Derek had hugged his kids, had a laugh, found joy in something that day.

“I’m going to get to work,” he said to the girls. “You tell me if you need anything.” He brought a stack of empty moving boxes into the bedroom. Jane was late, but that didn’t surprise him. She had weathered the tragedy poorly, vacillating between rage and uncontrollable tears. What Sean sensed from her most of all was bitterness, that she hadn’t held Derek’s heart longer or shared enough of his life. Sean had invited her to visit the kids anytime she wanted, but she claimed it made her too sad to be around them. Whenever she saw them, she cried so hard that the baby cried, too. She’d managed to compose herself enough to do an interview for some cheesy entertainment magazine, though.

“She’s a real prize,” he muttered to the open door of the walk-in closet. The air smelled of shoe leather and expensive after-shave, as real as if Derek were standing right behind him. Damn it, thought Sean. You’re not supposed to be dead. He tried to remember their last conversation. Golf, women, small talk. He tried to remember the last time he’d told his brother he loved him. “That would be never,” he muttered. “I sure as hell hope you knew.”

Jane had evidently already stopped by to remove her own things soon after the funeral. There was an empty space on the rack and adjacent shelves. That pissed him off, and when he heard her arrive, he was ready to unload on her.

But it wasn’t Jane standing in the bedroom doorway, and the bitter words dissolved on his tongue. “Hey,” he said.

“Hey.” Wrapping her arms around her middle, Maura walked toward him. She looked tired, he noticed, tired and sad. “I got your message.”

He jerked a shirt off a hanger, folded it awkwardly, put it in one of the boxes for the Salvation Army. Some of Derek’s fans had suggested holding an eBay auction with his memorabilia, but Sean couldn’t stomach the idea of his brother’s things being picked over like meat from a carcass. He’d rather see some homeless guy in Derek’s still-new Tommy Bahama golf shirts.

“Jane was supposed to meet me here to get rid of this stuff,” he said to Maura. “She’s a no-show.”

“I’d offer to help, but I need to turn in a project this morning,” she said. “And Sean…”

Her voice trailed off, but he knew what was coming next. It was the we-need-to-talk part of the conversation. The one he’d seen coming ever since the accident.

From the moment it became clear he was in charge of three kids, he and Maura had been heading in different directions. Sean understood that. Still, it hurt to look at her, to imagine the way they used to be together, unencumbered, living from day to day. He yanked another shirt from the closet, folded it.

“I’m twenty-five years old, Sean,” Maura said in a breaking voice. “I get my MD this summer and I have no idea where I’ll wind up for an internship. I’m sorry, I…”

“Don’t apologize for that,” he said. “The world needs doctors.” He pulled out a pair of FootJoy soft spikes, added them to the box. He’d miss the sex, he decided. Yeah, he’d miss that.

He stopped working for a moment and studied Maura. Her eyes looked as lonely as they had the day he’d met her. Back
then, they had seemed like a great match. He’d been footloose and flexible, living on the surface, looking out for number one. He was a different person now. He had a different life. The personal cost of Derek’s death belonged to Sean. This was something he’d discussed with the social worker in charge of the kids. He did have a choice, she assured him. No one could force him to take over Derek’s responsibilities.

There was no force involved, he’d discovered. His heart belonged to his inherited family, a fact he found both painful and joyous. “This is my life now,” he told Maura simply. “It’s who I am.”

She nodded, and he saw her swallow hard. “I really do love you,” she said, and the tears started to fall. “And I could learn to love this family, but I can’t take on three kids right now, maybe never.”

You didn’t learn to love these kids, he thought. You just did. Sean saw no point in trying to explain that to her.

Maura’s shoulders shook as she cried. Maybe she really did care about him, but since moving in with Derek’s kids, he’d learned a lot about the meaning of caring and commitment.

Maura was just following the usual pattern. Women loved him and they left him. That was the way it worked.

“Y
ou got some lipstick in your purse, Miss Robinson?” asked Charlie, hovering around her desk at dismissal time. “Or maybe in the drawer here?”

Lily frowned slightly. “Do you need to borrow some?”

“No way. I mean, no thank you.” Charlie looked disheveled at the end of the day, but in a good way. Her uncle had given her hair the Heidi look today, braids crisscrossed over the top of her head. Now stray tendrils had sprung loose around her face. “So have you got a comb somewhere?”

“Why would you ask that?”

“I figured you might want to freshen up, is all. You know, on account of my uncle Sean’s coming this afternoon for the conference.”

“He’s…why, yes, he is, isn’t he?” Lily felt a funny little spike of panic. She’d completely forgotten.

She checked her planning book, which lay open on her desk. Sure enough, it was this afternoon. Memorial Day was practically upon them, and the class was doing a major project at the veterans’ cemetery in Tigard.

She helped Charlie with her backpack. “Isn’t your Brownie troop meeting in the cafeteria this afternoon?”

“Yes. I did a crappy job with my badges, though, see?” She showed Lily the brown sash, its badges fastened haphazardly with safety pins.

“Maybe I could help you with it over the weekend, but you have to promise you won’t say that crude word anymore.”

“What,
crappy?
”

“Let’s make that the last time, Charlene Louise.”

“Yes, ma’am. Uncle Sean used to say the s-word all the time, but he switched to cr…the other one when Ashley started saying ‘shit,’ too.”

At least he was trying, Lily acknowledged.

“That’s a nice pin,” Charlie said, clearly stalling as she indicated the small silver brooch Lily wore on her collar. “What is it?”

“A student gave it to me one year,” Lily said, touching the brooch. “It’s the owl and the pussycat and the runcible spoon. Remember the poem by Edward Lear—we learned it last Valentine’s Day. ‘They dined on mince, and slices of quince…’”

“‘Which they ate with a runcible spoon,’” Charlie filled in.

“You have a good memory.”

“It’s just Uncle Sean who’s coming.”

Lily paused in straightening the papers on her desk. “Yes. It’s right here on my agenda.”

“I mean, he’s coming alone,” Charlie said with a meaningful look. “Without Maura.”

“I see.” She didn’t, of course. She straightened the already neat pile of papers.

Charlie pushed her thumb thoughtfully at her lower lip. “Cameron said she either ditched him or dumped him, I can’t remember which.”

“What are you talking about?”

“She went back to her apartment to water the plants and never came to see us again. I didn’t do anything bad, did I?” Charlie’s eyes widened with sudden fear.

Lily could have smacked Maura Riley just then. Didn’t she know better than to flit in and out of a child’s life with no consistency whatsoever? Didn’t she realize what that would do to a child like Charlie?

Masking a stab of anger, Lily touched Charlie’s cheek with the back of her hand. The girl’s skin was so smooth and tender, so fragile. “Not at all. You’re even good citizen of the week.” She indicated the star chart.

Charlie traced her finger around the big gold star. “I wish my mom knew that.”

Lily put her arms around the little girl. “She does. I promise you, she knows, and your dad does, too.” Oh, God, she thought. How do I do this? In her mind, Charlie had connected her own misbehavior with her parents’ deaths. She had to leave that notion behind. “What happened is not your fault,” she whispered in Charlie’s ear. “It’s so important for you to understand that.”

Charlie nodded. “I’m trying,” she said, her voice muffled against Lily’s shoulder. “I hate how different everything is.”

“I think we all do,” Lily admitted. “Tell me one specific thing you hate.”

“Mom used to cut the crust off the sandwich in my lunch, and Uncle Sean never does.”

“Boy, I hate that, too. I never eat the crust,” Lily said. “What else?”

“I used to get to stay up until nine-thirty, but Uncle Sean says that’s too late. He wants us in bed a whole hour earlier.”

Good for you, thought Lily. “I can see why you don’t like that,” she said. “Maybe after school’s out, you can stay up a little later. Tell me something else you don’t like.”

“Summer, even though it’s not here yet,” Charlie stated. “Mom promised us a cruise and Dad promised us Hawaii.”

“Did your uncle promise you anything?”

She raised and lowered her shoulders in an elaborate shrug. “You could ask him, I guess. He’s got news, too. Kind of.”

“What news?”

“Well, Red’s coming to see him this week. He keeps calling him, wanting him to play in tournaments and stuff.”

“So why doesn’t he? Isn’t he any good?”

“He’s great. He’s going to the next level. Red says he could be even better than my dad, but Uncle Sean says he’s too busy with us to do any tournaments.”

Lily tried to imagine what that might be like, turning down a second chance at your dream. “And what do you think?”

“Same as Red,” said Charlie. “A racehorse has to run.” She sent Lily a meaningful look.

Lily walked her to the door, straightening the badge sash on her shoulder. “The conference is about you, not about golf. Tell you what. Give me one specific thing to tell your uncle that you don’t think I’ve thought of.”

Charlie paused. “I feel better,” she said, a tentative smile playing about her lips. “I quit crying a zillion times a day. Sometimes I only cry once, and some days, not at all.”

Lily felt a rush of affection. You idiot, Maura, she thought. Look at what you walked away from. Lily immediately curbed her thoughts. Who was she to judge? Just a short time ago, she had believed herself perfectly content to live alone forever. It had taken a life-altering tragedy to shake her awake. Perhaps Maura would learn her own heart without suffering such a loss.

“That’s good,” she told Charlie. “And I’m giving you a special badge today.” She took off the runcible-spoon brooch and pinned it to Charlie’s Brownie sash. “You earned this, and it’s for keeps. It’s the feel-better badge. Now, scoot.”

A twinkle flashed in Charlie’s eyes and she headed for the Brownie meeting with a spring in her step. Lily carefully waited until she was gone. Then she darted a look at the clock. Sean Maguire would be here any minute. She dove for her purse, hoping she’d find a lipstick there.