by Nella Tyler
“Does this mean I need to come up with plans for an actual date for us?” Banks asked, a playful lilt in his voice. I knew this man so well, I could perfectly envision the sly little smile stretching across the bottom half of his handsome face.
“Yes, and it needs to be a magical evening.”
“No pressure,” he retorted, and I laughed again.
“We can do anything,” I said. “I just want to spend time together. We know each other well, but not intimately. In that respect, we’re starting from the beginning.”
“I’ll come up with something great,” Banks said. “Why don’t we settle on Friday night, and you leave all the planning to me.”
I kicked the blankets off my legs and stood up, pausing briefly to jam my feet in my slippers before walking across the wood floors of the living room and out of the front door into the chilly night. I was wearing sweats and long sleeves, but really needed a jacket, too. I didn’t plan on being out here long. I just needed to feel the cold air on my cheeks. It helped to center me and put me firmly in the right state of mind. This was important, what Banks and I were discussing. It wasn’t just a date. It was me making concrete steps to move on with my life. It was me leaving BJ behind once and for all. I wanted a clear head for this, not one woozy with heat and red wine.
“That sounds great, Banks.”
“I’m glad we’re doing this, Maggie,” he said, and the sincerity in his voice helped to center me even more. This was good. This was the right thing. “I can’t think of anyone I’d rather spend my time with than you.”
I smiled, my cheeks numb from the cold. I needed to go inside soon, but wanted to hold out as long as I could out here. “Me too.”
We said our goodbyes and hung up. I sat outside another minute, my breath hanging in front of my eyes as I sniffled to keep my frozen nose from running. BJ and I used to sit out here in nicer weather, talking and sipping on our drinks at the end of the day, just enjoying each other’s company as the light drained out of the sky. We hadn’t had nearly enough time together, but I cherished what we’d been lucky enough to share between us. Some people didn’t even get that. And, yet, here I was, with another sweet, good man ready to be there for me. The universe was an odd place, and not much that happened in it seemed to make much sense.
I was shivering and my teeth were chattering inside my head. I stood and retreated inside where it was warm, locking the front door behind me. I went to stand in front of the fireplace, letting my frozen toes and fingers defrost as I wiggled them. The same 11 by 17 print that Brian Sr. had hanging in the middle of his dining room wall was displayed here in my living room—BJ and I on our wedding day, minutes after saying I do. I barely recognized the woman I saw in that picture. She’d been so naïve and unaware of how life worked, that good things tended to come just as often and as inexplicably as bad things.
“I’m going out with Banks, honey,” I said, staring my dead husband in the face. His smile neither changed nor faltered. The love in his eyes gave me a warm feeling that the fire flickering in front of me didn’t come close to matching. I swallowed hard and continued with what I had to say. “On Friday night. If you aren’t okay with that, give me a sign.” It felt stupid to say it, but also necessary. It always seemed like BJ was with me—as if I’d turn and catch him sneaking up behind me, a great big smile on his face. So, it just felt natural to talk to him all day and all night when I was alone in the house. “I love you so much, BJ. Moving on has nothing to do with how I feel about you. I’m just so lonely.”
I wiped at the tears on my cheeks and waited, but no sign came.
“I hope I’m doing the right thing,” I whispered to our wedding photo. “I love you so much.” I watched BJ’s face, frozen forever in a wide smile, and then lay back down on the couch.
That night, I dreamed of BJ again for the first time in days. He kissed me gently on the cheek, as though for the last time, and then turned and walked away from me. I woke soon after, but not in a wheezing panic. For once, I was perfectly calm in the face of another long day where anything could happen. It felt like one door had closed, but another had opened, and I found I wanted to walk through it.
Banks
Wednesday
Now that the holidays had passed, my parents and I were back to our regular lunch schedule, and had set up at our table in the back corner of the restaurant, where Mom could hold court while watching the rest of the patrons as though from an ivory tower. She looked downright majestic as I approached the table, her blonde hair pulled back from her face, which was still remarkably free of wrinkles despite the fact that she was well into her 60s. She had on a dark blue dress with long, delicate sleeves, and it together with the sparkling jewelry hanging from her neck and encircling her tiny wrists only added to her regal air. I had no idea how she managed to look and act like this without seeming condescending or full of herself, but she did. It was one of her greatest feats, and Dad and I were perpetually in awe of her, like peasants cowering before some mighty but benevolent queen.
I shook my dad’s hand and leaned to give Mom a light kiss on her soft, powdered cheek before sliding into the chair across from them, leaving my back to the door. Mom always had to have a clean view of the room so she could see the instant someone she knew walked through the door, always ready with a greeting and a few questions about the person’s family, but I didn’t really concern myself with those kinds of things.
“How is work going, darling?” Mom asked. She’d ordered glasses of red wine for the table today. I didn’t even bother to ask what we’d be having for lunch. It would be a surprise, as usual. I was starving this afternoon and couldn’t wait to get our first course, which would either be a salad or a bowl of rich, savory soup.
“They are going well,” I said. “The paperwork for the merger is being finalized as we speak. Jane has been invaluable in that process, as has the rest of the team.” I turned to my father, who was staring at me intently, the way he always did when I was talking about the business. “I’d like to get your opinion on a few of the terms, Dad. I’ll email you the proposed document. We’re still putting the final touches on it, but I’d love to get your feedback. I don’t want to miss anything.”
“I’d be happy to look it over,” Dad replied. He knew how much I valued his experience, and this business had been his baby longer than I had, so I always wanted to make sure I showed him the proper respect. He’d done me the courtesy of stepping back to let me take full control—I knew from many acquaintances that this was not normal—only stepping back in at my explicit invitation. I was lucky to have him by my side whenever I needed him, which was often, but not as often as it had been during that first shaky six months before I managed to acquire my footing.
A waitress silently delivered our salads as we continued to talk. This time, they looked much more appetizing than a collection of weeds pulled out of someone’s back garden. Or maybe I was just hungrier. At any rate, I was excited to eat all of it.
“How has Maggie been?” Mom asked, looking up from her salad. Besides her regal air, she also had a particularly prickly intuition. It was actually pretty unnerving how well she could read a person and come up with just the right question or comment. That gift meant I never got away with much as a kid. I also wasn’t a very accomplished liar. Just about anyone could see right through me. It ended up being a good deficiency to have, I supposed, as it made me value honesty even more.
I’d gone over this conversation a few thousand times after hanging up with Maggie on Monday night, but I hadn’t come up with anything more solid than just coming right out with it. I knew they loved Maggie and wanted what was best for her. The problem was that they only got the chance to love Maggie because of how deeply they cared about BJ. I could definitely appreciate how awkward the optics of this would appear to anyone outside of the bubble Maggie and I had formed around ourselves over the last several weeks. But Mom and Dad trusted my judgment and I had to believe that they would welcome the
idea of me dating someone they already knew and cared deeply about.
“I have something to tell you both and I really want you to think about what I’m saying before you react,” I said in a much lower voice.
Mom set her salad fork down, her light eyes full of sudden interest. “Is it something serious?”
Dad seemed equally concerned and I immediately wished I hadn’t spoken so dramatically. Of course they would come to that conclusion.
I shook my head. “No, nothing’s wrong. It’s actually the opposite. But the way it sounds.” I shook my head again, deciding not to travel all the way down that road. “It’s really more about the way it looks.” With both of them staring at me like this, I felt transported back to adolescence as I struggled to articulate what I wanted to say in a way that would bring them instantly over to my way of thinking.
“Maybe just come out with it, son,” Dad suggested, but kindly.
I breathed in deeply as I watched them, trying to gauge how well they’d take this, and then proceeded to do exactly what Dad had advised. “Maggie and I are dating. Or we will be, starting this Friday.”
No one spoke immediately, so I continued, attempting to do damage control without really knowing what the damage might turn out to be. When they didn’t like something, they tended to get quiet. I wanted to make this sound as great as it felt whenever I thought about it.
“Since BJ passed, we’ve gotten so much closer. We’ve really been there for each other, and it just turned into something more. We aren’t really sure where this is headed, but we want to find out.” The more I spoke, the bolder I felt. My parents had always been supportive, and I found that I didn’t really think they wouldn’t continue to support me here, but I understood the potential of how weird this could look, not just to them, but to everyone in Danbury, including their friends and business contacts. The circles we ran in were somewhat small.
After I said my piece, I sat back and let them ruminate. The urge to keep explaining was nearly overwhelming, but I didn’t let myself do it.
Dad was the first to speak after a few awkwardly silent moments of contemplation. It was a strange shift, because Mom was usually the one to speak first, no matter the occasion. But she still appeared to be puzzling over my words, her forehead lightly creased in thought.
“Banks, you and BJ were closer than I was to any of my brothers,” he started. He had two brothers, and they rarely spoke. “That kind of connection in life is rare, and I know losing him was devastating. You were very worried for Maggie after the accident, as you should have been. I’m proud of you for how you’ve always been there for her when she needed help, but are you absolutely sure you are moving into a more serious relationship with Maggie for the right reasons?”
I frowned, not seeing how the beginning of his comment lined up with the latter half. “What do you mean?”
“You seem extremely concerned that we won’t support you in this,” Dad replied. “I want it to be clear that you have my support no matter what you choose to do in this life. You are intelligent, loyal, and driven. Those qualities will serve you well on whatever path you choose to travel. Maggie is a wonderful woman that any man would be fortunate to have in his life. But are you initiating a relationship with her because she is a wonderful woman, or because you feel intense pity for her as a grieving widow? Or, worse, are you doing this out of some debt you believe you owe to BJ?”
I blinked, momentarily stunned to hear this coming from Dad. Maggie had worried about the same thing. It was an honest concern, I supposed, but it was just jarring to hear it from both of them.
“If you honestly want a relationship with this girl, that is excellent to hear,” Dad continued. “But if this is fueled by pity or some form of loyalty to your friend, I would suggest you not continue to pursue this avenue. That would lead to nothing but heartache for both of you, and it would be extremely unfair to Maggie.”
I looked from him to Mom, who was being uncharacteristically quiet, almost unnervingly so, though her eyes were still alight with deep interest. I couldn’t read either one of them clearly, which was odd.
“I know,” I said, finally, sighing the words as my shoulders dropped. “Maggie and I had this exact conversation, too. I’m honestly interested in a relationship with her because I find her to be just as wonderful as you said, and so much more. I want to see where this could take us. And though I do feel intense loyalty to BJ, that plays no part in this. I want to date Maggie for Maggie, not for any obligation I feel because of my friendship with BJ.”
A wide smile broke over Mom’s face at these words, her eyes crinkling. “This is such great news, Banks. We need to celebrate with champagne.” She hailed one of the servers who was standing near the back of the restaurant surveying the tables, ready to jump into action the moment he was needed. Mom ordered a bottle of expensive champagne, as though I’d just told her I was asking Maggie to marry me instead of just asking her out on a first date. As soon as the waiter had left to fetch the bottle, she turned her electric eyes back on me, still beaming.
“I absolutely adore Maggie and I’m so happy to see you finally taking steps to settle down. I’d prefer to become a grandmother while I’m still living.”
I chuckled at that, my eyebrows furrowing. “We’re just going out on a date,” I said. “Not planning out the rest of our lives together.” But it felt like much more than a date, at least to me.
Mom waved that off. “You’re dating. That’s at least a step in the right direction after so many years of you taking no steps at all.”
The champagne arrived, along with three crystal flutes. We toasted to my new adventure with Maggie, each of us draining our glasses. Mom talked for a while about how proud she was that I was taking steps to move further into adult life, which included finding that special someone and starting a family. I let her go on, because I felt the same way. I was moving into uncharted territory, and I was glad to be doing it with Maggie.
After our salads were taken away and replaced by our entrees—an herbed lamb dish with root vegetables and mint garnish that was absolutely fantastic—the conversation shifted from my romantic prospects to yet another subject I felt passionately about.
“Now that you’ve sold the Series 60, what are you going to work on next?” Dad asked. Cars had always been a solid connection between us. He often brokered the sales so I could focus on buying more cars and BJ could focus on restoring them. The formula had worked for many years and dozens of restorations.
“Did you look at the email I sent you from the guy in Italy?” I asked.
Mom was following our conversation, though cars didn’t interest her in any way.
“I did,” Dad replied.
“The guy had the car in an outdoor storage shed, almost like the barn the Caddy was in. It’s in pretty rough shape, but how often do you find an Alfa Romeo Stradale with all the original parts like that?”
“It would be an interesting project,” was all Dad said, but I couldn’t tell if he meant interesting good or interesting bad.
“I think I’ll take a long weekend and hop over to Italy to check it out. I really need to lay eyes on it before I spend that kind of money.”
“How much does he want for it?” Dad asked.
“Well over two million, but I’m working on talking him down.”
Neither Dad nor Mom flinched. I’d just pulled in over a million for the Cadillac. I was up several million if I considered the last 20 cars BJ and I had bought, restored, and immediately sold. I had a reputation for only selling the best, and the Stradale would fit right into that narrative.
“Now that the merger is a done deal, maybe you should take more than a few days and invite Maggie to join you,” Mom suggested, lifting one of her eyebrows, an impish glow in her light eyes that I knew well. I didn’t usually appreciate her brand of meddling, but I had to admit the idea was appealing. Italy was one of the most romantic countries in the world.
“Let’s see how our first
date goes before I start inviting her on international trips.”
That drew Mom’s high laugh, and she left the idea alone.
Back at my office, I pulled up the email the dealer in Italy had sent me, reviewing all 20 pictures. The more I looked at it, the more I wanted it. Mom was right, now that the merger was behind me and the holidays were looming, I’d have the time to check it out.
I buzzed Jane. “Can you start putting together a few different itineraries for me to fly into the airport in Torino in the next week or two?”
“Sure thing,” she replied, not the least bit thrown by the request. She’d heard a lot wackier over the years. “Any particular reason why it needs to be Torino?”
“There’s a car,” I said, and she laughed.
“There always is.”
I chuckled too and hung up.
Maggie
Thursday
I liked to have a sit-down meeting with Jackson at least once a week to get an idea of how the shop was doing and what needed improvement. These talks didn’t normally last over 15 or 20 minutes—just long enough for us to check in with each other—but I had something I’d been thinking long and hard about and I wanted to get Jackson’s opinion. I waited until we’d gone over the regular stuff before bringing it up.
“Jackson,” I started, saying his name in a deep exhalation of breath. He was seated in front of my desk, which used to be BJ’s desk, dressed in blue coveralls, his dark hair pushed back away from his forehead. “You know this isn’t the path I wanted for my life, and I’m not very good at figuring out the best way for the shop to continue growing in the future.”
