She stepped around the corner into the TV room and ladled the tart punch into a crystal cup, which she drank quickly, then had another. As she came down the hallway she saw Uncle Charles returning to the living room now with Rudy. They joined two men in the corner, Dr. Costello, her uncle’s physician and old friend, and Dr. Preston, who had delivered her three cousins here in town. Fiona had been born in Boston, delivered by a doctor no one knew. Aunt Arlene said that had been her mother’s choice. Given the circumstances, anonymity had been more important than the comfort of a familiar setting and face. Fiona wondered how many babies Rudy had delivered. It gave her a strange sensation to picture him in the hairy spread of a woman’s stirruped legs. He was being introduced now. Her uncle’s pride in him was obvious. The sleeves of Rudy’s new tweed jacket were too short, she noticed, and his pants were too long. His attempt to turn up the cuffs had left thick rolls of fabric bunched above the top of his shoes. Wanting to go over and unroll them, it was all she could do to stand here. Uncle Charles patted Rudy’s shoulder and leaned close to listen. Rudy’s hands flew. Whatever he said was making the men laugh, Uncle Charles’s laughter heartiest of all.
George must have gotten Elizabeth off alone somewhere. It had been at least twenty minutes now since Fiona had seen either of them. She headed toward her cousin Jack and his wife, Susan, who stood by the wingback chair talking to Bill Hebert, the balding lieutenant governor, and his tall, big-haired wife, Ann. They had been talking about golden retrievers, which Ann raised. “Speaking of little mutts,” Jack said, putting his arm around Fiona, “I’d like you both to meet my very favorite cousin in the whole world.”
Susan stared at him, then glanced imploringly at Fiona, who would have been insulted had it come from anyone else. When Jack drank he tried to be as clever as his father.
The lieutenant governor asked what she did for work. She said she was a waitress in a coffee shop in Dearborn.
“Now that’s a hard job,” Ann Hebert declared.
Oh, it was, she agreed. And it didn’t pay much, of course, but then again it was an extremely challenging position.
“Oh yes, I’m sure,” Ann Hebert agreed with an earnest nod. Only the lieutenant governor smiled. Jack looked confused, Susan concerned.
“What about you?” Fiona asked the lieutenant governor. “Do you find your job as stimulating as I find mine?”
“The truth? Not very often. Being a stand-in can be pretty draining,” he said.
“We should trade then. You can get your batteries charged, and I can get off my feet a little,” she said.
“Sounds good to me,” he said, laughing. “But I should warn you, there’s a lot of night work.” He explained that was mostly when he had to stand in for the governor. Dinners, parties, testimonials, things like that. When she said that sounded more like fun than work, he pointed out that it was work, and of course that meant no drinking on the job. Did she still want to switch?
“Wait a minute!” She held up her hand. “So in other words, you’re working tonight, right? You’re not really enjoying yourself.”
“No, no, no,” he said quickly. “This is personal tonight. This isn’t work. Your uncle’s an old friend of mine. We go way back.”
She dipped her pinkie into his drink, then tasted it and grimaced. “So how come you’re drinking soda water then?”
He winked.
“Oh look, Fiona, Ginny just came in! Will you excuse us a minute?” Susan said, taking Fiona’s arm and guiding her toward the front hall. “How could you do that?” she said through a wide smile, nodding at people as they went. “How could you put him on the spot like that?”
“Susan,” Fiona warned through an even wider smile. “You’re treating me like a real asshole, and I don’t like it!”
“People can hear you,” Susan said, still smiling and nodding.
Ginny looked exhausted. Dark, pouched circles hung from her eyes. “I’m here, but I’m not,” she was telling her mother when Fiona and Susan reached her.
“Maybe this will take your mind off things,” Aunt Arlene said, hugging Ginny with a pumping motion as if that might infuse her with cheer.
Fiona hadn’t seen her cousin since early fall. As overbearing as Ginny could be, she was always fun at a party, because she was so easily amused by people’s foibles and quick to laugh.
“Oh, I’m so glad you’re here,” Fiona whispered as they brushed cheeks. “Susan’s got her decorum whip out tonight.”
Ginny tried but barely managed a smile. Her wide, toothy face was puffy. She had gained a great deal of weight.
“You look wonderful!” Susan cried, throwing her arms around Ginny, who seemed to shudder.
“I won’t be staying too long if you don’t mind,” she told her mother, who said of course she didn’t mind. It was wonderful she’d even made this much of an effort. “Where’s Daddy?” Ginny asked, looking around, then went with Susan in search of her father.
“Poor thing,” Aunt Arlene murmured, giving Fiona’s hand a quick squeeze. “I can’t believe this is happening to her.”
“She’ll be all right,” Fiona said, squeezing back, their arms and shoulders leaning into one another. “She’ll get over it.” She couldn’t help smiling with her aunt’s nearness.
“I don’t know,” her aunt sighed. “Being betrayed like that, it’s so painful. And right now she’s so vulnerable.”
“It was bound to happen,” Fiona said. “I always said he was a creep, but no one ever believed me.”
“Well, the important thing was loyalty—for Ginny’s sake,” her aunt said, slipping her hand away. She smiled as their neighbor Lucretia Kendale and another elderly woman passed by looking for the martinis they’d set down somewhere only moments ago. “Good evening, ladies,” Aunt Arlene called after them.
“No,” Fiona said. “For Ginny’s sake we should have told the truth.” She reminded her aunt of the dinner when she’d been reprimanded for asking Bob Fay what he wanted. Nothing, he’d said quickly. Then why did he keep jamming his leg into hers, she had asked. Perhaps if she moved her chair Bob would have more room, Uncle Charles had said, his icy stare at niece and son-in-law freezing everyone into silence.
“I know. I know,” her aunt interrupted. “But anyway, dear, I just want to say how pleased your uncle and I both are, not just that you’re here tonight, but about you and George.”
“We’re just friends,” Fiona said.
“Well I can’t think of a better friend for you to have,” her aunt said as she adjusted Fiona’s pearls, turning the clasp behind her neck. “Or,” she whispered at Fiona’s ear, “a better better-friend should it turn out that way.”
“Which it won’t,” Fiona said.
Elizabeth was in the dining room with the Matleys, a short man with bright red hair, and a heavy woman in a white crepe suit. Laura Matley taught with Elizabeth, and John was an accountant.
“In fact, he’s George’s accountant now,” Elizabeth said, then with a wink at John Matley added, “I can’t tell you how glad I am. He’s been keeping his own books these last few years. I can just imagine what shape they’re in.”
Fiona was astonished by the change in her cousin since she’d last seen her in the kitchen. Elizabeth’s eyes sparkled with almost feverish happiness.
“Well, we’ll get him all straightened out in no time,” John Matley said, looking around. “By the way, where is George?”
“In the kitchen,” Elizabeth said with a broad smile. “The caterer was having a fit. One of mother’s burners is out, so George said he’d fix it.”
John Matley asked where the kitchen was; George might need a hand.
“Knowing George, I doubt it,” Elizabeth said, eagerly leading the way.
Fiona asked Laura Matley how long she’d been teaching at the Crane School. Just a few months, Laura said. She had started in September with Elizabeth. She and John only knew a few people in town. He had been nervous about the party tonight, but Elizabeth had really
wanted them to come. She thought it would be a good way for him to meet people. “She’s just the sweetest person,” Laura said. “I felt as if I’ve known her all my life. Everyone at school, we all say the same thing. We’re just crazy about her. She’s always bringing pastry in and little things she knows people will get a kick out of. Or if you’re down that day, you’ll go in to your desk and find some sweet little poem she wrote. Haiku, she calls it, and origami; she makes these delicate birds by folding little pieces of paper. Her students just adore her. She can’t take a step without a bunch of them like little ducklings right behind her.” Laura laughed. “Of course you probably hear that all the time.” She looked toward the living room. “Now which one’s her fiancé?” she asked. “I still haven’t met him.”
“Over there,” Fiona said, pointing just as Rudy turned around. She gave a little wave, but he looked anxiously past her.
“Oh,” Laura said, sounding surprised. “Isn’t that funny. I pictured him looking entirely different.”
“Like what?” she asked.
“Now that you ask, I don’t really know,” Laura mused with another glance back.
“He’s probably more handsome than you thought he’d be,” Fiona said, watching her.
“Well maybe,” Laura said with a polite little laugh as Rudy made his way toward them, looking awkward and ungainly with his ill-fitting clothes, spikey cowlick, and somber expression.
Excusing herself, Fiona met him in the hallway. “Hey, I know what you’re after. A big plate of spare ribs, right?”
His weak smile deflated in a sigh. “Do you know where Elizabeth went?”
“She’s in the kitchen. George and his new accountant are trying to fix the stove.”
In the kitchen George was on his knees with greasy stove parts laid out on a towel on the floor. Clearly annoyed, the caterers kept trying to work around him. Arms folded and also in the way, John Matley and Elizabeth stood over him watching. Elizabeth introduced Rudy to Matley by name only, Fiona noticed.
“He’s her fiancé,” Fiona added in the awkward silence that seemed to follow.
“Oh, yah! Sure!” John Matley said.
Rudy stared at Elizabeth, but she wouldn’t look at him. Her jaw quivered and the cords in her long, thin neck were as taut as steel wires. The uneasy quiet was broken when John Matley said he’d better go see where his wife was.
“Yes, we’ve already left her alone for too long,” Elizabeth agreed, hurrying after him.
“So how’s it going, George?” Rudy asked after they left.
“Actually, I’m almost done. I think it’s just blocked,” he said, peering down a long metal tube.
“I meant you, how things are going with you.” Rudy stood over him with his hands on his hips.
“Pretty good,” George said, looking closely as he poked a steel skewer into the tube. “I can’t complain, anyway.”
“No, I guess you can’t,” Rudy said. “Much as you might want to, right?” he added, staring.
Fiona nervously popped a chocolate-dipped strawberry into her mouth and Darrin the caterer glared at her. She had worked for him once, but had quit in the middle of a wedding reception he was catering because he kept screaming at his waitresses. He couldn’t stand her, but the Hollis party was one of his best references. She took another strawberry.
George’s earlobes were bright red. He wiped the skewer on a paper towel, then stood up. “Excuse me,” he said, squeezing past Rudy. He slid the tube into the well of the front burner and fiddled with the knob, but it didn’t light.
“Need a hand?” Rudy asked.
“No thanks,” George murmured, removing the tube. “I should have it clear in a minute.”
“You wouldn’t mind then if I borrow Fiona for that particular minute?” Rudy asked, and she looked up surprised and smiling.
“Of course not.” George sounded relieved. “Whatever she wants.”
“Yah, well don’t anyone get the wrong idea. I’m kind of a free agent here.” She laughed and took another strawberry.
“There was something I had to tell you, remember?” Rudy said, looking at her with such intensity that she was sure he was angry with her for bringing George when Elizabeth had asked her not to.
Just then the door began to open and close into the dining room as the chafing dishes were being carried in. In the midst of it all Aunt Arlene hurried into the kitchen. “There you are!” she cried, snaring Rudy’s arm. “A very old friend of ours is waiting to meet you,” she said, as they entered the bustle that was growing louder and more boisterous. More guests had arrived. The laughter and happy voices wafted in and out with the opening and closing door.
“George, what the hell are you doing?” Fiona blurted as he picked up another part.
“The tube was blocked,” he murmured, bending over the stove.
“Yah? And what’re you going to do when you’re done, go sit on the cellar stairs?” She saw his back muscles flex as he stiffened. “You know what I mean. You came here to prove something, and now you’re just hiding out in the kitchen.”
He continued tightening screws, a bolt, now the burner itself. He turned back, wiping his hands on the soiled towel, his steadiness, as always, an almost irresistible goad. “You don’t understand,” he finally said.
“What? What’s to understand? That she can’t make up her mind? Isn’t that why you came? To show her she has to?”
The two waiters by the sink kept glancing back to hear what was being said.
“She’s afraid,” he said in a low voice.
“What’s she afraid of?”
He shook his head. “Herself, I think.”
“Then that’s her problem and she has to deal with it, instead of jerking everyone around, especially poor Rudy.”
“There’s too much pressure on her,” he said. “There always has been.”
“That’s bullshit, and you know it as well as I do.”
“No. I’m telling you,” he said quietly. He stepped closer. “I’m worried about her. I know the hell she’s going through. She hides it. Nobody else sees it. But I do!” His voice choked with concern.
“Boy,” she said, shaking her head. “Has she ever got your number, George. All our numbers actually.”
“I’m telling you, she’s in a bad way!”
“Then if she can’t, you better take charge, George!” she said, and once again his jaw clenched in grim resolve.
The door swung open, and now Uncle Charles came into the kitchen. “There you two are.” He put one arm around George, the other around Fiona. “Come on out and enjoy the party,” he said, walking them toward the door. “Listen, George, when we need a plumber you’re the man we call. But not tonight. Tonight, you’re here with Fiona,” he said with a squeeze that made her shoulders ache. “And I just want you both to know how pleased I am about that.” He looked from one to the other. “It just makes sense,” he continued. “You two have been such good old friends.”
“Actually, sir,” George said, his face reddening, “I’m not here as—”
“Uncle Charles!” Fiona interrupted, and even as she spoke didn’t know why she said what she did beyond the fact that in front of her uncle she wanted no part in George’s revelations about himself and Elizabeth. “Actually George wants to do this for free,” she said, taking George’s arm. “But I was just telling him that’s not how you like to do things, that you always insist on paying. That you have to, being a judge.”
“Well of course. Yes, that’s right. I always do.”
“Oh no, sir,” George began. “That’s—”
“He usually gets forty dollars an hour,” she continued. “But then again this is a night call, isn’t it, George, and that’s what? Time and a half, which comes to sixty dollars an hour.”
“Certainly.” Her uncle pulled out his wallet. “That’s more than fair, especially having to work in the middle of all this ruckus!” He held out three twenties to George, who shrank from them.
&
nbsp; “No sir. I don’t want that. That’s not why I’m here,” he insisted.
“No, no, I know,” her uncle said quickly. “But here, get me off the hook and take this.” He laughed. “Otherwise I’ll have to deal with Fiona later.” He tried unsuccessfully to slip the money into George’s jacket pocket.
“Absolutely not!” George said.
Uncle Charles smiled and shook his hand. “Well thank you then. Thank you for everything,” he said, his nod toward Fiona meant to convey gratitude for George’s care in matters far more sensitive than a balky stove.
Irritated, Fiona grabbed George’s arm and leaned against him. “That Elizabeth. She can’t keep anything to herself, can she?”
“I think she’s hoping you two are as happy as she and Rudy are,” her uncle said.
“Well, we’re sure as hell trying, aren’t we, Georgie?” She smiled up sweetly and felt his arm go rigid in hers.
Uncle Charles shook his head with a benevolent sigh and kept his eyes fast on hers. “Perhaps you’ll have better luck getting her to watch her language. Lord knows I’ve tried.” He patted George’s shoulder and opened the door.
George pulled away. The door swung back and forth, fanning the audible breeze of bright voices in and out.
“That wasn’t the least bit funny,” he said.
“I wasn’t trying to be. I was only trying to help.” She pushed open the door.
“No,” he said, blocking the way with his arm. “You wanted to see me squirm, didn’t you? You’re enjoying this, aren’t you?”
“Of course not!” she said, stung as much by the accusation as by the knowledge that it was true. There was a certain satisfaction in seeing other lives in turmoil. But it wasn’t enjoyable, so much as self-redeeming and energizing. All of her senses felt alive, her instincts primed. She knew what had to be done, knew what a man needed and a woman really wanted. The jagged peaks and crevices were always more nimbly scaled when they were someone else’s troubles. Years of chaos had left her step sure and quick, far steadier through an avalanche than on a quiet path. “I can’t stand seeing what this is doing to Rudy,” she tried to explain. “But that sure as hell wasn’t the time to break it to my uncle.”
Fiona Range Page 33
