by Ingrid Thoft
Scotty started to stammer.
“Exactly. Dad doesn’t believe it. I’m not sure you do, either. Dad won’t tell Mom, who definitely wouldn’t believe it. Everyone would expect Haley to sit across the Thanksgiving table from Rand, pretending that everything’s fine. Don’t you understand that that would fuck her up all over again? One of them was going to be compromised, and I wasn’t going to let it be Haley.”
Scotty rubbed his hands together. There were bags under his eyes. He cleared his throat in an effort to reclaim his voice. “So what’s next?”
“If you and Patty can’t take Haley, I will.”
“Oh, Fina.” Scotty snorted. “The kid’s suffered enough already.”
Fina put her head in her hands. “God, I was hoping you’d say that.” She looked up at her brother. “I can’t believe how much this sucks.”
“No kidding.”
“Do you want me to talk to Patty?”
“No, I’ll do it. What about Matthew?”
“I’ll talk to him.”
“And Mom?” Scotty asked.
The siblings looked at each other.
“That’s a shit storm I have no interest in unleashing,” Fina said.
“Agreed.” Scotty reached over and squeezed Fina’s good hand. “Are you okay?”
Fina smiled weakly. “I’ll be fine.”
Scotty studied her for a moment, then opened his door and summoned the driver. Fina reached over and shut the air-conditioning vent that was blowing frigid air on her.
She was already numb.
Milloy retrieved her from the hospital where she underwent a battery of tests, the results of which were carefully recorded in the police report. Fina wanted to banish the Ludlows from her mind, if only for a little while, so he took her back to his place. They ordered in Chinese—fried egg rolls, wontons stuffed with pork, crispy orange beef, greasy lo mein, and shrimp Rangoon. Fina ate until she was stuffed, took a long shower, and collapsed into Milloy’s bed. It was only three P.M., but she fell into a deep sleep, only to awaken the next day having barely moved.
Milloy crept out for an early morning massage appointment, and Fina dozed for a couple more hours. She took a shower and rummaged around in his closet. She found a T-shirt dress she’d left on an earlier occasion that Milloy had thoughtfully laundered. In his kitchen, there was a plastic sleeve of powdered doughnuts and a single can of diet soda sitting in the fridge. He really was a peach.
The ripe aroma wafting from her cast hampered the enjoyment of her meal, so Fina called a cab and paid the orthopedist a visit.
Bev longed for the days when you could accompany travelers all the way to the gate. She supposed the restriction contributed to better security, but she wanted to walk her son right to the plane and watch it push back, confident that he was secure within its confines.
“Mom?” Connor interrupted her daydreaming. “Do you want anything?”
“No, dear.” She was sitting in a row of chairs welded together, while Connor waited in line to buy a fruit smoothie from a cart in the middle of the ticketing area. She gazed at him admiringly as he placed his order. He was a handsome boy—smart, too. And he was kind and tried to help people. She and Chester had done a good job.
He dropped down into the seat next to her and sucked on his straw. Bev glanced at her watch.
“I’ve got a few minutes, Mom. There’s a flight to New York every hour, anyway.”
“I know, but you don’t want to be late for your first training session. Remind me again of the schedule?”
Connor rolled his eyes and smiled at his mother. “I’ve already told you.”
“Well, tell me again.”
“I have two days of training in New York, then a week in Germany, and then I’ll get my assignment.” Connor sipped his smoothie and gazed at the passengers moving by at various speeds. “I hope it’s somewhere in Africa. In some of those countries, one out of every eight babies dies before his or her first birthday.”
Bev shuddered. “That’s terrible, Connor.”
“I know, but it means we could have a huge impact. We could really make a difference.”
It was that glimmer of excitement, of hope, that would have to sustain Bev in the coming days. She supposed that her life was over in many respects, but she’d orchestrated a rebirth of sorts for Connor, and that was all that mattered.
He took a last sip of his drink and pitched it into a trash bin. “I guess I should head down,” he told Bev.
“Of course.” Bev stood and followed him toward security.
“Mom.” Connor turned to her. “Are you sure you’re okay? Is everything okay?”
Bev took his shoulders in her hands. “Connor, I want you to get on that plane and have the time of your life. You concentrate on being a doctor. Your daddy and I will be just fine.”
Connor looked at her. He didn’t completely believe his mother, but he wanted to, desperately. “You’d tell me if you needed me to stay?”
“Of course, sugar,” Bev said, pulling him into a tight embrace. She inhaled deeply and tried to memorize his scent. She released him and tapped him gently on the cheek. “Now, scoot. Those babies need you.”
Connor grinned. “Love you, Mom.”
“You, too, pumpkin.”
Bev stood at the barrier and watched Connor snake his way through the line and the various pieces of equipment used to establish his level of threat to his fellow man. He turned when he was at the farthest reach of the hallway and waved to her. Bev stood on her tiptoes as she waved back, and then he disappeared from sight.
She hurried through the ticketing area and walked briskly on the moving sidewalk back to the parking garage. Once in her car, she glanced at the clock and gave herself ten minutes to weep.
After eleven minutes, Bev opened her phone and dialed a number. “Mr. Serensen,” she said evenly, “I believe we have an appointment with the police.”
Fina briefly considered getting a neon-colored cast this time; maybe the flashy color would temper her predilection for getting in trouble. But really, who was she kidding? She opted for black. The doctor didn’t even bother giving her a lecture about taking better care of herself; he, like so many others in her life, had given up.
She took a cab to Cambridge and visited a liquor store in Central Square, where she bought a hundred-dollar bottle of Irish whiskey. Her purchase garnered the envious stare of the patron in line next to her, who clutched a bottle of malt liquor that he paid for with crumpled singles.
Outside in the heat, she grasped the brown paper bag around the neck of the bottle and walked the few blocks to Cristian’s place. Fina didn’t hurry. She meandered, and after a few moments, recognized what she was feeling. It was relief. The misery of the days before hadn’t been abolished, but things made sense to her, even if she didn’t understand them. She’d uncovered the who, what, where, and how of the past few weeks, if not the why. Fina knew better than most people that the mysteries we solve are far fewer than those we don’t.
Cristian buzzed her up, and she joined him on the back porch, where he was nursing a beer.
“Here,” she said as she handed him the paper bag. “A peace offering.”
He took the bag. “I think you made that yesterday morning at the station.” He reached in and pulled out the bottle. He whistled. “Very nice. Thanks.”
“You’re welcome. I don’t want you to think that I take you for granted.”
Cristian put the whiskey on the kitchen counter and pulled a beer out of the fridge for her. He popped the top off and handed her the sweating bottle.
“How’d all that family business go?” he asked after taking a swig of his own beer.
“It went.”
“Can’t imagine they were happy you gave us those files.”
“That’s an understatement.” Fina sipped her beer. “I asked P
itney to keep Haley out of it, whatever ‘it’ ends up being.”
“She told me.”
“It’s important, Cristian. She’s been through a lot. Worse than you can imagine.”
Cristian gazed at her. “I’m a cop, remember? I can imagine.” He moved his plastic chair closer to hers. “I’ll do everything I can to protect her.”
“Thanks.”
“You’re a good aunt.”
“Thanks,” Fina said, and she sipped her beer. “Thanks.”
Fina took a week off to recuperate. She slept, ate, watched bad TV. She and Milloy spent a day on the North Shore eating fried clams and lounging under a lighthouse watching sailboats slice through the waves. She went to Disney on Ice with Cristian and Matteo and was aghast at the thought that she might have missed it. Matteo’s genuine delight and the sight of women skating in hoopskirts were so captivating, she forgot her own troubles for a bit. After a few days, she felt sated and rested, like a regular human being. For the first time in weeks, she stopped accumulating injuries.
She tried to avoid the news, but snippets of information crept into her consciousness. Bev Duprey was arrested on various charges ranging from prostitution to money laundering. Mark was picked up on fraud charges related to his businesses and was under suspicion for Melanie’s murder. His hired guns made court appearances for their attempts on Fina’s life. Rand’s name was floating around the stories, but for now, he didn’t face any charges, just a cloud of suspicion and salacious gossip.
Fina visited Scotty and Patty’s house each day to check on Haley. Scotty tried to engage Fina in discussions about the legal cases, but she brushed aside his attempts. She didn’t want to devote any more psychic energy to it. She was willing to talk about Rand, since he was family, not business, but Scotty didn’t mention their brother. Just as she suspected, it was a subject no one cared to discuss or even acknowledge.
Fina was starting to contemplate her future at the firm when Matthew left her a message requesting her presence at the club for lunch. After deleting the message, Fina breathed a sigh of relief. She didn’t know if Rand would be there, but if she was being summoned to the club, she still had a spot in the family, even if she had mixed feelings about the position.
The next day, Fina and Milloy drove into the club parking lot. When Milloy reached for the door handle, she stopped him with her casted arm. “Not yet,” she said.
He started the car again and fiddled with the radio. Fina depressed the button to roll down her window; she could hear laughter and shouting drifting out from the pool area. She looked at the other cars in the parking lot. Her father’s car was parked a few spaces away, as were Matthew’s and Patty’s. She searched, but didn’t see Rand’s or Scotty’s. Elaine’s Mercedes sedan was in the row closest to the road, greedily taking one and a half parking spaces. How hard was it to park between the lines? Really?
Fina drummed her fingers on the armrest and contemplated getting out of the car. A breeze blew through the open windows, providing a moment of relief from the cloying humidity.
“Are you coming in?” Scotty appeared at her window.
“I didn’t see your car.” Fina craned her neck.
“Hey, Milloy,” Scotty said, and bent down so he was eye level with his sister. “It’s back there.” He motioned toward the far end of the lot. “What are you waiting for?”
“I’m not sure. Am I really welcome?”
Scotty shrugged. “Dad is totally pissed, but that’s no surprise.” He tapped his fingers on the door frame.
“And Rand?”
“He’s opted out of this gathering.”
Fina nodded. “Haley’s here though, right?”
“Yup.”
Fina looked at Milloy. “You guys go ahead,” Fina said. “I’ll be right there.”
Milloy raised his eyebrow in question, and Fina nodded. “Seriously, you can be the warm-up act.”
He got out and left the car running.
“Don’t wait too long or Mom will order you a salad,” Scotty said, and the two men wandered away from the car.
Fina sat and listened to the pop station that Milloy had settled on. The repetitive bass line was irritating, so she reached over and turned off the radio.
“Fina?”
She looked out the window. “Dr. Murray. Hi.”
He had on khakis and a button-down shirt. A large canvas bag brimming with towels was in his left hand, and his right held a child’s blow-up pool toy. “Everything okay?”
“Eh. You know.”
Dr. Murray looked over at his family. “I’ll catch up,” he said to them, and watched them wander off in the direction of the pool.
“I don’t want to keep you from your family.”
“A few minutes won’t make a difference. Anyway, you’re saving me from the daily sunscreen debacle.”
Fina smiled.
“Can I help in any way?” he asked.
“I’m just trying to screw up my courage.” She wiped a strand of hair away from her damp face. “I think I’m in big trouble.”
“Really?”
“Yup.”
“I hope you don’t mind my saying so, but in our short acquaintance, you haven’t struck me as someone who worries terribly about getting into trouble.”
Fina looked at him. His face was washed with a gentle smile.
“That is true. I don’t have much trouble breaking the law. But it’s my family this time, not the law.”
“Ah. Families have laws, too, you know.”
Fina didn’t say anything.
“And people break them all the time,” Dr. Murray said.
“Not in my family, they don’t.”
Dr. Murray considered her for a moment. “Are you sure about that?”
Fina stared out the windshield. A few cars down, two kids were wrestling while their mother or nanny struggled to pull belongings out of the back of the luxury SUV. They were making a lot of noise, and from this distance, Fina couldn’t tell if they were laughing or fighting.
She sat for a moment and tried to tune out her anxiety and aches and pains. Her stomach growled.
“I’m hungry,” she observed after a minute, and closed her window. She reached for the keys, pulled them out of the ignition, and climbed out of the car.
“Here, let me take that.” She offered a hand to Dr. Murray, and he passed her the blow-up toy, a flotation device fashioned in the shape of a frog.
They started toward the pool together.
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
Lucky is the writer who has a team of supporters cheering her on this path. I am enormously grateful to those who have made Loyalty possible.
Davenie Susi Pereira has read every draft of just about everything thing I’ve ever written and offered keen observations, kind words, and graciously overlooked all the f-bombs. I would never have had the courage to say “I’m a writer” without the guidance and support of Catalina Arboleda. Erika Thoft-Brown and Chris Thoft-Brown were always eager readers, and their faith never faltered. Kirsten Thoft and Lisa Thoft rallied around me throughout this process.
Helen Brann took a chance on an unknown writer, and I will be forever in her debt. Ivan Held believed in me, and the teams at Putnam have been my greatest advocates from day one. Christine Pepe has been a wonderful guide on this journey, and I’m honored to have her as my editor and fellow pop culture aficionada.
My mother, Judith Stone Thoft, read countless drafts and provided insightful feedback every step of the way. Her love, humor, and grace are an example to me always, and, just so there is no confusion, she bears absolutely no resemblance to Elaine Ludlow.
Lastly, my husband, Doug Berrett, has been head cheerleader and my partner in crime for more than two decades. Quite simply, he is the best, and there would be no Loyalty without him.
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Ingrid Thoft, Loyalty
