by Pamela Morsi
“No, he wouldn’t,” Andi agreed.
“But I’m thinking that’s exactly what your mother might have done,” Rachel said.
Andi let those words sink in as Rachel drove down the wide, pristine boulevards of Plainview’s wealthier section of town. Since the bombshell at Delmonico’s, Andi had been emotionally flailing with the unwelcome idea that her family had not been quite what she’d thought them to be. Now, for the very first time, she considered that perhaps the reality of who and what her family actually turned out to be was something more complex, more well-rounded, simply better than her stilted, adolescent understanding had allowed for.
Chapter 20
HIS PARENTS’ HOME, the house where he’d grown up, was bursting at the seams with the friends, acquaintances, officials and alumni who had come to comfort the family. Pete was very tired of smiling and of saying, “thank you.” Big parties, crowds of people, were very draining, especially so when you were still reeling from loss. He had to force himself to come up with things to say. And he was not all that good at it. All he wanted to do was hide out someplace until all these people went home. But he didn’t do that. He stood in the archway between the front hall and the formal living room, conversing with all comers. His father, ever gregarious, would have loved the idea of all these people in his house talking so nicely about him. Pete decided that it was the last thing he could do for his father, make his final gathering friendly and memorable. So he smiled and nodded and listened to the people who talked to him. And explained over and over exactly what had happened.
“It was apparently massive and irreversible,” he said to Dr. Schott, the retired pharmacist. “The EMS was there within minutes, but the doctor said they couldn’t have saved him even if he’d been in the hospital when it happened.”
The old man who’d known Hank all of his life nodded sadly.
Pete accepted the words of sympathy that were offered. He imagined that humans had come up with this way of honoring the dead to make it easier on the family. After you’d said the words aloud a hundred times to a hundred different people and accepted their expressions of grief, there was no way that you could continue to deny your own. It was there, you had to face it.
Fortunately most people were eager to get the mournfulness behind them. They easily bridged to happier times, recalling memories that provoked smiles, even laughter.
“We were on the sixth hole,” Claymore Reddy, a heavily tanned golfing buddy with snow-white hair, said to him. “I’d bogeyed on five but your father was still two strokes back. He went with a wedge and I thought, ‘good God, Hank, that’s the worst choice you could make’ but you never could tell him anything so I didn’t try. And when he swung…”
Pete didn’t hear the rest of the story. The front door opened and he saw Andi. He wanted to rush over and hug her to him. He’d missed her so much. It had been nearly a week since he’d seen her. Even longer since he’d touched her. He called her on the phone every night and they lay in their separate beds in separate houses sharing the day’s happenings and sound of each other’s voice. Phone sex was not nearly as good as the real thing. And staring into her eyes, instead of into the darkness of his bedroom, would be such a gift.
“Excuse me,” he said, as soon as Mr. Reddy got the remembered golf ball onto the long-ago green. “I need to greet these ladies.”
Pete waylaid Andi before she was three steps inside the door. She looked so different in her stiffly tailored black dress. But her smile was still the one he remembered, her lips were the ones he wanted to kiss.
“You came!” he said, just a little above a whisper. It was only when he took her hand in both of his own that he realized who was with her.
“Mrs. Joffee,” he said, greeting his neighbor more formally. “Thank you for coming.”
She gave him a motherly hug. “I’m so sorry for your loss, Pete,” she said. “How is your mother doing? Maybe I can help her?”
“I think she’s on the patio,” Pete said. The older woman hurried off.
“I’ve never been so glad to see anyone in my life,” Pete whispered to Andi. “I thought you were going to have to work.”
“Tiff’s husband is filling in for me,” she said. “It was a beautiful funeral, Pete. How’s it going here?”
“You know I’m not so good at this sort of thing,” he said.
“I think people are very forgiving at times like this,” Andi assured him. “We almost expect things to go badly. At my mom’s wake, Jelly got into her Law & Order lingo and demanded that Father Blognick ‘exhume the body.’”
Pete groaned and chuckled. “Gosh, I can just hear her saying that.”
“Trust me, no one felt much like laughing at the time.”
“That’s the first time I’ve laughed all day,” he said. “You’re good for me, Andi Wolkowicz.”
“All the guys in town feel that way,” she said. “And today I’m not even wearing my red thong.”
He loved her naughty grin. “I just want to hide out somewhere and talk to you,” he confessed. “But I’ve got to hang with all these people.”
“Absolutely,” she agreed. “Go, mingle, be consoled. I can manage my way through the room. And I promise I’ll be the last to leave.”
She drifted off and Pete continued moving through the house listening to the stories of these old friends of his father’s. Still knowing that she was here, knowing that she would be here for him when all these people were gone, gave him a second wind. He could run as many miles as he had to, as long as she was at the finish line.
And it got easier. As time went on more of his buddies congregated together for whatever talk they shared in common. And the friends of his mother seemed content with a quick word. So Pete was mostly talking with people from the store or other business people in the community. That was more shop talk and he was better at that. It came much more easily to him.
The crowd had dwindled down to perhaps a dozen people. The caterer was restacking the food on fewer trays, rather than bringing out more. Pete caught sight of his mother, patiently listening on the edge of an impromptu group discussion with the mayor about potholes. Pete walked over and took her by the arm.
“There’s someone I want you to meet,” he said.
They found Andi in the living room. She was seated on the chintz couch next to Miss Kepper. She stood up quickly as they approached.
“Hello, ladies,” he said, including Miss Kepper in the greeting. “Mom, I want you to meet Andi Wolkowicz.”
His mother smiled. “Oh, of course, you’re one of Wolkowicz’s twins,” his mother said offering her hand. “You’re all grown up now. And I wasn’t back in town ten minutes before hearing all about your unusual car wash venture.”
“Uh…yeah,” Andi answered.
Pete could hear the nervousness in her voice.
“Andi’s my…my…” The hesitation was a genuine dilemma. They were sleeping together, but they’d never had a date. He was in love with her, but he’d never once called her his girlfriend. The word girlfriend just sounded stupid next to what he felt for her. “Andi’s mine,” he finished finally.
His mother’s jaw dropped open. He heard a startled little puff of disbelief from Miss Kepper. Andi’s cheeks blushed bright red. It was within that little bubble of stunned silence that he noticed that Andi held an empty glass.
“Let me get you some more wine,” he said, taking it from her. “Miss Kepper?”
She handed over her glass as well.
“Bring me one, too,” his mother said.
As soon as Pete moved away, he regretted it. Peterson, what kind of idiot drops a bombshell and then leaves his woman to pick up the pieces?
He filled the glasses as rapidly as possible and kept his head down so that no one would approach him for even a fast word of conversation. He was back in the living room in less than two minutes. All three women were now seated. His mom and Miss Kepper on the couch, Andi in the chair angled beside it. Pete passed out the drinks and the
n, rather than standing or dragging up more furniture, he sat on the arm of Andi’s chair.
“So Andi has been telling us about your new high-concept promotion for the store,” Pete’s mom said.
“I wondered where you came up with such a brilliant idea,” Miss Kepper said. “I had no idea it came from Andi.”
“Oh, it didn’t,” Andi piped in quickly. “It was Pete’s idea entirely. He just let me work on it with him.”
“Andi certainly inspired it, even if she didn’t come up with it,” Pete said. “I think it was mostly a collaboration. We work very well together.”
As he spoke, Pete looked both of the older women directly in the eye. He wanted it clear that he was putting up with no interference in his relationship with Andi. Not at home. Not at work.
“Well, it sounds like a great new direction for Guthrie Foods,” his mother said.
“The initial response has been very positive,” Miss Kepper said. “Our store sales are up and it’s been like a vitamin shot for employee morale. Everyone is happier, working harder. Some of that is probably the cross-training, but a lot of it is the Wholesome Foods, Hometown Friends concept.”
“You’ve been doing cross-training?” Mom asked incredulously. “Hank always spoke very derisively of cross-training.”
“In the end, I think, I won him over,” Pete said.
“He was always very proud of the way you ran the store,” Miss Kepper said.
Pete wasn’t sure if she really spoke for his father or for herself, but either way, he was willing to take the compliment.
They talked for a while longer, several people left, including Mrs. Joffee. They all rose to their feet to say goodbye. Rachel and his mother embraced.
“Are you going to need a ride home?” she asked Andi.
“I’ll be fine,” she answered.
“Thanks for bringing her,” Pete said. “I’ll see that she gets home safe.”
“I’m sure her father might ask ‘safe from whom?’” Rachel teased. Then she gave Pete a hug as well. “I have been telling her what a good guy I think you are. The neighbors always know the truth.”
“Uh, thanks, I think,” Pete answered, teasing a bit himself.
After Mrs. Joffee left, his mother made a great suggestion.
“Why don’t you kids sneak off somewhere for some time alone,” she said. “I’m sure Pete could really use a break.”
Pete studied her face for lines of weariness or stress. “Are you sure you can handle the rest of the guests by yourself?”
“I’ll be fine,” his mom insisted. She reached over and grasped Miss Kepper’s hand. “Doris will help me. We’re old, dear friends. We’ll do this together.”
Pete looked at Miss Kepper. She was smiling at him. She looked more vibrant, healthy, younger, than he ever remembered seeing her. “Go on,” she said. “Helping out the Guthries is my life’s work.”
“Thank you,” he told her.
He clasped Andi’s hand and they made their escape.
“Do you want another glass of wine?” he asked her.
“I only want to be with you.”
“Come on.”
He led her upstairs and down a long hallway. The last door was the guest suite. He stepped inside. The rarely used area had the look of a perfect designer room, the kind seen in magazines, with no personal mementos or family heirlooms. As perfect, beautiful and lifeless as a statue.
On one side of the room, French doors led out to a lush second floor balcony, verdant with climbing vines and pots of blooming flowers. They passed through the doors and found a small bench with a view of the backyard foliage and the dark gray swimming pool.
Pete sat down and pulled Andi into his lap. He kissed her and held her tight against him, thinking he never wanted to let her go. But, of course, he did. He wasn’t so blinded by desire that he could forget that they were in his mother’s house and she had guests downstairs.
“It feels so good just to hold you,” he said. “I don’t like being away from you for days at a time. I like having you in my arms.”
“I like it, too,” Andi said.
He smiled, pleased. “I was worried about you when I left you alone with Mom and Miss Kepper. I hope they were nice to you.”
“Oh yeah, they were great and I know they were shocked. Your mom was very sweet and said nice things about my parents,” she told him. “And Miss Kepper…” Andi rolled her eyes. “Miss Kepper talked about how impressive I was when I came into interview for the job at Guthrie Foods.”
“Impressive?”
“That’s what she said, ‘impressive,’” Andi quoted. “And then she told your mom and I that the only reason she didn’t hire me on the spot was because she thought I was so much ‘your type,’ and she worried that we might get involved.”
“Oh, wow.”
“Do you believe that?”
“I don’t have any idea what to believe about anything,” Pete said. He hugged Andi close and then added, “But if she did think that, then she was exactly right. You are my type and I am so involved.”
Andi rewarded him with a peck on the lips.
They sat together silently for long moments, lost in thought.
“Miss Kepper,” he said with a heavy sigh.
“What about her?”
“This really weird thing happened when my father died,” Pete said. “I haven’t talked about it because I was kind of trying to sort it all out in my own head. I don’t know if I can. I may need your head, too.”
“What happened?”
“I saw my father as he collapsed and I ran into the hall and really caught him before he hit the floor. Miss Kepper came out of her office and I sent her back in to call an ambulance.”
“Right.”
“My dad was kind of confused. He didn’t know where he was. He thought I was Mom, then he said he needed to talk to Mom, that he needed to tell her something.”
Andi nodded.
“Then Miss Kepper was there and she was holding his hand and he seemed so glad to see her,” Pete said. “He told her that he loved her. That he had always loved her.”
“Oh my God.”
“Miss Kepper didn’t hear him asking for my mother. But I did. And it wasn’t clear to me whether the words he said were meant for Miss Kepper or if he thought Miss Kepper was my mother.”
“Did you say anything to Miss Kepper?” Andi asked.
“No,” Pete answered shaking his head. “And I didn’t tell Mom about it, except to say that he asked for her in the end.”
They sat silently for a few moments. Pete was reliving it all in memory. Andi sat beside him, rubbing his shoulder comfortingly.
“I’m pretty sure that my father didn’t love Miss Kepper,” Pete said. “But I’m not so sure he really loved my mother either. What do you think?”
Andi gave it a moment or two more of thoughtful pondering. “You know, Pete, I don’t think it matters what is really true,” she said finally.
“Huh?”
“Miss Kepper waited all her life to hear those words from your dad,” she said. “If it was a lie, then it was a good one. She certainly earned it. It was a monumental private moment. I doubt very seriously that she would ever tell your mother about it.”
Pete nodded. “And even if she did, Mom has been so disappointed by my father so many times over the years, I honestly think that she’s become nearly immune to it. And if it was meant for Mom, if she could have heard it firsthand, I don’t think it could have made even a dent in the problems those two have had over the years. He told her he loved her all the time, but it never changed the way he treated her. This wouldn’t have changed anything either.”
“But it sure changed things for Miss Kepper,” Andi said.
Pete agreed.
“It’s so hard to know what is true and what’s not true. Even the people who are relating the facts can’t be sure.”
“So what do we do?” Pete asked.
“I think we try to l
ive our lives and be happy,” Andi said.
Pete leaned forward and planted a little peck on her lips. “I think I can live my life happy if I get to live it with you.”
“You know, I think with the right kind of contractual agreement, we could probably make that happen, Mr. Guthrie.”
He kissed her again.
“What they say about you in town is that you’re the kind of businesswoman who gets her way in every deal.”
“This kind of deal allows no cheating,” she said. “We need to try to be as honest with each other as we can. And we won’t waste too much time trying to make sense of things we can never really be sure about.”
“Do you want to shake on it?”
“I’d rather try to find out if any of those bedrooms have locks on the door.”
“You are scaring me, woman,” Pete said. “This kind of risky behavior is not what we’re accustomed to in Plainview.”
“I’m fearless,” Andi said. “I think I get that from my mother.”
Lovers Leap Overlook at Mt. Ridley had to be the most beautiful site in town for an outdoor wedding. The first autumn cold snap had signaled the trees to turn their leaves to red and orange, yellow and gold. But today, barely a year after her mother’s death, the sky was blue, the sun was warm and it was a perfect day for a wedding.
The bride wore a ruthlessly unadorned ankle-length gown of metallic champagne satin. The three-quarter-length sleeves and the multiple strands of sparkly jewels around her throat were the only concessions to a woman of a certain age.
The groom, in a new gray suit with a pink rosebud in his lapel, was grinning like a fool. Or perhaps grinning like a man who’d waited a lifetime for this day to come. And most of that life he never believed that it would ever happen.
Beneath the gauzy canopy, Father Blognick seemed distinctly uncomfortable. Rabbi Goldman wasn’t any happier.
At the four corners of the structure stood their four children. Andi and Jelly were in matching dresses of deep fuschia. The first time they’d had matching clothes since grade school, Jelly had enthusiastically pointed out.
On the opposite side, the Joffee brothers looked positively dashing. Also slightly dangerous, their matching expressions daring anyone to say anything unfavorable about the unexpected choices of the happy couple.
