by Sandra Kitt
“I know I didn’t have to pay for the renovation, but I’d rather spend on people I love, rather than fend off the hundreds I don’t know. Everyone’s got a sad sob story.”
Patrick was suddenly reflective about growing up in this comfortable house that now seemed so small. The bright but old-fashioned kitchen held so many memories from his youth, of the breakfasts and light meals eaten there, the cookie- and cake-baking at Thanksgiving and Christmas. Birthdays. It was the final checkpoint each morning as he and his sister left to catch the school bus at the corner. It was also true that his mother, widowed for almost fifteen years, had never wanted to sell the home in which she’d raised her children. She said she reveled in all the stories that had been created here. The death of her husband was just another part of the long story.
And Patrick remembered that Jean had lived less than a half mile away. So close, although he’d never seen her in the neighborhood, only in school.
Patrick felt his phone buzzing, and he pulled it from his pocket to answer.
“Yeah, what’s up? How are you?… I’m good… No, I’m not in town at the moment. I’m headed into the city in a few minutes… Finishing up some personal business.” He chuckled quietly, discreetly stepping out of the kitchen and earshot of his mother. “I didn’t know you were coming into New York today… Sorry, not tonight. I have someplace to be. It’s business.”
The caller, a casual friend of the female persuasion, had been pursuing him for months. They’d met at the start of the spring at a baseball game in DC. She was a sportswriter for a local free weekly there. Things had moved fast between them, but Patrick had no expectations of the hookup going anywhere, and neither had she. Or so she’d said. As a matter of fact, he’d soon learned that she was actually dating someone else.
He looked at the time again. “Sounds like you’re busy yourself… Please don’t change your plans for me. I can’t get away… Everything’s good.” He chuckled silently again, not in amusement. “I think it’s fair to say becoming an instant multimillionaire takes some getting used to…” He was pacing. When he turned, Patrick found his mother standing in the doorway to the kitchen, regarding him curiously. Her half-frame reading glasses perched on the bridge of her nose allowed his mother to glance up over the edge for distance.
“Eh…yeah, yeah. Listen, don’t mean to be rude but I really have to go… Okay, bye.”
“Is that the lady with you in the photograph?”
Patrick absently shook his head as he reached for his jacket over the back of a dining room chair. “Photograph? No. That was someone I met in DC almost six months ago.”
Ellen Bennett raised her brows. “She’s already yesterday’s news?”
“Mom…” Patrick growled in mild warning. “Let me know if you need me to talk with your contractor. Don’t let them talk you into anything. All the bills will come to my accountant, and I’ll review them and talk with you before any checks go out.”
“Yes, sir,” Ellen said laughing, half saluting him.
Patrick kissed his mother on her cheek and headed for the door. He stopped and turned back, frowning at her.
“Did you say you saw me in a photograph? With a woman?”
“Yes, that’s right. It was right after the lottery announcement. I can’t remember the caption. I just assumed she was someone new in your life.”
Patrick started to say something, but stopped. He shook his head. “It’s complicated. I do know her. From high school.”
“Really?” Ellen responded, curious. “You dated her in high school?”
“Well, no. Nothing like that. I’m sure I told you about her.”
Ellen sighed and shook her head. “Well, I certainly wouldn’t remember if you had. There was a revolving door for your girlfriends as soon as you started high school. I stopped counting in your sophomore year. There were probably little broken hearts all over the county by the time you graduated.”
“Funny,” he groused, kissing her once more. “Talk to you soon. Love you.”
“Ditto.” Ellen Bennett grinned as her son breezed out the door.
Once in his SUV, Patrick sat to think about what he would say to Jean if he could reach her. He’d already tried to temper his interest in her. In being with her. He knew he was moving a little too fast, but what was the point in denying he enjoyed being with Jean? She was calm and centered. She was caring and thoughtful. She listened. It had not been hard or a leap of faith to discern the difference between Jean and many of the women he’d dated, bedded, and the one he’d ultimately wed.
Patrick was doubly glad for the introduction that had brought them together in high school. Now, as they were getting to really know each other as grown-ups, their history cut to the chase, erased at least a year of testing the waters, dancing around each other to figure out how they ticked. He’d sensed right away that this new relationship with Jean already had the makings of something special. But it needed time and nurturing. He wanted Jean to trust him.
Patrick clicked on her number. She picked up immediately.
“Hello?”
“Hi. It’s Patrick.”
“I know who it is,” Jean said smoothly.
“Am I interrupting something important?”
“Thanks for asking. Yes.”
He laughed. “Okay, I get it. My station is holding a dinner this evening to recognize my program. It’s been killing the ratings, and of course, that means sponsorship and ads are up. In other words, they’re making a lot of money.”
“They’re going to crown you prince of daytime sports?”
Patrick laughed at her ready humor. “Something like that. I’d like you to come to the dinner.” He hesitated only a second before spontaneously adding, “Will you come as my date?”
Jean didn’t answer right away, and Patrick’s stomach churned unexpectedly. She was going to turn him down.
“Of course, I’ll take you home afterward. That’s in the small print of the invitation,” he teased.
Still Jean said nothing.
“Unless… If you have other plans, of course I understand. I know this is last minute…”
“No, I don’t have other plans. Well, not really. There’s an opening at the Brooklyn Museum tonight I was going to…”
“Oh. Sure.”
“I can miss that. But I’m with the mayor right now. He’s giving the commencement address at City College in about an hour. Then there are two other meetings, including one at Yeshiva University in Washington Heights. Then…I think that’s it.”
“Where can I pick you up?” Patrick asked immediately, not giving Jean a chance to beg off.
“I can meet you at the dinner venue. Where is it?”
“I’m picking you up,” Patrick said firmly.
“That doesn’t make sense, Patrick. Are you coming from New Jersey, the station?”
“I’m coming from my mom’s house.”
“Oh. Are you sure? You may have to wait until I can get away.”
“I’ll wait.”
* * *
Patrick was distracted not only by the late-afternoon rush-hour traffic, but also by the drizzle that had begun once he and Jean were on the road. And he was aware that he was feeling a little nervous beside her. Picking her up from an important academic environment, where city hall staff and mayoral security were present, had somehow let it sink in that Jean held not only an exacting position in the mayor’s office, but that she held the mayor’s ear. It had been daunting to watch her in action, as the mayor and his entourage were leaving the meeting and heading for their official transport back downtown. He suddenly realized maybe he was being entirely too cavalier in expecting Jean to drop everything when he wanted—needed—to see her. What if she’d said no to the dinner party? He could think of no one else he’d want to ask. Except in a pinch depending on the event, his own mother.<
br />
Jean was no busier than other professional women he’d dated since his divorce, but Jean’s job rose to the top of the list in terms of importance and influence. He had to be careful not to treat that lightly.
Another thing: Did she understand that they were dating?
“Is your mother okay?”
He frowned. “My mother? She’s fine. Why do you ask?”
“When you said you were with her earlier, I guess I thought something may have been wrong.”
Patrick stole a glance at her, a grin playing around his lips. “Thanks for the thought. You know, one of the first things I thought of was buying my mom a new house. And I was going to arrange for a housekeeper and someone to help her with the property in seasonal weather. She didn’t want any of that.”
“Really? What did she want?”
“Nothing. She didn’t want another house. She said the very thought of moving gave her ‘agita’… I don’t even know what that means,” he murmured dryly.
Jean laughed. “I know what it means.”
“Then, on second thought, my mom only wanted to renovate her kitchen and bathrooms, and she wanted some decent landscaping in her backyard. That’s it. I said, ‘Mom, can’t you dream bigger than that? I can get you anything you want.’ She said, ‘I already have everything I want. You and your sister, and two beautiful grandkids.’”
“That’s so sweet,” Jean said in quiet awe.
“I’m still in discussion with my sister. She said, ‘As long as you’re asking, I would love a bigger house.’ The kids are going to need bigger rooms; she and her husband want to add a one-bedroom apartment over their garage. That will give them rental property, if they choose. Or an Airbnb. I worried a little about her husband and how he’d feel about me giving all those little extras to his family. It’s not settled yet. I want to have a man-to-man talk with him about it. I’m not looking to cause trouble.”
“That’s all good stuff, Patrick. Of course you want to help your family.”
“Yeah, but I don’t think I’m out of the woods yet. I might have to hire an assistant just to deal with the email and text requests.”
“Are you really considering giving money to people you don’t know?”
“What I’m thinking about are the people I do know that I might want to help. Remember Pete from the party? He asked me for a loan the minute he walked through the door, before he even said hello. And he wasn’t kidding.”
“Do you know what the loan is for?”
“I guess that it’s for his son. Pete and the boy’s mother aren’t married, but he’s very hands-on and involved in his son’s life. The kid, according to Pete, has grades that could get him into one of the Ivy League colleges. He graduates high school in another year. He’d have to take out massive student loans if he doesn’t get a scholarship or other financial aid. Now Pete’s son is a cause I can go for. If I can supply him with a running start with college tuition, I will.”
Jean let the tale seep in as she silently watched the rush-hour traffic around them, the rain hitting and dripping down the glass. The repetitive action of the windshield wipers was hypnotic, and she felt relaxed and strangely safe, cocooned with Patrick in his luxury car. Pete had a worthwhile cause, the circumstances not unfamiliar to her.
She turned to look at Patrick’s profile as he focused on his driving and the traffic. She was impressed that he was seriously considering a very modest request. But he was also demonstrating far more about himself to her. Jean took that revelation to the next step by making one of her own.
“My parents never married either,” Jean murmured.
Patrick shot her a quick glance. “I didn’t know.”
“There were a lot of kids like me in school, Patrick. It’s funny how we all managed to find each other, glomming on to each other like this weird private club. I was lucky, if you want to call it that. I always knew my parents both loved me, even if they weren’t together. I had everything I needed. But what I wanted was for all of us to be together every day, like a real family.”
“Do you know why that couldn’t happen?”
“My parents never told me the whole story. I’m sure the elephant in the room was their interracial relationship. There was probably a lot of pressure on them to think about what kind of life they’d have, where they’d live, about kids. You know…et cetera, et cetera.”
“That obviously didn’t stopped them from being in love. They had you,” Patrick suggested.
“Yes. But there were consequences.” She and her parents had never had that conversation. “I just want to say that Pete asking you for money, as loud and over-the-top as it might seem, is because of his son. It must have taken a lot for him to come to you with his hand out.”
Patrick glanced at her again. “I never thought of it that way.”
“Do what you think is right, what feels right. Let’s face it. The kind of money you won is ridiculous.”
He chuckled quietly.
“Have some fun. This SUV is a good start. The money could also become a nightmare.”
He nodded. “Like I said, I’m going to need some advice.”
Jean looked out the window while she considered her next comment.
“I think I know someone, if you’re interested.”
“That will be great. Thanks.”
They both grew silent. Reflective. It was not uncomfortable at all.
“Did either of your parents ever marry someone else?” Patrick suddenly asked.
Jean was surprised by that particular question, that he should wonder about her parents’ standing with each other, let alone that he would care. She rested her head back and sighed, feeling oddly dreamy and conjuring up her own youthful daydreams.
“My father has been in a few relationships over the years, but no, he never married.” Jean stopped for a moment to think about her next words. “My mother…I think she waited until I was away at college, but I know she sometimes dated. Neither one of them seemed particularly interested in committing to marriage. I think she’s never stopped loving my father. But I also don’t think she ever hated him, or anything like that, because they never married. It must have been a tough decision, but neither of them seems bitter, or even unhappy. They just sort of moved on with their lives. With me in the middle.”
For long moments, there was just the quiet sound of rain falling. Soothing. Patrick reached out for Jean’s hand, threading his fingers with hers, resting them on his thigh. Connecting and holding on.
“Thanks for sharing.”
* * *
Jean felt like she’d been here before.
Not the place, exactly, but a lot of the same people surrounding Patrick and congratulating him for the umpteenth time about his lottery win. And, as before, Patrick was gracious and chatty, yet held a part of himself in check. Jean now understood why.
The celebratory dinner was held in a private function room of a Manhattan hotel, gilded and formal, and out of keeping with the kind of folks who’d gathered here. She recognized a number of people from the lottery after-party. Brian was there but, beyond briefly greeting Jean again, he made no effort to get her attention or engage her in conversation. And he had not come alone, a fact that confused Jean, given the conversation between them at the studio. Was Brian just a player, going after any female who grabbed his attention?
The behavior among the guests this time was not quite as boisterous as the lottery party, which had been fueled by a lot of laughter and an open bar. This was a real sit-down dinner with several top management folks from the station speaking earnestly about how the win couldn’t have happened to a greater guy. And happily sharing the latest ratings for the program REPLAY, where viewership had increased by almost 20 percent, a major growth spurt in so short a period of time.
There was applause and toasts and genuine affection for Patrick as he
patiently accepted the accolades. He was attentive, taking both ribbing and praise in stride. Jean was coming to realize, he was a more private person than these public displays recognized. During the celebratory evening, Patrick never actually had a chance to eat, barely lifting his fork before he was interrupted by conversation, as each course was eventually taken away and replaced with the next. Despite the fact that the evening was supposed to be downtime, it wasn’t. There was a lot of business on the table, the new ratings having upped the ante on what was going to be expected of Patrick.
Jean couldn’t eat either. Not for the same reasons as Patrick, seated almost directly opposite her at one of three tables set up for the gathering. She was still the subject of curiosity. Yes, she was a representative from the mayor’s office, but not tonight. How well did she know Patrick? They weren’t surprised he’d brought someone—he never came alone to these events—but they hadn’t been expecting to see her again. Jean could only guess what that was supposed to mean.
“Are you two dating?” someone boldly asked.
“We’re very good friends” became her standard response. Until she believed it herself.
Apparently, Patrick had been very closemouthed around the station, but Jean quickly got the sense that Patrick’s colleague had already paired them and created a whole story around their relationship. She might have found it amusing if all the talk and fishing for confirmation wasn’t striking so close to home and her own wishful thinking.
“You were at the station earlier this week. Hanging out with Patrick.”
“Yes. He invited me.”
“Right, right.” The middle-aged man seated to her left nodded as he continued to eat with gusto. Jean attempted a sectioned asparagus spear and some grilled salmon, but it never made its way to her mouth.
“Unbelievable luck. I don’t know anyone who’s won seventy-five dollars, let alone millions.”
“I think it’s fair to say Patrick was surprised as well.”
The man chortled, taking a healthy sip of his drink. “Well, that woman who came forward about the ticket was the real surprise. Do you think the story’s true?”
