“I want ice cream,” Brigid announced.
“Ice cream? They don’t have ice cream,” Mimi replied.
“Yeah, they do—Creamsicles. What would you expect,” Press answered bouncing on the heels of his boat shoes. Creamsicles were vanilla ice on a stick encased in orange sherbet—perfect for Grantham’s colors.
Mimi made head-bobbing motions toward Noreen, who was standing off to the side with Conrad. “Ix-nay on the eamsicle…oh, whatever. I can’t figure it out,” she said to Press.
He took no notice and waved at Noreen. “Hey, I’m going to get Brigid some ice cream,” he announced. Miracle of miracles, Noreen nodded affirmatively. “Ta-ta,” Press wiggled his fingers goodbye to Mimi, then hoisted Brigid on his shoulders. “Up we go.” He settled her firmly. “You can be the scout and let me know when you see the ice cream, Brig.” He pushed his way through the crowd.
Which left Mimi with Noreen and her father, both of whom, she couldn’t help noticing, were uncharacteristically subdued for the occasion. Oh, her father was doing his usual glad-handing and superior up-and-down chin acknowledgment of fellow alumni, but his skin was pale, his smile not exposing the normal number of top teeth and gum.
Maybe there were problems with the marriage, after all?
Oh, forget about Noreen and her father. There was only one person she was concerned about seeing. Vic.
Mimi scanned the crowd. Someone knocked into her from behind with a murmur of “Sorry.” “That’s okay,” she heard herself saying. And it was, she realized. She could stand in a crowd, people pushing, and she wasn’t afraid.
For once, she wasn’t thinking about the past. She was focused on the here and now. And the smile spreading across her face? It hinted at the future.
CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO
PRESS RIPPED THE PAPER COVER off the Creamsicle and passed it to Brigid. “Tell you what. How about I put you down now so you don’t drip all over this outfit? It cost me some serious cash.” He scooped his sister off his shoulders and lowered her to the floor. “And you better take some of these, as well.” He grabbed a wad of paper napkins and held them out.
Brigid was too engrossed with her ice cream to bother to reply.
Press kept the napkins anyway, waiting for the inevitable moment when Brigid would get ice cream all over her black polka dot dress.
“See, Tommy, that girl got ice cream. I’m sure we can get you one, too,” a young woman’s voice sounded off to Press’s right. “Ice cream’s much better than an old balloon anytime.”
He glanced over. The waitress from the Circus diner. “Basia, right?” he said to her. “My friend Matt and I met you the other morning?”
Basia glanced up. “Oh, right. Press, isn’t it?”
He nodded. He looked down at the boy clutching her hand with both of his. “And this is your son?”
“That’s right. Tommy, say hello to Press.”
Tommy hid farther behind his mother’s legs, poking his head around the side of her pants to barely sneak a peek.
Basia looked down. “He’s kind of shy with strangers.”
“That’s okay. He makes up for my half-sister, Brigid, here, who’s not shy at all. Brigid, say hello.”
Brigid stopped licking. “Hello. Why is he crying?”
“Oh, he’s upset because the balloon he had burst. I told him I’d get him an ice cream instead.” She ruffled Tommy’s dark hair.
Brigid stepped closer to Tommy. “Ice cream’s much better,” she announced confidently. “How old are you? Are you a baby?”
Tommy stuck his head between his mother’s legs. “I’m not a baby. I’m three.” He held up three fingers.
Press got down on his haunches. “Well, three-year-olds need to have ice cream, that’s for sure.” He stood up and spoke to Basia. “If you guard the brood, I’ll get another Creamsicle.” He looked down at the napkins in his hand. “And you better take these. You’re more in the line of fire.”
Press moved closer to the table where a couple of students in orange polo shirts were digging through orange-colored coolers, handing out the free ice cream. An orange paper cloth covered the table and two bunches of balloons were taped to the corners. “Could I get another ice cream?” Press called out. “And if you don’t mind, I’m going to swipe one of your balloons for a friend of mine.” He gave a wink to one of the young women working, and she didn’t seem to mind one bit.
“I can get more than one for you,” she said, smiling back.
“Oh, that’d be great. Four if you can spare them.” He flashed her a killer smile.
“Up to your old tricks, I see.”
Press looked sideways, but he already knew it was Amara. She acknowledged him with a shoulder bump.
“Hey, yourself,” he responded. “I thought you were working this Reunions?”
“I am. Can’t you tell?” She wore the same orange polo shirt as the students working the ice cream table. “I’m in charge of ferrying around one of the old alums in a golf cart, but since the Parade got pushed inside, he’s happily ensconced at a table, and I’m supposed to get him some ice cream.”
“Here’s your ice cream and balloons, then.” The female student behind the table held them out to Press. Then she noticed Amara and abruptly turned to help the next customer.
Amara bit back a smile. “Another heart broken by the heartthrob of Grantham.” She grabbed an ice cream and spied Press’s haul. “So who’s the loot for?”
“My new best friend. C’mon, I’ll introduce you.” Press escorted Amara to where Basia was waiting with the kids. “Here you go, Tommy, one ice cream.” He handed it to Basia when she held out her hand. “And two new balloons for you.” He separated them from the bundle. The boy clapped. “Why don’t we tie them around your wrist so they don’t fly away.”
“No balloons for me?” Brigid pouted. Ice cream dripped down her hand and forearm.
Press scratched his head. “I guess these must have your name on it.” He attached the other two balloons to Brigid’s sticky wrist.
Then he regarded the two young women. “I ran into a friend at the table. Amara, this is Basia and her son, Tommy. And you know my kid sister, Brigid.”
“How you doin’, Brig.” She high-fived the girl. Then she looked up. “Pleased to meet you, Basia. Are you a classmate of Press’s?” Amara asked coolly.
Press couldn’t believe it. How come all his friends acted so weird?
Basia shook her head. “Oh, no. We only met yesterday. I work at the Circus and he came in with his friend Matt. Do you know him, too?”
“Oh, yeah, Matt’s great.”
Press really didn’t need to hear that.
“I go to Rutgers. I should have finished up sooner, but I’m a single mother and…”
“Say no more. My mom raised me alone, too. I mean, I get along with my dad now and everything, but they were divorced. It’s a long story.” Amara was now all smiles, and she knelt down and played a brief game of peek-a-boo with Tommy. Then she straightened up. “I love kids. If you ever need any babysitting, just let me know.”
“That’s very nice, but my family usually picks up the slack when Tommy’s not in nursery school.”
Amara nodded. “So, I bet Press told you how I threw myself all over him last year at Reunions, but he brushed me off because he said I was too young.” She scrunched her shoulders forward as she shared the news.
Basia shook her head. “I don’t know anything. We barely talked. It was really more about Matt asking me about playing the violin.”
“Speaking of Matt. I think that’s him now,” Press said. He waved toward one of the front glass doors where Matt was coming in.
Matt crossed over, nearly tripping over a double baby stroller with Lion’s tails hanging off the handles. “Sorry I’m late. Have you seen what the parking’s like?” He gave Amara a quick peck when she offered her cheek. And then he saw Basia. “Oh, hi,” he said without much enthusiasm.
“I’m so glad you’re he
re,” Basia gushed. “I’ve been keeping this secret—even from my family, but I just have to tell someone, and you’re the perfect person to tell. Our violin teacher—Tina Chang—she helped get me an audition at Juilliard. Can you believe it? I mean, I’m sure I won’t be accepted, and I can’t even imagine how my family’s going to react, but can you believe it? An audition with the best music conservatory in the country?”
“That’s great,” Matt said.
Press slanted him a look. Couldn’t his friend sound even slightly more enthusiastic? “I’m sure impressed,” he said quickly to make up for it.
“Listen, I gotta run before this thing melts.” Amara held up her ice cream. “Nice meeting you. Bye, Brigid. Bye, Tommy.” She waved, then turned to Matt and Press. “Catch you later, guys.”
“I should be going, too,” Press added. “My folks will be wondering where Brigid and I have got to. Hey, Brigid, let’s rejoin the family.” He twirled her around to point her in the right direction. “We’ll be seeing you then, but you can stay and talk, Matt.”
“No, I need to talk to you about something important,” Matt answered. He seemed cross.
“Sure, whatever.” He held up his hand to Basia and Tommy. “Great news, again.” And he pushed Brigid in front of him. Then he spoke in a low voice that was barely loud enough to be heard above the din. “Couldn’t you have been civil at least? She was so excited. And she saved the news for you, for Pete’s sake.”
“That’s exactly what I want to talk to you about. I don’t want you pushing me at her.”
“Pushing you at her? I’m not pushing you at her. It’s more like all the women push themselves at you. Look at Amara.”
Matt shook his head. “Amara? I don’t know what you’re talking about. I’m talking about Basia. I need to stay far away.”
“Hold up a sec, Brigid.” Press placed a hand on her shoulder and glanced sideways at Matt. “What’s so bad about Basia that you would just blow her off like that? Back at the Circus, you looked like you really liked her.”
“I did. But that was before the kid.”
“What’s wrong with that?”
“Like I said before. She’s probably married.”
“No, she talked about being a single mom.”
Matt let out an exasperated sigh. “Even worse.”
Press shook his head. “I don’t get it.”
“You don’t know what it’s like to grow up with a single mom. All you see is my family now—Katarina, my dad, Babička. But it wasn’t like that when I was growing up.”
“But Basia’s not you,” Press argued. “Get over your hang-ups. Open yourself up to the possibilities. Let someone in.”
“The way you let in Amara,” Matt shot back.
“That’s different.”
“Tell that to Amara. How do you think she feels?” Matt asked.
“Well, you can be there to hold her hand, then?”
“Don’t think I won’t,” Matt answered.
Which was exactly what Press was afraid of.
CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE
EVEN THOUGH VIC TOWERED over most of the crowd, the crush of people made it almost impossible for him to pick out individual faces unless he was right on top of them. He’d arrived at Baldwin more than a half hour ago with Basia and Tommy, and now that they’d gone off to get ice cream, he could concentrate on trying to find Mimi.
He figured she wouldn’t be hard to spot, but he was surprised by the number of people in his class who’d come back and felt no compunction about dressing up. They all looked like escapees from Alice in Wonderland, and it was honestly hard to keep a straight face when they came up to greet him.
“Yo, brother of mine.” Joe came up behind Vic and wrapped his arm around his shoulder. “How come no funny hat?”
Vic stepped back. Basia had texted Joe in the car ride over about the change of leave, so he’d been expecting his brother. But he hadn’t expected Joe to be three sheets to the wind. “Whew! It’s too early to be hitting the sauce, don’t you think?” Vic glanced down at his watch. It was only eleven o’clock in the morning.
Joe removed his arm and gestured dramatically. “What do you mean? I’m merely getting into the spirit of things. You don’t think half the people here aren’t already a bit tipsy?”
“I’m sure some of them are, but that doesn’t mean you need to make a spectacle of yourself.” Even to Vic’s own ears, he sounded like a stuffed shirt.
Joe tapped his index finger repeatedly on Vic’s lapel. “Well, excuse me. And here I thought I was merely bonding with my fellow man. Or should I say your fellow alums. After all, not all of us can claim to be so classy.” Joe reached for Vic’s tie and let the silk slide through his fingers. “I like the stripes, dude. They give you a certain zip—classy but zippy.” Joe seemed to find that particularly funny.
If Vic didn’t know better, he’d think Joe was feeling sorry for himself. “Maybe it’d be better if you sat down. Can I get you some coffee?”
Joe shook his head vehemently. “Don’t need coffee. Don’t want to do anything to diminish the great buzz I’ve got going.” He looked around, pleased. “So what’s your excuse?”
“I’m just looking for Mimi.” Which is what Vic tried to do again, bending to the side to check behind his brother.
“Ah, the elusive Mimi Lodge.” Joe leaned in close. “So did you screw her yet?”
“Joe!”
His brother looked as if he’d been slapped. “I don’t know what your problem is. I mean, someone might as well get something out of that family, ’cause the business sure as hell isn’t. So much for old college buddies looking out for each other.”
“Joe, I haven’t the faintest idea what you’re on about, and I think it’d be wiser if you kept Mimi out of the—”
“And speaking of Mimi Lodge.” Joe held up his arm. “Here she is en famille—that’s French for scumbags, for you Ivy League types.”
Vic swiveled around to see Mimi approaching him. A smile spread across her face. She dragged behind her a couple who seemed reluctant to mingle.
“Vic,” Mimi said, sweeping up next to him. “How good to see you again.”
“You also.” He nodded coyly. “Though I’m not sure I recognize you in your outfit.”
“I know. It’s horrible, isn’t it?” She stared down at the garish costume. “I feel like a drum majorette who’s escaped from the Rose Bowl.” She gave a tiny shiver. “But enough about me. I don’t believe you’ve met my father and his wife, Noreen. Brigid is off forcing Press to buy her copious amounts of ice cream.”
Vic laughed. “My sister is also trying to bribe Tommy.” He held out his hand. “Mrs. Lodge.” They shook hands. “Mr. Lodge. We talked on the phone about the panel.”
“Yes, of course. I’m delighted you agreed to participate. It should make for a very interesting discussion.”
“As would the state of business at Pilgrim Investments, don’t you think, Mr. Lodge?” Joe asked, drawing out the one syllable name.
Vic saw Conrad Lodge’s mouth twitch, and his wife subtly, but protectively, slipped her arm through his. “I’m sorry, this is my brother, Joe. I’m afraid he’s had too much to drink,” he offered.
“No need to apologize. It happens to the best of us,” Conrad replied, his eyes darting around the room. He stretched a forced smile to some people passing by.
“So, I hear there’s been some excitement at Pilgrim—excitement that is having an impact on the new building contract in Australia,” Joe pressed.
“I wouldn’t know,” Conrad said in a monotone. He looked over at Noreen.
“Perhaps you need some water, dear?” Noreen asked.
“Ah, yes, you Lodges are famous for your water tricks when it comes to us Golinskis. Frankly, it’s your business tricks that are more lethal at the moment.”
“Not here, Joe,” Vic admonished him. “This is about pleasure, not business.”
“Sure. I’m just surprised you’re capable of
enjoying yourself so soon after being let go.” Joe wouldn’t give up.
“What?” Mimi stared at her father. “What’s going on?”
Conrad stared at his feet.
“There was an office coup on Thursday,” Noreen spoke up instead. “It seems some of the younger partners decided they wanted to run the show.”
Mimi’s eyes opened wide. “So…so…that was the emergency in New York. I mean, that’s why you went in?”
Noreen grasped Conrad’s arm with both hands, a show of support. “Exactly.”
“And the reason for the panic attack.”
“It would appear.” Conrad wet his lips, and Mimi couldn’t help noticing his embarrassment, his fear. “Naturally, I’d prefer to keep this all under wraps for now—until I can straighten things out.”
“Of course,” Vic jumped in. “There’s no need to discuss any of this. I’m sure it will all be ironed out soon.” Vic thought that was probably unlikely, but he had the good graces to keep that opinion to himself.
Mimi was still shaking her head in disbelief. “And here Press and I thought all the commotion was because Noreen was leaving you.”
Conrad looked at Noreen. “You’re leaving me?” He appeared stricken.
“Absolutely not.” She patted his arm. The relief in Conrad’s eyes was obvious, but the worry was not entirely erased.
Joe turned to his brother. “That’s all well and good for you to be all noble, Vic, when you know perfectly well Lodge’s goose is cooked at Pilgrim.” Joe stopped himself. “That may remotely be a pun, but I’ll let you figure it out. Anyway.” He waved his hand. “Anyway, in the meantime, the new regime has decided to put our bid on hold. It seems it’s tainted by affiliation with you.” Joe pointed at Mimi’s father.
“Joe, that’s enough,” Vic said, his voice dangerously low. “There’s no need to cause a scene.” He turned to Mimi and her family. “I apologize for my brother’s rudeness.”
“Don’t bother apologizing,” Joe interrupted. “In fact, don’t bother romancing the daughter here anymore. It’s not like it’s going to do us any more good.”
The Company You Keep Page 22
