“So, how about it? Would you care to humor an ‘old man’? I’m only here until tomorrow night, and it’d be nice to know you more through your own words.”
“How do you mean?”
“You could regale me with your tales of New York. I lived there once, but I didn’t have time for anything that’d be of consequence to anyone beyond myself. Ergo, your stories would be highly amusing to me.” Tom shrugged. “You wouldn’t refuse a humble offer from an ‘old man.’”
“What offer?”
“Breakfast tomorrow. An hour from your day would be sufficient.”
“I’m burying my father tomorrow.” Luke raised an eyebrow.
“All the more fitting, wouldn’t you say? You’re not burying him in the morning, and you have to eat. And…” Tom looked at Beau again. “Invite your sister, if she’ll come. You could also, if you were feeling generous, persuade her to bring a picture of the sonogram. Jay had promised send me a copy, but I don’t think he got it in the mail.”
Luke wasn’t sure if anything Tom said could’ve unsettled him more. An intuitive person might’ve picked up on the split between him and his father, but Beau was only eight weeks along. She’d said she wasn’t planning on even telling them, only she couldn’t bear to keep it from her parents. And she told Luke everything. She’d need their support if the worst happened. No one else was to know until it was necessary. But this man expected a picture of a sonogram that’d taken place only a few days before.
“I told you, your dad didn’t keep anything from me.” Tom seemed to read the shock on Luke’s face. “I know about the last one too.”
“Everyone knows that. No one is supposed to know about this.”
“I’d prefer to listen to you talk, but I guess I could continue to dazzle you with my knowledge of your life, if that will secure a slot in your busy schedule.”
Luke felt more than mild curiosity. The intrigue provided a welcome distraction from his current situation.
“Six.”
“Jesus Christ. Proof that I’m not an ‘old man.’ Only old men get up at that hour. Seven thirty. Not a minute earlier. I’m staying at the Virginian. Meet me at the restaurant across the street. And if Beau doesn’t want to come, don’t try to force her. But do bring the picture, if you can.” Tom surveyed the room. “We’ll talk more tomorrow. I need to leave, while I still can.” He again flipped out his hand. “Luke.”
“Mr. DuBelle.” Luke couldn’t determine what or who Tom was looking for. He took his hand and again received one shake.
“Please, call me Tom.”
Tom DuBelle moved toward the door with a pace and precision that confirmed he wasn’t as old as he appeared. In order to bring him to Beau’s attention, Luke sprinted across the room. She was talking with two other people, and he tugged on the sleeve of her blouse to break her from the conversation.
“What is it?” Luke wrapped his arm around his sister’s shoulders and steered her away.
“Do you know that man?” He pointed at Tom, who was pulling a long coat from a hanger.
Luke waited for any recognition to come into Beau’s expression as she followed the direction of his finger. The man slid on his coat in one fluid motion and cast a glance at the open casket before striding out the door.
“No. Why? Who is he?”
“His name is Tom DuBelle.”
“Tom DuBelle?” He caught the lilt in her voice.
“Yes! You do know him?”
“No.”
“He seemed to know a lot. He knew about my fight with Dad. He even knew about you.”
Beau stared at the floor and ran her fingertips along a silver necklace she wore.
“I know. It was surreal. He said Dad told him everything.”
“What did he tell you, Luke? Did he say anything about Dad?”
“No, he seemed more interested in me.”
He considered revealing the breakfast appointment. Not necessarily to invite her, as Tom had bidden him to. He was still deciding if he’d go himself, and it’d be nice to get her opinion. But with the nervous way she was acting, he settled against it. He wanted to see if she’d disclose any other information, however subtle, if he tugged the right threads.
“I think he came from Utah.”
“Why? What makes you say that?”
“He said he’s got a plane to catch and that he was one grade behind Dad. The way he insinuated they were close. I think they went to school together.”
Luke could hear the gears turning in her head.
“How did he find out?” She asked at such a low volume that he imagined she was too deep in the machine to be aware she’d posed the question aloud.
“I don’t know. He commented that ‘people sound different over the phone.’”
“Did you call him?”
“No. I don’t know who he is to have called him. I didn’t think Dad had friends he kept in contact with from Utah.”
“Neither did I, but someone must’ve called.” Beau’s voice trailed off when a spark came into her eyes. She blinked a couple of times before returning her full attention to him. And she smiled much too sweetly.
“I wouldn’t give it another thought.” She took his arm. “Dad knew a lot of people.”
“But how did he know about the fight?”
“You’ve been away for a year. Dad tried to keep it under wraps, but it was bound to slip.”
“How did he know about you?”
“Maybe I’m showing.”
“You’re not,” Luke said.
“I could be.”
“You’re not, Beau.”
“Maybe he’s a psychic.” She tried to laugh.
“That’s stupid. He started by asking me what happened to Dad.”
“Let it go, okay? You’ll never see that man again. Who cares what he knows and how?” Beau put her hand to his cheek. “If you start worrying about things, you’ll get too many lines around your eyes to play all those handsome young men on stage. Take care of your moneymaker.”
Luke smiled. She was trying to manipulate him. Let her think she was succeeding. He’d seen the inspiration come onto her face. She knew more than she was telling, and he was glad he hadn’t said anything about breakfast. Now they each had a secret.
“You’re not worried?”
“Why would I be? Everyone will know sooner or later, won’t they? Just chock it up to being one of Dad’s crazy friends and forget it.” Beau swiveled her view around the room. “Have you seen Ginger? I should put an ear tag on him.”
Luke saw that outside the vestibule door a flower truck had parked, and his brother-in-law was on the sidewalk. But he’d been irritated even prior to spotting him. Jay had started that pet name. Everyone had a quirky, affectionate name but Luke, and Luke was the only one who called Jake by his real name.
There is no affection between us, motherfucker.
“He’s directing more nasty fucking flowers in here.”
“You’re such a vulgar boy.”
His sister’s casual walk to the door accelerated to a near run. She pushed the door open with the flat of her hand, the other drawn in a fist. She stomped toward her husband, and Luke briefly felt sorry for Jake.
But the pity was swept away by confidence. Karma was a bitch, and Jake deserved whatever he was going to get.
Chapter Four
“Jacob.”
Ginger knew he was in trouble. He felt Beau’s stare boring through the back of his head. Nothing foreshadowed more evil than his full first name.
“I need you. Now.”
He chewed the corner of his lower lip. If you could just be cool. You don’t know what the issue is, and you’re already acting guilty.
“Just hold tight, Beau.” Ginger accepted the clipboard the delivery man offered. He could also tell by the man’s pinched face that it was bad. She wasn’t shouting. yet but she was already at a level six.
“No. Now.”
“You can take these into the main roo
m. There’s a space by—”
“For the sake of your own body, tell me you’re not ignoring me.”
Level eight.
He turned to her. Her eyes were cold, and color rose into her cheeks.
Maybe eight and a half.
“I’m not ignoring you, love, just working.”
“It’s flowers. He seems like an intelligent person.” Beau glared at the delivery man. “Do you think you can find a place to put these without him holding your hand? It doesn’t need to be feng shui. Put the damn flowers in the room! Think you can handle that?”
“Si.”
“Crisis solved.” She met Ginger’s eyes again. “I’ll be in your office. I will wait for two minutes. If I have to come and find you, you’d better hope I can’t.”
Beau rushed inside. Ginger looked back at the clipboard and read each word slowly in his head, trying not to think of the tornado that awaited him.
“Don’t get too comfortable, jefe.” The delivery man scratched his chin. “Your clock is ticking.”
“Believe me, I’m aware of that. You can put them anywhere.” Ginger signed with his last name and first initial, crafting the letter to pass for either a “G” or a “J”.
“A little advice to you, if you live much longer, the next time she comes at you, you say only two words, ‘Yes, dear.’” He snapped his fingers and slapped his thigh. “You heel like the dog you are!”
Ginger returned the clipboard with a smile.
“Wiser words were never spoken. Gracias, and grab Luke if you need help with this. He’s in there someplace.”
“Si, I did hear he was going to be coming home.”
“The prodigal son has returned.”
“No comprendo.”
“Yes, he’s home.” Ginger checked his wristwatch. He pictured Beau pacing the office, steam trailing from her ears. “I need to scoot, buddy. Take it easy.”
He clapped the laughing delivery man on the back before walking toward the building.
“Good luck, jefe! See you soon! Maybe!”
Maybe is right.
Ginger had worked for Jay at the funeral home since he’d been eighteen. Had any of the family ever called him by his first full name? Maybe “Jake” before “Ginger” became the norm. Beau had called him “Jake” three years ago when they’d spoken their wedding vows. And he’d used her first name, although it felt odd. But he was sure she’d never referred to him as “Jacob.” He couldn’t remember the last person who had. High school? It was unnerving. Even Luke called him “Jake.”
What did I do? Ginger prepared to dodge a lamp or a stapler as he pushed open the door to his office.
“You’re lucky. Another fifteen seconds, and Dad would’ve had you for company.”
Beau leaned against his desk, her hands curled under its side, and her lips pressed in a stern line.
Level nine.
“Aside from the obvious, what’s wrong, sweetheart?” He reached to pet her hair but stopped as she put up her hand.
“If you touch me, I’ll break your arm. Don’t ‘sweetheart’ me.”
“Jesus Christ, what’s the problem?”
“Yes, you’ll need to invoke every deity you know! Ganesh, Zeus, Muhammad, Odin, the fucking Buddha!”
Nine and one quarter.
“Beau, calm down.”
“Don’t tell me to calm down!”
Nine and a half.
“There is only one thing I want to hear from you!”
“Name it! What do you want?”
“Tell me that you didn’t call Tom DuBelle and invite him here! Tell me you’re not the reason he came!”
Oh. Fuck. Ginger felt his throat closing. Fuck, fuck, fuck. What to say, what to say?
Beau’s finger hovered in his face, demanding an answer. As he repeated her question in his spinning head, relief flooded him. She’d left an out.
“I did not invite Tom DuBelle.”
“Are you saying you called him?”
“You asked if I called him and invited him here. I didn’t invite him.”
“But you called him? Don’t try to wriggle free of this, Jacob. Did you call that man?”
Ginger could lie. Anyone could have called. How did she know other people weren’t aware of Tom DuBelle? Perhaps her mother had called him, or another friend. But was there much sense in lying? The sage words of the flower delivery man came to mind. He closed his eyes and visualized crossing himself. He did need every available deity.
“Yes, dear.”
He saw Beau’s hands shaking to strike him across the face. A level ten of fury, boiling over, and he was ready for the sting. He flinched.
But instead of violence, she turned and folded her arms tightly. He heard her labored breaths. Her shoulders were so tense that if he touched her, she might shatter. Or spin around and claw his eyes out. Either way, he stayed silent and stationary. He had nothing to say. He hated seeing her upset, but he’d only kept a promise he’d made three years ago to her father.
✩
“There’s one other thing I need from you, Ginger,” Jay smiled as he pushed a folder across the table.
Pressure eked from the room, and Ginger felt a sense of release. He hadn’t realized how uncomfortable it was to be called anything but “Ginger” until the sobering topics had pushed Jay to use his first name. “Jake, I need to tell you… Jake, this is what happened… Jake, I am…” In the end, what Jay had said didn’t change anything, but he disliked conversations where he became downgraded to “Jake.”
“It’s more important than everything else, since Jackie isn’t aware of this request.”
“Oh?”
Jay’s wife had been present for half of the two-hour conversation. Jackie hadn’t done much in the way of talking. Her function appeared to be supporting her husband and evaluating every move her future son-in-law made.
“Yes. I apologize for pulling you into yet another level of secrecy.”
There were things that no one outside the family of four knew. There were things only Jackie knew. Things that Beau knew, but Jackie didn’t know that she knew. Luke didn’t know anything. Each disclosure was accompanied by a synopsis of who knew and who was not to know. It was complex enough to understand, and here he was on the threshold of another room within the inner sanctum.
Jay looked to the door—there was no face in the window. He reached into his pocket and retrieved his wallet. From a space behind his driver’s license, he removed a white business card and held it out.
Ginger took the card.
“Leopold Harland, LLC. Attorney-at-law—”
“The back.”
He turned it and read a single name and phone number that hadn’t been written in Jay’s careful hand.
“Tom DuBelle.”
“I want you to call him if anything happens to me.”
“Who is he?”
“An old friend I went to school with,” Jay said.
“And Jackie can’t call him?”
“Oh, she can. She just won’t. But I know you will.” Wow, this really was a new degree. For Ginger to be tasked with what could be given to Jackie. “I trust you implicitly, and I need you to do two things for me—keep what I’ve told you tonight in confidence, and call Tom if anything happens, and I’m unable to call him myself.”
The first night he’d spent under Jay’s roof, Ginger had promised himself that he’d never let this man down. Jay had not only opened his home and paved the way for him to pursue a meaningful career, but he filled a previously unknown role—that of a mentor and father. He’d always endeavored to honor his pledge and repay Jay’s faith in him. He wanted to question but let it drop.
“I will. You can count on me.”
✩
Ginger hadn’t given the request much more attention until two days ago.
He closed the rear doors of the white van and slipped into the driver’s seat. It struck him that three hours prior, Jay had been in the same place. It was his set of k
eys hanging from the ignition. There was still his opera music pouring from the stereo. But now Jay had been permanently relegated to the back. A mutilated body gathered in a black bag.
Ginger glimpsed around the loading area at the side of the hospital. No one was around. He folded his arms on the steering wheel and let himself cry.
Why did you have to die, Dad? I’m not ready to handle this alone. How can I take care of everyone? What do I do?
“Keep your promise.” He heard Jay’s voice in his head and turned to the passenger side. It was empty. But Ginger imagined him there, perhaps looking out the window.
“What promise?”
“To call Tom DuBelle.”
“But I can’t. I know who he is; I remember when Beau put it together. Mom will kill me. Beau will kill me.”
“I gave you everything. And all I asked was for your confidence and for you to call Tom DuBelle when the time came.”
Ginger’s skin had tingled. He could feel Jay’s hand on his shoulder.
“Don’t let me down, Son. You’ve never disappointed me.”
He kept his promise. It took eight tries to finally reach him, but he got through to deliver the news. Tom DuBelle seemed a nice enough man, and it was too bad things had to be the way they were.
✩
Back in the office Beau’s breathing grew balanced, and while she still didn’t turn around, Ginger saw that her grip on her own arms had loosened.
“I’ll give you the opportunity to explain yourself. Why did you call that man?”
“Dad asked me to.”
“He was DOA. He couldn’t have asked you to do anything.”
“Three years ago. When he told me about his situation. After your mom left, he requested me to call Tom DuBelle if anything happened and he couldn’t himself. That’s why I asked you who he was.”
“Didn’t my suspicion make it abundantly clear that he’s not wanted here?”
“I only called and told him Dad had passed.”
“You didn’t think he’d come?” She faced him, some of the exasperation having left her eyes. “Are you really that naive?”
“I gave him only basic info and told him several times not to come. I didn’t even say who I was.”
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