One Mom Too Many

by Vicki Lewis Thompson

  Rose gasped at the prospect of the mothers becoming physical. Surely they wouldn’t start a brawl on the steps of St. Patrick’s Cathedral.

  They would.

  “I’ll Tweety-bird you,” Bridget said. “Take that, you sheep-faced old crone!”

  “Missed me, you blind banshee!”

  “I won’t be missing you this time!”

  As the blows started flying and the crowd made a circle around the screeching women, Rose clambered down from the back of the convertible, cursing her short skirt as she went. “Lean forward and let me out,” she said to the driver. “I have to do something about this.”

  “Hey, it’s not your business,” the driver said, turning toward her. “Leave it to the police.”

  “I’m not going to debate this with you. Let me out or I’ll climb over your lap.”

  Muttering something about the crazy Irish, the driver opened the door, got out and helped Rose down to the pavement.

  “Thanks. I’ll be right back.” The crowd now blocked her view of the battling mothers, but all she had to do was follow the sounds of scuffling, shrill insults, and gleeful encouragement from the onlookers.

  She shouldered her way through and made a grab for her mother. “Stop this right now!”

  Bridget didn’t even glance back at her. “Not yet, lass,” she gasped. “Not until this is settled.”

  “Mom, stop!” Rose grabbed her mother around the waist, braced herself and pulled with all her might. It had no effect except that her skirt ripped up one side. O’Hannigan’s would really get their money’s worth now, she thought as she tugged harder. Then from the corner of her eye she saw the chest of a dark bay gelding part the crowd.

  Daniel leaped from his horse and separated the two women with the same expertise he’d used in the apartment house lobby. For some unexplainable reason, the two women stayed separated this time. Daniel looked at his mother, opened his mouth to say something and closed it again, shaking his head.

  Maureen’s green derby was knocked askew, her coat was missing two buttons, and she was breathing hard. She was also smiling. “Don’t stand there like a man with no tongue, Daniel,” she said. “’Tis high time to speak to the woman you love.”

  With a startled cry, Rose stepped back and gazed at her mother, who was just as disheveled as Maureen and was also grinning like the Cheshire cat. “You two staged this?”

  The crowd began to mutter and laugh among themselves at this new revelation.

  “Had to do something,” Bridget said. “Considering you were both too stubborn to contact each other.”

  Rose swung around to face Daniel at the same moment he turned to her. “I say we kill them,” she said, her voice tight with fury. “No jury would ever convict us.”

  “Death is too easy for this pair,” he muttered. “Let’s torture them first.”

  “You’ve already been torturing us in grand style!” Maureen said. “Now stop your fussing and get married so you can give us both the grandbabe we’re longing for.”

  “I couldn’t have said it better, Maureen.” Bridget walked over and put her arm around Maureen’s waist. “I hope I didn’t really hurt you. I was trying to be careful.”

  “Oh, sure you were,” Maureen said with a chuckle. Rose’s knees felt suddenly weak. She glanced at Daniel. “This isn’t real, right? Those are two aliens disguised as our mothers.”

  “Either that or they’re both on drugs.”

  “Hey, buddy,” called somebody from the crowd. “Looks like these two ladies went through a lot of trouble to bring you two together. You gonna propose to the young lady or not?”

  Rose’s heart began to hammer with a different rhythm. “Listen, Daniel, I—”

  “Now don’t you let him off the hook, Rose,” Bridget said. “You told me yourself you love him, and Maureen’s convinced he’s in love with you. All you have to do is get him to tell you so.”

  “Tell her!” shouted an onlooker.

  “Yeah, tell her!” called someone else.

  The crowd turned it into a chant. Tell her, tell her, tell her, tell her.

  In an agony of embarrassment, Rose covered her face.

  The chant was ended with a blast from a police whistle.

  Rose looked up as Daniel removed the whistle from his mouth. His expression was grim. He must be furious. This was really and truly the end of their relationship, thanks to one final stunt by her mother and Maureen.

  Then a hint of a smile appeared on Daniel’s face. “How do you expect a guy to propose with all that racket?” he called to the crowd.

  Rose felt as if her heart had stopped.

  A cheer went up from the crowd.

  When it died down, Daniel turned to her and dropped to one knee. “Rose Erin Kingsford, will you marry me?”

  “Oh, Maureen!” Bridget cried. “He’s proposing on the steps of St. Patrick’s Cathedral! It’s perfect!”

  There was a roaring in Rose’s ears and she felt dizzy. She put out a hand to steady herself, and Daniel caught it firmly in his.

  “I love you,” he said in a low, urgent voice. “And I’ve been a proud, stubborn idiot. Marry me, Rosie.”

  She held onto his hand for dear life, afraid she’d tumble to the ground without his support. But she needed to see his eyes. “Take off those sunglasses,” she murmured in a voice too low for the crowd to hear.

  He pulled off the glasses. The depth of commitment in his eyes settled any doubts she might have had.

  She spoke around the lump in her throat. “I would be honored to marry you, Daniel Patrick O’Malley.”

  “Oh, Bridget, I’m going to cry,” Maureen muttered with a sniffle.

  “Kiss her!” someone shouted.

  “Great idea.” Daniel got to his feet and pulled her into his arms.

  “Daniel!” she protested, half laughing, half crying as she pushed at his chest. “Surely such goings-on aren’t allowed when you’re on duty.”

  The love in his gaze turned the chill day into a tropical paradise. “Ah, but ’tis St. Paddy’s Day, and I’m Irish. Say you love me, Rosie.”

  “I love you, you crazy Irishman.”

  “That’s all I need to know.” As the crowd cheered again, he claimed the kiss she’d been yearning for all along.

  Epilogue

  MAUREEN HAD WON the coin toss to have the slide show of the trip to Ireland in her apartment, which meant she had to put up with Bridget’s opinions on organizing her surroundings.

  “I think you should hang the Irish Rose calendar on this wall next to your telephone,” Bridget said. “That way you could see it whenever you made a call. And look at this! You still haven’t framed your copy of the New York Times comic page. Anyone would think you didn’t care that your daughter-in-law got her strip into such a prestigious paper.”

  Maureen checked on the lamb stew before turning to answer Bridget. “You well know why I haven’t framed it. With the wedding, and our trip back to Ireland, and getting ready for the babe, I’ve been so busy I hardly have time to bless myself!”

  “It’s your lack of planning, Maureen. If you used your time better, you’d—oh, there’s the buzzer. They’re here!”

  “Is the projector all set up?”

  “Of course, although we have precious few slides to put in it.”

  “’Twas not me who dropped a roll of film into my Guinness.”

  “No, you were the one who started swaying while she sang ‘My Wild Irish Rose’ and bumped me.”

  “Did not.”

  “Did too.”

  “Did not!”

  The buzzer sounded again.

  Maureen placed her hands on her hips. “See how you do? You leave our poor children standing out in the elements while you fuss at me.”

  “It’s your door! Go let them in, for heaven’s sake.”

  Maureen lifted her nose in the air. “What a grand idea.”

  Shortly afterward Maureen was treated to the sight of her daughter-in-law, looking a
s if she’d swallowed a pumpkin, coming through the door with Daniel, who looked as if he’d swallowed a spotlight, he was glowing so much. While the stew finished cooking, Bridget showed the trip slides. Maureen never tired of looking at them, even if most of them were out of focus. She and Bridget had already made reservations to go back again next year.

  Dinner was a success. Although Bridget complained as usual that Maureen’s food was too fattening, she left a clean plate. Maureen was pleased to notice Bridget had gained a few pounds, too. She looked more content with life.

  Over a dessert of Daniel’s favorite chocolate cake, the talk turned, as it always did, to the eagerly awaited grandchild.

  “Have you picked a name, then?” Maureen asked.

  Rose glanced at Daniel.

  “You might as well tell them,” he said, scraping up the last of his cake with his dessert fork. “Get the haggling out of the way.”

  Bridget’s spine stiffened. “Are you implying that we’ll disagree with your choices?”

  “The very idea,” Maureen added. “’Tis your wee babe, and you can name it Elmer Fudd for all we care.”

  “But not Tweety-bird,” Bridget said, and started to laugh.

  “No, indeed.” Maureen pressed a napkin against her mouth to stop her giggles.

  “But I’m sure you’ve picked nice names,” Bridget said. “What are they?”

  Rose took a deep breath. “If it’s a boy, we decided on Patrick Cecil.”

  “That’s grand,” Maureen said, dabbing at a sudden tear in her eye.

  “I won’t quarrel with your choice,” Bridget said. “Cecil may be your father, but I agree he doesn’t deserve top billing.”

  “And if it’s a girl,” Rose continued, “she’ll be...Bridget Maureen.”

  “She’s first?” Maureen cried before she could stop the words coming out of her mouth. “Did I lose the coin toss, then?”

  Daniel cleared his throat. “We thought that was only fair, Mom. If the boy got Dad’s name, then the girl should get Rose’s mother’s name.”

  “Well, I don’t see the logic in it.”

  “Of course not,” Bridget said. “But I think their reasoning is brilliant.”

  “We even tried to come up with a combination of your two names,” Rose said.

  “Yeah,” Daniel added, “but Maurit and Bridgeen just didn’t seem to cut it.”

  “I should say not,” Bridget said. “They’ve done an outstanding job with the names, Maureen.”

  “That’s easy for you to say. You’re first in line. No, I think ’tis only fair to toss a coin. What do you say? Two out of three?”

  “A coin toss to name a child?” Bridget said. “Next you’ll have us rolling dice to see which one gets to keep her the first time Daniel and Rose have an evening out.”

  “’Tis no contest,” Maureen said with a superior smile. “I already have a bassinet.”

  “Well, I already have a stroller.”

  “And I have a—”

  “Oh, you know what?” Daniel said. “We really have to go. Forgot to feed St. Paddy before we left.”

  “Is that dog still sleeping in your bed with you?” Bridget asked.

  Rose looked sheepish. “We, ah, bought ourselves two new beds, one for the cottage and one for the apartment.” “Oh, good,” Bridget said. “And you’re not allowing him in the new ones, are you?”

  “Well, no. He sleeps in our old beds.”

  Bridget rolled her eyes at Maureen. “Have you ever heard anything more strange than that? Giving up your bed to a dog?”

  “Never,” Maureen said. “I still can’t believe they’re keeping that dog in their apartment when they’re in town. Frightens the neighbors out of their wits, he does. I—”

  “And if we don’t get back there soon,” Rose said, “he just might eat one.”

  Bridget gasped. “Would he do that?”

  “You never know,” Daniel said, and helped Rose on with her coat. After quick kisses all around, he escorted Rose out the door.

  “I FEEL BAD maligning poor St. Paddy, who would never hurt a flea,” Rose said as she and Daniel rode back to Manhattan in a cab.

  “Me, too, but it makes them less likely to drop in on us, doesn’t it?”

  “Good point. You know, I think they took the name business rather well.”

  “If you mean no dishes were flying around, I guess you’re right. Me, I’m hoping for a boy so we don’t have to deal with it.”

  “Daniel, you know the ultrasound showed a girl.”

  “Maybe it missed something.”

  “I want a girl, anyway, and I want to name her after both our mothers. After all, this is all their fault.”

  Daniel caressed her round belly through the fabric of her maternity dress. “Not entirely. We had a little something to do with it.”

  Rose leaned closer to him so the cabdriver couldn’t overhear. “And you really did know I was pregnant after that time in the bathtub, didn’t you?”

  “Not really. But I did know you were mine.”

  “You mean, like caveman stuff?”

  “Exactly like caveman stuff. Staking my claim.” He cupped her face in one hand. “And I feel like doing that some more...if you’re sure the doctor said it’s okay.”

  “It’s okay. But, Daniel, your claim is well and securely staked.”

  “Maybe so,” he murmured, leaning close for a kiss, “but I’ll need a lifetime to be absolutely sure.”

  ISBN : 978-1-4592-7427-3

  ONE MOM TOO MANY

  Copyright © 1997 by Vicki Lewis Thompson

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