“Mom, yes, she’s... she’s—”
“I’m bald. It’s okay to say it.”
“Her hair fell out when Liam died. From the—” Connor looked at Claire, his face a question mark.
“No one knows what causes it. Could be an immune system thing. The shock probably didn’t help.”
Grace’s face crumpled. She started to cry.
“Mom, don’t cry. Come on now. Would you like something to drink? Some tea maybe?” Connor mouthed, She’ll be okay, to Claire.
Of course she will. Claire was the bald one for Chrissake.
“No, don’t mind me. I’ll be all right.” Grace dried her eyes and put her glasses back on. “I see you’ve met Connor.”
“Yes. This is upsetting to you. I’m sure. I’m afraid we didn’t get off to a very good start this morning on the phone.”
Claire had a plan. She intended to get her way. Indulging her temper again wouldn’t do. If she needed to grease the skids, so be it.
“I apologize for my ill manners. As you can see, I’m not myself. I’ve lost a great deal. I’ve lost my husband and—” She pointed to her scalp. The bald card was dealt. She intended to play it.
Grace sniffled. “We all have. I’ve lost my husband and my son.”
The old lady trumps with the dead son.
“Indeed. Maybe there’s a way to make some sense of all this loss.” Claire cleared her throat. “To bring some comfort to each other.”
“Maybe. I don’t know.” Grace dabbed her eyes.
There she went with the I don’t knows again.
Claire searched Grace’s face to find a resemblance to Liam. Perhaps around the eyes. She couldn’t see much facial similarity but the way she carried herself was all Liam. Proud, dignified, formidable. Claire wouldn’t have pegged Grace as much of a crier, not that she knew much about her. But with her advanced age, the death of her son, things change. Her short gray hair curled tightly around her ears like the rods just came out and she didn’t brush it. Probably got a bad perm at the Curl Up and Dye once every three months whether she needed it or not.
Connor broke through Claire’s reverie. “Mom said you hoped to bury Liam at the university near Dad?” He looked anxious to please. Who couldn’t get along with him?
“Yes. I made some of the arrangements today. It’s complicated but I’ll know more of the particulars tomorrow. I’d like to buy a family crypt for everyone. I don’t know where Emmet is exactly, but he could be moved, exhumed. I’d handle all the expenses, of course.”
Claire knew she talked too fast. But it all came out and she couldn’t stop it.
Grace turned the faucets on again. “I’d be hard-pressed to tell you where Emmet is. I don’t get out to the cemetery much at all anymore since I stopped driving. Connor and Deborah, that’s his wife, live out at the farm. Elizabeth is here in town, but she won’t take me unless I pay for gas. I’m on a fixed income. I don’t have—”
“That’s okay, Grace. You don’t have to tell me exactly where he is. I can find that out later.”
Just say yes so we can get on with it. We’re not digging anybody up today. Her daughter makes her pay for gas? Did she hear that right?
“Claire did you say the crypt is for all of us?” Connor said.
“Yes. I thought since I was buying one, you know, I might as well buy one large enough for the whole family.”
“Guess it’d have to be pretty big. Not that I’m up on crypt sizes. There’s...” Connor looked up at the ceiling, his mouth a crooked kiss. “... let’s see... well, there’s at least seven of us. Not sure who’d go for cremation—”
“Heaven forbid.” Grace pressed her tattered Kleenex to her mouth.
“No telling how much space they’d take up.” He glanced down at Claire’s purse on the floor, then at Claire. “And you. There’s you. So eight. At least eight.”
Was he going to engineer the whole thing now?
“Those are details we don’t need to worry about right this second.” Claire felt the room shrinking, her head expanding. “Can we first agree on the concept?”
“I’m for it,” Connor said. “But I don’t know why you’d want to do it. Considering.”
Claire squirmed on the plastic with a pitiful squeak. Sweat broke out over her upper lip. Her pulse started its run for the border. She wished for another pill, cleared her throat again. “Because whatever differences you had in life can be set aside in death, can’t they? It’d be wonderful for Liam to be with his father, right?”
Claire looked at Grace who sat in her chair in silence.
“Liam’s father... God rest his soul...” Grace made the sign of the cross, soggy Kleenex in hand. “... a saint if ever I knew one. Liam could’ve been with him any day of the week while they were both living. When it mattered. He chose not to.”
“That was before my time Grace. I can’t do anything about that. I can only bring them together in the afterlife,” Claire said. The religious nuts should be all over the afterlife, shouldn’t they?
“Yes, all well before your time. Before Liam turned his back on his God, his church, his family, and his wife. Bonnie, that poor woman. Who’d have ever thought—” Grace shred the tissue in two.
Connor leaned forward. “Mom, Claire isn’t here to dredge all that up. She’s obviously trying to make peace.”
Grace didn’t respond.
“Yes, that’s what I am, a peacemaker.”
Whatever, blah, blah, blah. The sweat ran down her temples now. She wiped it away with the palms of her hands. The vice grip around her chest cranked tight.
Connor looked concerned for Claire. “I’ll get you some cold water.” He leaned down, picked up her purse, sat it next to her on the squeaky couch. “Be right back.”
Claire felt her naked wet brow crinkle, she looked down where her purse used to be.
“I suppose you’re both right. It’s time to make peace. At least for us. Only the good Lord can forgive Liam for Bonnie. Connor thinks it’s what Emmet would want. We’re all getting old,” Grace finally said looking down at the torn wet Kleenex in her lap. “I need to talk to Elizabeth, my daughter. She’s got plenty of reservations. She came earlier but she’s got a job you know. Most of us have to work.”
That sounded like a yes to Claire. Elizabeth might be a hurdle but not an insurmountable one. A possible hitch in her get-along. Connor was in. He’d help bring Elizabeth around, tighten the screws on the mother.
“Here you go.” Connor handed Claire a glass of ice water and a cool damp towel, his face contorted with concern. “Are you sure you’re all right? Do you need anything else?”
“I’m fine.”
Claire pressed the towel to the back of her neck, took a long drink and glanced around the living room away from Mr. Helpful. Religious symbols and pictures hung on every dark-paneled wall. Jesus nailed to the Cross, dying for the world’s sins, pious and bleeding in a thorny crown. The Virgin Mary illuminated in purity and powerlessness. Hanging crooked over the fireplace, a cheap painted rendition of the Last Supper, Jesus in the center, disciples on both sides. One plots his doom, the others blissfully ignorant. On the coffee table sat a photo of the pope—who knew which one (the Lassie of the religious world) and a ceramic nativity scene even though Christmas was months away.
No wonder Liam got the hell out of Dodge.
A plastic runner striped down the center of the rug. She’d been there less than half an hour. Couldn’t wait to leave. A lifetime? Crucifixion seemed like the easy way out.
“Like I said tomorrow I’ll have more details. Why don’t we talk again then?” Claire stood, legs tingling. She inhaled deep to slow her racing heart. After a moment she left the towel and glass on the table. “This isn’t easy for any of us.”
“I’ll walk you out.” Connor stood up too. “Mom, I’ll be right back. We’ll go over to the grocery store, okay?”
“Claire?” It was Grace. “Where is my son?”
“At the hotel,” C
laire said.
“I’d like to see him—his ashes—if you don’t mind,” Grace said leaking eyes downcast.
“Tomorrow. Of course, tomorrow. I’ll call and let you know a good time.”
Claire turned and walked back toward the front door with Connor behind her. On the wall near the door a faded color photograph hung framed in tacky cheap gold leaf. Even aged she could see it was Liam in a powder blue tux standing next to a virginal bride. A clichéd poof of white crinoline and lace. Liam and Bonnie—Bonnie the pure. Claire looked around. There were no other photos on the wall. Other than the pope there were no photos period. She wondered if Grace put it up for her benefit. She stepped closer for a better look. Bonnie was plain. The girl next door or the girl who sat on the bus next to the girl next door. With a full head of chestnut hair.
Tramp.
“Sorry. It’s hard for old people to change I guess,” Connor said in Claire’s ear while he steered her outside. “Don’t forget your purse.”
Chapter Eleven
“Thanks for everything. Talk to you tomorrow.” Claire got in the car.
Connor opened the passenger side door. “Wait Claire. Gotta few minutes?”
Before she could say yes or no he sat next to her. That happened a lot to her lately.
Claire put the key in the ignition hopeful he’d get the hint.
He didn’t.
“I’m sorry about my mom. She can’t let any of that stuff go.” He ran both palms up and down his thighs smoothing out imaginary wrinkles in his jeans.
Claire guessed she was supposed to ask about all the stuff. She hadn’t come for that. She got what she came for. She fished a pill out of the bottom of her bag. Connor reached over, held it open for her.
“It’s past time for my medication. I hope you don’t mind.”
He let out a faint whistle, leaned his back against the seat. “No, not at all. If it’s past time, it’s past time.”
Claire swallowed her pill. “Like I said this isn’t the easiest situation for me.” Gotta keep the pity coming. She fastened her dilating pupils on Connor. “Whatever happened in the past is over. What I’m suggesting is burying it. Once and for all.”
“Wish it was that simple,” he said. “My family holds a grudge. They’ve got a big one against Liam. He left the church, then his wife. My mother took to her bed for weeks.” Connor looked toward the house and shook his head. “It nearly killed my father. My mother blames his death on it.”
“You’re kidding. That’s it?” Claire didn’t get zealots. What century was this? She thought about her own rebellious youth, her teenage pregnancy. She could imagine Grace and Emmet as her parents driving her out to an empty field and shooting her.
“I know it seems odd to you, but it’s the way my parents were raised, what they believed. No one in their family ever bailed on God or marriage.”
“Unbelievable.” Claire always suspected it was something dumb. Put a gold star by right again.
“If that wasn’t enough—Liam got rich.” Connor picked at the handle of Claire’s three-thousand-dollar purse. “Hard to know what pissed everybody off most. If he hadn’t made something of himself.”
“Making money doesn’t mean Liam made something of himself. It just means he was rich. Seems to me you’ve done okay.” Claire had nothing else to offer. “You don’t look like a farmer though.”
“A farmer?” Connor’s brows met his nose. “Oh, the farm. I guess Mom mentioned we live out on the farm. My wife inherited a farmhouse from her parents. We live there, but we don’t farm. I’m a programmer.”
Claire looked at her watch.
Connor opened the car door and put one leg out, “I better get back. I need to run Mom over to the grocery.”
Claire’s vitals were somewhat back to normal. Her skin felt like it might stay attached to her bones. The miracle of modern science.
“Wait. Connor?” She almost forgot. “Was your dad a university trustee or a donor? Or was someone in your family a trustee?”
“My dad? Oh no. No one in our family ever sat on any board as far as I know. My folks have no money and even if they did they’d never give it away. No, my dad was just a regular workin’ stiff. He worked at the university more than forty years.”
Claire turned her full attention to Connor. “He was a professor?”
“No. A janitor.”
“A janitor.” Claire kept her face still. “I... did he? Well—” Claire wanted to continue but didn’t get a chance.
“Why?”
“Umm... I understand they have strict burial guidelines. Your dad didn’t meet any of them if he wasn’t a donor or a trustee.”
Connor shrugged. “Who knows? Things change.”
Claire started to explain what Evelyn told her at the cemetery but Connor put a stop to it. With one leg out the door he said, “I’ve got to be honest. When Mom told me you wanted to bury Liam here it surprised me. I—” He looked like he had a terminal diagnosis to deliver. “Well, Liam hated it here. He hated this town and the university. He said only liberal losers went to it. Bonnie went there. She’s back there again. Her father sat on the board for many years. Liam hated our sister. And Mom... no love lost there.” Connor’s eyes bore into her, relentless. “And he was ashamed that dad was only a janitor. Liam didn’t want anyone to know he came from a place like this in my opinion. Or what happened to Bonnie—what she did to herself after the divorce. You can turn your back on the Catholic church but not on the guilt. That hangs on like the Shroud of Turin.”
“That was a long time ago.” Claire blinked. “Like you said things change. People change.”
Connor’s eyes stayed latched onto Claire’s. “Do you really think Liam would want to spend eternity in a place he despised, with the family he hated, with his janitor dad who shunned and embarrassed him, and the ex-wife who committed suicide because he left her? That’s quite a change.”
Claire turned the key and the car roared to life.
Chapter Twelve
“Come again? You bought what, where, and for how much?”
“Andrew. Stop. You heard me. You just need to do whatever it is you do to get this done. I suppose I’ll need to cash out something or other. I have all the contact info for the cemetery director. I’ll give it to you before I hang up. Call over there and find out what they need. I already signed some pledge form. They need to fax you a copy.”
Claire pulled open the curtains of her hotel room window and looked out over the parking lot. It’d been mobbed with cars when she pulled in. She parked clear in the back.
“Claire, five million dollars is a hell of a lot of money even for you. I have to tell you as someone who’s known you for more than ten years this is highly irregular and—” Andrew said.
“It’s called a donation, Andrew. I’m a donor.”
“Is there a cooling off period?”
Claire felt her eyes do loop-de-loops. “No, there isn’t a cooling off period.” She mimicked in a singsong voice.
Andrew cleared his throat. “I’m not just your attorney, you know. I hope I’m your friend too. I knew Liam thirty-five years. I can’t let you swing in the wind and not try to help you. Especially now when you’re dealing with so much.”
“I don’t need a friend. I need an attorney.”
“I can be both, can’t I? As your attorney and your friend, I’ll just say it—you’re going to need to downsize. Liam isn’t around to restock the coffers anymore. It’s not a bottomless pit of money.”
Claire reached for her throat. “Downsize? What are you talking about?”
Would she have to drive an Audi? Christ.
“I think you should sell the apartment.”
“Our penthouse in New York? Are you crazy?” She clutched the phone, yelled.
“Claire, you’re a young woman with a long life ahead of you.” She could feel him backing down. “We need to make sure your money lasts.”
“Why don’t you let me worry about that Andrew
?”
“Because I don’t think you are. Plus it’s more than that Claire. There’s no logic to this scheme. It doesn’t make sense. I’m worried you’ll be sorry later. When more time passes, the wounds heal. You’ll regret it and it won’t be easy to undo. Maybe impossible.”
“I’ve never been clearer about anything. It makes perfect sense to me.”
If anyone understood the wounded Claire did. She saw no healing later down the road. Nor could she imagine regret.
“I’m sure it does... now.” He sounded hesitant. “You know, I gave Meg this great trip to Hawaii for—”
“You’re telling me I’m broke and you want me to spend money on a trip to Hawaii?”
“Instead of a crypt? Yes. It’d be money well—”
“Mind your own business, Andrew.” Claire pressed her forehead against the window.
“I knew Liam’s family. I’m not sure he’d want this.” Andrew tried a different track. “It seems like a noble gesture, to bury Liam with his father, but now the whole family crypt. I just don’t know.”
Claire was getting close to the end of her fraying rope. “Well, I do know.”
“You also know Bonnie is buried in that cemetery too. Don’t you?”
“Yes, of course. So what, she’s got first dibs?”
Claire watched as a minivan circled the parking lot in search of a parking spot. What was going on at the hotel? It was loaded all of a sudden. Must be a Bible study convention.
“Well, it just seems inappropriate considering.”
“Do you really want to go down the inappropriate road?”
Andrew exhaled into Claire’s ear. “Claire, we need to get that mess settled. We’ve put it off longer than we should have. She isn’t going away. Neither of them will. We’ve been lucky frankly.”
“You’re still sending the checks aren’t you?” Claire said.
“Yes, of course. But we still need to close the deal. Put an end to it.”
Claire hadn’t noticed before but the message light on the hotel phone blinked. Someone had called her here. Again. Damn it. She’d forgotten all about her cell phone. With the hotel room phone tucked under her neck she looked around the room. Her cell was on top of the television. The cord nowhere to be seen.
The Last Day For Rob Rhino Page 5
