recommending the bike ride to Altar Rock,” the woman chimed in. “It was spectacular.”
The couple went to meet their cab, touching a few of Therese’s wooden toys on the way out, as if for luck.
See? I made them happy. I made them smile . But when Mack turned around, of course, no one was there.
Memorial Day: a day for remembering. Still, Lacey Gardner had better days for remembering Maximilian—his birthday, August 18, or their wedding anniversary, November 11, even Valentine’s Day, because that, sadly, was the day Maximilian had died. Besides, Memorial Day was for veterans, wasn’t it? Or was Veterans’ Day for veterans and Memorial Day for the rest of God’s people? Darn it, Lacey couldn’t remember and didn’t much care except that she had invited the new bellman in for a drink and he was asking her all kinds of questions about Maximilian, practically forcing Lacey to remember him.
“What did your husband do for a living?” Jeremy asked. (He introduced himself as Jem, but Jem wasn’t a real name in Lacey’s opinion and she told him so. She would call him Jeremy.)
“Banker,” Lacey said. The boy agreed to a scotch, a point in his favor. Lacey poured two drinks and brought them over to the coffee table. Jeremy sat on the sofa looking at a photograph of Maximilian taken the summer before he died. He was tan and healthy-looking in that picture, standing on the deck of their house on Cliff Road.
“Is this him here?” Jeremy asked.
“Indeed,” Lacey answered. “That’s Maximilian Percy Gardner.” She walked back to the kitchen—although in this tiny cottage, living room, dining room, and kitchen were one and the same—and fished through her refrigerator for cheese. She put some brie on a plate with a few Carr’s water crackers. Then there was a knock at the screen door. It was Vance with her bucket of ice. Goodness gracious, she forgot to put ice in the cocktails and hadn’t even noticed.
“The iceman cometh,” Lacey said. Vance didn’t smile—his face remained clenched in the same tight scowl he always wore. It would do the young man a world of good to smile every now and again, but she’d been telling him that for years, and to no avail. Now Vance had shaved his head. What on earth for? Lacey asked him. Some kind of gang? For freedom, Vance told her. He liked to feel the cool breeze against his scalp.
Vance peered into the living room, took in Jeremy sitting on the sofa.
“I’d ask you to join us,” Lacey said quickly, “but I know you’re on duty. There’s nothing like work to ruin a cocktail hour.”
“That’s okay,” Vance said. He set the bucket of ice down on the counter. “See ya.”
“Thank you, Vance!” Lacey called. She took the cheese and crackers to the table and went back for the ice. Having company meant a lot of dashing about. If she’d kept her mouth shut, she would be sitting in her chair, watching Dan Rather.
By the time Lacey reached the coffee table with the bucket of ice, Jeremy had dug into the cheese. Lacey was able to drop into her chair and relax just a minute while he finished chewing. She noticed he left the picture of Maximilian facedown on the sofa. This was quite definitely a strike against him.
“Let’s hear about you,” Lacey said. “Where do you come from? Your family?”
“I grew up in Falls Church, Virginia,” he said. “My father owns a bar.”
“A bar, really?” Lacey said. “Do you have siblings?”
Jem fixed himself another cracker. “A younger sister,” he said. “She’s bulimic. My parents go with her to counseling. You know what bulimia is, right? She stuffs her face with food and then she pukes it all up.” Jeremy popped the cracker into his mouth.
Lacey sipped her drink. The photograph snagged Jeremy’s interest again. “So this is your husband. He looks like Douglas Fairbanks, the old actor. How long were you married?”
“Forty-five years,” Lacey said. “I married late in life. I was
The couple went to meet their cab, touching a few of Therese’s wooden toys on the way out, as if for luck.
See? I made them happy. I made them smile . But when Mack turned around, of course, no one was there.
Memorial Day: a day for remembering. Still, Lacey Gardner had better days for remembering Maximilian—his birthday, August 18, or their wedding anniversary, November 11, even Valentine’s Day, because that, sadly, was the day Maximilian had died. Besides, Memorial Day was for veterans, wasn’t it? Or was Veterans’ Day for veterans and Memorial Day for the rest of God’s people? Darn it, Lacey couldn’t remember and didn’t much care except that she had invited the new bellman in for a drink and he was asking her all kinds of questions about Maximilian, practically forcing Lacey to remember him.
“What did your husband do for a living?” Jeremy asked. (He introduced himself as Jem, but Jem wasn’t a real name in Lacey’s opinion and she told him so. She would call him Jeremy.)
“Banker,” Lacey said. The boy agreed to a scotch, a point in his favor. Lacey poured two drinks and brought them over to the coffee table. Jeremy sat on the sofa looking at a photograph of Maximilian taken the summer before he died. He was tan and healthy-looking in that picture, standing on the deck of their house on Cliff Road.
“Is this him here?” Jeremy asked.
“Indeed,” Lacey answered. “That’s Maximilian Percy Gardner.” She walked back to the kitchen—although in this tiny cottage, living room, dining room, and kitchen were one and the same—and fished through her refrigerator for cheese. She put some brie on a plate with a few Carr’s water crackers. Then there was a knock at the screen door. It was Vance with her bucket of ice. Goodness gracious, she forgot to put ice in the cocktails and hadn’t even noticed.
“The iceman cometh,” Lacey said. Vance didn’t smile—his face remained clenched in the same tight scowl he always wore. It would do the young man a world of good to smile every now and again, but she’d been telling him that for years, and to no avail. Now Vance had shaved his head. What on earth for? Lacey asked him. Some kind of gang? For freedom, Vance told her. He liked to feel the cool breeze against his scalp.
Vance peered into the living room, took in Jeremy sitting on the sofa.
“I’d ask you to join us,” Lacey said quickly, “but I know you’re on duty. There’s nothing like work to ruin a cocktail hour.”
“That’s okay,” Vance said. He set the bucket of ice down on the counter. “See ya.”
“Thank you, Vance!” Lacey called. She took the cheese and crackers to the table and went back for the ice. Having company meant a lot of dashing about. If she’d kept her mouth shut, she would be sitting in her chair, watching Dan Rather.
By the time Lacey reached the coffee table with the bucket of ice, Jeremy had dug into the cheese. Lacey was able to drop into her chair and relax just a minute while he finished chewing. She noticed he left the picture of Maximilian facedown on the sofa. This was quite definitely a strike against him.
“Let’s hear about you,” Lacey said. “Where do you come from? Your family?”
“I grew up in Falls Church, Virginia,” he said. “My father owns a bar.”
“A bar, really?” Lacey said. “Do you have siblings?”
Jem fixed himself another cracker. “A younger sister,” he said. “She’s bulimic. My parents go with her to counseling. You know what bulimia is, right? She stuffs her face with food and then she pukes it all up.” Jeremy popped the cracker into his mouth.
Lacey sipped her drink. The photograph snagged Jeremy’s interest again. “So this is your husband. He looks like Douglas Fairbanks, the old actor. How long were you married?”
“Forty-five years,” Lacey said. “I married late in life. I was
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