The Carpenter by Matt Lennox Page A

about to go outside.
    —I think she’s got it in hand, said Stan.
    —Goddammit. Look at the hair on him.
    Stan went into the kitchen. The smell of roasting turkey brought juices to his mouth. Mary was drinking a glass of wine and studying her mother’s recipe book. It occurred to Stan that it had been a long time since he’d seen the book. He saw Edna’s neat cursive—
Gravies etc.
—on the page and he looked away.
    —The turkey is huge, said Mary. We’ll have leftovers for a week. I’ll send a bunch of it home with you.
    —Sounds good to me, said Stan.
    —You seem distracted, Dad.
    —I’m just woolgathering.
    —Okay …
    —When you were Louise’s age there was only the one public school in town, said Stan. Do you remember?
    —River Street P.S. Sure, I remember.
    —And do you remember if your school friends knew who I was?
    —What made you think of this now?
    —Nothing.
    —There weren’t as many cops in town back then, so yes, my friends knew what my dad did. But I don’t think it ever really came up in public school. High school was a bit different. I started to hear more about you. There was an old phys. ed. teacher who coached girls’ field hockey. Mr. Pritchard. I remember, after he figured out who I was, he would talk to me about your boxing days. Endlessly. He’d say, Maitland, come here! It didn’t matter how practice was going or what the other girls were doing. He’d go on and on. He talked a lot about Windsor, some guy you fought. Sharkey?
    —Sharkey, said Stan. He was a heavyweight from the States. He had quite a good run, had the title for awhile. When we fought, I didn’t beat him. I drawed. I was lucky to do that, even. That was one of my only real big fights. Ha, Pritchard wasn’t even there.
    —He talked about it like he was. He must have told me that Windsor story a hundred times. I was only in grade nine or grade ten when I played field hockey. After that, I was more aware of it if I heard things about you. They always said you were a fair cop. They said you didn’t do things by the book but that you were really fair to everybody. That’s not Frank’s way.
    —Frank’s a good policeman, Mary. He knows his job inside and out.
    —He’s got a lot of ambition for his career.
    —Good on him. I never wanted that responsibility. I never thought I was up to it. Anyhow, was it hard for you if there were folks that weren’t so happy about things I’d done?
    —Everybody knew about the man that got hung, if that’s what you mean. But nobody talked about it much. Was I even born when that happened?
    —You weren’t much more than a baby.
    —What makes you think of this now, Dad?
    —That family, in particular, had a lot of hard times. Anyhow, never mind. I never wanted to expose you or your mother to any of that.
    Mary laughed.
    —Oh God. You and Frank, you’ve got that in common.
    —What’s that?
    —This idea that the women in your life need to be protected all the time.
    Stan wandered back into the living room, thinking maybe he’d have a nap. Emily was in the vestibule untying her shoes. Frank hovered around her, trying to make light of whoever it was in the car.
    —You should have brought him in for supper, said Frank.
    —It’s completely not an issue any more, Dad.
    —I’m sorry to hear it. Hey, if you’ve got to insist on dating, how about you get yourself a guy with a better haircut?
    —Actually, I’ve got an idea, said Emily. I’m sure I could get one of your rookies to take me out. That one that drove you home yesterday is really cute.
    —Hey, said Frank. Listen …
    Stan sat down in the recliner next to the cabinet stereo. He brought the footrest up and stretched his legs out. He didn’t want Emily or Frank to see the smile he was wearing. How close he was, suddenly, to laughing outright. He let his head settle back and he closed his eyes.
    He snoozed for an hour and was gradual about waking up. By then, the whole house was filled with the deep smell