Shore Lights (31 page)

There was no doubt in anyone's mind that Fay DiFalco had been an original. Her daughters had flown in the face of convention and buried their mother in the red dress, with a copy of
The Racing Times
and her Caesar's Atlantic City slots card.

Gina broke off another piece of cookie, then popped it in her mouth. “So how was the big breakfast?”

“What big breakfast?” No sense making it too easy for Gina.

“You and Aidan. Julie said you two were in there until lunchtime.”

“Julie needs to learn to tell time.”

“So how was it?”

“Fine. I had a blueberry muffin. He had a short stack. We both agreed the samovar was pretty damn nice. End of story.”

“This is me you're talking to, Madelyn. You mean to tell me there weren't any sparks?”

“No sparks,” Maddy said. “I doubt if either one of us is looking for sparks right now.”

“I think you're kidding yourself.”

“You think wrong.”

“We all saw the way the two of you were looking at each other. Even the kids could see something was going on.”

“Nothing was going on.”

“Maybe not now,” Gina said knowingly, “but it's only a matter of time.”

Maddy searched Gina's face for signs of jealousy or worry. “He's a nice guy, but that's as far as it goes.”

“He's also easy on the eyes.” Gina's own eyes were dancing with merriment. “I think the scars actually give him a devil-may-care quality. Very Harrison Ford.”

“Gina,” Maddy said, leaning across the table, “you don't have to do this. I
know
.”

“Of course you know. All you have to do is look at him to see the resemblance. A young Harrison Ford.”

“That's not what I mean. I mean, I
know
.”

“If this is some kind of puzzle, I left my decoder ring at home.”

Okay, Gina, you asked for it
. “I know you've been sleeping with Aidan.”

Who knew such a tiny woman could spit coffee so far? After they wiped up the spray from the tabletop and Maddy's left cheek, Gina leaned back in her chair and fixed Maddy with a look she had never seen her cousin give before.

“I'm not sleeping with Aidan O'Malley.”

“You dated him.”

“A few times. But we were friends, not lovers. We were both lonely and we liked hanging out together.” Gina shifted position in the chair. Maddy's unflappable cousin had obviously been flapped by the question. “Why are you asking?”

“Denise said something at the bus stop that made me think—”

“Aidan didn't say anything, did he?” There was an odd look in Gina's eyes, an almost frantic worry.

“Aidan was silent as the grave.”

“Level with me,” Gina said. “You like him, don't you?”

“I already told you I think he's a nice guy.”

The sound of laughter and running footsteps grew louder. Any minute the kids would burst into the kitchen with their Christmas stockings and the moment would be lost.

“Let me take a wild guess here: You think he's a nice guy, but you're going to keep your distance because you think he and I . . .” She finished her sentence with a wave of her hand. “Right?”

“Right.” She met her cousin's gaze. “Denise seemed pretty clear on it.”

“Because that's what I wanted her to think.”

“I'm not following you.”

Gina broke their eye contact and glanced over at Priscilla asleep in her basket. “Aidan wasn't the O'Malley I was sleeping with.”

It took a few moments before Gina's meaning sank in. “Billy?”

The sorrow in her cousin's eyes was all the answer she needed.

“Oh, God, Gina! He and Claire—”

“I know.” Gina lifted her chin and met Maddy's eyes. “You don't think I hate myself every time I see Claire and Billy Jr.?”

“But why? How could you—”

“Why?” Gina's voice rose with her distress. “Why the hell do you think? I love him.” She caught herself. “Loved him.”

“When? How on earth—”

Gina buried her face in her hands. A strangled laugh broke through. “It started almost twelve years ago. I broke it off for a few years, then—” Her shoulders lifted, then slumped in despair. “We couldn't stay away from each other.”

“Oh, Gina.” Maddy's emotions were torn every which way. Shock. Compassion. Sorrow. Understanding. Anger. “Did you think he was going to leave Claire?”

“Yes.” Her hands fell to her lap and she blinked away tears. “I know what you're thinking. He never led me on.”

“Give me a break,” Maddy snapped. “He was cheating on his wife for more than half of their marriage. I doubt if he was above leading you on.”

“It wasn't like that.
He
wasn't like that. We loved each other.”

“I don't doubt your feelings, but I'm afraid I'm not quite as certain about his.”

“You didn't know him. He was so wild, so free—”

“You make him sound like a Chincoteague pony.”

“Not funny.” Gina's temper flashed to life. “There was nobody like him. Nobody ever—”

They both started at the sounds of children's laughter and footsteps on one of the upper staircases.

Gina started to speak again, but Maddy lifted her hand to stop her. She didn't want to hear the litany of Billy O'Malley's virtues. Right then she would have found it very difficult to restrain herself from telling Gina exactly what she thought of the story.

“I still don't see where Aidan figures into this,” she said. “You were sleeping with his brother, but you were dating him?”

“We were friends. I needed a friend and he became one. Nothing more than that.”

“There has to be something more. The pieces aren't adding up for me.”

“Welcome to the real world,” Gina said bitterly. “The pieces usually don't add up, or haven't you noticed that yet?”

THE LIGHTS ALONG the shore clicked on around four o'clock. They were activated by an automatic sensor system that had been installed with great fanfare by the town officials as part of a beautification project designed to inch Paradise Point higher up the tourism ladder.

Aidan stood by the window and watched as the sweep of snow-covered shoreline came to life beneath the murky twinkle of artificial light. Somebody had decided that each lamppost deserved a swag of red velvet and a candy cane, but that same somebody hadn't factored in the waterrepellant qualities of velvet.

All in all, it had been one strange mother of a day. He had shut down O'Malley's a little before three o'clock, sending the regulars home and telling Tommy he might as well get going, too. He had a few repairs to make to one of the windows that opened up onto the water, and once he finished, he intended to shove off as well. Kelly would be heading over to Claire's after school to help her aunt with preparations for the South Jersey Firefighters Fund Drive. Claire had spearheaded the drive every year since Billy's death, but it required a hell of a lot of emotional energy to pull herself through the process. Helping out was Kelly's idea, and he appreciated the timing. If the roads got much worse, she could bunk there overnight.

He turned away from the window. In fact, if it got much worse than it already was, he'd be bunking at O'Malley's for the night. The thought didn't thrill him. The thing to do was fix the busted window, then get his ass on out of there while he still had the chance.

He was heading for the storage room in the back when the phone rang.

“This is Dr. Lipman from Good Samaritan Hospital. I'm calling to speak with”—the sound of rustling papers—“Aidan O'Malley.”

“Speaking. How's my grandmother?”

“That's why I'm calling, Mr. O'Malley. I'm afraid the news isn't good.”

While they were preparing Irene for an MRI, she had slipped unexpectedly into unconsciousness.

“Are you saying she's in a coma?”

“‘Coma' has certain connotations I'm not willing to embrace yet,” said Dr. Lipman. “At the moment she is unconscious and unresponsive, but her vital signs are rock solid.”

“Sounds like a coma to me,” Aidan said.

Silence from Dr. Lipman.

“Is she going to stay at Good Sam or are you sending her back home to Shore View?”

“That's why I'm calling, Mr. O'Malley. You realize, I'm sure, that your grandmother signed a Living Will form some time back and is DNR.”

“‘Do not resuscitate,'” Aidan said. “I know.”

“Since she seems to be in good health in other ways and there is little we would be permitted to do to help her if she were not, I feel she should stay with us overnight and then, weather permitting, be returned to Shore View sometime tomorrow afternoon.”

Lipman said there was no indication whatsoever of any broken bones, but he would perform an MRI on Irene if Aidan insisted.

“No,” said Aidan. “All I want is that you make sure she's not in any pain.”

“I assure you she isn't,” the doctor said.

“How would you know for sure?” Aidan persisted. “She's unconscious.”

Lipman went on about physiologic responses and what they represented, but Aidan was no longer listening.

“How long do you think she'll be unconscious?” he interrupted.

Another long silence from the good doctor. “There is no way I can predict that for you, Mr. O'Malley. She may be coming out of it while we're speaking or she may—”

“Never come out of it.”

“At her age, that's a distinct possibility.”

They were talking about the end of a person's life and it sounded abstract and clinical. Devoid of anything resembling human emotion.

Aidan hung up the phone and went into the storage room to grab what he needed to repair the window. No doubt about it: one strange mother of a day.

 
KELLY WASN'T SURE why she burst into tears after supper when Aunt Claire told her about Grandma Irene. It wasn't as if she didn't already know about the accident. Her father had called her on her cell phone during lunch and told her what had happened, about the fall and the trip to the hospital and the fact that she was now unconscious.

“Grandma Irene is over one hundred years old,” he had reminded her gently. “We shouldn't be surprised if—”

“I know,” she had said, trying not to cry. “I'm prepared.”

But she wasn't prepared at all. The second Claire told her about Grandma Irene being unconscious, it was like all the sadness and fear she had contained inside her heart came flooding out and she couldn't stop it. Good thing Billy Jr. was in the family room watching one of those crocodile-hunter shows he loved. His teasing would be more than she could handle.

“I'm sorry,” she kept saying over and over again like a parrot. “I'm really, really sorry.” And then she would start blubbering all over again.

Aunt Claire had never made any secret of how she felt about Grandma Irene. Claire hadn't even allowed Grandma to attend Uncle Billy's funeral, which had caused a big rift in what was left of the family. Kelly's father was still in Intensive Care at the time and didn't know what was going on, but the fighting and name-calling had been pretty awful. She didn't think she would ever forget the sight of Claire, eyes nearly swollen shut from crying, as she stood on the church steps and refused to let the health-care aide wheel Irene into the chapel.

“You didn't give a rat's ass about him when he was alive,” Claire had roared at the old woman, “and I'll be damned if I let you pretend you care now that he's dead!”

But Claire wasn't roaring at anyone right now. She placed her hand on Kelly's shoulder and gave it an affectionate squeeze.

“PMS,” Claire said with a nod of her head. “I recognize the signs.”

Kelly managed a smile. “You think?”

“Is your period due next week?”

“Yeah, actually it is.”

“And you're weepy and tired and thinking about chocolate day and night?”

She laughed. “Oh, definitely!”

Claire cut them each a humongous slice of chocolate cake with thick dark chocolate frosting. “Coffee, tea, or milk?”

“Milk,” Kelly said. “Definitely milk with chocolate cake.”

“Smart girl.”

Claire placed the container down on the kitchen table, then pulled two clean glasses from the dishwasher.

“So,” she said in that fake kind of cheerful voice parents liked to use when they were about to nail you to the wall, “I saw you and Seth the other afternoon.”

Kelly, whose mouth was filled with cake, shrugged.
Please, God, one bolt of lightning . . . a small earthquake . . . anything!

“It was around two-ish. I was on the corner waiting for Billy Jr.'s school bus.” Claire took a bite of cake and chewed it quickly. “You were in his brother's Honda.”

Oh, great. She loved her aunt, but really. Why couldn't Claire worry about her own kids and leave her alone?

“We had to take some pictures out at the lake for the yearbook.”

“Before school ended.”

“They canceled last period.”

“I didn't know you were a photographer.”

“Yes, you did,” Kelly said. If there wasn't eight feet of snow out there, she would jump into the Tercel and take her chances. “Remember you gave me Uncle Billy's old Pentax.”

Claire looked down at her hands for a second. Kelly hated sometimes even mentioning Billy's name because it seemed to hurt Claire so much to remember.