The Cornerstone (41 page)

“Did she say anything else?” I asked.

Sam’s forehead wrinkled and he shook his head. “No, I don’t think so. She thought it was weird that you fed Andy your avocado, and then there was something about coconut oil…but that was it. Was there something else?”

“No, nothing at all,” Andy said, and I appreciated the fuck out of her right now. “You know how I am about avocado. It’s my favorite good fat, and you can blame me for the coconut oil, too.”

“What did you do?” Patrick whispered to her. She patted his arm, smiling.

Shannon:
I just want you to know, I survived the mother of all awkward conversations on Saturday and you probably owe me the biggest bottle of champagne or something sparkly because of it

Patrick:
Yeah I’m beginning to understand that

Patrick:
Sorry about that

“Are we doing Thanksgiving at your place?” Matt asked, pointing his coffee cup in my direction. “Is that still your show?”

Shannon:
Don’t kill me

Patrick:
What now

“Actually,” I started, “I won’t be around.”

Yelling was our native tongue, but when we tipped over from routinely unruly conversation into a verbal stampede, someone was always at the epicenter. There was nothing to do but ride it out. Words flew like grenades but the noise was such that the explosions often went unnoticed. It didn’t happen often, but when it did, it was always preceded by a long pause, as if everyone was drawing a deep breath, squaring up, and gathering their fighting strength.

A quick assessment of the table told me that was exactly what was happening right now.

Tick, tick, boom.

Patrick: “What? Where are you going?”

Matt: “Why do you find it necessary to wait until the last fucking moment to tell us this, Shan?”

Sam: “Too many fucking secrets around here.”

Riley: “What ever happened to our traditions? I demand turkey and pie and football and gluttony.”

Andy: “Do you think you could give me your butternut squash pie recipe?”

Patrick: “Are we cancelling the pub crawl, too?”

Sam: “Since when did you become such a fan of traveling, Shannon?”

Riley: “We could go to Gigi’s family’s dinner. They have plenty of room and they aren’t assholes who change plans at the last minute.”

Andy: “I’ll handle the pub crawl. It’s not like Shannon’s the only one who can pick out a couple bars.”

Patrick: “Let’s be reasonable: it’s not like we were having Thanksgiving at Shannon’s place forever. We’re not kids anymore. She’s the only one who can manage a tradition.”

Sam: “Wait.
Gigi
? As in Roof Garden Girl, Gigi? Magnolia, Gigi?”

Matt: “Shannon’s blown us off two years in a row. We can’t really call it a tradition anymore. More like abandonment.”

Andy: “Everyone can come to us. We’ll find the space.”

Riley: “Yeah, Gigi’s my bro. My homeboy.”

Sam: “I’m suddenly thrilled to be spending the holiday in suburban New Jersey.”

Matt: “Erin’s in Iceland. Or Greenland. Wherever the volcanoes are, but it’s relatively quick flight. I could probably convince her to fly in for the weekend.”

Riley: “Nick will enjoy that.”

Patrick: “Shannon has the best space for it, but it was fine at Matt’s last year. Or the fire house.”

Matt: “Why would
Nick
enjoy Erin flying in for the weekend?”

Sam: “That would not be my assessment of Gigi.”

Riley: “Don’t leave the good doctor unsupervised unless you have a shotgun handy.”

Andy: “Tell me we are not still talking about Roof Garden Girl. I’m obligated to cut a bitch after what she did to Tiel.”

Matt: “We’ll do it. We have the space.”

Riley: “Gigi is good people. Good people make mistakes. Let it go.”

Patrick: “Motherfuck, how are we still talking about roof gardens?”

Riley: “Are we having Spanish food again? That feels like a real Throwback Thursday, and throwing all the way back to the Spanish monarchy. I like that shit.”

Patrick: “We could get Korean barbeque. There’s a little place that Andy and I love—”

Sam: “Stop it with the Korean barbeque. You’re being ridiculous. Nobody eats kimchi on Thanksgiving.”

Matt: “Someone tell me what we’re doing so I can text my wife.”

Patrick: “That seems like a generalization I’m not willing to make. Korean barbeque is better than turkey, hands down.”

Riley: “I think I have a migraine now. A belly ache, too.”

I set my coffee cup on the table and whistled for their attention. “All right. Listen. Patrick’s ordering the meal. Matt and Lauren are hosting. Andy is handling the Black Friday pub crawl. Sam is going to stop being a mouthy bitch right now. Riley isn’t dicking around with Roof Garden Girl because we
all
agreed to break up with her after she molested Sam. And I’m turning off my phone and going to California next Wednesday morning. Despite my travels, your delicate, tender lives will go on without incident, and you will realize that tradition has nothing to do with where your mashed potatoes are served. If anyone has any problems with any of that, I have a giant bag of old dicks rotting in my office, and you’re welcome to juggle them until you get the fuck over it. Any questions?”

Matt raised his hand, and I definitely growled at him. “Can someone clarify why I should be watching Nick? And why I’d need a shotgun for that?”

I turned my gaze toward Riley. “Shut down the snarky comments.” Folding my hands on the table, I looked to Matt. “You’d best be keeping your ear to the ground if Erin does make an appearance.”

*

Shannon:
My brothers just had a conniption about thanksgiving

Will:
You can’t tell me this shit and not expect me to hate them

Shannon:
I want you to understand that I’m being pulled in different directions

Will:
If there is anything I understand about you, it’s that

Will:
When you get home tonight, you’re getting undressed, spreading your legs, and telling me all about your day while I lick your pussy

Will:
No more worries about any of it, peanut.

Shannon:
I’ve heard worse ideas.

*

Will:
Question

Shannon:
Yes, I am wearing panties.

Will:
That wasn’t the question but…I’ll expect to have those panties in my hand when you’re home

Will:
Don’t make me tell you twice

Shannon:
Oh really?

Will:
Are you looking to test me?

Shannon:
Perhaps

Will:
Do you have any flat shoes? Ones you’d wear to work?

Shannon:
Yes but I really don’t want you defiling my shoes

Will:
Good. Just checking.

Shannon:
Why?

Will:
Because you’re not going to be walking right when I’m done with you. Can’t risk breaking an ankle in those heels

Shannon:
Idle threats

Will:
Hang on a minute. Let me add “buy rope and gag” to my list of things to do this afternoon

*

“How are Lissa
Wynn and Dylan the Girl doing?”

Patrick turned a baleful frown in my direction, and I pressed my fist to my mouth to stifle a laugh. He was
hating
this. “They’re my shadows, Shannon. They wait at the door when I use the bathroom. Seriously. They were standing there, with their little notebooks open, earlier this week, and I guess I should’ve been happy they stayed outside. What the fuck did you say to them?”

“They’re attentive. Eager,” I said. “That’s good. Do you know which one is Lissa Wynn and which is Dylan the Girl?”

He squinted at the spreadsheet on his screen, and he murmured, “Not yet.”

“Maybe you’ve needed two assistants all along,” I said, pointing at him with my pen. “This could work out beautifully, and you can stop growling and kicking things. Just think of the money we’ll save on new copiers.”

“Yeah, we’re finished discussing this,” he said, rolling his eyes. “Have you talked to Sam much?”

“We checked in on the Turlan project last week,” I said, yawning. Our regular budget meeting had been rescheduled three times this week, and now, late Friday evening, we were finally wrapping up cost structures for the Mount Vernon project. Matt was going hogwild with steel for the structural overhaul, and though we had the cash, it required a plan of financial attack.

“I meant life stuff,” Patrick said, scratching his chin. “He seems good.”

“As far as I can tell, yeah,” I said.

He tilted his head to meet my eyes. “He’s still not talking to you?”

I steepled my fingers under my chin, not wanting to revisit the cease-and-desist smackdown Sam leveled on me with respect to his wedding. “He’s trying to establish some boundaries, and right now, that means he doesn’t share much with me.”

“That was diplomatic,” Patrick said. “Are you doing all right?”

“It’s hard,” I confessed. “I’m happy for him—so happy—because he’s found someone who loves him, and not only adores his quirks, but has her own to match. And I like Tiel, and I should have found a way to get to know her earlier.”

“That wouldn’t have helped,” he laughed. “You can continue the self-flagellation, but the truth is, he needed to fall in order to find his way back up.”

Snatching one of the anonymous geodes off the shelf beside my desk and rolling it between my palms, I glanced up at Patrick. “In a strange sense, it feels like I’ve lost a friend. Like, she’s replaced me.”

Patrick dropped back into the chair with a sigh. “She has,” he said, “but it was time. He’s not our problem child anymore.”

“Well, we still have Riley,” I said. “He’s special.”

“Oh, yeah,” Patrick said. “I’m just happy Tiel likes him, and she doesn’t mind him living at the firehouse with her and Sam. Let’s keep our fingers crossed that things don’t change after the vows because I do not want him sleeping on my couch.”

“Does all this wedding talk give you any ideas?”

He glanced up from his screen, his brow furrowed. As expected, he was utterly confused. “I’m not sure I’d be much help.”

“You are oblivious, Optimus. Oblivious.” His scowl deepened. “What are you getting Andy for Christmas?”

He tapped a few keys and shut his laptop. “Haven’t decided yet.”

“What about a big, shiny diamond ring?”

Patrick held his computer to his chest while he considered this, his lips pursed, and then shook his head. He filed away his things, and slung the bag over his shoulder. “I’ll take it under advisement,” he said. “It’s late, and I’m sure Andy’s hungry, and this conversation is too complex for me. See you next week.”

“You let me know when you’re ready for a trip to Shreve, Crump and Low,” I called as he left my office. “She’s not a Van Cleef and Arpels girl. And for the love of God, no Tiffany.” He raised his hand in acknowledgement, and kept walking.