Authors: Antoinette Stockenberg
"
About like you
'
d expect.
"
"
Yeah.
"
Jane listened to their exchange feeling completely left out. They were talking man to man about a boy; no girls allowed. But there seemed to be more going on than that. Bing was especially relaxed, and Mac, more ill at ease than ever. She had the sense that one man was asserting power while the other was questioning it
—
some strangely male dynamic that she didn
'
t understand at all.
"
That
'
s a nice car you have,
"
McKenzie said to Jane, suddenly inclined to chat.
"
What kind of mileage does a Volvo get, anyway?
"
Since
Nantucket
didn
'
t have any highways, Jane couldn
'
t imagine why he cared; but she answered his question anyway.
Mac nodded thoughtfully. Somehow that put the ball back in Jane
'
s court. She felt obliged to return it.
"
I
'
ve decided to sell the car,
"
she surprised herself by saying.
"
So if you know anyone, please keep it in mind.
"
Up until that moment, she hadn
'
t yet made that decision. But she was running out of money fast, and something had to go
.
"
Is that so?
"
Mac answered genially. His hands were in his pockets as he rocked back and forth on the soles of his feet. He looked exactly like a car dealer.
"
I
'
ll mention it around. What
'
re you going to get instead?
"
"
I was thinking a pickup is a handy thing,
"
she admitted, although her mother might not agree.
"
I could use it to haul stuff back and forth.
"
"
Is that so?
"
Mac said again. He rubbed the back of his neck thoughtfully as he stared at his shoes, considering. When he looked up again, the look in his hazel eyes was offhand, shrewd, and pure Yankee.
"
I know of a pickup that might suit you. It belongs to my uncle. He
'
s getting on, and his driving years are probably behind him. The truck
'
s old but sturdy enough. It might suit.
"
"
I
'
d like to see it,
"
Jane said with far more enthusiasm than she could afford, since she hadn
'
t exactly sold the Volvo yet.
"
All right. This week sometime. Count on it,
"
he said, and then he turned to Bing.
"
I expect you
'
re off for
New York
, then?
"
he asked blandly.
Bing, who
'
d been set carefully to one side during their conversation, glanced at his watch.
"
Hell. I guess I am.
"
Mac smiled lazily.
"
Have a good trip.
"
W
ithout Bing to distract her, Jane fell to brooding about her part in Jerry
'
s accident.
If I hadn
'
t got him thinking about a Snickers bar
...
if I hadn
'
t waited for him to get the money
..
.
if I hadn
'
t stood where I did
.
Jane was taking far too much credit for determining Jerry
'
s fate; she knew that. But she wanted to make amends anyway, so she whipped up a batch of her famous Cheater
'
s Spaghetti Sauce and poured it into a Tupperware vat, then put the vat into a shopping bag with a box of spaghetti and half a loaf of Italian bread. It would be more than enough for their dinner.
She changed turtlenecks, tied her hair into a ponytail, and headed for Mac
'
s house. It was six o
'
clock and still light out when she knocked on the door to his kitchen. No one answered at first and Jane considered leaving her care package on the doorstep; but eventually the door opened. It was Jerry, dressed in Nike sweats and with a dramatic bandage covering his left cheek. He didn
'
t seem to know whether to blush or swagger.
"
Hi, Jer,
"
Jane said, holding up her Ann Taylor bag by its string handles.
"
I don
'
t know if your dad
'
s had time to make dinner yet, but here
'
s some spaghetti fixings just in case.
"
"
Dad
'
s gone off to get me my Snickers bar,
"
Jerry said with his father
'
s ironic smile.
"
He says stitches are like having my tonsils out,
so I get to have a treat .... Did
you want to come in?
"
he suddenly offered, his voice reverting to a little boy
'
s.
Jane thought he might be bothered by being alone, so she smiled and said,
"
Just for a minute.
"
She hung her jacket on a peg and they went into the keeping room adjoining the kitchen. It was a captivating room, with heavy-beamed ceilings and a massive hearth, and nice old furnishings which, though not valuable antiques, were in keeping with the spirit of the place. Mac had set the boy up on the sofa with two pillows, a down comforter, and a pine worktable that held prescription bottles, a half-empty glass of milk, a few comics, a book or two, and the remote control to the television.
Je
rr
y settled under the comforter and politely zapped the television into silence. Jane took a seat in a
slip-
covered wing chair and, after a few discreet questions about Jerry
'
s hospital adventure, wondered where to move the talk next.
He
'
s more civil than his father,
she thought,
but he doesn
'
t trust me either. I suppose it
'
s because I
'
m stupid enough
not to know or care what my holli
es are worth.
The funny thing was
—
just as with his father
—
she really did want the boy to approve of her. She looked around the keeping room, as beautifully restored as the kitchen, and said,
"
That
'
s a wonderful fireplace. Do
—
did
—
you have fires in it very often?
"
"
Not very much,
"
Jerry said, pulling his knees up to his chin and gathering the comforter around them.
"
It was the last thing to be fixed up. We moved right after. But our townhouse in
Boston
has three fireplaces and we use
them
a lot,
"
he volunteered, trying to be helpful.
Jane wondered what paid for all of it
—
the
Boston
townhouse, the pre-prep boarding school, the planes back and forth to the island. Some trust fund? Celéste
'
s job? Or was the money coming from the guy who couldn
'
t afford to buy a permanent right of way across any of his neighbors
'
properties?
Jerry was watching her with a certain calm and appraising glance that seemed to run in the family.
When he finishes growing up, this kid
'
s gonna be one heck of a poker player
, Jane decided.
Pity the poor girl who sets her sights on him and has to figure him out
. She smiled and asked Jerry how he liked school, and what he was planning to be when he got older. She thought he
'
d say,
"
Oh, most likely an astronaut,
"
but his answer showed surprising depth.
He said,
"
I want to have my own business, I
'
m sure of that, but I don
'
t want to be a lawyer. And I don
'
t want to be a doctor, even though they get to have their own office. Something
like
a doctor, maybe, because they do good things for the world. But I don
'
t like hospitals, I really don
'
t,
"
he said, shuddering.
"
I
'
d rather be outside where the air smells better.
"
"
Maybe a tree surgeon,
"
Jane suggested, amused by his earnestness. He seemed both older and younger than ten.
Jerry stared at her in amazement.
"
Are you kidding? Mom would never let me do that,
"
he said.
They heard a truck door slam, which saved Jane the awkwardness of a response. And then they heard another door slam. And voices
—
loud, angry. First Mac
'
s, abrupt; then a woman
'
s.
"
Twenty-four hours! I can
'
t believe it! You have my son for twenty-four hours and he lands in a hospital! I
told
you to watch him. I
warned
you he was at that awkward age
—
"
"
That
'
s my
mom
,
"
Jerry whispered, his face paling under the bandage.
"
She
's not supposed to be here ..
.
"
"
Will
you lower your voice, Celeste?
"
It was Mac, obviously trying his best to lower his own.
"
Who
'
s going to hear me, the cab driver? For God
'
s sake, Mac,
"
his wife said contemptuously.
Jane sat wide-eyed and frozen in her chair. Should she flee, signaling that she
'
d heard them, or should she stay and pretend she hadn
'
t? When the kitchen door slammed, she bolted up from her chair.
Flee
, something said. But she didn
'
t
—
couldn
'
t
—
move.
"
If you think Jeremy
'
s e
ver coming back to this island,
think again! Last summer it was a broken toe, the summer before that, a sprained ankle! He
'
d be safer in
—
in
Central Park
at midnight than he is with you! Damn you, Mac!
"
"
Jesus, will you calm down? He
'
s in the other room
—
"
"
Jeremy!
"
Jane heard his mother cry.
She watched unobserved as the short-haired, chic brunette rushed into the room and threw her arms around her son.
"Darling ... oh ..
. you poor
sweetheart
... oh, dear God ..
. what h
ave they done to your face ...
.
"
She swept his hair away from his cheek with manicured fingers, then cradled his chin in both her hands while she moved his face up and down, back and forth, staring at the bandage as if she had X-ray vision. Jerry submitted to her twists and tweaks with a woeful expression on his face. He didn
'
t have a clue what to do about Jane, that was obvious.
Who do I introduce first?
seemed to be the question.
The ranting mother or the lurking stranger?