Any Way You Fight It Page 13

"Who? Marigold?"

  "Yeah, I met her at a few parties in New York that summer I interned there. She was wild even then."

  "Wild?" I could not imagine Luke with someone wild. Neither could I reconcile the photos I'd seen of her with Luke with the word wild.

  "She was young then, at college. She partied hard. I mean really hard. She had loads of money and plenty of hangers on. If you're the rich kid, you can do anything. It doesn't mean you should of course, but you can, you can get access to people, parties, drugs . . . it's almost too easy."

  "Wow. That's not the version I heard."

  "Yeah, probably not. I don't think she would have gone home and told her daddy about the stuff she was into."

  Interesting. But that didn't change anything.

  "Whatever. The fact is none of that has anything to do with me."

  "Maybe it does though. Maybe there is more to the story."

  "Well, given I have had exactly no story from Luke, there'd have to be," I said sharply. "Look, all I know is this is where my life is. Luke has his life and we had fun while he was here, but now he's not and I need to focus on my business and what I want next."

  "That's a great plan, Cherie, except we both know Luke is what you want next."

  "I thought you came here to cheer me up!" I said, swigging my beer.

  "Not really, I just came to feed you and tell you that I think it will all work out."

  "That makes one of us."

  "For a matchmaker, you're pretty cynical, Cherie."

  "I'm a realist."

  "Don't be a realist. Be a romantic. Be a believer."

  "This from a guy who not long ago was so cynical about love he agreed to an arranged marriage."

  "This from a guy who recently realized he was wrong."

  I shook my head. "Whatever."

  "Just don't shut all the doors and windows, leave them open a crack so that possibilities can find their way in."

  "A shrink and a poet." I sighed.

  "Remember what Nona says, 'Love grows where it is nurtured.'"

  "Kind of hard to nurture it from so many miles away."

  "Hard is not impossible." He stood to go. "Come on, I'll walk you to your car. You should go home."

  "And do what?"

  "I don't know, maybe work out how to make this work."

  Luke called me later that night. He sounded beyond tired. He sounded exhausted.

  "I miss you," was his opening sentence.

  "Same. How are the funeral plans coming?"

  He filled me in on the details of what would be a spectacularly large service in Dallas on Friday. There would be politicians from all levels of government and buinessmen and colleagues coming from not just across the country but across the globe.

  "I have to speak," he said.

  "You'll do a great job."

  "I don't want to speak, but I have no option. It's expected."

  "No one ever wants to speak at a funeral, Luke."

  "I know but I feel like a fraud. Like I'm only there because I'm the last man standing."

  "You are the last man standing, but you also admired him and he loved you."

  I wish I could hold him while he explained this all to me. "Fat lot of good it did him."

  "What does that mean?"

  "Nothing. I wish you could come."

  "I don't think that would be appropriate."

  "Why not, you're my girlfriend?"

  "Because of Marigold?" I said.

  "I don't think Marigold minds at this point who I spend my time with," he said bitterly.

  "It doesn't feel right."

  "None of this feels right."

  Part of me wanted to go to Texas and hold Luke's hand through this, but most of me felt like that would be a mistake.

  "I know. You have lots of things to focus on right now . . ."

  "But you're the only one I want to focus on." He sounded like a petulant child.

  "If wishes were horses . . ."

  "I never understood that expression, what does it mean?"

  "I actually have no freaking idea. I'll Google it later. You should go get some rest."

  "I know. Hey, Cherie . . ."

  "I'm still here."

  "This wasn't how I saw this week, or any of this going . . . I had a plan."

  I didn't know what the plan was and maybe that was better. "Okay, I'll talk to you tomorrow."

  "Sweet dreams."

  Yeah, right. That wasn't happening. I went and Googled the saying. It was from an old English poem and it was a Kenny Rogers song. Somehow I thought Luke would appreciate hearing about the former and not the latter. Then again, what did I know? Maybe the man loved country music; he did spend a lot of time in Texas. He'd surely be spending a lot more time there now.

  What a mess.

  #

  It was almost eleven on Thursday, Luke was on the computer, and we were doing "that Jetson's talking" as my mother called it. He looked terrible.

  "Big day?"

  "Yep. I've got my eulogy sorted. Can I read it to you?"

  "Sure, if you like. I know it's going to be fine."

  "I've only ever done my grandfather's funeral before. I'm not really a funeral guy. I had to go to the viewing today. I'd never actually seen a dead body before."

  That was extraordinary to me. I was Italian; sometimes it felt like I went to as many wakes as weddings. "Really, your family doesn't do that?"

  "No. Not at all. You die. They put you in a box. There's a church service. You eat sandwiches, maybe there's cake, and then you go home."

  "That seems kind of perfunctory." And somewhat sad.

  "Big word," he smiled. "I suppose it does. My mother could wax lyrical about funeral rites around the world as she did when my grandfather died. However, we're not really a family of ritual when it comes down to it."

  "Unlike us."

  "Yes, you guys definitely like to mark an occasion."

  "So tomorrow, what happens?"

  "Big church service and big reception afterwards. I'll be very glad when it's over. I have to stay here until at least Tuesday and then . . . I haven't gotten any further than that."

  "One day at a time," I said. "Do you want to do the eulogy now? Get it over with."

  "Sure. It feels weird doing it this way . . .

  I met Chip in a coffee shop on the Upper East Side when I was twenty-one, my final year at NYU. I was reading a book and having a donut. Chip was buying the business. He asked me why I went there, apparently he'd seen me there before, and I told him. Friendly staff, great coffee, comfortable chairs, and free Wi-Fi.

  "Son, there has to be more to it than that. There are a zillion coffee shops in this damn city."

  I thought about it and answered, "It feels like home in here."

  Chip bought the business and he offered me a job. He was my mentor, my friend, and my second father. I worked side-by-side with him every day for the first five years. I traveled with him, I ate with him, and I watched him work. He was the kind of man who never took no for an answer, who always made you think his idea was your idea, he never took credit for other people's work, he was generous with his time, and he was smart enough to know there were usually smarter people in the room than him.

  Those qualities made him a good business man and an excellent friend.

  Chip had a big personality and usually wore a very big hat. He looked like he'd stepped off the set of Dallas. He wasn't a man who went unnoticed in a crowd. That's what he wanted people to see. Jovial, friendly, gregarious.

  I knew the other side of the man. He knew what it was to feel down. He lost his wife, the love of his life, at a young age and then his beloved daughter, Marigold. He was generous with his time and his money. Many charities across the country, lots of whom have a representative here today, have benefitted from his big heart.

  I'm not surprised it was that heart that took him out in the end. It could only give so much. When you think of Chip, think of that heart. Think of the man that cr
eated jobs and always paid a fair wage, think of the man who built hospital wings, funded soup kitchens, and cancer drives. But also think of him as he thought of himself, as a friend, a husband, and a father.

  I was sobbing. Luke wiped an eye and looked up.

  "Was that . . ?"

  "It was great." Sniff. Sniff. "There won't be a dry eye in the place."

  "Okay, well, I guess that's what I'm going for. Who knows?"

  "I didn't know that's how you met. That's a nice story. He must have really loved you."

  "He wanted a son, someone to pass the business on to; I wanted a father who cared about what I did for a living and what I thought. My own father is somewhat myopic in his approach to life. My lack of interest in the natural world and my need for material comfort has always put us at odds. Chip and I filled a void for each other."

  "Don't say that in the eulogy. That's a very pragmatic way to view your relationship."

  He shrugged. "It didn't happen that way, that's just my pragmatic analysis after the fact."

  I wasn't sure if I should mention it, but . . . "He must have been pleased when you became engaged to Marigold."

  "Indeed."

  Indeed. That was all I was getting. Probably not the night to push it.

  "Well, good luck. I guess you'll be busy tomorrow and I'm working Saturday, so maybe we'll talk Saturday night."

  "I wish you were here."

  "You'll be fine. You don't need me."

  "That's where you are wrong. I absolutely do need you."

  Chapter 22

  A week later I was sitting at my Nona's kitchen table having dinner with her and her new beau. Of course, I knew Mr. Kaminski from the neighborhood. He was an acolyte at the church through my entire childhood, so it was kind of weird to have him here dating my Nona. Maybe weirder than that was that my Nona could get a date and I couldn't.

  "So real estate, that's a tough business," he said matter-of-factly.

  "It can be, but it is also nice helping people find their homes. You're with them at the start of a journey."

  "That's kind of how I felt when I made a man's first suit. I was fitting him out for a journey."

  "Exactly."

  "Your grandmother tells me you're single. I have a nephew who works in real estate."

  I tried to stay nice and calm. I wasn't too keen to be set up. "Thanks, but I'm good. So how long have you two crazy kids been seeing each other?"

  "Well now, she says it isn't so, but I've had a thing for your grandmother for over forty years."

  I nearly choked on my chicken scaloppini. "Wow, that's a long time. Were you married?"

  He shook his head. "No, my wife died young. Cancer. And I first saw your grandmother a few years later. She was married, of course, so I kept my distance."

  "Of course." He was old school.

  "He's exaggerating, Cherie. It makes a good story," she said, dismissing him. I'd seen photos of my Nona back then in her mid-thirties. She was indeed very beautiful.

  "It's both sad and romantic."

  "Sad how?" he asked.

  "Because you were alone all that time."

  "I wasn't sad." He patted my hand. "That's so sweet. I was happy because your grandmother was happy. She had family who loved her and friends. That made me happy."

  Tears pricked my eyes. Was this guy for real?

  "Such a sweet man," my Nona said, beaming at him, her face flushed unabashedly with love. My life was such a mess that I was now envious of my own grandmother. Good grief.

  "So are you guys planning to tell my parents any time soon?" It was a fair question. "Don't do it on my account, I'm happy to keep your secret."

  "That's why we asked you here. I wanted to tell you first," Nona said. "We're getting married."

  This time I did kind of choke on my wine. Mr. Kaminski slapped my back and laughed. "Not quite the reaction we hoped for."

  I leapt up and hugged my Nona. This was huge. My septuagenarian grandmother was remarrying, and not only that, she was remarrying a Polish guy, not an Italian. I wondered which would shock my mother more. "I'm very happy for you two."

  "What do you think your father will say?" I knew my Nona could handle her daughter-in-law but her son, that was a different matter.

  "You know what, I wouldn't have said so until recently, but Dad is a romantic and I think he'll be very happy for you."

  "I hope you're right. We are telling them at family dinner tomorrow night."

  "You don't think maybe telling them you're dating first would be a good idea."

  She shook her head. "No, we're ripping the Band-Aid off fast. One large drama beats lots of little ones."

  Well, one thing was certain, no one would be focused on where Luke was or when he'd be back? The heat would be well and truly off me for the next little while.

  Luke video called me from New York later that night.

  "What's the news?"

  "My Nona is engaged," I said flatly. I knew it was a secret, but who would he tell?

  "What? Are you serious?" I nodded. "One trip to Cape Cod and it's on?"

  "Seems like it. It's very romantic actually, but I won't bore you. How are things?"

  "You are not boring me. I wish we could be having this conversation in person. This is seriously the most interesting thing I've heard all day." He raked his hand through his hair.

  "I doubt that." I sighed.

  "I'm not saying I haven't heard a great many things today, but I can assure you that that was the first one that has given me pause."

  “Mr. Kaminski has been in love with Nona for forty years. It's like a fairy tale. I'll be interested to see what happens to the glass slipper when they tell my parents; it could well get thrown against a wall."

  "Would you take on Nona?"

  I shook my head. "My mother is made of stronger, and possibly more stubborn, stuff entirely."

  "I'd like to be there for that exchange."

  “Yes, well, I will be so I'll let you know. Though I expect you might hear it all the way down in New York."

  He chuckled. "Maybe."

  "Are you getting any sleep? No offense, but you don't look great."

  "None taken, and not really. A lot to process."

  "You should go to bed."

  "I needed to see your face."

  That was so sweet. I needed to not see his. It made the longing and the wishing worse. "And now you have."

  "Are we okay?"

  "I have no idea what we are, Luke. Go to bed. Fly to Los Angeles."

  "I want to come there, but I can't. Lots of people rely on this company for their livelihood. I can't let it go into free-fall."

  "I know that, honey. I know."

  That was the truth. If I didn't want to let people down by leaving my one-person business to fly to him, how could I expect him to bail on a company that employed thousands and that had thousands of people's money tied up in its shares? I couldn't. I understood entirely his predicament.

  Timing is everything and ours, yet again, was extremely bad.

  #

  Lunch time Friday, the girls met me at O'Shaunnessy's. They had hired new staff to run the kitchen that week, and they were leaving them for a nervous hour to see how they did. The truth was it was time to let go. They couldn't be running a national business and making all the pies. This was a way to test if the systems they had in place in their manuals would be easily understood by others.

  "I think it's a bit like sending your kid off to preschool. Part of you wants it all to go well and part of you wants to be called because you are missed," Piper said as she checked her phone for the tenth time in as many minutes.

  "I bet."

  "None of us is exactly good at letting go," Lucy said. "You won't even hire an assistant, Cherie."

  "I know. Bunch of control freaks."

  "I don't think that's it at all, well, not in my case," Piper said. "I've always been alone and had to do everything myself. It's a habit as much as anything."

&n
bsp; "I think I might just be a control freak at my core, it's innate." Lucy laughed.

  "I know I am," I said, sipping my diet soda.

  "Well, I think if you ever want to see Luke again, you need to get some help," Piper said.

  She was right. If I could travel even Sunday to Tuesday it would make a big difference, not every week but some. "I know, it's just hard. To be honest, it's not just about control, I actually enjoy working solo."

  "See, I would be so lonely," Piper said.

  "Yeah, but you have never had my family to go home to. Work has been a drama-free refuge largely."

  "That makes sense," Lucy added. "When I lived with Minnie and the kids, I loved being able to come into the kitchen and slip into the familiar rhythm and know that for the most part things would go as planned. There was comfort in that."

  "Exactly," I said.

  "But you know, you can't stay stuck in that zone just because it's comfortable, Cherie. I mean, you don't want to be doing the same job, in the same office in twenty years because you didn't want to hire an assistant. That won't make you happy either."

  She certainly had a point. What did I want my life to look like in twenty years? I had thought I'd meet someone, start a family, run my business. Wouldn't I need an assistant if I had kids? Damn straight. Really was this any different?

  And even if that didn't happen because the only person I wanted to do that with was Luke and Luke was nowhere around and still in love with a dead woman, but even if he wasn't, this would never work if I didn't get help. And if I ended up alone, I wanted to grow my business so that it was exciting, and then didn't I need help?

  "I'll think about it."

  "Don't think, do," Piper said. Her phone beeped and she leapt from her seat. "Oops, trouble at the preschool."

  "Go you two, I've got this."

  They were already halfway out the door. Together. And I was alone. Maybe being alone was overrated.

  And if I didn't want to be alone, I needed to change. But first I needed to survive the family dinner.