Michael Quinn

by Caleb Borne

  “But George has been with us--.”

  “I don’t give a damn, O’Hara. You can’t afford your lifestyle any longer, man, don’t you see that? It’s either me or the bank will set you out on the road. Which will it be?”

  O’Hara hung his head. “You. Of course, you.”

  “Sign the paper and then get out. I can’t stand the smell of you.”

  I pushed a pen in his direction and he picked it up, heaving a deep sigh as he signed the papers without even reading them. He pushed it all back across the desk.

  “Keep your mouth shut when it comes to Katie. You’re not going to do to her life what you’ve done to your own. You leave her to me. Now, get out and when I see you, I expect you to act like normal. This is all the money you’re getting out of me, O’Hara. Make it count.”

  I gathered the papers back into their folders and shoved the stack of them into my drawer, tapping my fingers this time as I waited for him to leave. He cried a little more, drank some water and walked out. Margaret had to stand to shut the door. “Margaret?”

  “Sir?”

  “You heard nothing.”

  “I don’t know what you mean, sir.”

  “And get someone up here from maintenance. I want this office sound-proofed and in the meantime, have your desk moved away from this common wall. In fact, move your things to the next office until it gets done.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “Okay. I’m leaving. The stink of this place makes me sick!”

  “Yes, sir.”

  Kathleen

  “Hello?” I took the phone from George who was looking very upset. I was afraid it was bad news.

  “Katie, it’s Michael.”

  Little shockwaves of pleasure went through my body. “Michael! How nice of you to call!” I remembered myself. It was too forward of me to be so enthusiastic. He will think I’m easy. I couldn’t help myself, though.

  “Would you allow me to take you to dinner tonight?”

  “Tonight? Why, I guess that would be just fine. Let me ask …. Oh, silly me. I don’t have to ask Mama any more, do I? Will you pick me up? What time?”

  “Can you be ready by seven? I’ll drive us back to Louisville. I have a table reserved by the window overlooking the river at the Galt House.”

  “Well, that sounds lovely. I’ll be ready at seven.” I hung up the phone and that’s when I heard Mama shouting from the back patio. Curious, I put my hand on the door handle and slid it a few inches so I could hear better.

  “Leave us be, Kathleen,” Mama ordered in an acidic tone. “Your father has taken leave of his senses and I want you to leave us alone.”

  I pushed it further open. “That’s okay. I just came to tell you I’m leaving, anyway.”

  “Leaving? For where? Has the whole world gone mad?” Bella was beside herself.

  “I’m going to dinner with Michael. He’ll be here at seven and Mama, you be good now, or have George answer the door.”

  “George! George who? You father has gone and given George his walking papers.”

  “Daddy? What’s wrong?”

  He shifted in his seat with discomfort. He always told Mama anything she wanted to know. “You run along, Katie, and have your dinner. Never mind what’s going on here.”

  “Whaaaaaaat?” Mama had sprung out of her chair as if her girdle had caught fire.

  “Run along now, Katie. Your mother and I have to talk.”

  I closed the door and promptly forgot about their bickering. It wasn’t as if it hadn’t happened before. Mama could be hard to live with and Daddy, well Daddy was happy with a horse to look at and a bottle in his hand. I’d grown used to it over the years. I looked around me at the cherry furniture with the floral cushions and wondered why any two people with so much to be happy about, fought so often. I knew I would never be like that.

  I took the stairs two at a time. I found George at the top of the stairs, dressed in his Sunday clothes and toting a suitcase. “Why, George, are you going on a vacation or something?”

  “No, Miss Katie, your daddy done let me go. I’m a leavin’.”

  “Oh, no, George. Surely, there must be some kind of a mistake. Daddy would never… why you’ve been with us my whole life.”

  “Yes, Miss, and I believe Lilah will be right behind me.”

  “Lilah… Oh, no, surely you’re wrong, George. Why that would leave Mama with the whole house to take care of on her own.”

  “Yes, Miss, Mrs. Bella and you will be all on your own.”

  I shuddered at the thought of it. “George, I’m to get ready to be picked up for dinner at seven, so I can’t really talk right now. But, we’ll talk when I get home or in the morning, I swear.”

  “Won’t be here, Miss Katie. On my way out now.”

  “But…”

  “You take care now, Miss Katie. I’m gonna miss you.”

  I patted his old wrinkled hand. “Don’t look so sad. I’ll fix this all, I promise.” I popped a peek at the clock on the mantel. It was already quarter past six. “I’ve got to run, George, I’m going to be late. Where will you be staying?”

  “Don’t rightly know, Miss Katie. I s’pose I’ll go stay with my brother in town. You know where he is, don’t you?”

  “Yes, of course. I remember him. You go on and have a little vacation. I’ll take care of this, I promise.”

  George stared at me a few moments. Then, without another thought, he spontaneously hugged me. “You’re like a daughter to me, Miss Katie. I’d appreciate anythin’ you can do.”

  “You can count on it.” I skipped up the remaining steps to the gallery and just before I entered the corridor, I turned and saw George, standing in the foyer and taking one last look around. It clutched my heart and I pushed through tears to get ready for dinner. George was right. He’d always been in my life. I should have cancelled dinner with Michael and solved whatever was going on with George that very moment. I came out of the bathroom and quickly slid into my clothes. I grabbed my brush and ran down the steps looking to see if George had gone. There was no sign of him.

  It was seven o’clock, but I just couldn’t leave yet. I found Daddy on the patio. “Daddy? Where has George gone and why?”

  He was sitting in his favorite chair, a bottle clutched in his hand. “Never mind, little girl.”

  “But Daddy, I do mind. George is part of the family. Why did you make him leave?”

  “Katie! I told you it’s not your business!”

  I was taken aback. I’d never heard him use that tone with me. Moving to his side, I reached down and touched his arm, but he jerked it away and turned so he was no longer facing me. Something was wrong. Very, very wrong. “Daddy?” In the background, I could hear the doorbell ringing and no one was answering it. Of course not. George was gone. “Daddy, I have to get that. When I get back, you and I need to have a talk.”

  I kissed him quickly on the cheek before he could pull away, and hurried to the front door, jerking it open. Michael stood there, dressed in immaculate black slacks, a white shirt and a gray sport coat. My words caught in my throat when I saw him slowly look at me from top to bottom. If any other man had done that I would have slapped him across the cheek and slammed the door. Not with Michael. He made me want to unbutton, unzip and peel off my clothes right there and then. Being near him was to feel an aura of mixed lust, power and a total disregard for the conventionalities. I wanted more of that; to bathe in it.

  I emerged from my daze long enough to stand back and invite him in. “Mama, Daddy, Michael is here. We’re going out to dinner in Louisville,” I called in that direction of the house.

  Mama moved like a ghost toward us from the short hallway to the kitchens. “Mr. Quinn, you are welcome in our home,” she repeated perhaps for the thousandth time when greeting a guest. One thing about Mama; she never dropped her mask of southern hospitality. Even when it was someone she wanted nothing to do with.

  “Thank you, Bella.” Michael nodded toward her; an insole
nt gesture mocking her adherence to good manners when he knew perfectly well she didn’t want him there.

  I had to overlook all that. Michael wasn’t there for Mama; he was there for me. He looked to me and asked, “Are you ready?”

  I nodded. I felt flustered that Daddy was being rude and staying out of sight. I suspected he’d been drinking again and probably wasn’t even aware that Michael had arrived. “Well, I won’t be too late, Mama. Tell Daddy I’ve left. Ask George to leave the door unlocked—oh—I just forgot. George isn’t here any longer.” I looked to Michael to explain. “George just up and left this afternoon, after being with the family since before I was born. So strange. He said Daddy just told him he was done. Oh, well, you don’t need to be bothered with all our personal drama. Let me grab my bag. I left it upstairs. Be right back!”

  I was so excited it took concentration not to take the stairs two at a time. I spotted my bag lying on the bed and grabbed it before heading back to the gallery. I could hear Mama talking and slowed so I could hear what she was saying. I hoped she wasn’t saying something to discourage Michael from seeing me. I knew he wasn’t exactly her first pick.

  “… I can’t prove that you’re behind this, but I do know he had a meeting with you this morning and came home and started drinking; something he never does in the morning. My whole house is in an uproar, Mr. Quinn. As Katie said, our manservant was fired and I’ve not been given an explanation. I have the strangest feeling that you’re somehow behind this, although I wouldn’t know why.”

  Michael cleared his throat. “Bella …”

  “I’d prefer if you called me Mrs. O’Hara.”

  There was a pause and then I heard sarcasm in Michael’s voice. “Very well, Mrs. O’Hara. You’ll have to speak to your husband about his moods and decisions. Those have nothing to do with me. Your husband and I had business to conduct and perhaps it contributed to his mood. It shouldn’t. In fact, we developed what you might call, a partnership, of sorts. One that benefits you, as well, I might add. You should also know that my interest in Katie is sincere and honorable.”

  “Yes, well, I’ve been told not to interfere. That’s a strange thing for a mother to hear when it comes to her only child, and a daughter at that, wouldn’t you agree, Mr. Quinn?”

  “Not having any children, I’ll have to take your word for it, Mrs. O’Hara.”

  It was at that point that I knew I’d better make an appearance. I knew that sound in Mama’s voice. It came right before she had a total meltdown and started hurling verbal bombs at anyone in sight. I coughed lightly and we all knew it was confirmation that I’d been listening and was now entering the room.

  “Mama, please tell Daddy goodnight for me?”

  Mama nodded, but said nothing. Michael opened the door, held out his hand and took mine, escorting me through the doorway out onto the front porch. I saw him nod toward Mama, but it wasn’t a friendly nod. It was more like an acknowledgment of a truce.

  I put it out of my mind and was looking forward to riding in the vintage Mercedes Benz. I felt like a movie star as he handed me inside and then went around to his and lowered his long torso onto the seat. He handled the car expertly and soon we were flying down Shelbyville Road toward Louisville.

  “How was your day?” Michael began with the convenalities.

  “Something tells me you already know. Why was Mama so hostile toward you. Did you and Daddy have a falling out?”

  He paused a few moment. “No, nothing like that. In fact, you might say we’re business partners now. Your father was kind enough to let me invest in some of his holdings and to show me the ropes. I hope you won’t mind seeing me around a bit more?”

  I relaxed and realized that yes, Mama could be very hostile if she felt her territory was being invaded. She believed she had Daddy under her thumb and if he’d found a business partner, it would cause her to feel threatened. That made it all clear. “Of course not! You’re the first shaft of sunlight this old dreary place has seen in a long time.”

  He nodded, pleased. I didn’t want that conversation dropped.

  “Do you know anything about George being let go? The timing is fairly coincidental.”

  “Indeed. I mentioned to your father that I observed George shaking and suggested that maybe he was being asked to do more than he was capable of keeping up with. Your father agreed, but didn’t have the heart to just let him go. So, I’m taking it upon myself to find George another position; one that’s far less demanding but won’t hurt his pride.”

  “Where?”

  “I have an interest in Collier Clothing, the department store. I’ve offered George a position with the store. He’ll be compensated well enough to finally be able to have a place of his own.”

  I nodded. “Well, when you put it like that, I believe I should thank you, Michael. It just came as such a shock, is all. Maybe George didn’t know all the accommodating you were making on his behalf and that’s why he hadn’t told me.”

  “He will be just fine. Now then, do you like the Galt House?”

  “Oh, one of my favorites. I love to watch the boats and barges go by. I try to imagine where they’ve been and where they’re going. I’m even a little jealous. I’d like to leave here and see the world, but then I think I told you that already.”

  He smiled and turned to wink at me. “You may have mentioned that a time or two,” he answered in a patient voice. “The question is, are you ready for what you might find?”

  “What do you mean?”

  “You wouldn’t be as protected as you are now. Do you understand?”

  “Yes, I realize that. It’s why Mama made me go to St. Elizabeth’s.”

  He laughed, loudly.

  “What’s so funny?”

  “Oh, darlin’, a Catholic girls’ school is hardly the big, bad world.”

  “Sister June says the world does not exist anywhere but how we see it in our hearts. So, I intend to keep a positive attitude, do the best I can to get where I want to be, and to be kind to people along the way.” I felt some satisfaction that I could define it that easily. Just maybe Sister June knew what she was talking about.

  “How many countries do you suppose Sister June has visited?”

  “Well, how am I to know? I know she went to Cincinnati once to visit the Cardinal. She didn’t talk much about her personal life.”

  “Darlin’, that’s because she didn’t have much of a personal life. She probably grew up going to a Catholic school, went to church at least twice a week, ate fish on Friday and then went straight into the order. That couldn’t have left much time to become a patron of the world and all its oddities.”

  “No, you’re right about that, I suppose.” I thought he probably had a pretty good understanding of Sister June because everything he said fit. “So, what’s your advice? You’re travelled, at least from Ireland to here, right?”

  “Even that isn’t really traveling. I got on a boat in Ireland and got off it in New York; then came straightaway here.”

  “Would you like to travel?” Maybe I was being too forward.

  “Everything I need, is here,” he said and looked at me with significance. I know it made me blush. I didn’t say anything more.

  The Galthouse sat on the Ohio River and it was decorated in the style of old money with large-print floral wallpapers, patterned carpets, small rooms and a variety of meeting rooms for social gatherings. It was a favorite for those who gathered to watch the steamboat race during Derby week. The food was good, but certainly not gourmet. It was all about traditional ambiance.

  We were seated next to the window away from others. I knew Michael had made sure of that. He ordered for both of us and I soon found myself staring at a martini.

  “Anything wrong?” Michael’s eyes were glinting.

  “I’ve never had one of these before.”

  “The world is more than mint juleps. You’d better get ready.”

  “Do you think Daddy would let me go off on my own and
see it?”

  “Alone? Never. You’re too innocent. They’d eat you like wolves.”

  I pouted, thinking about the Hollywood I wanted so badly to see.

  “Go ahead. Try your drink,” he urged, sitting back to see my reaction.

  I sipped it. It wasn’t too bad, but then it wasn’t a milkshake, either. I’d keep it at arm’s length so he wouldn’t be insulted.

  “See there?”

  “What do you mean?”

  “You’re not much of a drinker. In Europe, young children drink watered down wine and beers with their dinners.”

  “Maybe if I’d grown up like that, this wouldn’t seem strange.”

  “Perhaps.”

  The waiter was pushing a cart toward us and our conversation went into a lull as he presented napkins for our laps and then set dome-covered plates before us. With the flair of a magician, he whisked off the lids to reveal filet mignon, new potatoes, buttered asparagus and thinly-sliced mushrooms. “Enjoy,” the waiter pronounced and then disappeared.

  Michael waited for me to cut into my steak. It was medium, and perfect.

  “Is your steak to your liking?”

  “It’s perfect. How did you know I like mine medium?”

  “Because I do. We share more than you know.”

  Laying down my knife, I switched my fork to my right hand. “Like what?”

  “I’ll leave that to you to uncover,” he said, and I wondered again why he was such an enigma.

  “Have you ever killed anyone?” I blurted.

  Michael nearly spit his food out, grabbing his napkin to hold over his mouth. “Have I … what? Killed someone?”

  “That’s what I asked.”

  “Not as I can recall. Have you?”

  “Of course not. So, I suppose you’re right. We do have that in common.”

  “Enjoy your steak while it’s hot,” he urged and I obliged him, watching out the window as the Belle of Louisville left her dock and headed upstream.