How about “The Newlywed Game”? He’d have loved being on that show with Brigid as his bride. He sat down on the bed, black depression suddenly overwhelming him.
I want to see her! But I can’t until it stops raining! It had better stop soon or I’ll go crazy, he thought.
Brigid is waiting for me. I just know she is.
Today is Tuesday, and she’ll be leaving on Friday. I have to get to her before then, and this weather is not cooperating!
He pulled the covers over him, curled up in a ball, and started to cry.
45
WEDNESDAY, JULY 2
RAIN RAIN GO AWAY, COME BACK ON SATURDAY!” Chappy wailed at the window of his study. “IF YOU MUST COME BACK AT ALL!”
It was teatime. Duke sat in his chair in front of Chappy’s desk, sipping from his mug and shaking his head. “It’s wet out there,” he said.
“Of course it’s wet out there! It’s been raining nonstop for a day and a half!” Chappy moaned. “How am I going to get my fiddle?”
“I don’t know. They don’t seem to want to leave the house. And there’s no way of keeping track of everybody,” Duke said. “When I called to see if they needed anything, Regan said they were all reading and watching TV and lounging and napping and playing board games.”
Chappy’s eyes bore into Duke’s. “Board games?”
“Yeah. Parcheesi, Monopoly, Chutes and Ladders . . .”
“Where did they come from?”
“You had me buy them last year when your cousins visited and you didn’t want to spend time with them.”
Chappy slapped the desk. “That’s right.” He put his hands up to his head. “I’ve got a headache that’s not going to go away until I get that fiddle.”
Duke looked at him. “Would it make you feel better if we went over and eavesdropped?”
Chappy’s face softened. “Maybe,” he said in a way that meant “Yes, but force me.”
Duke stood up. “Let’s go.”
Within minutes they were in the basement of the guest house. Music resounded from above them.
Duke cocked his ear. “It sounds like they’re practicing.”
“Ohhhhh,” Chappy moaned.
They stood on the steps and listened as guitars played and Brigid sang.
Tears filled Chappy’s eyes. I want to be able to sing like that, he thought. And have my theatre and act and perform.
The music stopped and several people applauded.
“Who’s that?” Chappy whispered to Duke.
“I think Angela and Garrett and Kit are in there,” Duke answered with a sigh.
A female voice asked, “Should we go out to dinner tonight?”
Chappy grabbed Duke’s arm, waiting.
“Nah,” the others chorused.
“Too crowded.”
“Can’t get a parking space.”
“My hair will frizz.”
“We’ll get all wet.”
“Let’s order out and rent a couple of movies.”
“Good idea!” they agreed.
Chappy shook his head woefully as each answer bore into his soul. Duke patted his back. Silently they went back through the tunnel and returned to Chappy’s study.
“I don’t get it, Duke,” Chappy said painfully as he stifled a sob. “Why do things have to be so difficult?”
Duke cleared his throat and began to sing the title song from the Broadway play Annie. “The sun will come out, tomorrow . . .”
Chappy looked at him with an expression of horror that Duke had never seen before. “GET OUT OF HERE!”
“Okay, man, sorry.” Duke got up and hurried out the door. Shutting it behind him, he stood and waited to hear the thud of Chappy’s airborne shoe making contact with the other side of the wood.
Chappy did not disappoint.
He’ll get over it, Duke thought. But I do wish it would stop raining. He looked at his watch: 5:15 P.M. Time to get something to eat, he thought, and study my lines. With a spring in his step, he headed to the kitchen.
46
Arnold Baker sat at his desk listening to the rain pelt his windows. With each noisy raindrop he shuddered. The concert was two days away, and the weather showed no signs of clearing up. If the concert had to be canceled, it would cost the college a fortune. Too many tickets had been sold to hold it inside.
No rain date was possible.
The bands all had other commitments after Friday. Everyone except Darla Wells. He laughed miserably. She could do the concert herself on Saturday and sing her heart out, he thought. Every song she’d ever heard of in her life. She’s probably out in East Hampton doing a rain dance right now, he thought.
Dot poked her head in the door. “I’m going home. Don’t look so depressed. They said good weather is heading our way.”
“Where is it now?” Arnold asked. “In the South Pacific?”
“No.” Dot laughed. “It’s coming from Pluto.”
Arnold shook his head.
“Oh, before I forget,” Dot said. “If you talk to Regan Reilly, tell her that my friend Cindy, the one who made the dolls, left a message on her daughter’s answering machine. They’re sitting out the storm in a boat dock somewhere.” Dot waved. “Good niiiighhht.”
Arnold managed a little wave. “ ‘Night.” I won’t have a good night until this bloody rain stops, he thought. And the field dries and is squishproof.
Is that too much to ask? he wondered. Is it?
Getting up from his desk, he turned out the lights and headed home.
Pulling out of the long driveway of Welth College, Arnold was dismayed to see that the field looked like it would be squishy for days to come.
47
BALLYFORD, IRELAND
Malachy was busy tidying up his cottage. If I’m going abroad, he thought, I’d better leave my place clean. If I die, I don’t want them to think I was a slob.
Singing to himself, he sat and started going through a month-old pile of newspapers next to the fireplace. Brigid’s going to be so excited, he thought. At least I hope she will be!
He had it all planned. He’d fly to Kennedy Airport on Thursday, stay overnight, and then take a bus to the Hamptons on Friday. He’d surprise Brigid at the concert. It was going to be so grand.
The more he had thought about going to see her in concert, the more it made sense. And the more it made him think he should have planned it a long time ago. I’m getting on in years, and how many times do you get a chance like this? he thought. A chance to see someone you love doing so well. He’d been everywhere in Ireland but had never traveled outside the country. It was high time, it was. The ticket was expensive but what was he saving his money for anyway? Not that he had much.
Brigid’s mother and aunt had thought it was a wonderful idea. They couldn’t wait for him to get back in a week and tell them all about it. A week was all the time he wanted to be away. Stay in the Hamptons a few days and then head into New York City and look up some old mates who’d moved there. That would be enough.
A green slip of paper that was hanging out the side of one of the newspapers fluttered to the floor. “What’s this here?” he said to himself. Picking it up, he held it up and examined it. “ ‘Hamptons Car Wash. Good toward one free wash,’” he read. The date stamped on it was June 15. “How did this get here?” he wondered. “I don’t even own a car. The Hamptons is where I’m headed now.”
None of my pals have been up here lately. Malachy leaned back in his chair. He looked down at the pile of newspapers the coupon had been hidden in. They were all from the month of June.
Could this have been dropped by the person who stole the fiddle? Where else would it have come from?
The thought made him nervous. Was that person in the Hamptons right now? Near Brigid?
I’ll bring this with me to New York and show it to that Regan Reilly, Malachy thought. See what she thinks. She’s already done a good job of taking care of our Brigid.
He put the piece of paper in his wallet.
Just two more days, he thought, and I’ll finally be with Brigid.
I can’t wait.
48
Regan stood at the door of Brigid’s room. They both had come upstairs to go to bed. Kit and Angela had just run to their house after staying for dinner and a movie.
“Back to the radio station in the morning,” Regan said. “Are you up for it?”
“I should be,” Brigid replied. “I’ve had two days of rest.”
“They’ll announce the winner of that initial contest. What do you think the initials CT stand for?”
Brigid paused for a moment. “How about Chappy Tinka?” she blurted, cracking up.
Regan burst out laughing. “I never thought of that,” she said, shaking her head. “You should win the prize, Brigid!”
“Tickets to my own concert! If it ever stops raining!”
“It will,” Regan assured her. “Good night, Brigid.”
“Good night, Regan.”
Regan walked across the hall, smiling to herself, and closed her door.
Later, as she lay awake in the dark, listening to the rain and waiting for that magic moment when she’d fall asleep, she didn’t think it seemed so funny. It was just another weird element about this place that made her uncomfortable.
Regan pulled the covers around her. Only two more days. I’ll miss Brigid, but I’ll be glad when she’s safely away from here.
I’m probably crazy, but I can’t get the initials CT out of my mind. Chappy Tinka! That’s some coincidence.
Regan rolled over and finally fell asleep. She dreamt of doors that had no handles.
49
THURSDAY, JULY 3
When Regan woke, she could tell it was still raining. But the sound of raindrops hitting the leaves of the trees was somehow softer, more muted, as if slowing down.
She got out of bed, pulled up the shade, and looked out. Is that a break in the clouds? she wondered. We can only hope, she thought, as she started to get ready.
Down at the radio station, things were in full swing. Brad and Chuck was jazzed. It had been a good week. Ever since Brigid had been on the show Monday, people had been tuning in and calling the station. The excitement in her life following the show hadn’t hurt the momentum, either. People were starting to take notice of their station!
Brigid was sitting in the studio with the two of them now, her headphones on, during a set of commercials. Louisa and Regan were in the control room with the engineer.
“I was going through Brigid’s Web site last night,” Louisa whispered.
“Was there anything unusual?” Regan asked.
“No. But she’s getting so many letters now!”
“Let me know if anything strange shows up on it.”
“Okay.” Louisa pulled some papers out of a folder. “I thought Brigid might like to see the pictures I printed out. They were new on the Web last night.”
Regan glanced at them. There were shots of Brigid signing autographs and playing the fiddle. A group shot of the band had Pammy in it with her arm wrapped around Kieran. How did Pammy manage to get in a band shot? Regan wondered. She certainly insinuates herself into the middle of things. I can’t imagine that Brigid will be too thrilled about this. “I’ll give these to Brigid later, Louisa. Thanks.” Regan dropped them in her bag.
“We’re back!” Chuck declared. “And have we got great news for you people who are inside like we are and not near a window. The rain has stopped! The sun is out! That is the official word!”
“You said it, partner,” Brad exulted. “The land is drying, and that concert is going to happen tomorrow night. The forecast is for smooth sailing and sunny skies. What do you think of that, Brigid?”
“I’m absolutely thrilled! One more day and we’ll be out there playing our music!”
“Which leads us,” Chuck said, “to declaring the winner of our contest. The winner, of course, will receive a free pair of tickets to the concert, a personally autographed copy of the hot—and I do mean hot—new CD, Brigid, and a chance to meet Brigid O’Neill in person.”
“I think,” Brad said, “before we announce the winner we should give a sampling of the entries.”
“Shoot,” Chuck ordered.
“For those of you who are just tuning in,” Brad continued, “we had a contest to see who could come up with the best meaning for the initials CT carved into Brigid’s very famous fiddle.”
Brigid leaned into the microphone. “I can’t wait to hear these.”
“Well, here goes. The responses included the following: County Tipperary; Connecticut, because CT are the initials for that state; Cursed Trinket; Can’t Travel; Colleen’s Tool; Connor’s Thunder; Catherine’s Tiger; Charley’s Toy . . . and the list goes on.”
“Those are good ones,” Brigid said.
“Well, Brigid”—Chuck looked at her with a hint of mischief in his eyes—“the one we picked was simple, but we think it fit the best. . .”
Brigid laughed. “How long are you going to keep me in suspense?”
“Not much longer,” Brad assured her. “He just likes to drag this stuff out.”
Chuck ignored him. “The one that had the most meaning for us and for you, we think, is . . . drum-roll, please . . . COUNTRY TUNES!!!”
“How perfect!” Brigid said. “That is just perfect. I can’t wait to meet whoever thought of that.”
That does work, Regan thought.
Twenty minutes later, after Louisa had hopped in her car, Regan turned to Brigid. “How do you feel? Do you want to get something to eat?”
“Not with that blue sky up there! This is my last full day to sit on the beach and swim. Tomorrow we’ll be rehearsing. Let’s go back and grab something at the house.”
“Sounds good to me,” Regan said. They got in and pulled away, not noticing the nondescript little two-door car that came out behind them.
When they turned right instead of left, its driver groaned and pouted.
They’re not going to the diner again! he thought angrily. I wanted to go in after them and sit where I could watch her. I wanted to try and be with her. I have only one day left, and then she leaves. I’ve got to do something.
Well, at least he’d definitely get to talk to her tomorrow. They were meant to be together. She even said she couldn’t wait to meet him. After all, he had won the contest.
50
Now I can’t decide which is worse, THE RAIN OR THE SUN! Either way our guests are always around. Sitting in the house or plopped on the beach right outside. And we can’t risk going in the house when they’re so close by!” Chappy griped.
Duke nodded. “I wish I’d thought of Country Tunes as the answer. I never win anything.”
“Oh, shut up! Those initials don’t stand for Country Tunes. They stand for Chappy Tinka!”
As usual they were sitting in Chappy’s study. Duke had gone on a special trip this morning to buy Dunkin’ Donuts without being asked. He thought Chappy needed the lift. Together they had listened to Brigid on the radio.
“Maybe they’ll go out tonight,” Duke said.
“Well, we still haven’t figured out who was in there the other night when we thought they were all out,” Chappy growled. “I still wake up with the sweats about that one.”
“Hmmm,” Duke said. “I haven’t had any problem sleeping.”
“You never do! To be quite frank, sometimes that worries me.”
Duke shrugged.
“Bettina woke me up last night, said I was talking in my sleep. She’s concerned about me and wants to spend more time together. ‘After Friday!’ I wanted to say, but I could hardly do that.”
Duke tried to look understanding.
“Now she’s insisting on going to the concert together. She wants to ride over in her car because she’d be embarrassed to be seen in mine with the big dent in it. UGGHHHH.”
“So what does that do to our plans?”
“I will still ask Brigid to come over here and play one last time i
n the house. We’ll walk her to the car. . . . I’m sure that thumbtack Regan will be attached to her side, so it will be my job to distract them and get them in the car. You’ll put the fiddle in the trunk, where the other fiddle will be waiting. You have to quickly open the case and make the switch, then put the good fiddle in the golf bag. . . . Are you listening?”
Duke blinked. “Yes.”
“Did you prepare the golf bag so the fiddle will fit inside it?”
“I cut out the separators. The fiddle will slide right in.”
“Hallelujah! Now what are you supposed to say when you take the golf bag out of the trunk?”
“Oh, I forgot to remove these,” Duke said, sounding as if he was auditioning.
“Work on your delivery,” Chappy ordered. “I’ll take the bag from you and insist on carrying it inside while you drive them off to the concert. I’ll drive over later with Bettina.”
“What if they don’t want to put the fiddle in the trunk?”
“The trick is to not give them a choice. Get it out of Brigid’s hands and put it in the trunk before she has a chance to say no. Can you handle that?”
“Of course, I’m an actor.”
“Me, too, you know,” Chappy said indignantly.
“You’ve never been in a play.”
“You call those plays you were in?” Chappy screeched. “Those ramshackle productions I sat through! I should have gotten a rabies shot before I went into that last rodent-infested basement.”
“It was performance art.”
“Oh, shut up!” Chappy picked up his coffee cup and took a sip. “Getting back to the fiddle, we don’t want to have to resort to that plan of action. I’d rather get my hands on the magic fiddle today. Keep an eye out for what they’re doing over there.” He pointed in the direction of the pool and the guest house.
“Yes, sir!”
“I have to find Bettina. I promised I’d go for a swim with her this morning. She’s probably off reading the business section of the paper again. Checking out the stock prices.” Chappy shook his head. “She really surprises me sometimes. And this time around she seems to be so much more loving and affectionate.”
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