by Holly Jacobs
“Pap, where are you going?” Mal asked. His grandfather had always done things his own way. When he set his mind on something, there wasn’t much that could change it.
“I’ve rented a cottage on Lake Erie. It’s off-season, so the rates were fantastic.” He pulled the suitcase out of the room and down the hall.
Mal followed. “You’re going to stay on the lake in November? We get snow early and often, but this time of year, Erie gets it even worse.” The cold Canadian winds picked up moisture from the open lake and dumped it on the city that sat closer to the lake.
“I don’t need a weatherman’s explanation of lake-effect snow, boyo. Like I said, it’s off-season and I got a killer rate. I’ve always wanted to spend a winter on the shore. I want to watch the ice dunes form. I want to go ice fishing on the bay. I’ve worked hard all my life and I deserve to do that.”
Malcolm knew his grandfather too well to buy that he was in a hurry to get to some lake cottage in November, and if his grandfather had ever dreamed of ice fishing, this was the first Mal was hearing about it. “There’s more to it than that, Pap.”
“Maybe, but I’m not willing to talk about it yet, so that’s all you’re getting out of me. With my going to Erie, you get the house to yourself while you and Kennedy work things out—”
“She told me she doesn’t need anything from me for the baby.” He could hear the frustration in his voice.
Frustration? That wasn’t nearly a strong enough description of how he felt. He felt . . . he felt too many emotions to sort them all out.
“I was talking about you and Kennedy working things out about the Center. As for the baby, I’m staying out of it.”
His grandfather had never stayed out of anything. This new hands-off policy was suspect in and of itself.
“Pap . . .” Mal let the sentence fade because he didn’t know what else he could say that hadn’t already been said.
His grandfather pulled on his coat. “That’s it. I’m off. I’ll talk to you next week. If you’re still in town, I’ll come back for Thanksgiving dinner. Well, I will if you cook.”
His grandfather had always cooked the holiday meals. Even when his mom was alive, his grandfather had cooked. “Seriously?”
He’d always been able to count on his mother and grandfather. Now his mother was gone and his grandfather . . . was going.
And he was going to be a father.
His roiling emotions gave a mighty twist.
His grandfather didn’t seem to notice his inner turmoil. Pap continued, “Your grandmother’s cookbook is in the kitchen on the shelf. Help yourself . . . if you stay. If you head back to Pittsburgh, please turn the thermostat down to fifty-five before you go, and set the timer on the front light. Oh, and let Kennedy know. She’ll keep an eye on the house and pick up my mail and stuff.”
“Pap, I don’t know what to do.” Those words were hard for Mal to say, but they were the truth. He’d always been a man who knew what he wanted. Even as a boy, he knew what he wanted. And he’d been willing to work for it. He’d worked hard and accomplished all his goals.
Losing his mother hadn’t been anything he could plan for or prepare for. She’d always been his touchstone, but an aneurism took her so fast, he didn’t even get to say good-bye. One day she’d been going about her life like normal, the next she’d been gone.
He tried to tell himself that it would have been easier if he’d had time to say good-bye, but he wasn’t sure that was true. What he was sure of was the fact his world had tilted off its axis. Kennedy had seemed to understand better than anyone, and for one night he’d taken comfort in her arms.
But now this.
He hadn’t planned on a baby . . . ever. Nor did he plan to marry. He knew there were happy marriages, but he’d seen more than his share of the other kind. He wasn’t someone who liked the odds.
But odds or not, he and Kennedy had created a child.
“I don’t know what to say to Kennedy to make her see reason,” he told his grandfather, hoping Pap would know and give him a clue.
His grandfather and mother loved Kennedy. They’d mentioned her from time to time over the years, talking about her as if she were one of the family.
His grandfather put down his suitcase for a moment, turned around, and put his hands on Mal’s shoulders. “Listen, boyo, I’ve done everything I can to show you how a real man behaves. You’re smart. You’ve got the tools. You’ll figure it out.”
“I’ve already done that. I asked Kennedy to marry me.” He paused and said, “She said no.”
His grandfather started laughing. “I’m sure she did. Even though I said I was staying out of it, I have one suggestion before I leave. Spend some time with Kennedy. Learn what you can about her. You’re an attorney, for goodness’ sake. You’d never go into court without knowing your opponent and having a plan.”
“Kennedy is not my opponent. I know that much, Pap. Dad never realized Mom wasn’t his. I know Mom tried to hide all the times he dragged her into court over me.” Mal remembered feeling so guilty, even though as an adult he knew it wasn’t his fault. “I don’t want that kind of relationship with Kennedy. I won’t put my child through it.”
His grandfather grinned and patted his shoulder. “See, you’re learning already. I have every faith that you’ll figure the rest out, too. I’ll have my phone. Call if you need me. I’m only half an hour away.”
With that, his grandfather picked up his suitcase and left. He simply walked out the door.
Mal stood in the foyer, not sure what to do next.
He heard, rather than saw, his grandfather’s car pull out of the driveway, and still he stood there in the quiet house.
The too-quiet house.
When he was growing up, the house had always seemed full, even though there were just the three of them—his mom, Pap, and him. He took a step toward the living room but wasn’t ready to face the emptiness and the silence. So he went outside and locked the door behind him.
He looked across the lawn and saw the small bungalow next door.
Kennedy’s house.
She’d moved in with her aunt when she was sixteen. He remembered her as a quiet girl. Sort of a loner. They didn’t really hang out in the same crowd. Now they were tied together for the rest of their lives.
When Mal thought of home, he’d thought of his grandfather’s Cape Cod cottage, of this street, and there had always been an immediate sense of warmth. Peace, even.
He felt neither in the house or on the street at this moment.
He wanted to get in his car and head back to Pittsburgh. He knew who he was there. He knew what was expected of him.
But Pap and his mother had raised him better than that. Since he wasn’t ready to face his empty home, he turned and walked down the block.
Amos Greer was opening his mailbox. “Hi, Amos,” he called.
“Mal, how’s Cupid Falls’ own Perry Mason doing? Still haven’t lost a case?”
“Not yet, Amos.” Most of his job dealt with contracts and deals, not arguing in front of a judge. He’d tried explaining that before, but no one in town really cared.
“How are you?”
The electrician smiled. “I’m well grounded, Mal.” He paused and added, “That was some electrician humor.”
Mal managed a smile. “Good one.” He waved and continued toward Main Street, not really sure of where he was heading. He walked by Kennedy’s flower shop and the Center. But he didn’t go in.
Instead, he left the building and walked kitty-corner to the next block down on the north side of the street. He stood outside The Cupboard on the wide, creaky wooden porch. Three sets of rocking chairs were placed with wooden barrels between them. There were two checkers games and a chess set. He wondered if Tavi left them out all winter or simply hadn’t put them away yet.
Mal looke
d through the plate glass window that had “The Cupboard Restaurant” painted in the center. He could see Tavi and Jenny Murray navigating the tables. He didn’t need to look to know that Gus was in the kitchen, probably cursing up a storm in Greek.
Tavi and Gus’s parents were first generation in the US. The siblings had bought McQueen’s Cupboard from Terry McQueen. It had been a general store back in the day. Terry had tried to turn it into a gift shop, but they didn’t get enough tourists through Cupid Falls to make the business viable, although Pap said that Kennedy, as mayor, was working to change that.
Gus and Tavi had converted the general store into a restaurant. They’d left a lot of the original shelves and cupboards in place and filled with tons of local goods that were for sale. Goodwin’s Honey. Maple syrup from the Hastings’ place. Some quilts and other handcrafted items—not enough to compete with the craft shop down the street, but enough to give the restaurant a unique flavor.
Mal went inside. There was a table at the front with one lone occupant. In Pittsburgh, no one would think of asking to join anyone dining alone, but here in Cupid Falls custom would dictate that one lone diner ask another lone diner to sit together. But Mal didn’t know this guy, though he looked familiar, and frankly he wasn’t in the mood to talk to anyone. All he wanted to do was slink to a back table and brood, but to get back to the booth that he wanted, he had to run the gauntlet.
Table after table called out greeting. There was a certain anonymity in Pittsburgh, but here, everyone knew him—at least they had known him when he was a kid. They seemed to delight in asking him if he’d had any big cases.
“Hey, Mal, did Pap tell you about our football team this year? They almost rivaled your senior year . . .”
“Mal, I was at the high school last week, and our science trophy is still in that big case in the front hall . . .”
He nodded, shook hands, and said his hellos, then finally made it to the back corner table. It was as out of the way as he could get. Jenny came over with her order pad and a smile. “Hi, Mal. I didn’t know you were in town. Are you here for a while? Your grandfather must be so happy.”
“Hi, Jenny” was his only response to her question, because frankly, he didn’t have a clue how long he’d be here. He’d planned to head back to Pittsburgh tomorrow, but that was a pipe dream now.
“Gideon’s up front at a table by himself, if you want company. I’m not sure if you remember him. He was Amish and didn’t go to high school with us. He’s not now, of course. Amish, that is. And Jon said he got a GED. He’s a nice guy and did some work for your mom.”
“No, I don’t think I remember him. I’ll just stay here, if that’s okay.”
“That’s fine,” Jenny assured him. “What can I get you?”
“Coffee” was all he said.
Jenny’s expression said she’d noticed his shortness, but she didn’t say anything more than “Sure thing. I’ll be right back with it.”
She delivered the coffee and took his not-so-subtle hint and left him alone, other than circling back with refills from time to time without any more questions meant to engage him.
Mal sat back and tried to understand what had just happened. He’d left Pittsburgh this morning, driven two hours to get to Cupid Falls in order to take care of the Center. He’d planned to put it up for sale or find a manager. Whichever option his grandfather wanted.
Instead, he’d found out he was going to be a father.
He’d offered to marry the mother of his child and she’d looked almost insulted. She’d told him, in no uncertain terms, no.
What was he going to do about Kennedy Anderson . . . and his child?
At that moment, Kennedy came into the restaurant with a little girl who was carrying a brown paper bag as if it were precious. They sat at a big, empty table in the center of the room. Kennedy helped the girl unbundle her coat and hat before she took off her own parka.
He couldn’t help but notice how huge she was. Huge with his child.
She wasn’t due until sometime next month. A few weeks, she’d said. He didn’t know how she’d manage to last another few hours, much less weeks.
He watched as Kennedy listened to something the kid was saying with complete attention. She leaned closer, as if whatever the girl was saying were of the utmost importance, then Kennedy nodded.
The kid jumped up from the table and found Jenny Murray and handed her the bag.
How could he have missed the resemblance? That had to be Jenny’s kid. She had a bunch, if he recalled correctly. His grandfather and mom were always going on about the town’s people as if they wanted to keep him connected. He’d long since learned to tune most of it out.
He had frequently worked on paperwork while they went on and on about who did what, when, and how.
Mal felt a stab of pain. His mother wouldn’t be calling him anymore with updates.
He missed her. He could kick himself for all those moments he’d squandered.
“You’re looking deep in thought,” someone said.
Mal looked up and found Tom Lewis standing next to the table.
“Sorry, I didn’t see you come over. How are you?” he asked, rising and shaking Tom’s hand. Tom owned a bookstore on Main Street. Tom’s Books and Stuff. The stuff part of the name was anything that struck Tom’s fancy. Toys, puzzles, music. It was one of the newer businesses in town. Mal remembered his mom saying something about the mayor wanting more Cupid Falls residents doing their shopping on Main Street.
Tom had worked at an Erie factory but had been laid off. He said it was the best thing that had ever happened to him. He’d left Erie, moved to Cupid Falls, and had opened his own store. Tom said he wasn’t sure he’d ever have been brave enough to leave a secure job, but because he was forced to do something new, he’d found something better. Someplace better. It was actually nice talking to someone who didn’t want to talk about high school or his job in Pittsburgh.
“I’m here to have our monthly lunch with the mayor,” Tom said. He might not have grown up in Cupid Falls, but he’d become a fixture of the town. “We’re discussing the big Christmas fund-raiser.”
Well, that explained why Kennedy was here. “Who’s the kid?”
“That’s Jenny’s youngest. Their sitter is sick, and Kennedy’s helping out. Rumor has it Cupid Falls has a new deputy mayor for the day.”
“Oh.” He’d been right. The little girl was Jenny’s.
“That’s Kennedy for you. She ran for office on the slogan The buck stops here. Well, it’s not just the buck . . . it’s pretty much everyone and everything in town that stops by her place.”
“Even kids,” Mal said, eyeing Kennedy, who was now holding the girl. How on earth she managed to fit the kid on her lap was a mystery to him.
“Yeah, even kids.” Tom glanced back at Kennedy and the girl and smiled, as if the scene pleased him.
And having Tom pleased about Kennedy bothered Mal, though he wasn’t sure why.
“Speaking of kids—” he started, but Tom’s expression stopped him in his tracks.
“Listen, no one can miss that she’s having a baby and there’s no ring on her finger, but no one here in town would allow anyone to gossip about her, or put her down.” It was a warning, plain and simple.
“I wasn’t planning to gossip. But you’re right, I couldn’t help but notice.”
“She’s not saying anything and no one’s pestering her.” Tom’s tone was flat and final.
Mal nodded. “Got it.”
“Good.” Tom glanced over his shoulder at the table, which was filling up with other local business owners. “I’d better get over before they start without me. Good to see you, Mal.”
Tom walked back over to the table. Mal recognized everyone except that guy—Gideon, Jenny had said—at the front table and another guy who sat at the table with the group. Elmer a
nd Marge, who owned the grocery store. Vivienne from the antique store. Erik from the pharmacy . . .
Though he noticed all of them, he focused on Kennedy.
She handed out papers and talked for a while. He noticed how often her hand slipped down to her stomach. He wondered if the baby was kicking. He didn’t know much about pregnancy. Basically he knew what various television shows had taught him, and that wasn’t a lot.
He’d have to research the condition.
No, not the condition. A baby.
His baby.
He felt overwhelmed again at the thought.
His father was letting him help on the Thompson case. He should be at the office in Pittsburgh right now, helping with that research, preparing briefs.
Instead he was here. Not for the day like he’d planned. He was here until he figured out what to do about Kennedy and the baby. He’d have to call and let the office know. He could do some work from here . . .
He stopped thinking about work as he watched Kennedy. She held up a finger, indicating Tavi should wait a moment, then leaned over and listened to something Jenny’s kid said.
She didn’t seem to mind interrupting her meeting for a kid.
She smiled, nodded, and waved Jenny over. The two of them talked a moment, and Jenny laughed and mussed her daughter’s hair.
Jenny went back to waiting tables, and Kennedy put her arm around the little girl and went back to her meeting. As she talked, the girl squirmed her way onto Kennedy’s lap again—what little there was of it. She draped herself over Kennedy’s stomach and rested her head on Kennedy’s shoulder.
Kennedy stroked her hair as she continued her meeting.
Mal felt the tug of a memory. He couldn’t have been much older than Jenny’s kid. His mom had come to his room in their Pittsburgh home and told him they were moving to Pap’s place in Cupid Falls. He remembered being excited until he realized that his mom was talking about the two of them moving and not his father.
She’d hugged him and stroked his head, and she’d promised him that everything would be okay.