He leaned closer. “Is there anything I can do?” His voice was gentle.
She shook her head, then straightened her shoulders and raised her chin. “It’s more what I have to do. It’s quite serious, but you’ll just have to take my word for it because I’m not supposed to talk about it.”
“Of course I’ll take your word. You, and probably Georgie, are the only two people in the world that I do trust completely.”
“What about Amara?”
“I trust her about as much as you can trust any teenager—meaning, wholeheartedly but with reservations.”
She studied her glass. The grappa had seemed like such a good idea, but now her stomach was starting to rebel. On the other hand, maybe it wasn’t the grappa that was producing her heartburn. Maybe it was her heart.
Penelope coughed. “It’s not just the filming that I will have to cancel out on. I also won’t be able to see you anymore.”
“But why?” Nick seemed genuinely stunned. “You said you loved me.”
“Yes, I did,” she acknowledged. “But the circumstances are not right. Realistically I can’t see any future between us, especially when I’m not sure about my own future.”
“No future? Then why did Justin say something about you letting them rent your house in the fall? From that, I was thinking, or maybe hoping…”
“That I planned to move in with you? No, as part of my accepting the curator position, I had negotiated a semester off to work on my next book, which naturally involved travel.” She exhaled. “Though, who knows what will become of the book, let alone my position at the library now.”
Nick clenched his hands in tight fists. “I’m sorry if there’s some problem with your work, and I really want to help. But the only way I know how to do that is by not giving up on us. I’m not willing to accept failure.”
“How odd that you would say that. In my father’s estimation, I’m a failure.”
“Your father should have his head examined.”
“Then there’s my brother. Justin loves me.” She stopped and squinted. “Yes, I believe he loves me.” She looked back at Nick. “But we all know that he thinks I’m weird.”
“There’s nothing wrong with weird. Like I’m so normal? Besides, who cares what anyone else thinks. This is between you and me. Penelope, level with me. Be honest. That’s one of your strengths.” He stared her down.
Penelope pursed her lips. Then she polished off the last of her drink. All right, she would be honest, but it didn’t hurt to have a little liquid strength. “To be honest, right now my life has suddenly become extremely complicated.”
“So the timing sucks. If you wait for the perfect moment, you’ll be waiting your whole life.”
She smiled to herself. “That’s just it. I’m not good at waiting. Unlike my namesake, Odysseus’s wife, Penelope, I couldn’t possibly spend years weaving and unweaving, waiting for my wandering husband to return.”
“I would never ask you to,” Nick protested.
“The thing is, it’s not about you. It’s me, and, yes, I know that’s supposed to be the man’s line. But in this case it’s appropriate.”
She took a deep breath and plunged on. “I’m not sure I could trust anyone to be loyal to me. And really more importantly, after what has happened at the library I am not sure I’m trustworthy. I can’t really go into detail, but suffice it to say the library has in its possession a valuable holding that I should have realized was looted by the Nazis. And I should have recognized that was the case immediately.”
Nick was speechless for a moment. “It’s the Grantham Galen, isn’t it? The manuscript your father donated.”
She should have known he would put two and two together immediately. “I really can’t comment on it, now that the lawyers are involved.”
“Lawyers,” he sniggered. “Bottom-feeders. Whatever. I think this is more about your father.”
Penelope disagreed. “It’s more about me, my role as his daughter. Which is why I also feel responsible for what happened between you and Amara.”
“What? You’ve got to be kidding me. That was strictly my mess-up.”
“I’m not so sure. Did you ever think that subconsciously, maybe I wanted to monopolize all your emotional attention? That I was in competition with your daughter for your affections? As an adult, I could have reminded you to follow through with making the phone call. But did I?”
“But it wasn’t your responsibility,” he replied.
“A child’s welfare is everyone’s responsibility. And when something goes wrong, I do believe in collective guilt.”
“That’s bull.”
“Tell that to Jacob Himmelfarb’s ninety-one-year-old son, who for the first time in more than seventy years sees the manuscript that had been part of his father’s collection—before he died at Auschwitz.”
“It’s difficult to say anything in the face of that,” he said softly.
“I know.”
He hesitated and finally looked up. “I guess this means you won’t be coming to the Class Day ceremonies, either?”
“You need to guess?”
CHAPTER THIRTY-NINE
AT THE CLASS DAY CELEBRATIONS on Monday afternoon, Nick slipped on a beer jacket that the president of the graduating year had just given him, making him their honorary member.
Nick adjusted the collar and, looking down at the rows of lions marching across the cotton material, mugged into the microphone. “I can’t tell you what a relief it is to have a legitimate excuse to take off my class’s toreador jacket, not to mention that ridiculous hat.”
The assembled graduating seniors and family members clapped in approval. They filled the folding chairs set up on the green in front of Grantham Hall. The next day, the site would serve as the venue for the Commencement ceremonies.
Up until now, Nick had sat on the dais, smiling and clapping at appropriate times during the humorous speeches by the class officers and the giving of awards to various students for academic and athletic prowess. The award for the highest grade point average in the sciences went to Press Lodge, he noticed.
The kid—why did he always think of him that way when he knew he shouldn’t—got a loud round of applause. One small group in the family-seating section seemed particularly animated. A silver-haired middle-aged man, dressed in his class’s striped Reunions jacket, smiled and clapped with manly vigor while a small girl wriggled around on his lap. A stylish woman with well-toned upper arms brought her hands together with polite vigor, even though her eyes appeared to wander. And a stunner of a redhead stood up. She was hard to miss in an orange minidress. She whistled loudly through her fingers. But he couldn’t help noticing that the celebrated Mimi Lodge was AWOL from the family group.
Her loss, Nick couldn’t help thinking. And he also couldn’t help reflecting, So this is what I denied my parents when I dropped out of college.
As Press left the stage, Nick gave him a nod and said, “Good job, Press.”
Press seemed startled. “Thanks,” he acknowledged. “And give Amara my best.”
Don’t push your luck, Nick wanted to say but didn’t. He was getting soft in his old age.
True to her word, Amara had left for upstate New York. He scanned the crowd repeatedly, but Penelope was also a no-show. Why wasn’t he surprised? Still, the disappointment weighed heavily. As did the feeling that there was nothing he could do to help her. Because despite what Penelope had claimed, he was sure he was the cause of the problems.
Maybe not the whole looted-manuscript thing. He’d wheedled out what details he could from Amara, and it seemed to him that once again Penelope was taking responsibility for things beyond her control. The woman who most people thought didn’t or couldn’t relate to others had a “good daughter, good girl, make the
world a better place” complex that was tearing her apart. Making her unhappy. Making him unhappy.
Okay, that last part sounds selfish. Nick looked up and clapped at yet another moment in someone’s speech, what exactly he wasn’t quite sure, but clearly it was the right thing to do. Besides, he could see the camera focusing on him while Georgie, scooting around the perimeter of the stage and the audience, orchestrated the shoot with a walkie-talkie into Larry’s and Clyde’s earpieces.
But, dammit, Nick reasoned, a stupid grin plastered on his face, I have a right to be happy and make the woman I love happy, too. And that was it, he realized. No matter what, love trumped remorse. It had to. Otherwise he and everybody else might just as well pack it in.
He clapped like a trained monkey as the class president looked toward him with his arm held out. And that’s when Nick heard mention of his now notorious massage episode. Showtime.
Nick rose, waving, and approached the podium. “Thank you all for inviting me to be your Class Day speaker. As many of you probably know, I never graduated from Grantham. Unlike you all, I was unable to wrap my head around a certain hurdle known as the Junior Paper.”
There were moans and laughter.
“Consequently I am delighted to be experiencing my first Class Day here with you.” Nick placed his hands on either side of the podium and paused. He saw Georgie look at him nervously. He also spotted Mimi slipping in through the university gates way in the back. Then he cleared his throat.
“You know, I’m frequently asked to speak at gatherings, so I shouldn’t feel nervous today. But I gotta confess. I am. And it’s not just because I have to clean up my language in front of a family audience.”
More laughter.
“First off, I’m nervous because I’m here at Grantham University. And I’ve come to realize on my first trip back to my alma mater just what a special place it truly is. There’s the obvious—its long, illustrious history, its superb teaching and academic research, its brilliant student body—”
This last mention got a thunderous round of applause and stamping of feet.
Nick waited until it died down. “Not to mention its, shall we say, seminotorious Social Clubs.”
If possible, there was even greater applause.
Nick glanced around. “Don’t worry, parents. I was merely referring to the all-night study sessions that go on within those walls.”
Again more laughter, this time even from the parents.
“But in addition to all those things, I think the thing that makes me so nervous about speaking is what makes this place so important—the people.” He pointed all around. “Yes, all of you out there.”
He could see they all loved being praised.
“So, with that in mind, I want to talk about certain people who made a difference when I was at Grantham.” He went through a litany of amusing anecdotes about his roommates and the antics of his freshman advisees, leaving people shaking their heads and hooting in laughter. “Don’t worry. They all lived to become successful adults, but let me tell you, I can still beat them at Beer Pong—as you will see when this episode of my show is televised.”
Then he paused. “I suppose at some point, however, you also expect some words of wisdom from me—especially after your parents have spent tens of thousands of dollars on your college-tuition payments.”
This time it was the family members who clapped the loudest.
“So let me continue with my theme about the importance of the people you meet here. At the end of the day—long after you can’t remember the date of the Norman Conquest—”
“Ten sixty-six,” someone shouted out from the audience.
“I guess all the tuition wasn’t wasted,” Nick acknowledged. “Well, after you can’t remember the molecular weight of…I don’t know…barium…” He held up his hand. “I know, I know, there’re at least several of you who know it. And believe me, I have it on good authority that probably a couple of your parents also know about it in terms of enemas.”
There were a few semiembarrassed groans.
“But seriously—” Nick brought them back again “—it’s people who make the difference. And I can tell you how I know this for a fact. I came back to Reunions, thinking it’d be easy pickings to make fun of silly traditions and college food. I’d make my usual semiprofound comments about the sociology of universities and why they engender such lifelong loyalties. Well, let me tell you—the joke was on me. I mean, I found silly traditions and bad college food. But I also discovered some truly amazing people. And most of all, due to them, I learned some profound things about myself.”
He nodded in thought, because…well…he really was thinking.
“The thing of it is, everyone talks about how resilient people are. And I’m not saying we’re not. God knows, look at the wars and the famines and the natural disasters we manage to get through. But at the same time, it’s important—very important—to remember that what we hold dear—the love and respect of people we care about—is also very fragile. It’s something we can lose in a heartbeat. I know, because I know what it’s like to lose that love and respect.”
Nick raised his chin and flashed a smile. “So, I suppose this is the moment where I am supposed to leave you with some guidance. And I’ll do that, but first, just to prove that a Grantham education was valuable even to me, let me quote what the Red Queen said to Alice in Alice in Wonderland. You knew I had to quote something, right?”
“Ri-ight,” came the response in unison.
“Anyway, absurdity somehow naturally appeals to me, therefore, let me quote. ‘Always speak the truth—think before you speak—and write it down afterwards.’ Actually, in this day of YouTube and a 24/7 news cycle, perhaps you can omit the last bit.”
There were a few nervous laughs.
Nick paused. He wanted to get this part right, not only for the people here, not only for the show—but mostly for the two people who were not in the audience. “So now, from the profound, let me move to the mundane. Here is my top-ten list of things you should do in life. Granted, the format may be familiar, but I’m betting the actual items are not quite normal…just like me.”
He held up his hand to help count off his points. “One. Occasionally pick up your friends’ bar tabs. Two—this is multipart. Know how to drive stick shift, swim at least one hundred yards and make an omelet. The last one comes in very handy the morning after, if you get my drift. Three. Work hard. Luck is very handy, and God knows, I’ve had my fair share. But you can’t count on it. Sheer determination and grit go a long way in helping to make things happen. Four. Always strive for the truth and demand truth of others.”
He stopped to take a drink of water. “Five.” He held up his hand again. “It’s okay to act foolishly at times as long as you don’t hurt anyone else and assume responsibility afterward. Six. This is kind of a corollary to Five. Try not to hurt anyone you love, and if you do, do everything in your power to make it up. Seven. Be hard on yourself, but not too hard that it prevents you from loving people around you. Eight. Say thank-you and I love you, and never forget how lucky you are to be able to say those precious words. Nine. Write yourself notes so you don’t forget to say thank-you and I love you—and anything else you should do.”
He let the ripple of laughter work its way through the crowd. “And finally, Ten. Never ever give a Class Day speech if you yourself have failed to follow all this so-called good advice, thereby irretrievably losing the ones you love most.”
There was an awkward silence.
“Nah, just fooling.” He gave a large theatrical wink. “Parents, you can take a huge amount of solace in the fact that your children here will be graduating from an institution that instills a sense of purpose, a sense of excellence and a sense of caring.” He held up his arm. “Thank you again for inviting me. And I
promise that not only will I be back again for Reunions in the future, I will be back for another Class Day and Commencement. You see, my daughter is an incoming freshman at Grantham University in the fall. And all you parents out there? You may have finished with your tuition payments, but I still have four years to go.”
With that, he waved goodbye and stepped down.
* * *
PRESS STOOD UP ALONG WITH the rest of his classmates and gave Nicholas Rheinhardt a standing ovation. The guy might be a loser of a father, but he sure could give a speech. And who knew, maybe—if he sincerely believed any of his own words—he might be redeemable.
Though, given his own experiences, Press wasn’t entirely convinced.
He felt something bump his shoulder from behind and ignored it, figuring somebody had knocked into him by accident. Then he felt it again. Only, this time harder, frankly, painful.
“Hey, watch it.” He turned around, annoyed.
And saw Mimi. She’d kept her word after all. “Is that how you greet your only brother?” he asked, trying to act cool.
“Is that how you greet your only older sister?” she responded.
And then she did something that Press never would have expected. She reached up and gave him a great big hug.
If he didn’t know better, Press would think the tears forming in his eyes were due to overwhelming emotion. Still, after they broke the embrace, he needed a second before he could speak. “So you decided to make an appearance after all?”
Mimi nodded. “I told you I’d come.”
“To tell you the truth, I didn’t think you’d make it. I mean, when I saw the rest of the family sitting together and noticed you weren’t there…”
“You’re surprised I’m not sitting with the rest of the family?” She raised her eyebrows.
Press shook his head. “I guess not. Are you coming to the Commencement ceremony tomorrow? You know, Noreen is throwing me a graduation party right afterward.”
“You bet I’ll be at the ceremony. I wouldn’t miss seeing you in a cap and gown. After all, as a journalist, I need direct confirmation that you’re honestly graduating before going out into the cold, cruel world.” Mimi grinned.
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