by Loree Lough
“You’re kidding, right?” He sat beside his grandmother. “You two have been doing this every year for what, a hundred years? I knew exactly where to find you.”
“You’ve never tracked us down before. What’s up, little brother?” Maleah said.
“I need some help thinking of something to get Mom for Mother’s Day. Flowers...meh. Candy...meh. She has every kitchen gadget ever invented, and if I buy a gift card she’ll give it to Eliot because,” he drew quote marks in the air, “‘he’s struggling since the separation.’”
“It can’t be easy, paying a mortgage and apartment rent on a cop’s salary,” Maleah said.
“I know, I know, and I’m glad to help him out in a roundabout way. But it’s frustrating...if I find the right gift, something personal that she actually wants...”
“You’ve always been a sweet, thoughtful boy,” Teresa said, elbowing his ribs.
“Yeah, well, I can’t package sweet and thoughtful.”
The waitress reappeared and took Joe’s breakfast order, and once she was gone, he said again, “So what involves Ian?”
Teresa brought him up to date, adding, “She thinks I hate the man. Which couldn’t be further from the truth.”
“Could-a fooled me,” Joe said. “You guys—Mom and Dad, Grampa and Eliot—have never made a secret of your feelings about him.”
“We don’t have anything against him, personally. It’s just...” Teresa frowned. “We think Maleah deserves better.”
“Better than a man who built a successful business, pretty much single-handedly? Who volunteers to help kids? Who has enough money in the bank that he can afford to let his alcoholic dad and old-maid aunt live rent free in his building?” He shook his head. “Remind me not to make any mistakes around you guys.”
“His father is a recovering alcoholic,” Maleah said, “and it isn’t PC to use the term old maid anymore. And how do you know so much about him, anyway?”
“Hey. Whose side are you on?” He took a sip from Maleah’s water glass. “I’m a cop, so I have my ways of finding out...stuff.” Turning to Teresa, he said, “Being a cop is also why I get how the family felt about him years ago. But let’s be honest. He isn’t that guy anymore.”
Teresa frowned again. “We don’t know what he might do, presented with the right...shall we say...opportunity.”
“Nope. Hate to say it, but you’re dead wrong, Grams. Couple pals of mine—parole officers—say recidivism is most likely in the first year after a con is released from prison.” He shook his head. “If it hasn’t happened by now, it isn’t going to. I’d stake my reputation on it.”
“Says you,” Teresa retorted, and elbowed him in the ribs again.
“Have you been working out?” He wrinkled his nose and rubbed his side.
“Just my usual yoga classes.” She winked at Maleah.
“One more question. You want to see Maleah happy, right?”
Their grandmother hadn’t expected that, as evidenced by her wide, blinking eyes. “Of course I do. It’s what I want for all of my grandkids.”
“You think she’s happy, really happy, being an old maid?” Grinning, he looked at Maleah. “Sorry. I don’t know the PC-approved term, or how old a woman has to be to fit it.”
“There isn’t a specific age. And what’s wrong with single?”
Joe sat back while the waitress delivered all three meals.
“We’re way off topic here,” he teased when she left the table. “Let’s go back to the beginning: Mother’s Day gift ideas. Please?”
“Last time I was over there,” Maleah said, “a commercial came on TV. Phantom of the Opera is coming to the Hippodrome in a couple weeks. She told Dad they should get tickets, and when he said, ‘All that money to see a chick flick on a wooden stage? No, thanks,’ she looked so disappointed.”
“So you’re suggesting I get them tickets. Great idea!”
“Not them. I’m suggesting you take her.”
He rubbed his chin. “Yeah, yeah, that’d be different, all right.”
“She’ll remember it for the rest of her life.”
“Yeah, but...Eliot isn’t the only one trying to make ends meet on a cop’s salary, y’know.”
“I’ll loan you the money for dinner. You can pay me back later. And it’ll be our little secret.”
Joe and Maleah looked at Teresa, who said, “It’s a great idea, so mum’s the word.”
“What’s in the bag?” Joe asked, nodding at Maleah’s purse.
She’d planned to give her grandmother the gift during lunch. But it might be more fun, presenting it with Joe there.
“Since this is the thirtieth anniversary of our Mother’s Day shopping spree,” she told her grandmother, “I got a little something to commemorate the occasion.”
She slid the silver-wrapped box across the table.
“Honey,” Teresa said, untying the green satin ribbon, “you shouldn’t have.” But she ripped into the tiny package like a kid on Christmas morning. She lifted the lid, and at first sight of the gift, sat back, shaking her head. “A ‘thirty’ pendant...”
“Oh no. Don’t tell me Gramps got you one for your thirtieth wedding anniversary...”
“No, he didn’t.” She dug through the big purse again and produced a silver-wrapped package.
“This is for you, Maleah.”
Inside, the identical necklace. “I don’t believe it...”
“I know. Talk about a coincidence...right down to the green ribbon...”
“...because green is the color for thirtieth anniversaries,” Maleah finished. “I love it,” she said, and put it on.
“I love mine, too.”
While Joe helped Teresa put her necklace on, Maleah said, “Guess it’s true. Great minds think alike.”
“Hmpf,” Joe said, finishing his coffee. “You know what I tack on any time someone quotes that old saying...”
“...and fools seldom differ,” all three said together.
“Well, much as I hate to leave this party,” he said when the laughter waned, “I’m due at the station. Eliot has an appointment with his lawyer, and I promised to fill in for him.”
“I’d really hoped he and Amber would work things out,” Maleah said. “Divorce is so sad, and so hard on the boys.”
“Can’t work things out when both parties refuse to give an inch. She’s insisting he find a less-dangerous job.”
“He was a cop when she met him,” Teresa pointed out. “She knew what she was getting into.”
“In her defense,” Maleah began, “I’m sure Amber thought she could deal with the worries and fears that go with being a cop’s wife, but you know better than most that it isn’t easy. And you know why.”
“I suppose...” Teresa sighed. “If only Eliot would find something within the department that didn’t require walking the beat.”
“They’ve been up and down that road,” Joe said. “He says sitting behind a desk all day would drive him crazy.”
“He’s already crazy,” Maleah countered, “if he’s willing to break up his family for a reason like that.”
“Hey, don’t shoot the messenger. But in all honesty, I understand his side, too. I can hardly stand being inside long enough to write up reports. Desk work all day, every day? No way.” He emptied his coffee mug. “I’ll never get married.”
“Didn’t you just tell us you met a woman, and she might be ‘the one’?” Before he could answer, Teresa added, “Does your new girlfriend know that?”
“Yup.” Standing, Joe reached for his wallet.
“Breakfast is on me, little brother.”
“Thanks, sis. And I can afford to take Mom to dinner...if I hold off on buying a flat screen for my bedroom.”
He kissed their cheeks a
nd left them.
“What a shame,” Maleah said, “He’d make a great husband, and you’ve seen him with Eliot’s boys. He’d be a great dad, too.”
“He’ll change his mind when the right woman comes along.”
The right woman... The words echoed in her head through the rest of their meal, at the jewelry store while she and Teresa ordered Ann’s ring, as they browsed the mall bookstore, during their impromptu manicure-pedicure visit.
Why hadn’t Ian found the right woman in all these years? Memories of his caring deeds flashed through her mind like someone thumbing through a deck of cards. By contrast, the only thoughtful thing she’d done for him had been the easy-to-order gifts, delivered by a florist soon after his release from the hospital. No wonder he’d come to the conclusion they could never be more than friends.
Teresa suggested a late lunch at The Trolley Stop, an easy drive up Main Street.
“If I order dinner for Frank and me, I won’t have to cook or clean up.”
“I’m still full from breakfast, so I think I’ll have the soup and salad.”
Her grandmother scrutinized Maleah’s face. “You feeling okay, honey?”
Physically, she was fine. Emotionally...
“It’s Ian, isn’t it?”
“I’m a little distracted, that’s all. There’s a lot going on at work.”
“You’re thinking about what Joe said, aren’t you?”
The waitress took their orders...two Trolley Stop #9s for Frank and Teresa’s supper, and two house salads for now.
“I love this old place,” Maleah said. “I’m so glad they didn’t cover these gorgeous stone walls.”
“Yes, yes. I’m not senile yet, so you’re not getting off that easily. Is the reason you’ve been so quiet because you’re upset that we haven’t forgiven him?”
Maleah didn’t want to discuss this. With anyone.
“Can we just enjoy the rest of our day?” she asked.
Teresa opened her mouth to say something, and quickly changed her mind. “Think I’ll ask our waitress about the dessert of the day. I’ll poke a candle in...whatever it is and pretend it’s my birthday.”
“Your birthday isn’t until late June.” The day after Ian’s...
“I know.” She giggled. “It’ll be fun.”
Maleah clucked her tongue. “I never would have guessed you have such a mean streak,” she teased.
“Everyone has a dark streak. If we’re lucky, it’s overshadowed by good things in the people we love.”
Was she talking about herself, or Ian?
* * *
“WHAT TIME SHOULD I have him there?” Gladys asked.
“Between two and two fifteen.”
Maleah had pulled out all the stops and called in every favor to organize the party, and with Gladys’s help, invited people he’d enjoy spending his birthday with.
“You’re sure it’s all right for him to bring Cash into the Institute?”
“Yup, I cleared it with the director.” She’d had to promise to finagle tickets to an Orioles game, and if she had to buy them herself, it would be worth it. “Besides, the whole premise of the party is that Cash is getting a medal for finding Billy.”
She’d put the streamers-decorated gift-and-refreshments table in the back, so Ian wouldn’t see it when he entered the big conference room. By one forty-five, everything was in place: his favorite chocolate cake and ice cream, soft drinks and platters of cheese and crackers. His chef let her know which bistro employees could be spared to attend, and helped her get in touch with Ian’s SAR buddies. She invited volunteers from every Washburne event he’d participated in, and Gladys, Brady, and Terri and Avery rounded out the guest list.
Gladys, true to her word, delivered Ian at two o’clock sharp.
“Wow, buddy, look how many people showed up for you!” He smiled at Maleah. “I wasn’t expecting a turnout like this.”
She bent to hug the dog. “Have you picked out a place to hang your medal?”
Cash nuzzled her neck, and then she led Ian inside.
A chorus of “Happy birthdays!” rang out, punctuated by the off-key notes of tin horns, kazoos and paper blowouts.
He looked from Maleah to Gladys and back again. “What? You guys... I can’t believe you pulled this off without me finding out about it.”
“Speech! Speech!” one of the SAR guys yelled.
Blushing, Ian said, “I, ah, I’m speechless.”
“There’s a first!” Dan said.
“Thanks, everybody. This is...” He met Maleah’s eyes as the right side of his mouth lifted in a silly grin. “This is great.”
“Open your presents!” Avery said.
Terri pulled up a chair and Dan moved the gift table beside it.
“Which one is from you?” he asked the boy. And once Avery delivered it, Ian removed the wrapper. “A monster hunter video game. Now we’ll see who’s the best player, won’t we?”
Pulling Avery into a warm hug, he said, “Thanks, kiddo. I love it.”
The bistro crew chipped in on a fancy mahogany-and-brass nameplate for his desk. His SAR buddies presented a gift certificate to the local tattoo parlor. “We noticed a blank spot on your forearm,” Sam said.
Gladys arranged for a professional photographer to capture the bistro’s exterior, and Brady had bought polo shirts for the staff that bore the bistro’s logo.
An anonymous giver had wrapped a package of fluffy black scrunchies with a card that read, “To keep those dark flowing locks out of your face when you’re on the Harley.” Laughing, he added them to the neckties, soda-can coolies and bandannas. Maleah couldn’t help but notice he’d saved her gift for last.
He took his time unwrapping the wallet-size box, dark eyes widening when he saw what was inside: one-on-one classes taught by one of Baltimore’s most sought-after painters. The guests’ reactions made it clear he hadn’t told many people that, in high school, his sketches and paintings won awards, so she explained. “He’s a talented artist, but the demands of work and volunteering hasn’t left time for his art.”
“I...I don’t know what to say.”
His voice, gruff and quiet, told her that he meant it. “Gladys, will you do the honor of lighting the candles?”
The gang gathered around the table to sing the birthday song as Ian stood behind the cake, waiting to blow out the candles.
“Make a wish, Sylvestry!” Joe bellowed.
Eyes closed, Ian complied. When he opened them, he wordlessly zeroed in on Maleah.
* * *
THE PARTY HAD surprised him, but not nearly as much as Maleah’s gift.
Gladys must have told her about his admiration for the artist’s work. She’d turned a pipe dream into a reality, and Ian would always be grateful.
Now more than ever, he wanted Maleah in his life, and not just as a friend. He’d given it a lot of thought. Talk, as they said, was cheap. He needed a grand gesture, something to prove he really would do anything to make her happy...to make her his.
Ian remembered that, rain or shine, the Turner family had never missed a July Fourth parade.
Their favorite route was in Old Dundalk, where thousands lined the streets to watch clowns and antique cars, Old Glory–draped floats, and high school bands marching by. Afterward, they’d gather at the elder Turners’ for burgers and dogs. If he timed it right, he’d catch them in the right mood. If he didn’t, the neighbors might see a fireworks display that had nothing to do with pyrotechnics.
Frank believed in three square meals a day, holidays included. That meant they’d fire up the grill at noon, and have the food on the table by one.
* * *
IT WAS ONE-FIFTEEN when Ian parked the pickup truck on the street. He’d brought Cash, mostly for mo
ral support.
Mostly...
Side by side, they made their way up the driveway. Just before opening the back gate, he whispered, “Wish me luck, buddy.”
They entered the yard just as Eliot took his first bite of a charred hot dog.
“What’re you doing here?” he mumbled around it.
The only sound in the shady yard was the spit and sputter of cheese dripping from the burgers onto the coals. Even Eliot’s boys sat perfectly still and quiet at the picnic table. “I’d like to talk to you,” Ian said, pocketing his hands. “All of you. Is Maleah inside?”
“None of your business,” her brother barked.
“Let’s hear him out,” Joe said.
Frank walked away from the grill, tongs in hand, and said, “Out with it, son.”
“I know how you feel about me, and I can’t say I blame you. But the Ian Sylvestry you knew is gone. This guy,” he said, hand to his chest, “loves Maleah enough to walk away, if that’s what she wants. But you need to know that I’ll work harder to make her happy than I have to change my life.”
She descended the porch steps, a pitcher of iced tea in one hand, a bucket of ice in the other. After putting them on the picnic table, she crossed the yard and crouched to pet Cash.
“You shaved.”
“Because today, I wanted everything out in the open.”
“Get this fool out of here,” Eliot said.
“Eliot, shh,” Teresa said.
Maleah looked up at him. “Why are there daisies on Cash’s collar?”
“Not just daisies. Daisies with seventeen petals.”
“Because we met on the seventeenth of—”
“I’m hoping they’ll help you make your decision.”
Maleah stood, took a step closer. “You’re out of your mind coming here.” She laughed.
He took her in his arms, oblivious to the shocked expressions of her entire family.
“Out of my mind about you, even though you aren’t very observant.”
Answering her unasked question, he pointed at Cash, who sat obediently at her sneakered feet.
“He has a little something for you. It’s tied to his collar.”