“He’s on your hall,” the husband of a man in the class said in a whisper. “Get ready.”
“Shh!” said an African-American woman whose name Jill didn’t know.
The woman flicked off the lights and the entire class sat in silence.
“He’s near the door!” a mother of a man in the class whispered.
“Shh!” another man said.
The doorknob rattled, and Jill held her breath. She counted: 1 . . .2 . . .3 . . .4 . . .5 . . . She was about to quit counting when the door opened. The professor clicked on the lights.
Their project sat on long tables in the center of the room. They’d designed a suburban neighborhood including trees, grass, and even lights. There was a corner grocery store and a diner. There were even working solar panels on every roof and windmills to power the neighborhood. One of Jill’s classmates’ daughter was sitting under the project. A nod from her mother, and she flipped on the lights to the project.
The professor gasped at the sight of their little houses — one designed by each student, and yet fit the theme of the project — lighting up at once. Drawn to the project, he moved toward the center of the room. He went from one house to the next. One of the husbands had made little wooden signs to indicate which house belonged to which student. The buildings, with long walls, had beautiful murals painted mostly by Noelle and Mike with the help of a few of the other children. Not realizing the students were there, the professor got all the way around to the other side before he noticed that there was a child under the project.
He stood up and noticed the class for the first time.
He blinked at them.
“Each of you . . .” he said, pointing to the houses. “Who helped you?”
“The instructions you passed out the first day said that we could get help only from our immediate family and some friends,” their project spokeswoman said. She stood up and walked toward the professor. “Our parents and children and friends have worked all night. You will find a list of their names and signatures on the statue in the center of the park.”
The professor’s eyes went back to the project. He moved around until he found the statue. He read the names before nodding.
“This is . . .” the professor started.
He looked at Jill and nodded to her.
“You planned this,” the professor said.
“A friend of one classmate came up with the plan,” their spokeswoman said. “We executed most of it between the end of class and the time the project was due. A few of us already had already completed their houses. They helped with the additionals — parks, stores, and the like.”
“You did this together,” the professor said.
“We did,” their spokeswoman said. “As unusual as it may be, every student pulled their weight.”
The professor stood up straight and clapped.
“Very well done,” the professor said. “I can tell you that, in all of the years of my teaching this class, no class has ever done anything like this. I’m impressed.”
The little girl scooted out from under the project and ran to her mother. The mother grabbed her daughter and pulled her onto her lap.
“Do we pass?” their spokeswoman said.
“Of course,” the professor said. “I’ll go through each house with notes, but I will tell you that each of you will receive at least a B. First time for me, but there’s a first time for everything.”
The students cheered.
“Now, tell me how you got Bumpy and Dionne Smith and even Miss T to work on your project,” the professor asked. “And the murals. At least one of these is painted by Mike Roper.”
Everyone talked at once. Jill sat back in her seat and smiled. She was exhausted, and this was certainly going to be a very long day. But for the first time in her life, she could really see that she was good at something. No, not good —great.
The professor looked at her and gave her a quick nod. He knew exactly what she’d done. Smiling, she leaned back and let the class talk.
~~~~~~~~
Friday morning — 6:11 a.m.
British Columbia
“Yes,” Sandy said to Seth on the phone. “We’ll be there.”
“I’m so sorry,” Seth said. “I know you need your time and it’s your honeymoon. I just . . .”
“We’ll be there,” Sandy said.
“Jammy and Lizzie are coming,” Seth said. “Julie Ann doesn’t have leave.”
“It’s always nice to see Jammy and Lizzie,” Sandy said. “Should we bring the kids?”
“Um . . .” Seth said. “I know that Bernice wanted to meet them.”
“You mean just Rachel,” Sandy said evenly.
“No,” Seth said. “Bernice and Big Daddy knew that they were all my grandkids. They also knew Mitch. Plus, Charlie and Dale met Big Daddy and Bernice when they were here. Sissy did. Nash too, I think. So she hasn’t met Noelle or Rachel.”
“Okay,” Sandy said. “I just wanted to be clear.”
“You’re good that way,” Seth said.
The conversation lagged. In all of the years Sandy had known Seth, she’d never heard him sound so desperately sad and exhausted.
“Okay, I’ll call Charlie,” Sandy said. “I’m sure he and Nash wouldn’t mind a trip to New York. Noelle will love the . . . in fact, I’d bet everyone who can go from the Castle will want to be there.”
“Dale, Maresol, and Bernie are coming,” Seth said. “Bumpy and Dionne, too.
“I don’t think Tanesha can come,” Sandy said. “She’s just started her time on the medical unit, but I’ll ask her. And you know about Honey?”
“Honey and MJ are in Majorca,” Seth said.
“I don’t think they can make it,” Sandy said.
“Right,” Seth said. “And you’re sure . . .”
Sandy held the phone out to Aden. He took the phone.
“Seth,” Aden said.
“I wanted to let you know how sorry I am that this is disrupting your much-needed time way,” Seth said. “I’ve booked a room for the two of you at the Ty Warner Penthouse as a way of saying ‘thank you.’ The kids can stay with me or Sissy.”
“That’s kind of you, Seth,” Aden said. “But totally unnecessary. Sandy and I both believe in putting family first. You’ve done so much for us. We’re happy to be by your side during this time of loss. It’s an honor, really.”
“I . . . Well,” Seth said and sighed. “I’d like to be a bigger man and say I didn’t need you here, but . . .”
“I don’t think it’s about bigness, sir,” Aden said. “It’s about loss. Certainly both Sandy and I know what it’s like to lose someone you care about.”
Seth sighed.
“Are you getting to meetings?” Aden asked. “Shall I call your sponsor?”
Seth didn’t respond.
“You’re saying Big Daddy is your sponsor?” Aden asked, his voice laced with shock.
“Not really a sponsor, just someone who kept me on the straight and narrow,” Seth said.
“I don’t want to work your program, but . . .” Aden said.
“I’ll go as soon as I get out of here,” Seth said.
“Good thinking,” Aden said.
“Thanks,” Seth said.
“We’ll see you tomorrow,” Aden said.
“Tell Sandy I said . . .” Seth started. He sighed and added, “See you tomorrow.”
Aden hung up Sandy’s cell phone. He held the phone out to her.
“I’m so sorry,” Sandy said.
“Don’t be,” Aden said. “This is important.”
“Thank you for understanding,” Sandy said with a nod.
Aden held out his hand. When she took it, he pulled her into a hug.
“I wish we were going to see the whales again today,” Sandy said.
“It’s been fun,” Aden said. “We just have to do this more often.”
“Now that Rachel’s older, it’s a little easier,” Sandy said.
Aden kissed her.
“While it’s just the two of us,” Aden started and then stopped. He looked at her for a moment and said, “What do you know about this ‘Big Daddy’ person?”
Sandy gave a quick up-and-down nod. She let go of him and walked across the room. Sitting down in a chair by the window, she sighed.
“It’s kind of a long story,” Sandy said.
“We have three hours before we have to leave for the airport,” Aden said.
Sandy nodded. She closed her eyes for a moment and then opened them.
“It all started when Seth went to college at Eastman,” Sandy said.
Chapter Four Hundred and Forty-eight
Ten years old
“You probably remember but Seth was ten years old when he went,” Sandy said.
Aden nodded. He sat down on the end of the bed to be near where she was seated in an armchair by the window. She looked at him and smiled.
“He had this roommate named ‘Glint Fielding,’” Sandy said.
“The hunky one who is much less hunky, now, and our insurance agent,” Aden said with a nod.
Sandy nodded in agreement.
“Glint sowed some serious oats at college,” Sandy said with a nod. Aden grinned. “He spent many nights and most weekends with a variety of female lovers.”
“Seth was on his own,” Aden said.
“Seth was ten years old and a train ride away from New York City,” Sandy said. “He’d grown up in Denver, which was much, much smaller then than it is now. New York City was big, beautiful, and exciting for a boy with money in his pocket and no supervision.”
“Why didn’t he hang out with his mother’s family?” Aden asked.
“He didn’t know about them,” Sandy said. “In fact, it wasn’t until his mother died that he knew anything about her or her family. O’Malley Sr. wouldn’t allow her to speak of her life before him.”
“Probably afraid for her to talk about Bernie,” Aden said.
“Probably,” Sandy said with a nod.
Thinking about what he’d said, she fell silent for a moment.
“We were talking about Big Daddy,” Aden said.
“Right,” Sandy said. “Seth was on his own during the weekends. He decided to explore the city, borough by borough. Well, what he says is that he was exploring music in the city, but he got into a lot of other things.”
“Drugs?” Aden asked.
“He won’t say,” Sandy said. “But Dad thought he started using drugs in New York. He definitely drank and probably used prostitutes, and . . .”
Sandy shrugged.
“It was the sixties,” Sandy said. “He had money, no supervision, and a curiosity about life.”
Aden nodded.
“He met Big Daddy when he went to Harlem looking for Jazz,” Sandy said.
“Wait, what?” Aden asked.
“Seth was going borough to borough . . .” Sandy repeated. “He got to Harlem, and . . .”
“Wasn’t that dangerous?” Aden asked.
“The whole thing was dangerous,” Sandy said. “Really dangerous. No child should have been allowed to roam New York City by himself, regardless of how randy his roommate was!”
Aden scowled in agreement.
“You’re sure this happened,” Aden said.
“I know only what he told Dad,” Sandy said. “I’m sure that it’s not the whole truth.”
“What is the whole truth?” Aden asked.
“Right,” Sandy nodded and then shook her head.
“I’ve asked Seth about it, but he won’t talk about it, at least to me,” Sandy said. “He says he doesn’t remember. We just know what he told Dad. Even Maresol knows only the barest details, and she got those from Mitch, my dad.”
Sandy gave a sad shake of her head.
“I don’t think we’ll ever know,” Sandy said. “This is the story I heard from Dad. Whatever is truer is known only by Seth and Big Daddy’s henchmen. Maybe Claire knows. She told Jill that she met Seth when he was ten.”
“Sorry — I got stuck on ‘henchmen.’” Aden’s scowl deepened. “Henchmen?”
Sandy nodded.
“I don’t like this already,” Aden said.
Sandy snorted and nodded. She opened her mouth to speak, but Aden raised his hand. She looked at him.
“Wasn’t Malcolm X killed in Harlem in 1965?” Aden asked. “Seth was ten in 1965, right?”
“Malcolm X was killed on February 21, 1965,” Sandy said with a nod. “Auburn Ballroom in Washington Heights, just outside of Harlem. And, anyway, Seth didn’t get there until the Fall.”
Aden nodded.
“This is what I know . . .”
~~~~~~~~
A long time ago
New York City, New York
As had become his weekly habit, Seth had hopped a train right after his last class on Friday afternoon. He’d arrived in New York City almost ten hours later. Arriving after two in the morning, he headed to his favorite twenty-four hour diner in Hell’s Kitchen. It was owned and run by the nicest people Seth had met. The wait staff and the owner treated him like family right off the bat. He’d even rented a small room in the diner owner’s apartment upstairs. His best friend was the daughter of one of the servers, a girl named Claire. She was just a few years older than he was and his adventure-loving guide to all things New York City.
This morning, Claire was waiting for him in a quiet booth near the back.
“You’re late,” Claire said.
“The train was slow tonight,” Seth said with a yawn. “End of the World’s Fair, I guess.”
Claire nodded.
“Do you want to go to the Fair?” Claire asked.
“Again?” Seth asked.
Claire grinned at him. Seth hadn’t loved their trip to the World’s Fair. Even at ten years old, Seth was one part child and another part old man.
“Do you need to sleep?” Claire asked with her usual mix of caretaking and intensity.
“Slept on the train,” Seth said, stifling another yawn.
Claire scowled. She didn’t say anything else because her mother had arrived at the end of the booth.
“Coffee?” Claire’s mother had asked.
“Thanks,” Seth said.
“I don’t like it that you drink so much coffee,” Claire’s mother said.
“I know,” Seth said. “But I have to be a man, now.”
Seth repeated the last thing O’Malley had said to him when he’d put Seth on the bus. Claire’s mom ruffled his short hair. Seth liberally doctored his coffee.
“Your mother must miss you,” Claire’s mother repeated what she always said.
“You know what happened the last time we called,” Seth said with a shrug.
In an attempt to reach Seth’s mother, Claire’s mother had called the O’Malley household during the day. For her efforts, she received an earful of “mind your own business” from O’Malley. Claire had secretly told Seth that her mother had cried after the call. Claire’s mother had never mentioned it to Seth.
“How you doing, son?” the diner owner asked as he walked by the table.
Instead of waiting for an answer, the diner owner walked on by. He found a booth near the front and plopped down. The diner owner opened a few books and took out a nub of a pencil. He scribbled something and then pounded his fist on the table.
“He seems mad,” Seth said.
“Mr. Trench died last summer,” Claire said with a nod.
Not knowing what that meant, Seth shook his head and shrugged.
“He was the owner of this building.” Claire leaned forward to whisper. “The building is going up for sale next week. Mom says Mr. Trench’s kids are greedy and want more than the building is worth.”
Still not sure what that meant, Seth shrugged.
“That means the rents will go up. Or, worse, we’ll all be evicted.” Claire nodded. In her “I’m so much older than you” voice, she added something she’d heard the diner owner
say: “You know, regular people get screwed all the time.”
Seth blinked at Claire.
“I can buy it,” Seth said. “Schmidty I-V — you know, my manager — he’s been bugging me about investing. A building is an investment. I’ll call him.”
Unsure how to respond, Claire blinked at Seth and leaned back. She leaned forward again.
“Really?” Claire asked.
“I don’t know,” Seth said. “I have to call.”
“You could do that?” Claire asked.
“I don’t know why not.” Seth shrugged again.
As if she understood, Claire nodded. Claire had never known anyone with money. Then again, she’d never met anyone like Seth. He was her little brother and best friend. She put her hand to her heart with the hope that would never change.
“Let’s not tell anyone,” Seth said. “Just in case it’s impossible.”
Claire nodded vigorously. Her mother stopped by with a stack of pancakes and a refill on Seth’s coffee. Seth waited for Claire’s mother to leave before pushing the plate into the middle of the table. Claire started doctoring the pancakes with butter and syrup.
“Did you get it?” Seth asked.
Her mouth full, Claire nodded. She reached into the pocket of her dress and took out a map. Seth spread it out onto the table. He was looking at a map of the New York City Subway system. Claire had marked the current and past jazz venues.
“Are any of these still open?” Seth asked.
Claire pointed her knife toward 149th Street and St. Nicholas. Her mother started in their direction and Claire pushed the plate back to Seth. He got busy eating his side so her mother wouldn’t know that he got these for Claire. Claire’s family didn’t have a lot of money, which meant that they didn’t have a lot of food. Claire wouldn’t take money from Seth, but she would let him feed her in exchange for her help in discovering New York City. She worked really hard during the weeks so that she had information when he arrived. Of course, she didn’t have to do any of it. Seth was happy just to have a friend.
“Look,” Seth said. He wiggled his front tooth with his tongue. “It’s finally loose.”
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