by Juliette Poe
“Sorry we’re late,” Trixie says to the family, her face flushed and not from rushing in the door. It’s been that way all afternoon, and yeah… that’s pride I’m feeling for putting that color there.
“Um… yeah, had a lot of work to do on that case I’m helping Trixie with,” I add as we circle around the large dining room table to the other side that has two empty chairs.
Trixie snorts, and it’s loud enough that everyone hears it. She has no shame, but she never did when it came to our sex life.
After we sit, Catherine says, “Trixie, you need to make some introductions around the table.”
“Oh, okay,” she says a little slowly. I’m sure her brain is still fogged over from our afternoon in bed. “So, let’s see… you already know my parents, Pap, Colt, and Lowe.”
I nod my head at each of them, Pap sitting immediately to my right at one end of the table, and Gerry at the other end. Catherine, Colt, and Lowe sit opposite me. “The only ones you haven’t met are Laken and Larkin,” Trixie says as she motions to her immediate left. I knew she had twin sisters, and they are about as identical as they come. I’m not sure which is which, but I’m sure I’ll figure it out at some point.
I nod my head and smile at each person, getting generally nice smiles back except from Lowe, who still looks to be pissed off over what happened this morning. I don’t think he’s necessarily pissed at me since I helped him out, but just for the overall situation of not keeping people out of his family home and now having to work for the woman who bought it.
“Okay, everyone… dig in while the food is hot,” Catherine says as she reaches forward and grabs a bowl in front of her. Everyone else does the same. Since there’s so much food, there’s a bowl for every single person. I reach for the macaroni and cheese I’d been eyeballing since I sat down.
The bowls and platters go counter-clockwise around the table, everyone chattering away. Trixie leans in every once in a while to describe something.
“Those are halupkis. Cabbage-stuffed rolls.”
“Collard greens. Try them with some of that hot pepper sauce.”
“Cheese and potato pierogi.”
“Mama’s famous fried chicken,” she says as I pull a chicken leg off the platter.
“Yeah, Trixie.” I chuckle. “Figured that one out.”
When I’m done, I have a pile of American southern, Lithuanian, and Polish cuisine on my plate, a mixture most people will never see in their lifetime. Each bite I take is absolutely delicious.
“Ry,” I hear from Trixie’s left, and I have no clue if it’s Laken or Larkin. Both have the same chocolate hair and hazel eyes as Trixie. In fact, every Mancinkus kid takes after Catherine, because while I can tell Gerry also has dark hair, his eyes and skin tone are dark brown like Pap’s. Catherine and the kids all have light hazel eyes, straight noses, and full lips. “You and Trixie dated in law school, right?”
This isn’t a secret, I know, but I do think the details of what happened between us are. This makes my nerves fire up, wondering to what degree I’ll be questioned.
I answer neutrally. “Yes. Almost the entire three years we were there.”
“She talked about you a lot when she’d come visit for the holidays,” one of the twins says… the one who didn’t ask the original question.
That makes me feel good, because sometimes my doubts would get the better of me and I’d question how serious we had really been given I never met her family and we parted ways in the end.
“Oh, yeah?” I ask, too curious for my own good. “What did she say about me?”
“That you were really smart,” she replies.
“And going to be a fantastic lawyer,” the other twin says.
“And that you were dynamite in the sack,” the original asker of the question adds on.
“Laken Mancinkus,” Catherine says as she levels a death glare at her daughter across the table. “That is not appropriate.”
So that’s Laken. She’s the one wearing the purple shirt, I commit to memory.
The twins, along with Trixie, just lower their heads and snicker. I turn my gaze back to my plate, spearing a pierogi, but Pap doesn’t want to let the subject go. “A hot, passionate love affair. Nothing better.”
“And what would you know about that?” Colt asks from Pap’s right, a shit-eating grin on his face.
“I’m old, not dead,” Pap returns as he points an empty fork at his grandson. “And those things don’t die easy.”
“But they do die sometimes,” Gerry says from the opposite end of the table, and my head swivels to meet his gaze. While he’s been about as hospitable as I could expect, it’s clear I still don’t have his vote of approval.
But the real question is—approval about what? I’m here to do a job. Help Trixie with a case. I didn’t come with an agenda to win her back, and well… what happened this afternoon?
That just sort of happened.
Hormones, unresolved feelings, lack of a sex life… the perfect storm brewing.
But Jesus… Trixie said she still missed me. She missed us. And I’d told her the same. It wasn’t just an “in the moment” sort of statement where I ultimately regretted it later. I don’t regret anything for saying that, and I hope she doesn’t either.
I may not have had an agenda when it came to something deeper with Trixie than a legal case, but we certainly veered off into some dangerous waters for sure.
“Tell us about your practice, Ry,” Catherine cuts in before the conversation can spiral. “What do you do in Boston?”
I take a sip of my sweet tea—without peach moonshine this time—and look across and down the table at her. “I’m a partner in the firm Hayes Lockamy.”
“That’s the law firm Trixie also got a job offer at, right?” she asks.
I nod and cannot keep the pride I feel for Trixie’s accomplishments out of my voice. “She was in the top one percent at Harvard. No way they weren’t going to offer her a job.”
“Which means you were top one percent too,” one of the twins says. “Which means you are really smart.”
Before I can answer, the other twin adds on, “Which means Trixie was telling us the truth about that, which means she was also telling the truth about—”
Catherine cuts her off. “And what exactly do you do at Hayes Lockamy?”
For the first time, I notice Trixie stops eating and looks to me. I keep my eyes on Catherine as I answer, “My practice area is split. I do about eighty-percent civil cases. Mostly wrongful death claims, but the other twenty-percent is criminal. I’m also on the managing board for the firm, so I spend a lot of the time on operations, marketing, and such.”
It is something I actually hate doing, and it seems to be taking up more and more of my time lately. Unfortunately, I’m as good at doing that type of work, which keeps the firm functioning, as I am at lawyering, so the responsibilities tend to get piled on my plate.
“You sound very busy,” Gerry says, jumping into the conversation. I wonder if that statement has an ulterior motive.
“I am,” I admit to him. “I work probably sixty-to-eighty hours a week. It’s a grind for sure.”
“That’s Trixie,” Pap adds in proudly. “Don’t let her ripped jeans at the office fool you. That girl works her ass off for the people of this county.”
I turn to look at Trixie and smile. “She had the best work ethic out of anyone in law school. I can’t imagine that’s changed.”
“Well, I do get to go fishing some mornings,” she says mildly with a wave of her hand, brushing off the compliments. While Trixie could be brash and had a confident ego, she was also a humble being. She didn’t like anyone shining down a spotlight on her, and I always suspected that was because of her healthy ego. She knew she was good. Knew her strengths and her weaknesses. She didn’t need any applause or accolades for verification.
“Sounds like y’all are the type of people who get fulfillment from all your hard work,” Catherine says, handing
out joint compliments.
And yes… I do like the satisfaction of a job well done. But I can’t say that I’m overly fulfilled by what I do for a living. Sometimes, it’s just drudgery. At other times, it’s a cat-and-mouse game that sparks my interest for a moment in time. Most days, it’s the same thing over and over again, without any real forward progression.
It’s certainly not the type of fulfillment that should come with working your ass off day in and day out.
Nor the excitement I had today in the courtroom as I participated in local justice being dispensed.
Interesting that I’m thinking this way, as I’m not sure I felt that way before coming to Whynot.
Now I must figure out if those feelings are sound and, if so, what caused the change?
CHAPTER 11
Pap Mancinkus
I’m a western Pennsylvania born and raised man with Lithuanian and Polish roots. My father worked in steel. His brothers worked in steel. It was a family tradition.
I broke that when I joined the Marine Corps fresh out of high school just a year after the Korean War ended. I’ve been stationed all over the world, including time in Japan where I climbed Mt. Fuji. I had embassy duty in Turkey and spent two tours in Vietnam shelling Viet Cong with eight-inch Howitzers. I spent two separate tours in Parris Island, North Carolina as a drill instructor and was stationed on both the East and West Coasts of the United States. I loved all my travels—even with a healthy respect for my time in Vietnam—and I realize I’m a lucky man for having those experiences.
But I always missed Pennsylvania, and I moved back there alone after I retired from the Marine Corps in 1975. I was alone because my wife Marcella had died three years before I’d retired—colon cancer—and Gerry had followed in his old man’s footsteps and joined the Marine Corps the same year his mother died.
So, I went back to the family trade of working in steel. I spent my nights at the VFW drinking with my hometown buds. But the steel industry imploded in the early eighties, and I found myself bartending at the VFW rather than just drinking there. That nominal pay along with my military retirement was enough to keep me comfortable.
Gerry met and married Catherine just a few years after I returned home to Pennsylvania. While they roamed duty stations in the Marine Corps, they popped out my five grandkids over an eight-year period. First was Trixie, our justice-seeking lawyer. Next was Lowe, the hardnosed but equally softhearted carpenter. Double trouble came next with Laken and Larkin. Laken is a veterinarian and Larkin owns Sweet Cakes Bakery, both in Whynot. And last came Colt, the baby of the family, who now helps his parents run Mainer Farms.
I suppose I held out some hope that Gerry and his family would retire to Pittsburgh and ease some of this old man’s loneliness, but, over the years, I had to be happy with occasional holiday visits depending on where Gerry was stationed. All hope of having my Mancinkus brood permanently in Pittsburgh was killed when Gerry retired from the Marine Corps after twenty years of service and moved with Catherine to Whynot to help her parents with the farm. Farming was hard work and her parents had done it all on their own, not having a large brood of kids to help them out. I think it’s why Catherine was so adamant about returning there, and Gerry wasn’t about to tell her no.
I get this.
I really do.
Family pride and bonds isn’t truly just a southern thing, and Gerry had to continue to forge those bonds with this new southern family. I knew this was something that would not waver or change, so just two years after Gerry moved to Whynot, I followed behind. Sold my house in Pittsburgh and bought the little vacated business on the corner of Freemont and Wright Streets, which also had a little apartment above it where I live. While Gerry and Catherine have repeatedly tried to get me to move to the farm with them, I kind of like my independent living. At my age, I want to keep that for as long as I can.
When I moved to Whynot, Trixie was only fifteen. I had no clue that one day her law firm would be situated right next door to Chesty’s, but I should have known in hindsight. That girl and I have always been close.
Much closer than I am with my other four grandkids, who tend to look directly to their mother and father for guidance.
But Trixie was always Pap’s girl, and I expect she always will be.
It’s why I’m intrigued with what’s going through her incredibly smart but sometimes foolish brain. I know her secrets and how crushed she was when she had to choose between Ry and Whynot. I know she’s never moved on, as evidenced by the fact that she never dated anyone around here for very long. It was impossible when her heart still firmly belonged to another.
Did Trixie choose poorly?
I’m not here to judge that. I’ve had just over twenty years to watch the family dynamics of this brood, and I’ve figured out that the bonds of the Mainer-Mancinkus family run as deep as the ocean. It has to do with southern tradition and heritage, the farm playing a big part even if not all the kids are actively involved in it. It is influenced by having a warm, loving mother that put her kids first in all things and was their biggest champion. It also has to do with their father, my son, who may not have come from the same tight-knit and warmly bonded family as the Mainers, but who brought with him his own lessons of loyalty and dedication he learned as a marine.
All of that was the perfect storm to create a family that belonged together, all of them choosing to make Whynot their final resting place both in this life and the next.
I don’t begrudge it. While I will never admit to having any southern leanings outside of a terrible fondness for Catherine’s cooking, I am fortunate that I’ve been invited here to be a part of it.
I’m not lonely anymore.
Trixie and I are closer than ever.
My other grandkids are phenomenal too.
My son and his wife are sources of pride to me.
And I have a bar that has managed to generate a close circle of friends that I get to see and laugh with every day.
My life is pretty damn great. There isn’t anything I want for.
Well, except for Trixie to be truly happy, and I just don’t think that’s going to be the case unless she can figure out a way to keep Ryland Powers in her life.
CHAPTER 12
Trixie
Pap pushes another beer in my hand, and I don’t refuse. This is his second birthday celebration at Chesty’s. This one involves the entire family, and we do love our beer. The bar is packed tonight. Everyone except for Lowe made the trip from Mainer Farm back into town to continue the celebration. I have no clue where he is, but I suspect he’s sitting at home alone nursing his wounded pride and continued anger at the rest of the family that we don’t understand where he’s coming from.
I’m not sure we’ll ever be able to make him see that it just wasn’t financially feasible for us to maintain the home on Wilmington Street. Hopefully, he’ll come to peace with it sooner rather than later. I hate having any discord within the family.
“Your guy seems to be settling in,” Pap says as he occupies his perch at the end of the bar, with me on my adjacent stool. He nods behind me where I turn to see Ry playing a doubles game of pool with Colt, Laken, and Larkin. On the way here, Ry asked me for a good way to tell the twins apart. I told him it was just gut instinct with me since they were so much alike, so my advice was basically useless.
“Interesting choice of words,” I say as I turn back to face Pap. His face is so lined with age that the sparkling life within his eyes is just really weird to take at times. He can be a crusty ol’ fart. On the flip side, though, he’s brimming with vitality.
“Don’t play that shit with me, Trix,” Pap chastises. “I can see the way you two were with each other at dinner. Something happened today to change things.”
Yeah… never going to tell him the details of what exactly changed, despite how drunk I might get tonight. Instead, I merely say, “We’ve been reconnecting.”
“I like him,” Pap says with conviction.
; “You don’t even know him,” I say with a snort.
“I know he dropped everything in Boston to come help you out,” he retorts. “I know he’s still here when he was supposed to fly out tonight. I know he got your brother out of a jam today, and I know that son of a bitch caught Ol’ Mud, which, in my opinion, means more than all that other shit I just said. So yeah… I like him.”
“Well, you can just put your romantic heart to rest,” I chide him with no small measure of internal sadness I strive to keep well hidden. “Ry’s life is back in Boston. He’ll be going back soon enough.”
“You could go with him,” Pap says, and I almost fall off my barstool.
“Are you crazy?” I ask him with wide eyes.
“Nope.”
“You’re crazy,” I affirm.
“Why not, Trixie?” he asks. “You followed your desire and came home after law school. You have a great life here, but you’re also an adventurer. Your family isn’t going to die if you leave. I hear plane travel is all the rage these days. You can come back and visit whenever you want.”
“It’s not just family,” I mutter as I gaze into my beer. “It’s this town, too. It’s my practice. I love it.”
“You could practice law there.”
“No, I couldn’t,” I say soberly as I lift my face to look at him. “This is what I was born to do. To live here in Whynot and help real people.”
“Ry represents real people,” he points out.
I shake my head. “Not the same. He lives in a huge city where if someone needs an attorney, there are thousands to choose from. Ry helps someone, and they go on with their life. Or Ry chooses not to help them because his practice is solid enough he can pick and choose. Here… I’m the only option for people. I have to help them. I want to help them. Each person’s story is personal, and whether I’m paid in cash or a case of moonshine, I have a real impact on the people here. And I’m not saying that to diminish Ry’s service to his clients because he’s amazing and has helped hundreds of people. It’s just here in Whynot… I feel more vital. Like I really have the power to change things for the better. Without that, I don’t think I’d like being a lawyer at all.”