S.V. Redkin – The Great Conductor (страница 10)
According to Veronica, Nancy was “a tough cookie,” which she had proven many times over. When the accident happened, she was the rock that the Hearts, her husband, and Christine could lean on. She took care of the funeral and all the paperwork to make sure Christine was protected from unnecessary meetings with lawyers dealing with the inheritance. She then buried her husband and stayed in the house they had shared all their married life. During that time, Nancy continued to follow up on the investigation into the accident, keeping the detectives on their toes, until Christine graduated from the police academy and took over. Christine always thought that the persistence and discipline she had acquired came from the Brooks’ side of the family.
“How long are you going to be in town, Granny?” Christine asked Nancy when they were sitting in the living room, each holding a cold drink while Veronica and Sam were making preparations in the kitchen. Nancy was admiring her new bracelet.
“It depends, dear,” she said mysteriously, and added, anticipating the question: “On you . . . actually.”
“Me?”
“That’s right, Detective.” Nancy smiled, looked in the direction of the kitchen to make sure they were not being heard, and leaned closer to Christine. “I hear you’re finally going on proper dates.”
“Well, one date is hardly—”
“It’s not about the quantity, dear, it’s about
Christine could not argue with that.
“Anyway,” Nancy continued. “I’m here for the intervention.” And, as if to make sure Christine understood whose intervention her granny was in town for, she added: “Your intervention, which was . . .” She sighed. “Well, it was actually planned
Christine laughed. “OK. Well, I’m glad you’re here either way, but what exactly did I need
Nancy gave her a look as if to say “you know what I’m talking about” and took a slow sip from her glass—a cold Dr Pepper was one of the few sugary indulgences she allowed herself.
“I mean, I do get carried away with beading sometimes, but it doesn’t hurt anyone as far as I know,” Christine said, still smiling.
“Funny,” Nancy said. “If you think about it, though, there is a victim. And it’s—”
“Let me guess. It’s me. Right? The beading stands in the way of my being properly happy, doesn’t it?”
“That bruise on your hand didn’t come from beading, did it?” Nancy asked, and Christine covered her right hand even though it was too late. Her granny smiled. “We want you to be happy and to consider this nice young man as a possibility.”
“A possibility?”
“For a life that doesn’t involve chasing psychos, shooting, and being bullied in the office.”
Christine looked in the direction of the kitchen. “You know about my office incidents, huh?”
Nancy put down her glass and took Christine’s hand. “Veronica is only a phone call away, darling. We talk, and she gives me updates when you forget to call.” She gently patted Christine’s hand, “Have I told you the story of how I met your grandfather?”
“Only half a dozen times,” Christine said, putting down her glass and getting ready to hear the story again.
“Well, it won’t hurt to hear it one more time, will it?” When she saw Christine shaking her head, she continued: “I asked to be transferred to Germany because I’d just finished a nasty relationship with a pretty violent man and desperately wanted to turn over a new leaf. I had lost hope in men and thought that I would never get married, but then I met Bobby, Captain Robert Brooks, and my life has never been the same. He not only restored my faith in . . . the opposite gender but in people in general, you know?”
“I do,” Christine said.
“That happened only because I was willing to take that leap of faith and trust someone else again. It was not easy, and I had a lot of doubts, but everything turned out well.” Nancy paused for a moment and gave a rueful smile. “You know, I have
Christine nodded and pondered for a minute. “For the record, I don’t get bullied in the office. I take care of my problems.”
“I know you do, but . . . are you going to live the rest of your life like that? Taking care of other people’s ‘problems’?”
“You took care of many people’s problems, didn’t you?”
“I won't lie to you; I take pride in what we did when I was in the corps. But . . .” She smiled. “Wouldn’t it be wonderful to share your life with someone? You know, talk to someone when you get home. Go to the movies and, I don’t know, shop together. What do young people do these days? Besides, you’re my only chance to see my great-grandchildren.”
Christine laughed. “Not sure if going to the movies will get you any great-grandchildren soon, but . . .” Christine covered her granny’s hands with her own. “I get what you’re saying. I do. I just . . .”
They had been having different versions of the same conversation for a few years now, but it was mostly over the phone. Her grandparents were always tactful enough not to use the “your parents would want you to do it” card; that could have definitely triggered some serious defense mechanisms that Christine always knew were inside her.
She felt their love, she truly did, but there was an impenetrable obstacle between her and her happiness. It was as if she could never allow herself to enjoy life because she felt responsible for her parents’ lives that had been taken from her. Why? Because, deep down, she blamed herself for having insisted on them being there. If only they had done something else that day . . . That was something she tried very hard not to think about, but she couldn’t help it.
“You’ll never feel ready to be with someone without trying, but . . . you do need to try and put behind you whatever is holding you back. You know what I’m talking about. Oh, look at that!” Nancy exclaimed, pointing at Sam, who came in holding a big steaming dish of pot roast and carried it to the dining table, which had already been set for lunch.
“I hope you girls are hungry because there’s a lot more food where this came from,” he said, smiling.
“Let’s eat, shall we?” Veronica said, coming out of the kitchen with a plate full of steaming corn on the cob—Christine’s favorite.
***
During lunch, Veronica gave everyone an update on the local news: An old couple whose house was two doors down had been sent to a nursing home by their children (“They were actually happy to go because they couldn’t take care of the place anymore”) and the house had gone up for sale (“They might get a good price for it”), there had been some untimely deaths (“An old friend’s neighbor passed away in her sleep. She wasn’t very nice, but . . . it makes you think”), prices were going up (“You can’t believe how much we have to spend on groceries”), and she told Nancy more about Victor, leading to an obvious segue to the upcoming “intervention.”
“Why don’t we eat dessert in the living room?” Sam asked everyone and looked at his wife as if it were some code word.
Christine smiled. “You can start your interrogation here; I don’t mind.”
“What are you talking about?” Veronica asked innocently.
“Come on.” Christine waved her hand as if inviting them to start talking. “Let’s hear what you have to say about my date and what I should do next.”
“What about dessert?” Sam asked.
“We can multitask,” Nancy piped in. She stood up and went to the kitchen to get the éclairs Veronica had bought that morning. “Coffee, everyone?” Her voice came from the kitchen.
“I’ll help her,” Sam said and hurried away.
Veronica shook her head, looking as if she was abandoned by her conspirators, then, glancing at Christine, and smiled. “That was a lovely bracelet you made for Nancy,” she said, stalling for time.
“Do you want me to make you a new bracelet as well?” Christine asked, not wanting to put her grandmother on the spot.
“Well . . . I love the garnet bracelet you gave me for my birthday.” Christine knew that it was her granny’s polite way of telling her she already had more than enough.
“You aren’t wearing it now,” Christine said in a mockingly accusatory tone.
“Oh, I was just . . . do you want me to?” Veronica was getting ready to stand up and get the bracelet.
“No, it’s fine, Granny.” Christine put her hand on Veronica’s shoulder. “I’ll make you another one, though,” she said and kissed her on the cheek. It would make the fifteenth bracelet she would make for her granny, but who was counting?
Veronica smiled back and seemed to relax a little.
“Here’s the dessert,” Nancy said, walking in with a big box of éclairs, followed by Sam with a coffeepot and cups. “Let’s eat and talk.” She placed the box on the table, opened it, and started placing delicious-looking éclairs onto plates.
“We were just talking . . .” Veronica began.