“What’s up?”
I looked away from the umbrella.
“Nothing,” I mumbled. “We’ll talk when you get home.”
His voice dipped when he repeated, “What’s up, baby?”
He heard it in my voice even if I was trying to hide it. He read it. Now he was worried.
I dropped my eyes to the picture on the desk and reached out a hand to touch it with my finger.
“Amy?” Mickey called.
“Mr. Dennison passed this morning,” I whispered, my voice suddenly clogged.
“Fuck, Amy,” Mickey whispered back.
I stared at the picture of Mr. Dennison and me. He was sitting in a recliner in the lounge at Dove House. I was sitting on the arm, leaned in and kissing his cheek. He was looking at the camera, smiling.
It was a selfie.
I was getting good at them.
I’d learned after Mrs. McMurphy, and now I had tons of pictures on my phone of the residents, Dela with the residents, the staff with the residents, the kids, me, even Mickey with the residents.
“Peaceful,” I said.
“That’s good,” he replied gently.
I made the noise as the tears came.
“Shit, baby,” Mickey whispered, then louder and more firm, “Comin’ to you. Got somethin’ to do, then I’ll be there. Home in an hour. I’ll run Jerry’s shit, don’t worry about. You relax. I’ll text the kids. We’ll order pizza. Quiet night at home with the family. Yeah?”
Quiet night at home with the family.
That could cure anything. Even help balm the hurt of losing Mr. Dennison.
I sniffled and agreed, “Yeah, Mickey, sounds good. But I’ll run Jerry’s thing.”
“Okay, Amy. Be home soon.”
He’d be home soon.
That, alone, could cure anything.
“All right, Mickey. See you.”
“Love you, darlin’.”
I smiled as a tear slid out of my eye. “Love you too.”
“Later.”
“’Bye.”
We hung up, I rounded the desk and made short work of running an additional payroll so Jerry could get his money.
Then I put the picture of me and Mr. Dennison in the frame. I took it to the shelf with the umbrella and set it up.
I took a step back and stared at it, allowing more tears to fall.
Then I swiped them away, turned and left the room knowing, as the years passed, that shelf would get filled with frames.
I’d only ever have one umbrella. I’d eventually have masses of frames.
But I’d have thousands of memories.
* * * * *
I was cleaning the house when I saw it.
The weekend before, after Mickey closed on his house, he and his kids had moved in.
Although it was bittersweet, the Donovans saying good-bye to their home, it was not traumatic.
Then again, for months, they’d had two homes and a big family so they were used to me, my kids and our space.
Ash and Cillian had elected to keep the bedroom furniture I had in the guestrooms, Cillian doing this stating an excited, “I feel like a lumberjack in that bed! Totally cool. And I’m so lumberjacking when I’m not going Mach three.”
Lumberjacking, which included axes and chainsaws, as a hobby did not thrill me, but I kept my mouth shut.
Much of Mickey and his kids’ stuff was dotted here there and everywhere with some of his furniture filling in empty spaces. But most of it I’d taken pictures of and now it was in a storage unit awaiting me selling it on Craig’s List.
The move had been such a huge project, I hadn’t thought of it until right then, when I was in Ash’s room, vacuuming.
She’d kept the beachy feel of the room but switched out the bed linens and added her knickknacks and posters, making the room hers.
The candle didn’t fit in it.
And further, the candle was too important to be hidden in her room.
I probably should have asked but I didn’t. I didn’t because I didn’t want her to think she had to be nice and thus say no.
The statement had to be made.
So I turned off the vacuum and grabbed the candle.
I moved my fabulous bowl to the corner of the kitchen counter.
I put the candle in the middle of the dining room table.
It worked perfectly.
I made a mental note to chat with Rhiannon before she came over again so she wouldn’t be blindsided by seeing it and possibly hurt.
I then went back to cleaning.
I was at the desk in the den when the kids got home from school.
“Drop off, Mom!” Auden shouted. “I’m going to Lacey’s.”
I blocked out the second part of what he said because I was even less of a fan of my son dating than Mickey was of his daughter doing it.
“Okay, kiddo!” I shouted back.
“What’s for dinner?” Cill yelled.
“Cheesy chicken!” I yelled back.
“Awesome!” he returned.
“Oh my God!” Pippa screeched. “Did someone erase my Vampire Diaries?”
“It’s right there, Pip, jeez!” Cillian told her loudly.
“Homework, Pip!” I shouted.
“I know, Mom!” she shouted back.
I had my eyes to the computer but turned them to the door when I sensed something there.
Aisling was leaning against the jamb, hair curled, understated makeup making her pretty face even prettier, her curvy body encased in a cute short skirt, tights, cuter low-heeled boots and a pretty sweater.
“Hey, blossom,” I called.
“Love you, Amy,” she replied quietly.
She’d seen the candle.
Sitting at the desk, working, suddenly I was flying.
“Love you too, kiddo,” I returned.
She gave me a small smile and disappeared.
I drew in a deep breath so I could get my feet closer to the ground in order to concentrate on work.
When I accomplished that, I turned back to my computer and went back to work on the invoices.
* * * * *
“I’m gonna vomit,” Robin mumbled.
“You’re not gonna vomit,” I retorted.
“If she doesn’t vomit, I’m gonna vomit,” Alyssa stated.
I looked to Josie, who was standing with the rest of my girls in our klatch.
All my girls together.
Happy.
I saw Josie was looking at me and when I caught her eyes, she said, “It is nauseating.”
I gave my attention back to what was happening across the room, this being my mother and father fawning over Mickey’s mother and father.
We were at Mickey and my rehearsal dinner in the back room of The Eaves. A grand spectacle dripping with flowers and free-flowing champagne with the dress code my mother decreed as strictly cocktail, something that didn’t bother me or anybody but the guys.