23. Ned #3
What’s she talking about? Did he promise her a room in this fictional house they aren’t getting? But it looks like it’s a surprise to Abbot too, who finally lifts his head to look at her.
“Liesl…” he starts.
“I will,” she insists with a note of frustration Ned’s never heard before.
Great, well, the last thing tonight needs is any more discord. Ned leans across the table to her with a smile. “Liesl, tell me about soccer.”
“Football.”
“Soccer,” Ned repeats, trying to pull a laugh from her. Please, he thinks. “I hear you’re playing this spring.”
“I’m playing football this spring,” she says.
Ned tries not to grin at how much her correction sounds like Abbot standing in front of a lecture hall. “I played soccer, and Baxter knows his way around a ball, if you want some warm-up while you’re here.”
“We call it football,” Charles says.
Ned wants to lay his head down on the table and close his eyes until this meal is over.
When it does end, it’s with Peggy’s spaghetti sauce staining the tablecloth and her drowsy at the late hour. Ned has no idea how Liesl does it, flying over today and staying up for a dinner out, but on the sidewalk she has the energy and memory to pull out her phone.
“Like this,” she says, playing a video of a dog in a bowtie carrying a small woven basket that holds a white pillow with two gold rings. “Or you can put them on his collar. Will he get a new collar for the wedding?”
“Maybe,” Ned says.
“I could help pick it out.”
Ned lets the question slip by him, like the others he sidestepped through the interminable meal. “He’s in my car. Do you want to say hi?”
Liesl’s entire face lights up.
Ned hits the button on his key fob to unlock his car down the street. “You parked nearby?” he asks Abbot.
“Valet,” Charles answers. “Ned, a moment please.”
Oh. Shit. Ned looks at Abbot for help, but Liesl is already halfway down the block with Peggy trailing her. Ned tips his head in their direction and Abbot follows them. One of them can escape for a moment, at least.
Abbot hurries to catch them before they can release Baxter into the city streets. Charles looks after the three of them for a moment, Liesl crouched next to Baxter, who Abbot has on his leash, and Peggy stomping in a pile of slush.
“I want Henry to be happy,” Charles says.
You do? Ned nearly asks. “Me too,” he gets out.
“And I know he is with you,” Charles says. “So thank you.”
Ned blinks. What?
“This was my father’s.” Charles presses a small, heavy box into Ned’s hand.
He’s supposed to open it, he realizes belatedly, and when he does, a watch sits inside.
It’s nice. Ned doesn’t know shit about watches, but it’s clearly a very fancy one and he’s suddenly aware that even standing completely still as he is, he might somehow drop it.
He’s also suddenly sure he’s holding more money in his hand than he ever has before.
He needs a minute. He needs to hand this back, more like. Thank Charles and explain that he can’t possibly take this. It’s a family heirloom, and Ned isn’t part of the family.
Which he can’t do.
With all of his cool detachment, Charles keeps talking. “I’ve been going through my wife’s belongings, as I’m sure you know.”
Ned just nods. Did Charles mention that over dinner? No, Ned’s sure he’d have remembered, and certainly would have remembered Abbot curling in even tighter on himself if it had come up.
“And you’ve seen what I’ve given to Henry,” he goes on.
Ned nods again, because the alternative is the truth: Of course not, because that would involve Abbot talking about her.
“This was hers,” Charles says and holds out another box. “It’s for your daughter.”
Ned hesitates to take it, but Charles is holding it out and Ned can’t leave him with his hand extended and not accept it. Abbot’s mom’s? He has to shut the watch box to open this other one, and again terror spikes through him, sure he’ll suddenly become unbearably clumsy.
It’s another watch, smaller and more delicate. Abbot’s mother wore this. Every day? It’s so nice, it seems it ought to be for special occasions, but with this family, who the hell knows? Ned darts a look down the street. Would Abbot recognize it? Yes, certainly. Liesl would too, he’s sure.
And it’s for Peggy? She sometimes wears a plastic watch with cartoon characters on it. She long ago took it into the bathtub and it hasn’t told time since then, which doesn’t faze her when she decides to put it on.
“Don’t you want this for Liesl?” Ned asks and then stumbles to add, “I mean, thank you, really. This is so kind. I just—”
“We always wanted grandchildren,” Charles says as Ned just stares at him. “She would have very much enjoyed your daughter.”
As much as I don’t, Ned braces for him to say, or some other cutting remark. But it doesn’t come, just Charles’s steady gaze and his words hanging in the crisp air.
Cool, Ned has the absurd urge to say in response. Or maybe That’s so great or something else equally banal.
Charles looks so much like Abbot. Composed and severe and yes, Ned recognizes his own nervous reaction from back in Abbot’s class, and recognizes too the curiosity under it, the desire to push at that harsh facade.
“He never talks about her,” Ned hears himself say.
“No, I don’t imagine he does,” Charles says softly. “It’s been difficult for him. For Liesl too, of course, but different than for Henry.”
“For you too, I’m sure.” Are they talking about this? Yes, apparently, and Ned flounders, unsure where to go. Toward more, if he’s getting a chance, Charles apparently willing to have a conversation about the one topic Abbot can’t stand. “I—I’m sorry I never got to meet her.”
“She would have enjoyed time with you, as well. And seeing Henry with you, most especially.”
Is that kindness in this man’s eyes? Sentiment? Thinking of his wife and this life his son has, and how she’ll never see it?
Because it’s not the derision Ned’s looking for. It’s far gentler. Like when Abbot’s sternness lifted to show the quiet, calm man beneath it.
Charles draws himself up before Ned can press for more, back into the imposing man he is, all height and coldness, whatever vulnerability in that moment wrapped up and tucked away once more.
“Have a good evening,” he says, and then he’s brushing past Ned and exchanging a folded bill with the valet driver for his car keys, and calling for his daughter.
“Thank you,” Ned manages, but he’s been dismissed.