CHAPTER 31 SIXTEEN SALTINES
SIXTEEN SALTINES
Phoenix
Caleb and Rina accompanied Phoenix to Uncle George and Aunt Betsy’s brownstone. Mom embraced her boys. Phoenix turned to introduce the woman behind him in the foyer, clothed in a metal-gray interview-ready suit. “Rina is on assignment in New York from Canada.”
The large-framed woman offered a handshake.
Mom took it, and eyed Rina with an appraising expression like a physician discovering a pernicious infection. Aunt Betsy hurried over and hugged her sister’s boys. “You two get better-looking every time I see you!”
Too polite to say so out loud, Phoenix leaned on his cane towards Rina. “Not sure how I should take that. Last time she’d seen me, I’d just been run over by a train.”
“She didn’t say anything about my appearance. Does that mean I look worse than someone who’s been run over by a train?”
Phoenix nearly choked laughing. That’s what he needed, someone to wisecrack over his accident. He caught sight of Caleb’s scowl.
“You okay?” Phoenix asked.
Caleb tried to straighten his face and brightened from scowl into grimace. “Yeah. You?”
“Sure.”
“It’s good to see you happy,” Caleb said.
Phoenix had a mix of feelings. Being in this place reminded him of Dad, and how the last time he’d been there, he’d been solid on his own two feet. The contrast pained him. Yet something about this no-nonsense woman reminded him how to laugh again.
They trailed their hostess and Mom, who were walking arm-in-arm.
Phoenix leaned on his cane to whisper to Rina, “My Uncle George has a heavy hand at the bar. He needs one for his own sanity.”
“I don’t drink,” she whispered back.
This serious woman appeared to need a drink as much as any of them.
“I’m not joking,” she said.
He couldn’t help it and cracked up.
“Are you laughing at me again?”
In the kitchen, George was already plunking hand-cut ice into tumblers and rimming the glasses with lemon wedges. He stopped when he spotted his guests.
He pulled each boy into a hug. He looked appraisingly at Phoenix all the way to the ground. “Well, look at you. As good as new.”
“Hardly,” Phoenix replied. At least Rina chuckled at his dry tone.
Mom turned. “Thanks, George. Phoenix worked so hard at physical therapy and is doing really well. He’s back at work. You’d hardly know what he’s been through.”
Is my family daft? His left sleeve was half-empty. His upright stance was only possible with a crutch.
Their hosts ushered them into the sitting room.
Every surface appeared covered in fine fabric, from the windows framed with damask curtains to the overstuffed camelback sofas strewn with tasseled pillows.
His cousins Stew and Harry stood to greet them.
Caleb joined the guys around a chess table, perching his broad mass on a delicate upholstered chair.
Mom, George and Betsy gathered on loveseats nearest the mantled fireplace, settling drinks onto side tables.
Phoenix rested his cane against the camelback to place a hand on the sofa before easing into the seat.
“Can I get you a drink?” he offered Rina. He realized too late that he probably couldn’t deliver if she assented.
“I still don’t drink, same as five minutes ago. But I can get you one.” She stood and insisted. “Seriously, this one’s on me.”
Mom joined Rina at the oval serving table cluttered with decanters and crystal-cut bottles. As Rina prepared two tumblers of ice-cooled liquid, Phoenix could overhear parts of his mother’s cross-examination.
“How did you meet Phoenix?”
“In a coffee shop.”
“How long ago was that?”
“Sunday.”
“This week?”
After a longer conversation that Phoenix couldn’t hear, Rina returned, handing Phoenix an amber colored liquid.
“Chivas,” she said, pointing to his beverage. “Water,” she explained, lifting hers. She sat and touched her glass to his. “Do all your dates get the third degree?” she asked.
“It must be a new hobby of Mom’s,” he said, noting the frequency with which his mom glanced at them. Then, making the connection, he added, “She’s been hyper-protective since my accident.”
“Yeah, she told me a little about it. Well, Happy Thanksgiving.”
The reference to the occasion again reminded Phoenix of his father. This was the second Thanksgiving without Dad. I wonder what Orchid is doing for the holiday.
She had confessed that holidays without family were hard for her, too. There’d been no calls or contact with her in the two and a half months since they last spoke. He doused the dull ache with a mouthful of Scotch.
“Dinner is served,” Betsy announced.
Seated between Rina and Caleb, Phoenix swigged some wine.
He tried cutting his meat with his fork. “So how long will you be in New York?” he asked Rina.
“Um, I’m on a six-month leadership assignment.” She stared at his plate. “Do you want a hand with that?”
“No, thanks,” he blurted, his automatic reply.
“Don’t they make artificial arms?” Rina asked.
“Yeah, they do.”
“And if you had one, you’d be able to cut your own food?”
“Yeah, I would.”
“So why don’t you have one?”
“What’s left still hurts. And I seem to be able to get by without one. Mostly.”
She nodded at the logic. “So, what do you think I should see while I’m on assignment here?”
“Hmm, what do you like?”
“Watching sports, hockey, live country music.”
“There you go. Check out the Rangers, sports bars and Madison Square Garden.”
“You’re the first person not to tell me to go to the opera and Broadway shows.”
“Those are super, but I didn’t hear fine arts on your list.”
“I might like them. I’ve just never tried them.”
“Would you like to go to a show? I can get tickets. We just need to head there soon or after the holidays. Everything’s booked mid-December through New Year’s.”
She smoothed her silken bob. “I’ll tell you what, you bring me to a fancy show and I’ll take you to a Canadian hockey game.”