Chapter Thirty-One #2
After Arthur parked the truck and they walked over the crushed oystershell gravel to the entrance, Maggie’s instinct was to close the gap between them and lace her fingers with Arthur’s.
But when she thought about Barry or Lane or, worse, Simon, seeing them, she came to her senses.
Even if there was a part of her that wanted to walk into that restaurant on his arm so there was no doubt who he was to her, the rational side of her won over and she kept her hands by her sides, tangled in the gauzy fabric of her sundress.
Inside, Arthur jogged over to the table that Rory and Simon had already commandeered as they waited for the rest of the family to arrive.
Arthur picked up his nephew, swinging him around, and then squatted to talk to him about the baseball game since there hadn’t been time to debrief at the field.
Maggie walked over slowly, unsure where she should sit, until Rory waved her over.
Even though she hadn’t had much of a chance to talk to Rory on her own, since Dahlia had seemed to occupy all of his time at the beach and he’d been on the sidelines during the baseball game, she had learned quickly that everything Arthur had told her about Rory was true.
He somehow made her feel less awkward and more at ease just by inviting her over.
“That was a great game,” she said as she sat down.
“Well, we certainly did finish the season. Nothing like watching twenty five-year-olds try to accomplish something together on the hottest day of the year.”
Maggie watched Arthur with Simon at the other end of the table.
Somehow, their conversation about the baseball game had devolved completely into one about robots that both uncle and nephew were participating in enthusiastically.
Suddenly, Rory stood up, waving toward the front of the restaurant as Barry and Lane walked over, positively beaming when they saw Arthur and Simon hunched together.
“Baseball star!” shouted Barry, doing a goofy little walk over to his grandson as he pretended to swing a bat. “Artie, wasn’t that game incredible? I couldn’t believe it when he hit that ball over the back fence.”
“Pop, we were all at the game. Don’t fib,” Rory admonished.
“Fine, he hit it straight toward the back fence, but it could have gone over. It definitely could have,” he finished, tousling Simon’s hair as the boy beamed up at his grandfather.
As everyone chose seats around the table, Simon plopped down in the chair next to her. Rory leaned over to him and said, “Hey, bud, let Uncle Artie sit there.”
Maggie waved him off. “Oh, no, it’s okay. I want to talk to him about the game.” She turned to Simon. “I saw you score!” He preened and she smiled as she asked, “What was your favorite part of the day?”
Simon considered this, his cute button nose a little red from the sun. “It was definitely the ice cream I got after.”
Maggie laughed. “You know, snacks are my favorite part of any baseball game, too.”
“Uncle Artie said if I’m good at dinner, he’ll get me another bowl.”
“Oh, well then, we’d better sit up straight and put our napkins on our laps. Do you think your uncle Artie will let me have some ice cream, too?”
Simon nodded seriously. “ ’Course he would.” They shook out their napkins, laying them primly on their laps.
When Maggie looked up, she saw Arthur at the other end of the table, watching her with Simon. “Thank you,” he said, and she shrugged, helping Simon set up a tic-tac-toe game on his menu.
Eventually they ordered their food, nostalgic fish fry platters and steaming bowls of soup, and the table settled into easy, overlapping conversation that Maggie had really only ever dreamed of for her own family.
It was such a pleasant night. The restaurant windows were open, letting in a summer breeze, her skin was still warm from her hours in the sun, and the pall and all they still had to do to dissipate it felt miles and miles away.
She was showing Simon how to fold his napkin into a fortune teller when Barry asked, “So, Maggie, you’ve been sharing an office with our Artie?” She nodded and Barry let out a low whistle. “Hope he’s treating you right. Rory knows how tricky he is to get along with in close quarters.”
Rory rolled his eyes, and Arthur let out a grumbled, “Dad.” Then he explained, “Rory and I shared a bedroom one summer when Dad was renovating the bungalow. It was a nightmare.”
“You snore,” Rory shouted.
“You smell!” It was clearly an argument they’d had for many, many years.
Barry laughed, a soft expression in his eyes as he watched his sons bicker. Arthur was saying something like, “I can’t believe we’re talking about this now,” when Barry turned back to Maggie.
“But has he? Treated you right?”
Maggie flushed, though she hoped Barry couldn’t see it in the dim light of the restaurant.
Beside him, Lane watched her with a small smile on her face, and Maggie stumbled over her words as she said, “He’s been wonderful.
I’ll miss him when he goes back to the third floor.
” She hadn’t meant anything by it, not really.
It was the truth, after all. Her office would feel cavernous and quiet without him.
But if she hadn’t meant anything by it, why did she suddenly feel like she was going to cry?
Finally, when they had cleared their plates and Maggie and Simon had finished their celebratory bowls of ice cream, Barry and Arthur fought over the check, but Arthur won by paying while Barry was in the bathroom.
As they walked back to their cars, Lane came up behind Maggie and put her hand on the younger woman’s shoulder.
“I wanted to make sure I got a few words in before you left. These boys sure do love to talk.” It was a half-hearted sort of complaint, one she’d probably been making for all of their lives.
Maggie’s voice was conspiratorial as she said, “Arthur certainly does.”
Lane laughed lightly and then smiled at Maggie, tilting her head and considering her. “There’s been such a lightness to Arthur ever since you came into his life.” Maggie’s stomach twisted. What did she mean? “He’s had a hard time, these past few years.”
“I know,” Maggie said, her throat dry. A hard year that she was going to make harder.
She felt shame curl in her gut. It didn’t matter how clear she had been when they started sleeping together, it was all muddy now.
She may not have known when she kissed him in that tent how much he liked her, but she’d certainly realized it in the weeks since.
It was in every touch, every time he whispered her name with reverence and awe.
Behind Lane, Rory and Arthur were swinging Simon back and forth, back and forth, between them, his little feet catching oyster shells with every swing until he was giggling. Oh gods, this was a mistake. She was going to break him, and the longer this went on, the worse it would be.
If Lane could see the panicked spiral of her thoughts, she didn’t show it. She just gave Maggie’s shoulder another squeeze. “Try not to break his heart too hard,” Lane finally said, walking over to Barry’s outstretched hand and getting into the car with one last glance back at Maggie.