His buddy Tim was having a bunch of the guys in for football and wings. He’d been an Eagles fan from the time he was a pup; he even had one of their old-style bright-green jackets to prove it. He’d played football and run track, racking up good grades and great scores.
In the end, education won. Sensibility grabbed hold and wouldn’t let go, urging him to make his success on the paper-pushing side of higher education. His big self-reward on fall and winter weekends was football. “I’m tied up tomorrow, but I can let you in. Then I’ll swing by later to lock up or just leave you the key and the security code.”
“Perfect.” She stuck out her hand.
He grabbed hold, and for the life of him, he didn’t want to let go. He stood there, looking down, meeting her gaze, hands locked, and if a bus hadn’t rumbled by just then, they might have become frozen in time, one of the many Philadelphia sculptures pigeons and tourists adored.
“Well, good night.” She pulled her hand free as if the electricity of the moment had no effect on her, and that was just as well.
If she didn’t feel it, he must have been imagining things.
That went way beyond imagination. Admit it, she’s . . . intriguing. He shushed the internal voice as the door swung shut behind her. He turned to walk the mile and a quarter back to his place, glad he hadn’t brought the car. Walking might clear his brain. Smack some sense into him.
His cell phone interrupted the moment. He grabbed it up, scanned the number, and accepted the call. “Reed, what’s up in New York?”
“Two openings custom-made for you at One Financial Center,” his law school buddy reported. “And like we expected, they’re looking at the Philadelphia and Boston offices to fill them.”
“My name’s in,” Greg assured him. “I forwarded my updated résumé last week.” He’d applied to the New York office of his law firm when he was fresh out of law school, months before he passed the bar, but he’d been assigned to Philadelphia. In hindsight, it had worked out. He’d had the last seven years near his mother. If he’d been in the New York office, he wouldn’t have seen her nearly as much.
As much? the voice in his head scoffed. You might have seen her more. You might have prioritized hopping a train or grabbing a flight home. Instead, you lived six blocks away and barely saw your mother once a month. An ache the size of the Walt Whitman Bridge yawned open inside him.
His mother had labored so hard, so long, and he’d never appreciated how crazy her life must have been until he spent today watching a much younger woman run around, dealing with people, pomp, and personalities.
All those years, often working seven days a week during the busy season, running the show, booking brides, selling, cleaning, ironing, mending. She’d done it for him, so he could be strong and successful. Never once did she make him feel guilty about it.
He felt guilty now. The thought of what she gave up, what she was willing to do—
Why would God take her at this stage? What point was there in putting a faith-filled woman through her paces, then letting her die before she ever had a chance to enjoy life? Was that how it worked? Because if it was, if there was some Supreme Being calling the shots, Greg was pretty sure he didn’t call the game fairly.
“I’ll be on the lookout for more info from this end,” Reed told him. “I’d love to have you here. There’s nothing like weekend nightlife in the Big Apple. Pretty wild, my friend.”
“Keep me posted, Reed.” Greg hung up the phone. Clubs. Professional sports. Upscale apartments and rooftop gardens. The chronic bustle that was Manhattan. What could be better? What more could he possibly want?
He was almost home now. He passed the Old City Mission and the quaint brick church around the corner. The sign outside gave times for services, and every Sunday morning the bells chimed a welcome, the steeple stretching up between old oaks.
And every weekend he waited them out, rolled over, and went back to sleep.
A strong wind broadsided him from the Delaware River.
His mother was gone. The days were short and dark at both ends. The coastal wind was brutal, and either snow or icy rain had pelted the city since the loneliness of the just-past holiday season. He ached for something new and different. Something vital and vibrant.
New York City was all that and more, but the thought of selling Elena’s Bridal—if he could find a buyer—galled him. Could he do it?
Hey. Life goes on. Change happens. The team knows this. They’ll be okay with whatever you decide.
He grimaced as he shut the brightly painted historic door behind him.
They’d pretend to be okay because they loved him. He’d been surrounded by pseudo-mothers from the time he was a little boy. Kathy, Jean, and Maisy had shared in his joys and sorrows, his successes and failures. And to pull the rug out from under Donna and those twins . . .
Where else would she find a job that understood the importance of raising her babies and earning a living?