October 25, 2024. Chapter 21 is complete and ready for posting. As usual (sigh), I apologize for the long wait. I hope I still have readers out there and hope you this was worth the wait. Happy reading.
Pick Up: Chapter 21
Wednesday morning dawned clear and cold. Breakfast with the Mayor was not Frank's favorite way to start the day, especially since it meant he wouldn't be able to see Lucy this morning.
He had texted before turning in for the night, asking how her night was going, in the hopes that she might be free and call him back.
Instead, he had received a one work reply.
Crazy.
After telling her he hoped things got batter and a reminder to eat, he had gone upstairs and climbed into bed. He touched the empty space next to him on the mattress and smiled.
Only 4 more nights alone.
He awoke the next morning with a similar thought.
Only 3 more mornings alone.
The thought kept a smile on his face as he took care of his morning routine, having a cup of coffee with his father before heading out to join the mayor. He settled in the back seat and pulled out his phone.
"I'd much rather be breaking fast with you" he texted.
A few minutes later, his phone rang.
"The mayor is probably a better breakfast companion than I would be this morning," she told him, laughing.
"I doubt that."
"I imagine he's much better able to carry on a conversation than I am right now."
"Maybe, but I'd much rather look at you."
"You might think otherwise if you could see me right now," she told him with another laugh.
"Doubtful"
"I'm wearing grungy, old sweats, no makeup, and my hair is still damp from my shower and going absolutely wild."
"If you recall, the first time we met you had just gotten off a long shift. You were still in your scrubs, no makeup, all these little bits of hair coming loose from your braid and curling around your face, and you were blushing something fierce and I absolutely wanted to talk to you. Get to know you."
"How do you always know what I need to hear?" she asked quietly.
"Just saying what I think," he assured her.
"Thank you. That helps.'
"Rough night, I assume?"
"Very. Nothing really big or bad," she told him, "Just a whole lot of the stupid, little things that just add up and lead you to wondering what this world is coming to."
"Full moon conditions," Frank commented.
"Exactly."
"Meaning my people were busy, too."
"Probably. Had a few come through last night. Escorting, not as patients," she hurried to clarify.
"That's good."
"The evening started with the skateboarder. He was riding along, holding on to the back of a buddy's motorcycle. The bike hit one of our infamous potholes. It went one way, the rider another, the skateboard and rider two other directions. Fortunately, he was wearing a helmet, but we spent a couple of hours digging pieces of clothing, gravel, glass, dirt, and other debris out of the road rash."
"Ouch."
"Yeah. Then there was the trio of frat boys who decided to test out the lightbulb in the mouth thing."
"What's that?" Frank asked, puzzled.
"The story is that you can put a light bulb in your mouth, but you can't take it out."
"And they had to try?"
"They did. Depending on mouth size and jaw looseness, some people don't have a problem, but, unfortunately for them, it proved to be true for them."
"Oh, Lord."
"Oh, it gets worse. One of them either panicked or thought it would be a good solution to break the bulb."
"In his mouth?"
"In his mouth. So, he's got blood gushing out of his mouth and we're digging glass out of him while his buddies are sitting there with lightbulbs in their mouths. Then, the other two guys who brought them in started wondering if using the defibrillator on them would make the bulbs light up."
"I'm sure I did plenty of stupid things growing up, but the things they pull these days just seem so much more so."
"You just discussed the stupid stuff with your buddies. Nowadays, social media lets us share with a much wider audience."
"True. That does sound like a wild night."
"Oh, that was only up until midnight. Then, we had the slumber party girls. They were apparently recreating 80's hairstyles, meaning lots and lots of hairspray, and they discovered that lighting up a joint while someone is spraying a can of something that is highly flammable on your hair is a really bad idea."
"Ouch again."
"Yeah. Mostly first and second degree burns." She sighed. "It says right on the can not to use near open flame."
"You're assuming they read the can."
"Then, there was one of our usuals. She's a regular target for alien abduction and she comes in after they return her to tell us all about it and so we can check to make sure they didn't leave any probes or microchips or anything behind."
Frank laughed. "Well, did they?"
"Nope. Gave her a clean bill of health and sent her off to tell her story to the rest of her fellow abductees in their support group. The night ended with a competitive eater in training projectile vomiting all over me, thus the need for the shower."
"Sounds like a fun night."
"Gotta love the night shifts in the city that never sleeps."
He heard her yawn.
"Sounds like you need to, though."
"Yeah, I think I do. I'm almost home and my plan is to go straight to bed."
"When did you last eat?"
"Picked up something in the cafeteria before I left the hospital," she told him.
"That's good."
They continued chatting for a few more minutes until she arrived home, let herself in, and got ready for bed.
"Only 4 more nights of falling asleep alone," he reminded her.
"I know. I'm looking forward to not sleeping alone any more," she admitted.
After wishing her a good day's rest and telling her to call if she needed anything, he told her he'd see her later and ended the call.
He settled back in the seat, finding himself already looking forward to seeing her again at dinner.
When the car finally came to a stop, Nuciforo got out and opened the door.
"You think he'd notice if I didn't show up?" Frank asked him.
"Pretty sure he would, sir."
"I was afraid of that," he said, sighing as he exited the vehicle.
XXXX
Erin looked up from the file she was reading when Anthony tapped on her door and pushed it slightly open.
"Ya' got a minute?"
"Sure. What do you have for me?"
He held up a file folder.
"Background check on one Dr Lucy Makenna," he told her.
"Anything good?" she asked.
"Pretty much all of it," he told her, dropping into a chair. "Though probably not the 'good' you were hoping for. I think you're barking up the wrong tree looking for dirt on her."
She glared at him.
"Highlights?"
"Lucy Callahan. Daughter of Seamus and Maureen Callahan. He was a cop, she was an artist. Both died a day apart when she was 8 years old."
"Some kind of accident?"
"He died in a car wreck in his patrol car on his way to work. Her death was ruled a homicide, but the case was closed without an investigation."
"Interesting. Why do you think they would do that?"
He looked up from the file. "Not any details I could find, but if I had to guess. I'd lean towards a domestic violence situation. Either murder/suicide or alcohol related accident. You could ask your grandfather if he knows anything. Looks like the guy worked out of his house."
She nodded and made a note. "She did mention that she had met him back when she was a kid. Said he saved her life. Though he's bamboozled by her, too and probably wouldn't tell me anything that would make her look bad."
Anthony looked at her in puzzlement.
"She was 8 years old. What part of the situation do you think could possibly make her look bad?"
"What else?"
"Apparently, no other family, so she went into foster care. Bounced around between different families and St Anne's Catholic Children's Home. Graduated high school early. Dual credit classes and community college took care of most of her undergraduate stuff. Married shortly after she turned 18. Oscar Makenna. Met at the Home, apparently. Marine. Then the NYPD after."
"How much older was he?" Erin asked.
"Couple of years. You find anything from your people at Columbia?" he asked.
Sighing, she shook her head.
"Early admission. Scholarships. Grants. No disciplinary actions, academic or otherwise. No involvement in any extracurriculars. No sorority. No interactions with campus security. Kind of a non-entity there, except for classes."
"You left off Dean's List, Summa cum laude, and the 4.0 grade point average," he chimed in.
She mumbled something under her breath that he probably didn't want to hear.
"Everything's pretty much what you'd expect. Medical school. Residency. All that. Bought a house in a decent neighborhood."
"He was a rookie cop, she was in medical school. How did they afford a house?" Erin asked.
"Actually, there was a bit of an issue there."
She perked up. "Yeah?"
"Seller's kids put up a fuss. Claimed they took advantage of the guy."
"So she had a pattern of manipulation?"
Anthony shook his head. "Nah. Guy was pretty old and not in great shape physically, but he was sharp up here," he told her, pointing at his head.
He glanced at his notes again.
"House was one that went up after World War II for the returning soldiers. He was a Marine. He and the wife raised kids there, the kids grew up, moved off, got busy with their own lives. Wife passed. He was there on his own. He got older, house fell into disrepair. He fell. Ended up in a home."
"Uh huh."
"Kids weren't interested in coming back, so he had a realtor put the place on the market. Guess it needed quite a bit of work and it sat for awhile. Realtor ended up in the hospital, met Lucy, started trying to sell her something, as salesment tend to do. Doc told him the situation, her a student, him leaving the Marines and joining up with the NYPD and it would be a few years before they could manage a house."
"Where are you getting this information?" Erin asked.
"Legal documents," he told her. "One of his kids tried to claim they took advantage of the old man and he wasn't having it. Got his attorney to submit a formal statement to the judge about how it actually went down."
"Which was?"
"Realtor got them to take a look at the place. They liked it, but reminded him it wasn't in their budget right now. He talked to the old man…nice, young couple, just startin' out. Him fresh outta the Marines and both of 'em wanting to get service jobs. Well, the old guy had also been a Marine, then a teacher, and the wife had trained as a nurse. Apparently, he saw enough similarity in their situations that he told the realtor to make it happen for them."
"How did he do that?"
"Low down payment. Kept payments about the same at their rent. Told 'em he'd count work they did on the place as part of the payments."
"How did they get the work done, if money was tight?"
"My guess? You tell the guys in the squad room you'll provide beer and pizza and you end up with plenty of help."
"So, nothing came from the accusations?"
"Nah. Guy told his kid to drop it or he'd drop him from his will."
"How long did they end up taking to pay it off?"
He looked back at the file folder, then cleared his throat.
"She paid it off after he passed. Life insurance payout," he said quietly.
"Oh." Erin paused in her note-taking. "Anything else?"
"Member in good standing with the medical board. Association of Emergency Medicine. Published some articles in some highly respected medical journals. Active in her church. Does some volunteer work through them and the hospital."
"And?"
Anthony paused just a little too long.
"That's it."
"There is something else…"
"No," he told her. "Not really."
"What?"
"Nothin."
"Doesn't sound like nothing."
He shifted uncomfortably in his chair.
"Probably nothin' though."
"Tell me."
"Just a little bit of a gap."
"What do you mean?"
"She seems to have kinda disappeared for a few months," he admitted. "Granted a limited power of attorney to her lawyer…guy named Felix Howell…and a Father Ignacio Clemente so they could access a bank account to pay her bills. Took a leave of absence from the hospital, and basically went invisible for about 8 months."
"Interesting. No idea why? Or where she was?"
"If I knew that, she wouldn't of been invisible."
She started writing again.
"When was this?"
"October of 03," he told her.
"No working? No credit card charges? No passport activity or payments to any travel related places? Airlines? Hotels?"
"Nothin."
"No payments from her attorney to anyone or anyplace to indicate where she might be or what she might be doing?"
"Uh uh. Couple of hefty cashiers checks, but those can't really be tracked," he reminded her.
"Did you talk to either of the men who had the power of attorney? Howell or Clemente, you said?"
He shook his head. "Lawyer passed on about 6 years back. Priest is retired and in one of those home. Got late stage Alzheimer's and doesn't speak any more."
Erin chewed her lip, considering.
"Could have been serving a sentence somewhere."
"Nah. That would have left a criminal record, and I didn't find any indication of anything like that. Not even a juvenile one."
"Of course you wouldn't have found any juvenile record. That would have been sealed."
"Yeah, but I can usually find one if there is one. I may not be able to get into it, but I can see that it exists. All I found for her was a few assorted tickets over the years," he told her, moving to hand her the file.
"Multiple tickets?"
He nodded.
"Parking. Speeding."
"Indicating a lack of respect for the law."
"I'd say that's kind of a reach, Erin. Parking tickets are pretty much a guarantee if you drive in this city," he reminded her.
"And the speeding tickets?"
"Come on. You know how the traffic guys are. You want me to check on how many tickets you've got?"
She glared at him, then went back to studying the file.
"Some of these parking tickets were issued in some shady neighborhoods," she commented. "What would she be doing in areas known for drug trafficking?"
"I looked at those," he told her. "The hospital has some free or low cost clinics in those neighborhoods, too, and she does some work there."
Erin clearly didn't like his explanation and kept looking through the information that he had collected for her.
"Not gonna' find a smoking gun in there," her investigator told her.
Her eyes widened suddenly.
"Eight months. That would be about the right amount of time for having a baby and recovering."
"Thought that took nine."
"The whole pregnancy, yes. But suppose she tried this con before? Tried to trap some guy by getting pregnant. But he was too smart for her and told her to hit the road, so when she couldn't hide it anymore, she went off to quietly have the baby and gave it up for adoption. She did admit to a previous pregnancy."
"There was," Anthony told her, reaching over to indicate a paper in the file. "There's a copy of a certificate of stillbirth for a little girl just a few months before her husband was killed."
"Yeah, but that doesn't mean there wasn't another baby later."
"Why would somebody try something again if it hadn't worked before?" Anthony asked, puzzled.
"I don't know. Maybe there's another reason. I just think there's something really suspicious about this disappearing act she pulled. Can you keep digging into that for me?"
He squirmed uncomfortably.
"I don't know. I'm just not getting the feeling she's hiding stuff."
"You don't think that disappearing for almost a whole year is hiding stuff?"
"I'm sure she had her reasons."
"I'd like to know what they are."
"I just think she has a right to some privacy."
"And I just think my father has a right to know what she's hiding."
"Who's to say she didn't tell your dad about it?" he asked.
"Who's to say she told him the truth about it?" she challenged. "She went to a whole lot of trouble to hide something there and I want to know what it is."
"Why not just ask your dad about it? Or ask her?"
"Because I don't know that I trust anything she says."
"Does this stuff match what she's told you so far?" he asked, waving a hand to indicate the folder on her desk.
"Yeah," she admitted.
"So?"
"It's not enough," she told him. "I need to know more about her. I need to protect my family."
"At some point, you're just gonna have to back off and trust his judgement, Erin."
"You're not going to look anymore?"
"Look. I want to help. I got a lot of respect for your dad and you wanting to look out for him...worrying about him being taken for a ride…that's nice. But he's a smart guy and I imagine he checked her out and didn't find nothing and I didn't find nothing and just don't get the impression there's anything to find."
"There's information that's not here, so there's still something to find," she told him.
"I just don't know how findable it's gonna be after all this time," he told her. "But I'll keep looking."
"Thank you," she told him. "I have faith that you'll find what I need."
"No promises," he told her, getting up to head to his own office.
"Just do your best. And thank you for this," she called out to him. "It does bring up some interesting questions."
XXXXXXXXXX
Lucy woke up, a smile on her face.
A full 8 hours of sleep, nice dreams, and no nausea.
After a quick trip to the bathroom and a cracker (just in case), she picked up her phone, smiling to notice a text from her fiance.
*Hope you slept well. Can't wait to see you tonight.*
*I did. Looking forward to seeing you, too*
As she walked into the kitchen to fix something to eat, her phone rang. She answered with a smile.
"Hey."
"Hey, yourself," he replied. "How is my lovely bride to be doing?"
"Doing well," she told him. "Slept well. Nausea free morning. In the kitchen to hunt down some breakfast."
"Good. Glad to hear it."
"How was your breakfast with the Mayor?"
"It was…breakfast with the Mayor. Nothing important. I kept thinking about seeing you at dinner tonight."
"Speaking of dinner," she said.
"You're not canceling on us, are you?" he asked.
"Absolutely not. I was just thinking…"
"About?"
"I've got several boxes of stuff already packed up. Mostly clothes, I was wondering if it would be alright if I take them over to your house, since I'm going over anyway," she asked.
When he didn't answer right away, she continued.
"Or, I can do it another time, if you're not ready."
"No, it's not that. I'm just wondering about how to work that."
She laughed. "I'd load them in my SUV, drive to your house and unload them. I could either put them in the office or in the empty closet in your bedroom. I won't leave anything in your way."
"No, it's not that, either. I'm just concerned about the amount of lifting and carrying that would be for you."
"It's not really that much," she protested. "And none of them are very heavy."
Frank sighed. "I would just feel more comfortable if someone were helping you with that," he told her. "I worry you'll overdo things."
"I just don't want to leave things to the last minute," she told him
"I understand. But I still worry. You push yourself too hard. And, you still have to go to work tonight, too."
He heard her sigh on the line and thought of another tactic.
"Also, if it's just you and Pops at the house, he'll feel the need to help and I'm afraid that might be too much for him as well."
"That's true," she admitted.
"Give me some time and I'll come up with a plan, Lucy. Trust me, I'm eager to make this happen. To have you close."
"Okay," she conceded. "I'll continue with the packing and we'll get the transportation issue figured out later."
Frank noticed Abigail stepping into the room.
"Five minutes," she mouthed.
He nodded in return.
"I have to go," he said into the phone. "I need to wrap up my day on time because I have very special plans with a beautiful woman this evening and I'm very much looking forward to seeing her."
"I'm looking forward to it, too," she told him. "I know we had breakfast together yesterday, but it seems like a long time since I've seen you."
"Likewise," he echoed.
"What time should I be there?" she asked.
"I should be home shortly after 5," he told her, "But check with Pops. I don't think he had plans to go out today and I'm sure he'd love your company any time you wanted to go over."
"I'll give him a call," she said. "I'd better let you go."
"Yeah. I need to be leaving for a meeting pretty soon."
"Okay. Don't want to make you late."
"No, I probably shouldn't be late."
Abigail opened the door again, cocking her eyebrow at him. He held up a finger, indicating he was almost ready and she fought back a grin at his obvious reluctance to end the call.
He caught her look and glared.
Abigail Baker was one of the few people outside of his family who would actually dare to return his glare.
And she did.
Finally ending the call, he stood up and reached for his coat.
"I'm off. Are you happy now?"
She studied him for a moment.
"Are you?"
His smile broke across his face.
"Yeah, I am."
"Me, too," she told him, reaching to help him with his coat before handing him his briefcase.
As Jim led him to the elevator, he pulled out his phone, found the number he wanted, and pressed to connect the call.
"Hello? I was wondering if you might be able and willing to do me a favor?"
XXXXXXXXXX
Lucy had eaten a light lunch, then called Henry. He assured her that he wasn't planning to go out for the day and that she was welcome to show up any time. In fact, he invited her to bring whatever she needed to fix the desert for their dinner and familiarize herself with his kitchen.
That settled, she continued with her packing. With the exception of clothing for the next couple of days and her necessary toiletries, most of her personal items were packed.
In her office, she had emptied the drawers from the old roll top desk. It had been purchased at a flea market many years ago, stripped down, and refinished. She hoped to be able to move it into the office at the Bay Ridge house.
If it wasn't too much trouble to get it moved.
She had also boxed up some of her books and journals that were on the lower shelves and didn't require a stepladder to access. The more she could do herself, the less she would have to ask for help.
A knock at the door startled her. She wasn't expecting anyone.
Checking the peephole, she saw Joe Hill standing on her front porch and quickly opened the door.
"Is everything okay?" she asked, the old fears of being married to a police officer suddenly manifesting again.
"Everything…everyone…is fine," he assured her. "Grandpa called and asked me to help you get some boxes moved."
"Oh. You don't have to do that. I'm sure you're busy."
He shook his head. "Like you, I've got nights this week, so my days are free after I catch a few hours of sleep."
"And I'm sure you have better things to do with your free time."
"No, not really."
When she didn't respond, he continued.
"Look, Lucy. We talked the other day about this. You're used to doing for yourself. Not really having people you can depend on. I get it. I grew up with a single, working mother. Her family helped us out, but I always got the impression that they resented me. Blamed me for derailing her plans. So, I learned to not expect help early on."
She nodded.
"But the Reagans aren't like that. They're…we're…this big, busy, loud, up in your business kind of people who look out for each other and help each other out whenever we can."
"You've got an aunt and an uncle who are of the opinion that looking out for Frances means getting me out of the picture," she told him.
He shrugged. "Maybe. At the moment. But that's not their choice to make. It's Grandpa's choice. And yours. I never met my grandmother. Never saw him with her. But I saw him with you. I've talked with him about you."
"Really?"
"Yeah. And he's happy and excited in a way I haven't seen from him before and I want that to continue. And he's worried about you trying to move this stuff by yourself and over do it, so he asked me to help. He's done so much for me and this lets me do something for him. If you'll let me."
Finally, she smiled and stepped back, opening the door to invite him in.
"Thank you. I appreciate the help."
"Oh. He also said you'd probably let me raid the dessert stash in your freezer," he told her.
"Absolutely," she laughed.
As she led him through the house, he told her that he had borrowed Danny's van, figuring that they could get a good start on getting her belongings moved to the other house.
"Honestly, I think two vanloads should take care of most of my stuff."
"Really?" he asked, looking around. "This looks like a pretty big place."
"It is, but it's just me, so I don't use most of it," she told him, indicating the closed doors off the main hallway. "Just the master suite in this part of the house."
She showed him the boxes she had already packed…most of her clothes…and some of her office/library..what she felt she could do with minimal risk.
After helping her pack up a few more boxes of her books, he quickly loaded both the van and her SUV for the drive to Bay Ridge.
When they arrived at the house, she grabbed her supplies and got out. Before she could start with the unloading, Joe was assuring her he would get everything in the right places and shooing her up the steps to the back porch.
Henry had come out the back door and was watching the two.
"Hey, Doll," he called, gesturing for her to come. When she reached him, he opened his arms and pulled her in for a hug.
"Welcome. I've missed you."
"I've missed you, too," she replied, returning the embrace. "I've discovered that the peace and quiet at my house is a lot lonelier than it was before Francis and the Reagans came into my life."
"We do spice things up, don't we?" he asked with a laugh.
"Maybe a little too much," another voice interjected.
She turned to see Jack stepping out the back door onto the porch. He had his hands in his pockets and was chewing on his lower lip, uncertainty on his face, his mannerisms very much like his grandfather.
"Let me take your bags inside," Henry said, reaching to slide the straps from her shoulder. He smiled at her, gave his great grandson an encouraging nod, then made his way inside.
Jack took a deep breath, then looked her in the eye.
"I apologize for my behavior on Sunday."
"Accepted," she told him. "We know this whole situation was unexpected. I was unexpected."
"It was a shock, but that's no reason for my hostile reaction. It wasn't about who you are." He shuffled his feet and took another deep breath. "It was actually about who you aren't."
She watched him for a moment.
"I'm not your grandmother. Who is supposed to be with your grandfather."
"Right."
"I'm sorry, Jack. I know you miss her."
"I do. I really do. But she's not here. And you are. And you make Grandpa happy and I want that."
"Thank you. I want that, too. I want him to be happy. I want my kids to be a part of that. To have their place with an amazing father. An amazing family. But I have no intention whatsoever of trying to…minimize, I suppose…what she was…what she is and always will be…to this family. I want Francis and all of you to always feel free to talk about her. To remember her."
"That's part of the problem, though," he told her. "I'm starting to have a hard time remembering her."
"I guess you were still pretty young when she passed away."
"I was. I can remember some general stuff, you know…feeling happy and loved…but the specifics about her…they're starting to kind of fade a little."
"That must be frustrating."
He nodded. "I think I have a pretty good memory, in general, but this stuff? It seems like the harder I try to remember, the harder it is."
"I'm sure your family would be happy to talk to you about her. Go through pictures with you. Help you remember."
"Yeah. Nicky came over the other night and talked about her some. It helped."
"That's good."
He looked at her. "What about you? You said your family was all gone. Do you still remember them much?"
She hesitated, trying to decide how much of herself to trust someone else with.
"Sorry. Not really my business," he said.
She shook her head. "It's fine. I never met any family other than my parents and they never mentioned anyone else. After they died, I assume DCFS searched for family who could take me in, but I ended up in foster care, so apparently, they didn't find anyone. As for my parents…I remember too much…"
"Too much?" he asked before understanding dawned. "Oh."
"They were not good people," she explained.
"I'm sorry. Sometimes, it's easy to forget that not everyone had good family."
"It's okay. I'm glad you have that. I'm glad my kids are going to have that."
"And you are, too," he told her.
Joe came up the back steps pulling a two-wheeler loaded with boxes. She crossed over to open the door for him.
"These are all for your office, right?" he asked. At her nod, he started inside. "You want to come take a look? Make sure the paint color is okay?"
"I'm sure it's fine," she told him, following him through the kitchen and down the dark hallway. As he unloaded, she stood in the middle of the room, turning slowly to take in the freshly painted walls.
"Pops suggested doing the baseboards and window sills in white," Joe told her.
"It looks great," she assured him. "I love it. Thank you so much."
"Just keep me supplied with cookies," he said. "Those chocolate peanut butter oatmeal drop cookies are one of my favorites."
Henry joined them. "Okay. There's still some paint fumes in here, so we need to get you out of here and into the kitchen. We can talk about arrangements there while you fix dessert and the boys here get your boxes unloaded."
"What are you fixing?" Joe asked as he and Jack followed them back down the hallway to the kitchen.
"Sour cream pound cake with a lemon glaze," she told them.
"Yum."
"Come give me a hand with her stuff," Joe told his cousin, nodding towards the back door. "The boxes in your dad's van go to the office. Mostly books and papers. The boxes in her vehicle are mostly clothes and personal stuff that needs to go upstairs to the bedroom."
"Which bedroom?"
"Grandpa's bedroom, I assume," Joe replied, looking at Lucy.
She nodded. "Just put everything in the empty closet so it won't be in his way."
"Grandma's closet," Jack mumbled.
Joe finally broke the silence that followed.
"How about I take care of getting stuff upstairs and you get the office stuff?"
"If you want to go up and down those stairs, I'm not going to argue with you," his cousin agreed.
"Yeah, but the books and papers and stuff are a lot heavier," Joe shot back.
The two cousins continued their discussion as they exited the house to continue the unloading process. Lucy and Henry moved into the kitchen, falling into easy conversation as each got to work on their part of the evening meal.
XXXXXXXXXX
Frank had been relieved that the day had gone smoothly and been free of the issues that sometimes came up, extending his workday into the evening. In fact, due to a couple of canceled meetings, he was running ahead of schedule.
During the afternoon briefing, he had encouraged his team to wrap things up quickly, earning a curious look from Moore.
"Plans for the evening, Frank?" he asked. "You seem to be in quite the hurry."
"That's because I am," his boss admitted.
"He does seem a bit giddy. I'm guessing it might have something to do with the fact that he's getting married in 3 days," Abigail surmised.
"I am not 'giddy,'" he protested. "I don't do 'giddy.' I'm just looking forward to having dinner with my fiancee tonight."
"Going somewhere special?" Garred asked.
"Chez Reagan," he told them. "She's joining Pops and I for dinner at the house before she has to go into work, since we haven't seen each other in a while."
"How long?"
"Breakfast yesterday," he admitted. "If there's nothing else on the agenda?"
"There isn't," Abigail confirmed.
"Then I think we should call it a day and head out," he suggested, clearing off his desk and shutting down his computer.
"I'll inform your detail," his primary aide told him, not hiding her grin.
"Thank you," he said, waving them towards the door.
"Giddy," she whispered to the other two as they exited.
"I am not!" he protested again as the door swung shut.
XXXXX
'Maybe a little bit giddy,' he admitted to himself as he slipped in the back door at the house.
It was nice to see cars in the driveway.
To smell the upcoming meal.
To hear the sounds of soft jazz and soft voices coming from the living room.
He swallowed a lump in his throat.
So familiar, and yet, so different.
He sat down his briefcase and shed his coat.
"Hi, Honey! I'm home!" he called.
"In the living room, Dear," Henry called back.
With a shake of his head, he walked into the living room. Lucy and Henry were seated side by side on the sofa with an open book…photo album, maybe?...spread across their laps. Joe sat next to Lucy and Jack perched on the arm next to his great-grandfather. They were all looking at something in the book.
"Wasn't talking to you, Pops," he grumbled.
"How was I supposed to know that?"
"Have I ever…in all the years you've known me…called you 'Honey?'"
The older man thought for a moment.
"No, I don't believe you have."
"I was talking to Lucy," Frank told them, smiling at her.
She smiled back.
"Though, to be fair, you've never called me 'Honey' either," she reminded him.
"I haven't?"
She shook her head.
"Dear?"
"No."
"Babe?"
Joe snorted.
"What?" his grandfather asked.
"You just don't strike me as a 'Babe' sort of guy."
"Lover?"
Jack made a face.
"Ew. Please, Grandpa. It's almost dinner time."
"You do realize how she got pregnant, don't you?" Frank asked him, a teasing grin on his face.
"I do, but that doesn't mean I want to think about it," the younger man protested.
"Sweetheart," Lucy told him.
"What?"
"Sweetheart. You've called me 'Sweetheart' a few times."
"I have, haven't I."
He leaned down, putting a hand under her chin to lift her face so he could look her in the eyes.
"Hi, Sweetheart. I'm home," he said softly before pressing a gentle kiss to her forehead. "It's nice to see you."
"I'm glad," she replied, reaching up to stroke his cheek.
"What are you looking at here?" he asked, tilting his head to try to see.
"Old pictures," his father told him. "Lucy wanted to see what you looked like as a child, so I pulled out some of your mother's old albums."
"So…really old pictures," Jack commented innocently.
"He really hasn't changed a whole lot, has he?" Joe remarked, studying a picture of the dimpled toddler standing on his mother's lap.
"No, not a lot. Other than the mustache, of course," Lucy agreed.
"You know," Jack interjected, "I've seen this program where you can download childhood pictures of a couple and it will show you a picture of what their kids are likely to look like."
Lucy shook her head. "There are plenty of people around here we can look at to see what his descendants look like. Besides, I don't have any pictures from when I was a child."
"None?" Joe asked.
"Not a priority for anyone," she told them, casually turning the page.
The silence that followed was broken by the sound of the timer. Henry picked it up and checked it.
"Dinner should be about ready," he commented, standing up. Lucy closed the album they were looking at and handed it to him. He set it on a shelf, then turned back to the others.
"Are you boys staying for dinner?" he asked.
"Thanks, but I've got a study date with Allison tonight, and she's cooking dinner," Jack told them.
"And I've got to get Danny's van back to his place and get my car so I can get to work. I wouldn't say 'no' to a box for later, though," Joe told him hopefully. "Including a piece of that cake for dessert."
"That could be arranged," Henry told him, leading them into the kitchen. "What about you, Jack? Would you at least like some cake?"
"I could probably be talked into a slice of cake."
In the kitchen, Henry arranged a dinner in a plastic dish for Joe to take while Lucy quickly sliced the cake, putting several slices in a bag for each of them, and several more in another for Joe to pass along to Danny.
"As thanks for letting you use his van," she told him. "I really appreciate the help. From both of you."
"Not a problem," they both assured her before saying their goodbyes and taking their leave.
Henry shooed them back into the living room so he could finish the final details of their dinner.
"Alone at last," Frank commented, taking Lucy's hand to pull her close. He wrapped his arms around her and lowered his head, his lips meeting hers in a kiss that deepened quickly as she pressed herself against him.
She reached up, gently tilting his head to allow her better access to his mouth as she slipped her tongue between his lips. He moaned, his hand gliding down to caress the curve of her bottom.
"I need to go upstairs and change," he told her, his voice rough. "Would you like to come help?"
Her fingers were already at work on the buttons of his vest when she stopped, pushing herself back as she closed her eyes and took a couple of deep breaths.
"Probably not a good idea," she finally said, still struggling to control her breathing. "Since we're waiting."
"And you have to get to work in a couple of hours," he added.
"And dinner is ready and it smells really good…"
"And the pregnant woman needs her dinner."
"She does."
He backed away, grinning as he pressed a chaste kiss to her forehead.
"I will be back shortly," he told her before heading up the stairs.
"Do you need any help?" she called to Henry.
"I do not," he called back. "You and Francis sit down and have a drink while I get everything on the table."
"He's upstairs getting changed."
"Then sit down and enjoy a few minutes of peace and quiet. That's going to become a rare commodity in your life."
Instead, she wandered around the room, studying the family photos and momentos scattered about. She smiled at the images of the happy family feeling a bit like an interloper, invading their privacy.
Finally, she stopped by the record player, idly flipping through the collection.
Feeling a tap on her shoulder, she turned to find Frank in casual clothes, smiling at her as he held out a hand.
"May I have this dance?"
"I don't really know how," she admitted.
"I don't really either," he told her. Smiling, he took her right hand in his left.
"The nice thing about this kind of music is…"
Lifted her left hand.
"You don't necessarily need to know how to dance."
Kissed it lightly, then rested it on his right shoulder.
"You can just hold each other."
Place his right hand at her waist.
"And sway to the music."
He pulled her close, humming to the music as he swayed her from side to side.
She rested her head against his chest, closing her eyes.
"This is nice."
"It really is."
Together, they continued moving to the music, arms around each other, enjoying their time with each other.
"I guess you and Jack got some things settled?" he asked.
"Yeah," she told him. "He apologized. I told him I understand. This whole situation just came out of nowhere as far as they're concerned. And he told me that his reaction was less about who I am than it was about who I'm not."
Puzzled, he glanced down at her, understanding quickly dawning.
"You're not Mary."
"I'm not. And I told him the same thing I told Nicky the other day: that Mary will always be a very important part of this family and I don't want them…or you…to feel uncomfortable talking about her around me."
"Appreciate that," he told her.
"Especially since he feels like he's forgetting things about her."
"That's not entirely surprising. It's been a long time and he was still very young when she died."
"And Sean even younger," she reminded him.
"And Joe never got to meet her. Conor won't either."
"It's important to keep talking about her. So they remember or know all the things you told me about how special she was to this family."
"It is."
After a few moments, she spoke again.
"I've been thinking about something."
"Uh-oh."
She gave him a mock glare, then shook her head.
"I was thinking that maybe the family would be more comfortable with things if we have a prenuptial agreement."
"I don't really think that's necessary."
"I don't either," she agreed, "But if it would ease minds, particularly Jamie and Erin's, about securing your assets, then I don't have a problem with it."
"I think I actually convinced Jamie that you're not in this for my money," he told her.
"How did you do that?"
"Last night, I had him look up my salary in the city budget, then had Eddie do a search for the average salary of an ER doctor in this city. He still thinks you have an angle, but it's not the money."
"That's progress, I suppose."
"Actually, you have more assets to protect than I do," he reminded her.
"Maybe, but I don't have anyone other than these kids that I would need to protect and I have complete confidence that you will look out for them."
"Absolutely. But isn't it rather short notice to get a prenup? We're getting married in 3 days and that would involve coming up with a list of assets and setting up meetings with lawyers and writing and signing and filing."
"We could probably do something simple and basic now…something handwritten and notarized or witnessed…and an agreement to refine with specifics later. You've got lawyers in the family who could probably come up with something legally binding for us."
"I don't know that I'd trust either of them to have your best interest in mind."
"Maybe not, but they'd have yours and maybe my willingness to go along would convince them about my motives."
"Maybe," he nodded. "Besides, it's not like it would ever need to be enforced. Once we say 'I do,' you're stuck with me for life."
"That's my plan," she replied with a laugh.
They continued swaying to the music, unaware of their observer.
Henry stood in the doorway, smiling as he watched them, the soft sound of their conversation broken by the occasional laugh.
Though bothered by the turmoil in his family, he was truly happy for his son.
He had loved Mary dearly. From the first time Francis had brought her home, he and Betty had both liked the young woman who had won their son's heart and had thought her a perfect match for him.
Henry saw a lot of himself in his boy.
Seeing the world in black and white.
No shades of gray.
A strong sense of right and wrong.
A confidence in himself and his decisions that sometimes came across as arrogance and harshness.
Betty had smoothed his rough edges and Mary had done the same for Francis.
Challenging him to try to see the other side.
To not rush to judgment and to consider his decisions more carefully.
She had made him a better cop and a better man.
She had become a daughter to him and Betty and had lovingly nursed her mother in law through her final days, and when cancer took her, he had mourned.
His son had lost the love of his life.
His grandchildren, their mother.
The great-grands, their grandmother.
And he had lost a daughter and a friend.
The grief Francis carried was heavy. Though he carried on for his family, it was always there. Even when he started dating again, his pain and grief kept him from letting anyone get too close.
Until a few months ago.
When he told his father about the situation at the grocery store, there was something in his voice when he talked about the woman he met there.
Lucy.
He hadn't mentioned her again, so Henry had decided perhaps it was just the adrenaline rush of the situation and the sex.
Until the pregnancy came to light and she became a topic of conversation again. And Henry once again had the suspicion that his son was more interested in this woman than he wanted to acknowledge.
He felt his suspicions vindicated when Francis brought her home that first time and he watched them interact. Though her appearance reminded him of a porcelain doll that Erin had as a child, he saw her strength and knew she could hold her own with his son and their family.
Francis connected with this woman in a way he hadn't with anyone in a long time.
The grief and the pain were still there.
Always would be.
That was the price…the risk…of loving someone.
But there was also an excitement and joy about a new direction and a new phase in his life and Henry was pleased for him.
For both of them.
He cleared his throat and they both jumped, clearly caught up in each other.
"Hate to interrupt, but dinner is ready, if you want to eat before it gets cold.'
"Absolutely," Lucy responded as Frank guided her into the kitchen. "I really appreciate you getting it ready so I can eat before work. You're going to spoil me."
"That's the plan," Henry told her, pulling out her chair.
The three sat down, said grace, and started serving up their plates.
"How was your breakfast with the mayor?" she asked Frank.
"It was the mayor," he replied, the look on his face indicating that was all that needed to be said.
"Their working relationship can be a bit contentious from time to time," Henry explained.
"Actually, it wasn't really that bad. The food was good."
"Anything important?" his father asked.
"He wanted to remind me that he was going to be out of town at a conference for the next few days and that his deputy mayor would be in charge should I need anything from his office. At which point, I informed him that I would be taking a few days off next week as well and his deputy and my deputy could deal with each other."
"I hope the city will survive that," Henry commented.
Lucy laughed, then looked at the older man.
"This is delicious," she told him. "Tastes even better than it smells."
"Agreed," Frank added, taking another bite before continuing his tale.
"He also told me that his wife had tasked him with getting some information from me," he told them.
"Oh?"
"Earlier in the week, my office contacted her social secretary to amend my RSVP for their upcoming event to add that I would be bringing my wife. The secretary was confused since she didn't think I had a wife, so she asked the mayor's wife about it. She, also, was of the belief that I didn't have a wife, so she questioned him about the matter. He couldn't tell her anything, so he was assigned to find out."
Lucy paused in her eating, following his tale.
"That's confusing."
"I told him that I do not currently have a wife, but I will be remedying that situation on Saturday, which is why I am taking time off next week."
"I'm a remedy?" she asked with a laugh.
"Remedies are good, right?"
"I suppose."
He squeezed her hand.
"Anyway, he offered his congratulations and is looking forward to meeting you soon," he told her.
The meal continued, Lucy regaling Henry with the goings on during the previous night's shift in the ER.
Laughing, he shook his head.
"After all my years in law enforcement, I shouldn't be surprised at the things people do, but I do sometimes fear for the future of the human race."
They heard the back door open and Erin's voice call out.
"Dad?"
"Kitchen," he replied.
"We need to talk," she called, shedding her coat and cold weather gear before heading into the other room. "I found out some really interesting things about…"
She stopped as she laid eyes on the group at the table.
"Me?" Lucy asked.
Again, thank you for patiently waiting on this chapter. In addition to working on this one, I have also been writing some bits and pieces of future chapters (wedding, gender reveal, birth stories) so that I don't forget the ideas I have for those. Hopefully, that will mean less delays when I get there.
Thank you for reading. Please leave a review and let me know what you thought. Now, on to the dinner conversation. It will be lively.