Part 9 (2/2)
”Irises,” she said as Sherman filled the vase with water. ”My favorite.”
”No, they're not,” he said. ”Your favorite are lilacs, but all the lilacs I had in the shop were fresh and extremely sellable. These babies have about twenty-four hours left in them before they c.r.a.p out. So I figured I'd bring them home to my wife, because by now she's surely called her son like I've been asking her to for the past five days.”
He put his big bear arms around her. ”So,” he whispered in her ear, ”did you call him?”
She pulled back so she could look into his magical blue eyes and gave him her s.e.xiest mea culpa pout. ”Not yet. I meant to call him yesterday, but it was Sunday, and he's been so busy at work that I didn't want to bother him on his day off.”
”And today is Monday, but you've been watching that Rachael O'Keefe trial on TV all day,” he said.
”Guilty,” she said.
”Ha! I knew she was guilty.”
”No, no, no,” Emma corrected. ”I'm guilty for watching. The verdict came in this afternoon. The jury found her not guilty.”
”That's crazy,” Sherman said. ”The woman killed her daughter. How can they not see that?”
”Now you know why I couldn't turn off the TV. I'll call Gideon now,” she said, tapping his speed dial on her cell.
He picked up on the first ring. ”Hey, Mom, is this important? I'm in a hurry.”
”Well, h.e.l.lo to you too,” she said. ”You're in a hurry for what?”
”I'm meeting Dave and a bunch of people. We're going to a bar downtown to grab a few beers and catch the Monday night football game. Can this wait till tomorrow?”
”I have one question. It'll only take me a half a second. You think your friends and your beer can wait a half a second?”
”Sure, Mom. One question. Go ahead.”
”Sherman wants to turn your old bedroom into a little den for himself.”
”That's not a question,” Gideon said, ”but I have one. You remarried less than a year ago, and Sherman is already moving out of the bedroom?”
”Don't be cute,” Emma said. ”He just wants a nice private place to work on his computer. He's going to write a novel.”
”Really?”
”Really. It takes place during the Civil War.”
”You mean like Gone With the Wind?”
She laughed. ”Better.”
”I'm in a hurry, Mom. What's your question?”
”I spent the whole day packing up your old stuff,” she said. ”Clothes, toys, a bunch of papers from high school, all your trophies from Little League. Can you come over and pick up all your things so we can clear out the room?”
”No.”
”What do you mean, 'no'? You're a grown man. You can't leave all your stuff here forever. We need the s.p.a.ce.”
”Then leave it all on the curb for the garbageman. I took everything I wanted to keep when I moved out. The rest of that c.r.a.p I haven't needed for fifteen years, and I don't need it now.”
”Are you sure? You could probably sell some of those old toys and games on eBay.”
”Mom, you're a pack rat. I'm not. Sherman's not. Chuck all that c.r.a.p. Burn it.”
”Okay,” she said. ”I think you're crazy to throw away all that good stuff, but I know Sherman will be happy. And for the record, mister, my new husband and I are very happy in our bedroom.”
”Oh G.o.d,” Gideon said. ”I'm hanging up now before you give me any of the details. Love you, Mom.”
”Love you too,” Emma said, and hung up. She wrapped her arms around Sherman. ”Okay, flower man, the room is all yours. Now go upstairs to your new office and start writing that book.”
Sherman put his hands on her soft, round b.u.t.t and pulled her in tight. ”How about you walk me upstairs to the bedroom just in case I need a little inspiration before I start writing.”
”Oh, c.r.a.p,” Emma said.
”Is that any way to talk to a guy who brought you irises?”
”No, I meant, Oh, c.r.a.p, I forgot to tell Gideon one thing.”
”So call him back.”
”Not tonight. He's going out to unwind with his friends. I can tell him another time.”
”Tell him what?” Sherman said, maneuvering her toward the stairs.
”When I was cleaning out his desk, I found this red leather notebook wedged in behind the bottom drawer,” she said. ”It's not Gideon's. I wondered if he knew anything about it.”
”Whose notebook is it?” Sherman asked as they headed upstairs.
”Enzo Salvi's.”
Sherman stopped in the middle of the stairwell. ”I knew that kid from back when I was teaching,” he said. ”He was a total s.h.i.+t. You know who his father is, don't you?”
”Of course I know,” Emma said. ”Everyone in Howard Beach knows. We all went to Enzo's funeral out of respect for the family.”
”Then do me a favor,” Sherman said. ”Out of respect for me, don't get involved. The kid is dead. He doesn't need the notebook.”
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