12
Stephen’s Cousin Amelia

     Seconds later, just as Stephen was putting a twenty dollar bill on the bar, he heard from behind him, “Connie was right.”
     Stephen turned to see his cousin Amelia standing a few feet away from him. She was dressed from head to toe in black and, as far as Stephen could tell, she wasn’t wearing any makeup. Stephen thought she looked ten years older than her true age. I’ll bet she frightens schoolchildren.
     “Hello, Amelia.”
     “Hello, Stephen.”
     “How are you?,” Stephen asked politely. “The family?”
     “We’re all fine, praise Jehovah.”
     Stephen ignored the religious reference and said, “Would you care for a drink?”
     Amelia’s face flashed anger for a moment, and then she said, “I abstain from alcohol, Stephen. And you should, too.”
     Wrong move, Amelia.
     “Why’s that, Amelia?” Stephen asked nonchalantly as he took a sip of his drink. “ I know for a fact that Jehovah’s Witnesses are allowed to drink.”
     Amelia gave Stephen a self-satisfied little smirk that made him want to throw the large bowl of peanuts, mixed nuts, and pretzels sitting on the bar in her face. “Proverbs 20, Verse 1. ‘Wine is a ridiculer, intoxicating liquor is boisterous, and everyone going astray by it is not wise’.”
     Stephen climbed off his stool and said, “Spare me, Amelia. I’m agnostic. And I don’t want to hear a single word about your ridiculous religion. Please. You’re as bad as the Scientologists.”
     In a second, Amelia’s expression changed from self-righteousness to repulsion. “Of course you don’t want to hear a single word. I expected no better from you. You who have done so much with your Zephyr to destroy the souls of our youth and allow them unfettered access to the Internet cesspool. You who have enabled the decay and rot running rampant through our pagan school system. Of course you would be averse to the hearing of Scripture. God’s holy word must burn your ears like hellfire.”
     Stephen had begun to grin around “cesspool” and now he was smiling broadly. “Tell me, Amelia. What the hell happened to you to make you embrace such nonsense? You used to be a nice Catholic girl. You were even an Altar Girl, weren’t you? And now this?”
     Amelia didn’t reply but just stared at Stephen with a venomous look in her eyes. Stephen thought he could see smoke streaming from her ears. People sure do hate it when their religion is challenged, don’t they? Too bad. She started it.
     “You don’t let your kids say the Pledge of Allegiance, right?” he continued. “And you won’t celebrate their birthdays, right? And you probably won’t even let them say the word ‘Christmas’ in your house, let alone allow them to enjoy it, right? Weren’t those rules enough to make you run screaming for the hills? And the whole ‘no blood’ thing? I hope you’re never in a position where a transfusion is standing between you and death. Or the death of one of your kids. And you’re such a smart woman, too. I just don’t get it. But it doesn’t matter if I don’t get it.” Stephen downed his drink and stood up. “I am not doing this with you. I’m back for the first time in five years and I am not going to spend even ten minutes of my time here arguing with a fanatic.” Stephen then grabbed a peanut, popped it in his mouth, and said, “Take it easy. And say hi to your husband and kids for me, okay?”
     Stephen didn’t wait for a response but just turned and walked away from his cousin. If he had glanced back, he would have seen Amelia standing grim-faced, red-faced, and hunched over with anger, gripping the edge of the bar like she wanted to scrape off the varnish.
     Wrong move, Amelia. You may be able to torment the rest of the family with your bullshit but I just won’t put up with it. What do we have here on earth? Thirty-five, thirty-six thousand days? And that’s assuming you’re really, really long-lived. I am not going to spend even a fraction of one of those days listening to the ravings of a religious lunatic. How did she change so drastically? Who got her ear?
     Stephen walked across the room past the buffet table and glanced around at the tables. His face lit up when his gaze fell on one particular twentysomething sitting by the window.
     Ashley. My favorite cousin Ashley. Stephen grabbed a cracker from the cheese tray and headed for Ashley’s table.
    
13
Stephen’s Cousin Ashley
​
     Ashley was sitting at an empty table staring out at the water. She looks just like that girl in that movie Juno, only older. Ellen Page. How long has it been since I’ve actually seen Ashley? Six years? Seven? Longer?
     “You should come visit me so I can show you the scrapbook of everything you’ve sent me over the past five years.”
     Ashley turned away from the window and looked at her cousin Stephen.
     What is she now? Nineteen? Twenty? Older? I know we’re twelve years apart. So that would make her ... Jesus ... twenty-one? Can that be right?
     Stephen didn’t think he had ever seen a more radiant smile than the one he was now gazing at on his cousin Ashley’s face. It was one of those smiles that emanated from a person’s entire face, not just their mouth. Her eyes sparkled; her skin glowed. Unlike some of the other reactions Stephen had received from his relatives today, he knew deep down that Ashley was utterly delighted to see him.
     “That’s a deal,” she said. “And I’ve got an envelope in the car that I was all set to mail. But I figured I’d give it to you in person.”
     Stephen moved around the table and sat down next to Ashley. He took her hand, leaned forward, and kissed her on the cheek. “Hi, favorite cousin. How are you?”
     Ashley didn’t say anything for a moment but just stared at Stephen. He felt like she was looking inside him. Finally, she broke her silence and said, “Do you have any idea what it means to the family that you showed?”
     Stephen nodded. “I know.”
     “I was the only one who had any contact with you in the past five years, Stephen.” Ashley grinned. “Such as it was, Mr. Invisible.”
     “I know.”
     Ashley gave Stephen a little smirk and said, “And more than a few of them were jealous, too.”
     “Really?”
     “Hell, yeah. And a lot of them wanted me to ask you for stuff for them. Mostly money, to tell you the truth.”
     Stephen nodded and said, “Why am I not surprised, Ash?”
     “But I wouldn’t do it.”
     “Again, I am not surprised. And I always appreciated your notes and the clippings.”
     Ashley smiled, but it was a little chillier this time. “I’m glad, Stephen. But you still never gave me your personal e-mail address or cellphone number.”
     “No.”
     “Why not?”
     “Because I’m an asshole.”
     Ashley burst into laughter and said, “Too funny! And no you’re not an asshole, cousin. Don’t talk like that. But I’ve always been curious as to why you wouldn’t let me contact you directly.”
     “Because I’m an ...”
     “Stephen, stop it.”
     Stephen chuckled and then said, “Ash, why didn’t you ever tell me about my brother?”
     “You mean the book?”
     “Exactly.”
     Ashley turned her head and looked out at the water. “It just didn’t seem like the right thing to do, Stephen.”
     “What does that mean, Ash?”
     She turned away from the window and looked directly at Stephen. “Sharing news about someone in the family achieving a milestone—a promotion, a book, an award—is usually done when you’re pretty sure the person you’re telling will care about what they’re hearing. And I’m not saying you wouldn’t have, Stephen. It’s just that your silence allowed all sorts of ideas to thrive. And one of those ideas was that you just wouldn’t have given a shit if one of your brothers did something incredible.”
     “Is that what you believed?”
     Ashley pursed her lips and thought a moment. That’s the same expression she used to make when she was little. “Deep down, no. And I don’t know why I felt that way, but deep down I just couldn’t believe that you wouldn’t have cared if you learned about Tommy’s writing successes.”
     “Well, I’m glad to hear that. I’m glad someone realized ...”
     Ashley slammed her hand on the table, causing the dishes to jump and a few heads to turn in their direction. “But Jesus Christ, Stephen! How could you possibly expect them to think anything else? I’m gonna tell you something now. Everybody thought your money went to your head. Y’know that old saying, ‘You can choose your friends but you’re stuck with your family?’ Everybody thought that because you made all that money, you had the luxury to show your true colors. And that you seized the opportunity, too.”
     “Meaning what, Ash?”
     “Meaning that everyone believed that once you had money, you realized that you could not only choose your friends, but also that you were no longer ‘stuck’ with your family. I know it’s crazy, and I never believed it, but a lot of the family thought that you’d still be around here, in touch with everybody, if you hadn’t become a bazillionaire.”
     “It isn’t true, Ash, and I hope you mean it when you say you never believed it.”
     “I do mean it, Stephen. I am not in the custom of lying. But that doesn’t mean I understand why you did what you did. What the hell is the matter with you? How could you just write everybody off like that?”
     “I didn’t write everybody off.”
     “No?”
     “No.”
     “What do you call it then? What you did? What do you call it, Stephen?”
     “I don’t want to argue with you, Ash.”
     Ashley leaned back in her chair and drummed her fingers on the white tablecloth. She didn’t say anything for a few seconds, and just stared at Stephen with a look on her face that Stephen read as a combination of anger and disappointment. She is totally freaking me out. I had no idea this is the way she felt. Does everyone else feel this way about me? Am I even welcome here?
     Ashley’s face finally softened and she even managed to muster a tiny grin. “Stephen, Stephen, Stephen. What am I going to do with you?”
     Stephen smiled at Ashley’s change of mien and said, “You still mad at me?”
     “Why? Would it matter?”
     “More than you can imagine.”
     “Oh, yeah? What if I said I was?”
     Stephen grinned, reached inside his jacket pocket and pulled out his checkbook. “Would a couple of million make you not mad at me anymore?” he asked as he whipped out a pen and began writing out the check.
     Ashley’s eyes got as big as saucers and her mouth dropped open. She leaned forward and sputtered, “You ... I ...” but then stopped when she saw the sly expression on Stephen’s face. She leaned back and said, “Two? Hardly. I’m expensive.”
     Stephen started laughing and put away his checkbook and pen. “Seriously, though, Ash. If you were permanently angry with me, it would devastate me. You’re the only one I’ve been relatively close to these past five years. I couldn’t bear to lose you, too.”
     Ashley shook her head and said, “See? See what I mean? Did you hear what you just said? What the hell is wrong with you, Stephen? ‘Lose me, too?’ Is that what you said? ‘You couldn’t bear to lose me, too?’ What the hell is that supposed to mean? Who else have you lost? Look around, for Christ’s sake. Your family’s right here. And they’ve always been here. You haven’t lost anyone.”
     She, too, looks like smoke is about to come streaming out of her ears. What have I done? Is she right? Do I even know myself why I did what I did?
     Ashley suddenly stood up and picked up her pocketbook from the table. Stephen looked up and was surprised at how tall she was. “Where are you going, Ash? Don’t leave. Let’s talk some more. I’m sorry.”
     Ashley smiled and said, “I have to pee, Stephen. I’ll be right back.”
     Stephen then stood and said, “Oh. Okay. I’ll tell you what. Let’s meet back here in a little while. I still have some of our mutual relatives to see and I can make the rounds while you’re, y’know, taking care of business.”
     Ashley chuckled and said, “Chicken. Okay. I’ll catch up with you later,” and then leaned forward and kissed Stephen on the cheek. “Don’t worry, Stephen. It’s all good.”
     Stephen nodded, but said nothing, and Ashley headed for the ladies’ room.
     I had no idea. Is that what everyone’s thinking?
     Stephen pulled a canister of Binaca breath spray out of his sport coat pocket and sprayed a couple of blasts into his mouth. He then reached into his pants pocket for a box of orange Tic-Tacs and popped two of those into his mouth. Fresh breath is very important. Uncle Dave. I’ll go see Uncle Dave.
    
14
Stephen’s Uncle Dave

     Stephen found Uncle Dave sitting at an otherwise empty table, slowly eating a plate of antipasto. Uncle Dave was a very meticulous eater. He cut up everything, including olives, and he put very small pieces in his mouth. He also would not put anything else in his mouth until he had finished chewing and had swallowed his previous mouthful. When asked why he ate like that, Uncle Dave always recounted what his childhood doctor had told him, that digestion began in the mouth, not the stomach. “The saliva from chewing relaxes the pylorus valve,” he would say. “And that allows food to pass from the stomach into the small intestine. You do want a relaxed pylorus valve, don’t you? You do want your food to pass from your stomach into your small intestine, don’t you? So chew your food.”
     Stephen walked to Uncle Dave’s table and placed his hand on his uncle’s shoulder. “Hi, Uncle Dave.”
     Uncle Dave swallowed, put down his fork, dabbed his mouth with a napkin, glanced at the hand on his shoulder, and then turned to look up at Stephen.
     He slowly looked his nephew up and down, and then said, “Nice suit,” and turned back to his antipasto.
     Stephen opened his mouth, and then quickly shut it. He stood there a moment as he watched Uncle Dave cut up a piece of provolone cheese and put it in his mouth.
     After about a minute or so, he said, “Can I sit down?”
     Uncle Dave looked at him and raised his eyebrows and shrugged, as if to say, “Sure. What do I care?”
     Stephen pulled out a chair and sat down a couple of seats over and on an angle across from Uncle Dave. He remained silent as he watched Uncle Dave chew, but then said, “It’s good to see you, Uncle Dave.”
     Uncle Dave chewed, swallowed, and then put down his fork. He dabbed his mouth with his napkin and said, “Is it? Is it good to see me?”
     “Of course. I wouldn’t have said it if I didn’t mean it.”
     Uncle Dave stared at Stephen for a moment and then said, “You saw Ashley?”
     Stephen nodded. “Yeah. I was just with her. At the table by the window. She had to use the bathroom.”
     Uncle Dave nodded and said, “She looks all right, doesn’t she?”
     That’s an odd phrasing, Stephen thought. “All right?” What does that mean?
     “She looks great. She’s always been very pretty.”
     Uncle Dave gave Stephen a disgusted look and took a sip of his red wine. Still the Chianti man, Stephen thought. I don’t think I’ve ever seen Uncle Dave with anything but a glass of red wine in his hand. “I ain’t talking about her looks, kid.”
     Stephen was now more confused than ever. “Well, what did you mean, Uncle Dave? What did you mean when you said she looks ‘all right’? What are you talking about?”
     Uncle Dave put down his wineglass and said, “You don’t know, do you?”
     “Know what? What the hell are you talking about?”
     Uncle Dave’s face changed. “Hey. Watch your mouth, kid. I ain’t one of your northwestern flunkies.”
     Stephen gritted his teeth and took a deep breath. I remember now why I never liked Uncle Dave. “I’m sorry. It’s just that I’m a little confused is all. What do you mean when you say that Ashley looks all right? Why wouldn’t she? Look all right, I mean.”
     Uncle Dave said nothing for a moment, but then blurted out, “I mean she looks all right for her condition.”
     Stephen’s heart leaped in his chest. “What condition, Uncle Dave? What are you talking about?”
     Uncle Dave looked away, as though he couldn’t bear to face Stephen when he said, “She’s got leukemia. And you didn’t know.” He then turned back to his plate and began cutting up an artichoke heart.
     Stephen leaned across the table and grasped Uncle Dave’s wrist. His uncle’s eyes widened and he stared down at Stephen’s hand, unbelieving that his nephew would dare to commit such an effrontery. Brandishing his knife, Uncle Dave said, “If you don’t get your hand off my wrist, boy, you’ll be spending the rest of the afternoon in the Emergency Room.”
     Stephen immediately withdrew his hand, but then got up and moved into the chair next to his uncle. “I’m sorry, Uncle Dave. I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have done that. But you shocked the sh ... the heck out of me. What do you mean? Ashley has leukemia? She didn’t say a word about it to me. Is it bad?”
     Uncle Dave put down his utensils and dabbed his mouth. He looked at Stephen and his face was a cold, grim, bitter mask. “She’s got AML. Acute myelogenous leukemia. The worst one. My brother’s sick over it.”
     Stephen’s face must have revealed the shock he was feeling. “You really didn’t know, did you?” Stephen shook his head. He felt like someone had punched him in the stomach.
     “How long?”
     “How long what?” Uncle Dave replied contemptuously.
     Stephen blinked in surprise. I meant how long has she had it. But the fact that he asked me what I meant ... he thinks I’m asking how long has she got to live. “How long has she been sick, Unk?”
     “About six months.”
     “Has she had treatment?”
     Uncle Dave chuckled, but the sound was sardonic and dark. “Yeah, she’s had treatment. She had chemo and they tried Mylotarg. But nothing worked.”
     “Mylotarg?”
     “Yeah. It’s something new. It’s a monoclonal antibody. It’s supposed to help her immune system fight off the cancer. I think it’s all bull, but her parents wanted her to try it, so she did.”
     “You’ve been following her treatment?”
     Uncle Dave whipped his head around and gave Stephen a look of pure rage. “Of course I’ve been following her treatment, you self-centered, little creep,” he hissed. “She’s my brother’s only daughter. Everyone in the family has been following her treatment.” His eyes blazed, and with absolute, supremely perfect scorn, he said, “Except for you. Mr. Bigshot Billionaire. Out there in that enormous palace that nobody related to you by blood has ever set foot in.” He turned back to his dish. He picked up his fork, but then immediately put it down and turned to Stephen and said, “What the hell is wrong with you? How could you abandon us like you did? You don’t even call your parents?” Uncle Dave turned his head and spit on the floor. “I’m repulsed by you. How dare you show your face here today? Do you know how many people in your family you could have helped over the past five years? And don’t get me wrong, Mr. Moneybags. I’m not talking about you handing over any of your precious cash. I’m just talking about being available to your family, in case they needed you. Family members are supposed to help each other. But where were you when Emily was sick? Or when Uncle Patrick had his heart attack? Or when Aunt Judy’s tailor shop burned down? I’ll tell you where you were. You were in Oregon. In a 40,000 square foot palace that has its own ... fucking ... satellite.” Uncle Dave paused and Stephen could see that he was flushed and out of breath. Just as he was about to ask him if he was all right, Uncle Dave leaned in close to Stephen and said, “Change your goddamned name, pal. You’re no Santamaria to me.” And then he pushed his plate away, threw his napkin on top of it, got up from the table, and walked away as fast as he could.
     Stephen was stunned and horrified—both at the news about Ashley, and about the intense anger his Uncle Dave felt toward him. He felt his heart racing and he tried to slow it down by deep breathing. It didn’t work and he felt himself getting lightheaded. I need some air. Stephen rose from his chair and turned toward the front door of the restaurant. Before he could take even a single step, though, two hands covered his eyes and he heard “Guess who?” whispered in his ear.

15
Stephen’s Mother Cecilia

     What is it with this family and peek-a-boo? Stephen reached up and grabbed the hands covering his eyes. It’s Ma. She’s still wearing that big square aquamarine ring. He removed her hands and turned to face his mother for the first time in five years. She had lost a few pounds and her hair was a different color, but she looked pretty much the same as before Stephen had buried himself away in Oregon. She was smiling, and crying.
     “Hi, Ma,” Stephen said and then embraced her. She began crying more heavily and Stephen let her hold the hug as long as she wanted. He noticed some of his relatives seated at nearby tables watching the mother and son reunion.
     His mother pulled away first and placed both her hands on his cheeks. “Ma, stop crying,” Stephen said with a grin. “Come on. You’re gonna make everybody else cry.”
     Cecilia laughed and wiped her eyes with a tissue she pulled from a pocket in her dress. “You’re right, Stephen. I’m sorry. I’m just so happy to see you.”
     “Me, too, Ma. Me, too. Where’s Dad?”
     Cecilia’s face darkened and her smile vanished. “He’s in the Men’s Room. He’s been in there for about forty-five minutes already. He’s been having problems.”
     Stephen suddenly realized that his father had been in a stall when he had had his argument with Andy. Great. Great way to start off after not seeing him for five years.
     Stephen held his mother’s arm and said, “Let’s sit, Ma. What kind of problems?”
     Once they were seated, Cecilia said, “I don’t know. He won’t tell me.” She then lowered her voice and said, “But sometimes I see spatters of blood in the toilet bowl ... up near the rim.” Her lower lip began to tremble. “He’s bleeding, Stephen, and he won’t talk to me about it.”
     Stephen put his hand on his mother’s shoulder and said, “Don’t worry about it. I’ll talk to him. And whatever kind of problem he’s got, we’ll take care of it.”
     Cecilia’s eyes glistened and she gave Stephen a weak smile. “He always listened to you. Especially about important things. You’ll really talk to him?”
     Stephen nodded and squeezed her shoulder. “Of course, Ma. Of course I’ll talk to him. And I’ll help him with whatever’s wrong.”
     Cecilia wiped her eyes and said, “Do you think it’s cancer?”
     Yes, I do, Ma. Yes, I do. “No! Of course not! I’ll bet you he’s got a fissure, or maybe bleeding hemorrhoids and it’s painful to go to the bathroom, so he takes his time. I’m sure it’s nothing, Ma. So stop worrying. We’ll take care of it.”
     Cecilia nodded but Stephen saw doubt and fear in her eyes.
     Change the subject. “So, tell me, Ma. What’s been going on?”
     Cecilia leaned back, looked around, and then shrugged and picked up a glass of water from the table and sipped from it. “What the hell,” she said. “We’re all family. I’m not going to get cooties from anyone here.”
     Stephen chuckled and waited for his mother to put the glass down. He knew she had to work her way slowly into a conversation that went beyond the superficial. She couldn’t just begin immediately talking about herself and what was going on in her life.
     “You ask what’s been going on, Stephen? Where to begin? Where should I begin?” Cecilia’s face was now devoid of affect. Flat. Emotionless. Stephen was a little puzzled by the sudden shift, but he said nothing and waited for her to continue.
     Cecilia looked at Stephen and said, “Let’s start with this, why don’t we? Did you know we had to sell the house?”
     Stephen’s mouth dropped open involuntarily and he said, “You had to sell the house? What the hell happened?”
     Stephen’s mind was suddenly filled with images of the house he had grown up in. Its big picture window in the living room, the fireplace with its mantle loaded with framed pictures, the kitchen with the Formica table. His mind’s eye traveled through the house, upstairs into the bedrooms, downstairs into the basement with its cement floor that Dad had drilled a hole in for the dehumidifier. The upstairs bathroom with the pedestal sink. The attic that, even when they were kids, he and his brothers and sisters had had to crouch to walk through.
     “What happened was that the property taxes went up, and it needed a new roof that we couldn’t afford, and my medication doubled in price, and your father couldn’t take care of the lawn anymore, and then the water heater went. What a mess that made. We tried making do, we really did. We cancelled cable, and I started cutting my pills in half to make them last twice as long, and I started shopping at that new grocery warehouse over on Route 9, but it just wasn’t enough. Your brothers and sisters all did their best to help, but they’ve all got families of their own and it was hard for them, too. And our Social Security and your father’s pension just didn’t cover everything. So we decided to sell. Your brother Andy was a big help. He knew a real estate agent who was very nice. Adrienne Candela.” She lowered her voice conspiratorially. “Actually, I think she was his girlfriend before he became a priest. You do know he became a priest, right? Well, anyway, it was time to make a move. And so now we’re at Lakeside. The senior housing complex over on Ridgeview.”
     Stephen was speechless. My parents are living in a one-bedroom apartment.
     “I’ve read so much about you in the news, Stephen. We’re all so proud of you.”
     “How long have you been at Lakeside, Ma?”
     “Oh, a couple of years. Actually it’ll be two years this February. You should come visit. Are you staying over?”
     Stephen looked at his mother and saw love, acceptance, and pride in her eyes. How could she still love me after what I’ve done? “Who bought the house, Ma?”
     “A nice young couple. They have two kids. He’s from Zaire. He’s in something to do with plastics. He worked for a company in Zaire that had a branch here and they paid for him to move. I don’t think he makes very much, though. Andy told me they bought the house with a very small deposit and took an interest-only mortgage for the first few years. She doesn’t work. She stays home with the kids. They’re really very nice.”
     “How much did you get?”
     “It was just over two hundred thousand. But we had the home equity we had to pay off. That was around seventy thousand. And the real estate agent took twelve thousand. We ended up with around a hundred and five after everything.”
     “What’d you do with it?”
     “Andy set it up so we get a check every month for around a thousand dollars. He said it was a 10-year annuity that we’d get a monthly income from. And he said it earns interest. So that helps. The extra thousand on top of the Social Security and your father’s pension helps a lot. The rent is around seven hundred. So we manage.”
     An image suddenly flashed into Stephen’s mind of a photo illustration a financial magazine had done of him for a cover story. It showed Stephen seated at a computer using Zephyr, but instead of files and folders in the air, there were dollar signs floating around him. My parents are canceling cable while I’m donating millions to African countries.
     Stephen held his mother’s hand and said, “Do you want to move back to the house, Ma?”
     Cecilia looked puzzled by the question. She doesn’t get it.
     “What do you mean, Stephen? The house is sold. Two years ago we sold the house, remember?”
     “Never mind that. Would you like to move back into the house?”
     “Well, of course we would, but how in the world would we do that? There’s a family living there now.”
     “You leave that to me. Just start packing, okay?”
     “Stephen, I ... what are you talking about?”
     Stephen leaned over and kissed his mother on the cheek. “What are these people’s name, Ma?”
     “Bexley. I can’t pronounce his first name. It’s African. But their last name is Bexley. Her name is Amanda.”
     “Okay. Listen. Wait here for me. I’ve got to make a phone call and hopefully, by the time I get back, Dad’ll be out of the bathroom. Okay?”
     Cecilia nodded, but still looked a little confused. “Just wait here,” he said. “I’ll be right back.”
     Stephen rose from the table and walked quickly to the front door of the restaurant. He stepped outside and then started walking toward the side of the restaurant and down to the beach.
     He took his cellphone out of his jacket pocket, pressed one key, and hit CALL. Within seconds, he heard, “Hello, Mr. Santamaria.”
     “Hi, Cindy. Yes, it’s going good. Yeah. Just about the whole family is here. There will be some things we’ll need to go over when I get back—a new employee for starters—but there’s something I want you to get on now. Immediately.” Stephen smiled and nodded and said, “I expected no less from you. Okay. Here’s the situation. A family named Bexley now lives at 617 Elizabeth Lane in East Haven, Connecticut. They purchased their house a couple of years ago for around 200K. He’s in plastics. I want you to contact them and offer them $600,000 cash for their house. Yes, that’s right. Three times what they paid. Why? Because I don’t want them to say no to selling. Once they say yes, I want the money wired to them within forty-eight hours and I want Barry and Scott in legal to fast track everything—the title search, the paperwork, the closing. If the Bexleys need help finding another place, help them find another place. I want the house vacant and ready to move into within one week. Without fail. Yes. Yes. You have my okay to do whatever is necessary to make this happen. If you have to go higher, go higher. Spare no expense to make this happen. All right.” Stephen listened for a moment. “Why am I buying the house?” Stephen smiled. “It’s the house I grew up in and I’m giving it to my parents as a gift. Okay. Yes. Thanks.” Stephen snapped his phone shut and stood for a moment staring out at the glorious sea. It’s really beautiful here. I could easily stand here forever, just being near the water and smelling those flowers. Stephen glanced at his watch. But I’d better check on Dad. And tell Ma she’s got her house back.

                                                 In the next installment ...
Stephen’s Sister Jane • Stephen’s Aunt Edith • Stephen’s Uncle Jerry