The Tea Series Read online

  With my new purchases and an afternoon spent deep cleaning the apartment, it will feel like a whole new place.

  When I first really decided to get the stuff for the guest room, which won’t be here until Tuesday, I worried that A.J. might not be happy that I was making all these decisions without him. Then I decided that it is my money, he has never shown any interest in decorating or anything, and it isn’t like I bought a living room couch or something else that he will actually use. I bought office furniture for my personal use and little repositories to organize my stuff.

  How can you argue with little repositories?

  Oh, and I found a portion control device. I didn’t even know they had such a thing. I was walking by a restaurant supply place, we went in, and they had all kinds of stuff that helps professional cooks and servers create plates with the proper portions. Since I have a really bad habit of serving a pound of potatoes to each person, I bought a couple of different spoons that are four, six, and eight ounces. We’ll see how that works. I should probably look it up and see what a proper serving of potatoes is, but in my family, it is about half a dinner plate, so pretty much anything is going to be an improvement.

  I took a bath with citrusy smelly-good-stuff.

  When I got out of the bath I noticed a text from Teagan. Just dropped off Sinead. She’s fine. Promised not to talk about anything till Mom and Dad get home.

  I started dinner.

  I really wanted to put on lounge wear, but I knew Jordan would be coming back with A.J., and even my most modest lounge wear is not little-boy approved.

  Shouldn’t have worried about it.

  A.J. texted and said that they were going to stop and get food for the boys and that they would be late.

  I was sitting on the couch when A.J. carried Jordan in. Sound asleep, he still had a smile on his face.

  We brought him in the guest room, pulled off his shoes and pants, and put him to bed still grimy from a day of pure boy-fun.

  A.J. went in and took a shower while I made us tea and hot chocolate. The next thirty minutes were filled with recounting the adventures of the day. I tell you, A.J. is going to be a wonderful father.

  A.J. told me that Maria is feeling great and Grace seems to be doing really well.

  The doctors are going to try a new procedure on Grace. Thanks to Adeline, Robert and Maria have a whole new life, and part of that new life is doctors who are excited about helping.

  Something hard to find on their previous budget.

  Gotta wonder just how many excited doctors there are going to be in the new health care system.

  Mom says that if the church would okay dying the old-fashioned way — when you got to a point you just died, and they didn’t keep you alive by extreme means — and if the government would allow you to die with some dignity and compassion, it would be a non-issue. That’s a pretty scandalous stance for a devout Irish Catholic, but I agree with her. When my time comes, I don’t want to hang in here forever just because it is possible. I think everybody should get to make that decision for themselves, and their wishes should be carried out with a little class.

  Not a really popular attitude or discussion point, but I tell anyone who will listen, because if something goes really wrong, like if I’d had some kind of serious brain damage when Barry beat the crap out of me, I don’t want to live in some nursing home on tubes and mushed food. If someone else wants that, I support it one hundred percent. I’ll pay my taxes with a smile on my face and say a prayer every day. I just don’t want that for me or mine.

  I’m not old enough to think about this stuff, but I do. Teagan would probably argue that I’m going to bring the hard decision to my door by thinking about things like this. I would argue that it is like buying an extended warranty. When I pay for the extended warranty, nothing ever goes wrong until at least three weeks after the thing expires. If I buy the exact same thing again and don’t buy the warranty — boom! — the thing blows up.

  By knowing what I want, I’m just telling the universe that I have the cosmic equivalent to the extended warranty.

  Jordan and A.J. had a wonderful time. Jordan met a couple of big shots. He won some little fantasy-game-thing. He ate every kind of sports-related junk food that God has allowed to be created. He bonded with Robert’s nephew, and the guys are planning a camping trip in a few weeks.

  I didn’t say anything about Sinead.

  That’s two.

  I haven’t told A.J. about Sinead being pregnant. I haven’t told him that Maeve told me she is gay and that she doesn’t want me to say anything to anybody until Mom and Daddy get home.

  On the one hand, they aren’t my stories to tell.

  On the other hand, my sister is right; this family is full of secrets. I never noticed because I’ve never really had someone to share the secrets with. Someone who would be hurt if I didn’t share.

  At least I think he’d be hurt.

  But then, a normal person would want to help pick out the furniture for their own home, and when I told A.J. about the furniture for the office, he didn’t seem to mind that he wasn’t in on the decision-making process.

  “I have a question.”

  “Okay.”

  “Are you upset that I bought all that furniture without talking to you first?”

  “Not really.”

  “Not really isn’t the same as no.”

  “I know. I’m not really upset, but it’s kind of weird that since we live together, you would do that. On the other hand, it is about your business, and I don’t feel the need to ask your permission about things I buy for the studio. The difference is that your work environment shares a space in our home.”

  “That’s pretty much the discussion I had with myself. I just wanted to make sure that you were okay with it.”

  “If you were buying stuff for our room, I might feel differently. But you bought stuff for your home office, so I can justify that in my mind as a business decision, and you don’t need my help with your business. You’ve done an amazing job for Adeline. My grandmother says that she loves you and that she would be lost without you.”

  “I hope so. Ever since JoAnn was hired, I worry about it now and then. It seems like I’m getting paid an awful lot of money for not doing all that much work.”

  “You work all the time. You just love your job. When you love what you do, it doesn’t seem like you’re doing all that much. When I have a shoot, one that I find really interesting or challenging, I can shoot a thousand images without even noticing.”

  “That’s because you want the shot. I’ve watched you. Other photographers would just Photoshop the hell out of it.”

  “I try to alter my images as little as possible. I know that most photographers use the computer as much as they do the camera, but I hate that. When I’m in the zone, I can create an alternate reality or perfectly capture the one we’re sharing. You can play with the image long before it is on your computer. You can alter angles and light and the subject. If all I’m doing is snapping a picture and then bringing it to the computer to electronically draw all over it, I might as well not use the camera at all. I love the process of creating the shoot and then getting the perfect shot. It never feels like work. Just because you don’t feel like you’re working, doesn’t mean you aren’t doing exactly what Adeline wants you to do.”

  “Good point. There’s something really energizing about the philanthropic side of it. Can you imagine having the resources to walk in and change someone’s life? Look at what Adeline has done for Robert and Maria. She made a few calls, wrote a few checks, and she changed their lives forever. And it isn’t like she is going to support them or anything. She gave them a hand up, not a handout. Robert will work his butt off, and he will educate himself, and he will be self-sustaining.”

  “Yep.”

  “And knowing Robert, he’ll pay it forward a hundred times over.”

  “He’s already started.”

  “Really? How?”

  “
Well, he started his basic first aid and CPR training. As soon as he knew what he was doing and was comfortable with it, he had an unofficial class at his old apartment complex. There are a lot of older people there and people with health issues — mostly stemming from a life full of challenges created by lack of money. Anyway, he is sharing his knowledge, and because he’s a friend to those people — and unfortunately most of them have a problem with authority, so they are limited as to who they will listen to — they listen to Robert.”

  “Can’t he get in trouble? He isn’t a teacher. He isn’t qualified or certified. It would be a shame for him to get in trouble just for trying to do the right thing and just when his ducks are starting to line up.”

  “I asked him the same thing. He’s comfortable with it, so I shut up.”

  “Then I’ll shut up too.”

  “I didn’t mean it that way.”

  “I know you didn’t. I have another question.”

  “Shoot.”

  “How do you feel about secrets?”

  “Depends.”

  “Depends on what?”

  “Well, I’m assuming someone told you something, and they don’t want you to say anything, and you’re feeling bad because you haven’t told me.”

  “You’re such a smart man.”

  “I don’t have the right to know everything you know, Cara. I’m your boyfriend, not your…well, I’m not even sure what the relationship would have to be in order for you to be obligated to tell me everything.”

  “In my family, that would be my mother.”

  He chuckled. “I definitely don’t want to be your mother.”

  “That makes two of us.”

  “On the other hand, I’m just a normal guy, and the fact that you know something and don’t want to tell me about it makes me a little nervous. Maybe suspicious is a better way of saying it.”

  “It isn’t that I don’t want to tell you; it’s that my sisters told me something, and they don’t want anybody to know about it until my parents get back. It isn’t my secret to tell, although I really resent that they told me and then told me I couldn’t tell anybody. They should have asked me if I wanted to know a secret in the first place.”

  “Your sisters? Who’s pregnant?”

  I tried not to react. “Why would you ask that?”

  “Because of the age of your sisters. You guys are all in that phase of your life.”

  “Bite your tongue!”

  “You know what I mean. And I guess I figure it’s a baby because you aren’t all freaked out, which means whatever it is, it isn’t bad news, and your family is of the very strong opinion that a baby is always good news. Suzi’s life was forever changed by the way your family reacted. I will be grateful for it until I die, and I’m not even the one who matters.”

  “Oh, you matter!”

  “You know what I mean. So, my guess is one of your sisters is pregnant, and since you said sisters with an s, another sister has a different issue. Hmmm, I’ll have to think about that one for a minute. Nobody is sick, or you’d be cleaning something. Nobody’s in jail; you’d be calling lawyers. Nobody did something stupid; you’d be muttering to yourself. I’m not sure what your sister did, but it is something you are ultimately okay with, just something you wish she would have kept to herself until your mom and dad get home.”

  “You know me so well.”

  “You aren’t hard to know, Cara. You don’t play games.”

  “Well, according to one of my sisters, who shall remain nameless to protect the innocent, because the innocent might be me — I haven’t decided if I have to kill her yet. Anyway, according to one of my sisters, I’m the family martyr.”

  “What does that mean?”

  “I’m not sure.”

  “Why didn’t you ask?”

  “It wasn’t a good time.”

  “Well, if it was a bad time, maybe she didn’t mean it.”

  “Oh, by what was said, I’m pretty sure it wasn’t the first time it has come up in conversation, and I’m pretty sure she isn’t the only one of the family who has that particular opinion.”

  “Sinead is young, Cara.”

  “How did you know it was Sinead?”

  “You were out with Sinead, Teagan, and my sister and grandmother today.”

  “They told you?”

  “No, but it obviously happened today. If it had been Teagan, you’d be all whacked out. Sinead saying something would bother you. Teagan saying something like that would drive a stake through your heart. So it had to be Sinead. And since she’s the one who exploded, I’m going to guess that she’s the one who’s pregnant. Also, because she’s the youngest and her life really isn’t at the best place for a baby. Yep, it’s Sinead, and she’s pregnant. You don’t have to confirm or deny. We’re good.”

  Just as I was about to say something brilliant that didn’t give everything away, Jordan wandered out from the guestroom.

  “What’s up, little man?”

  “Nothing. I just heard you guys talking and woke up, and I’m kind of hungry.”

  “How could you be hungry? A.J. said you ate more than he did.”

  Jordan got a shy smile. “Growth spurt I guess. Mom says every time I’m gonna to grow, I eat more than her and Pa and a small community of ravenous creatures that eat their weight in food every day.”

  “Well, that sounds pretty normal to me. Any requests?”

  “We were talking about buffalo flops this morning, and I never got any. I’ve been thinking about it all day. We were going to have them with breakfast this morning, remember? Then everything got changed when we decided to go to the stadium. Is buffalo flops too much trouble?”

  A.J. looked intrigued. “Buffalo flops?”

  “It’s basically an open-faced, crunchy, torn-up grilled cheese and garlic sandwich mess.”

  “I’ll try one. That sounds interesting.” A.J. pulled a face.

  “Buffalo flops it is.”

  I went into the kitchen and attacked a loaf of French bread. I cut a couple of large slices for myself. I prefer my buffalo flops without much cheese, which means I like cheesy garlic bread. Cheesy garlic bread is better served in slices instead of chunks.

  If I’m starving, I don’t even get my garlic butter sauce out of the freezer, and I cut off a little more than I should chew. Forget the slices, I cut a six-inch loaf out of the middle and then slit it so that I have what looks like the beginnings of a sub sandwich. When I have the appropriate bread sliced, I butter each portion — usually two — put them on a skillet or griddle, let the butter melt, pull them up and sprinkle garlic powder on the griddle, and then put the bread back down until it gets slightly crispy. Once it is slightly crispy, I pick it back up, put down a little bit of Parmesan cheese, and put the bread right back down. It takes only seconds for the cheese to melt. I then pick the whole thing up carefully — so as not to leave the cheese in the pan — grab an ice-cold Pepsi, and snarf.

  It’s really good.

  My sister likes it almost the same way, with a little olive oil mixed with the butter.

  I do it the stove-top way instead of in the oven because it makes the bread just a little bit crunchy on top without making it too crusty crunchy and because it’s faster. Don’t have to wait for the oven to warm up. From the time I pull the bread out until I’m snarfing it down, maybe three minutes.

  For the guys, I did basically the same thing, but pulled the bread apart in chunks, and instead of Parmesan cheese I used cheddar. When I got to the part when I put the cheese down on the griddle, I put extra and let it cook a little longer than with mine because I know Liam likes his extra crunchy, so that’s probably the way he fixes it for Jordan.

  We ate buffalo flops and drank soda and laughed about the boys’ day out.

  By the time I got Jordan tucked in, it was late, and A.J. and I were both exhausted. I was kind of grateful Jordan wandered out. No more discussions about family secrets, and we ended our night with full stomachs and smiles
on our faces. A very good thing.

  The morning was rushed. Liam and Morgan came by early to pick up Jordan. He’d only been out of the shower about a minute and a half when they knocked on the door. We had a quick cup of tea while A.J. got Jordan organized.

  I was hoping to find out what their big secret was, Jordan having said they were whispering about stuff lately, and then Teagan asking if my Maeve secret was the thing about Morgan and Liam, but if they have a secret, they aren’t sharing it right now.

  They took off, and almost immediately A.J. and I did the same. A.J wanted to spend the day scouting locations for a shoot.

  Actually, several.

  We put some soda in a little ice chest, grabbed some chips and some chocolate chip cookies, and planned to spend the day driving around looking for visual treasure.

  A.J. has a motorcycle shoot coming up. He’s going to use a model and take a bunch of shots outside at daybreak, and then he will do another shoot indoors at the studio with motorcycle parts and probably several of the girl’s parts — barely covered. I know it sounds like it bothers me, but it really doesn’t. I have complete faith in A.J. He would never cheat on me, and he would never put his business in danger like that.

  If he can find the perfect place for the shoot and get great pictures, and if he can do his normal magic and the shots turn out well — which they will — a pretty big company is going to use him not only for their catalog work but also for their print advertising.

  It’s a great opportunity.

  We found several places he can shoot outdoors. A wall covered in graffiti. Another wall covered in some weird plant I’ve never seen before. Right in the middle of the wall, there’s a bricked up opening about four feet up with ironwork over the brick. We got out of the car, and I climbed up there to see if the model could fit between the brick and the ironwork. If I can fit, a model can fit, and I fit just fine.