“Don’t know what any of that is, but I will check the schedule and see what we can make happen,” he said.“Sounds like an interesting weekend.”
“We can also shop for wine,” she said, smiling at him.
“Yeah, I like you a lot, Helen Neary,” he said, smiling at her as well.
“Last night, you were talking about how much you loved me,” she said, bobbing her head at him, “or was that because I was spoon-feeding you cobbler?”
“The cobbler, baby.It was all about that cobbler,” he said, laughing.“Hey, do we need to schedule a trip to New York for wedding dress shopping?”
“Why?I already bagged you; no need to drop a mint on a dress I will only wear once,” she said.“No, I will go to Luxe Redux or Marie Gabriel and find a gown.”
“Off the rack?”
She looked down at her feet.“Jay, most wedding gowns show off cleavage or boost the bosom kind of thing.I have to find one that does the opposite to hide my scars.”
“Or you can wear whatever the hell you like, show off the scars as a testament to how badass you are,” Jay said.“We don’t place limitations on sexiness.”
“Yeah, you’re just trying to get me to make you another pie,” Helen said, laughing.
“Or you can feed me a hearty helping of that pie,” he said, waggling his eyebrows.
She frowned at him.“Did you just refer to my vagina as a food source?”
“I feel satisfied every time I get a serving, so fuck yeah,” he said, laughing.
“What am I going to do with you, Jay Neary?”
“Love me until our lives play out in grand fashion, ending with a conclusion that no one will ever believe,” he said.“That will be enough for me.”
“It is enough for me as well,” she responded.
*****
FOUR DAYS LATER- CHICAGO
The week was shit.Profits were down because of that damned Cranberry.The warehouses weren’t producing slush money, and his kids were getting on his damned nerves.Every time they looked at him, they were asking for money, wanting to spend money, and none of them were earning any.He was sick of it.
“Michael, there is an envelope here for you,” his wife called out.
He didn’t get mail.All he got was bills, people requesting donations, and other bullshit propaganda from companies trying to get into his pockets.The blue envelope didn’t seem unusual.Caution made him open it slowly, to pull out what looked like a wedding invitation.
He read it once.
He read it again.
He read it for a third time.
Inside was also a note written in plain script.
THIS WAS IT.HE WASretiring.In the morning, he’d call his financial manager to begin putting things into place.The Cranberry was coming through on her end, and he needed to keep his word.
“Kids!Get in here,” he shouted into the house.Three spoiled, overbearing, and worthless children raised inside his two-parent home arrived, looking bored.His wife also showed up.
He took a deep breath.“I’m retiring.I’m selling this house and buying something smaller, maybe in Florida or Coastal Carolina.You all need to get jobs and start finding somewhere to live.You’ve got six months.”
“Michael, what are you talking about?”his wife asked.
“And you, in the morning, all of your credit cards will be cut off except the one to buy groceries,” he said, suddenly feeling lighter.“The freeloading is over.I’m going to take it easy.Six months.That’s your timeline.”
