If Ian weren’t in such a ticked-off mood, he might have appreciated the rugged beauty of the area: the cascade of trees lining both sides of the road, wildflowers, rock formations, and the bluest sky he’d seen in a long while.But he couldn’t see any of this because he was too annoyed with his “sentence” and the fourteen days of misery waiting for him.Did the place have decent cell phone service?How about a restaurant other than fast food?Ha, they probably didn’t even have a fast-food joint, not that he’d choose one of those, but still…
No, this place would have diners and mom-and-pop restaurants that served corned beef and hash and tuna fish sandwiches.Gross and not happening.
And what about the people he was staying with…people who were more strangers than relatives?Jack and Dolly Finnegan.His mother had dug up an old picture of the couple.Jack was a scrawny old geezer with a ball cap covering his frizzy head, and more creases on his face than a road map.Talk about a scowl.Dolly was the exact opposite: fair, plump, with a smile that pulled out her dimples and made a person feel welcome.He should have called them himself instead of relying on his father to do it, but he’d wanted to witness “Mr.Perfect” apologize his way out of his son’s poor manners.Ian might not be able to avoid this trip, but at least he could make his old man feel his pain.
He was still thinking about how he’d suffer through the next fourteen days, when he reached Magdalena and drove through downtown, cataloging a diner, a pharmacy, an investment company…post office, bakery…park… Quaint.Picturesque.Like a postcard or an ad for wholesome 1950’s life.Rows of planter boxes filled with bright flowers lined the outside of the park.Nice.The town knew how to convey a “Welcome to Magdalena” using flowers, antique streetlights, and color-coordinated shop signs.
For such a small town, there sure was a lot of activity.A man painted a storefront sign…a couple walked their labrador retriever…a mother pushed a baby carriage…three women chatted outside a diner… Ian thought he recognized the diner as the same one he’d visited the last time he was here.He circled back through town so he could get a better look at the place.Lina’s Café.That was the name of the place.Best blueberry pancakes he’d ever tasted, including the resorts he’d visited.He hadn’t thought of those pancakes in years…
Maybe he’d try them while he was here.Why not?Fourteen days meant forty-two meals, not including snacks.Sure, why not?He’d eat with the Finnegans a few times, just to be polite, but he didn’t plan on hanging out with them or pretending they cared about each other.Had his old man paid them to take Ian in?That sounded about right.Everybody has a price, he always said.And I’m excellent at figuring out what that is.
Yup, no doubt he paid off the Finnegans.How much was he worth?A thousand bucks a week?Two?Ian stuck with that notion as he drove to Jack and Dolly’s house, parked the car on the street, and grabbed his duffel bag.
But the minute the front door opened, he knew nobody could pay off the grizzled man staring back at him.
“Well.Well.”
That one word, spoken twice, said more than most people did with a whole conversation.Obviously, Jack Finnegan wasn’t impressed with what he saw.And what did he see?A twenty-one-year old wrapped in entitlement and expensive clothes?“Hello, Jack.It’s been a while.”Who cared if the old geezer didn’t think he was God’s gift to the universe?Ian had to get through fourteen days and then he was out, back to civilization.
“You could say that.”A nod, a scratch of his stubbled jaw.“You definitely could.”He pushed back a ball cap with ND Manufacturing stamped on the front that looked as old as Ian.When the man caught Ian staring at the cap, he snorted.“Not everything has to be replaced once a week.”Big sigh as he stepped back, motioned Ian inside the house.“Might as well come in.Dolly’s been cooking since last week, and she’s gonna try to add a jean size on you before you head back home.”
Was the man joking?Hard to sort the sincerity from the gruff voice and stern expression.Maybe you couldn’t smile when you stayed in the same town your whole life, got married, had kids, and worked a dead-end job.Maybe you just lost the ability to be happy about anything.Maybe–
“You gonna stand there daydreaming, or you gonna dig into a plate of Dolly’s biscuits and gravy?”The gruff voice softened.“Chicken as tender as you’ll find anywhere.That woman sure can cook.”
“Sounds great.”Were these people going to expect him to participate in “family” meals with them?He hardly did that with his own family, but his gut told him to stay quiet and agree.For now.Two weeks.
Fourteen days.
Three-hundred-thirty-six hours.
He could do this.
Ian followed Jack Finnegan into a room that was as big as Ian’s walk-in closet at home.Ah, the dining room, complete with a lace tablecloth, a vase of fake roses in the center of an oblong table, and place settings with enough utensils to fill a drawer.He was counting the utensils when a whoosh of lilac perfume filled his senses, and Dolly Finnegan appeared.
Plump, rosy-cheeked, bright eyes.“Goodness gracious, there’s no denying you’re a Finnegan.Let me have a look at you.”She moved closer, examined him as though he were a cut of meat at the butcher shop, her gray head nodding, smile spreading.“Handsome boy, you are.You remind me of our son, Pete.”Her voice drifted, turned soft and definitely sad.
Her husband shook his head, laid a weathered hand on Dolly’s shoulder.“This boy ain’t Pete, Dolly, and best not to pretend he is.”
“I know.”She opened her arms and pulled Ian into a hug, her softness covering him, squeezing hard, making him wonder if she wanted to pretend hewas“Pete”.
The woman clung to him until Jack cleared his throat.“Are we eating today, or tomorrow afternoon?”
Dolly pulled away, her gaze lingering on Ian’s face.“Jack Finnegan, you do not have to be so ornery.You best stop those comments, or you won’t get a slice of peach pie.”She stepped back, straightened her apron, and winked at Ian.“Your Uncle Jack loves his sweets, especially pie, and peach is my specialty.”
Uncle Jack?“Umm…we’re actually second cousins, right?”Of course, they were second cousins, not uncle and nephew.
“True, but everybody under thirty calls this old codger Uncle Jack.”She laughed, her gray eyes sparkling.“And I’m Aunt Dolly.That’s who we are, so I’m your Aunt Dolly, and that ornery man shooting me the evil eye is your Uncle Jack.”
Okay then.These people were crazy, and he was stuck with them for two weeks.
“Now come sit, and we’ll tell you all about our family, and you can tell us about yours.”
“The boy don’t want to hear the particulars of our family.”Jack shot her a look that saidhemight be the one not interested in sharing the particulars of his family, but Dolly Finnegan didn’t seem bothered by the old man’s grumpiness.In fact, she laughed.
“Oh Jack, stop being such an old fuddy-duddy.Of course, he wants to hear about the family and who his kin are.”Her cheeks turned pink, her voice thrumming with excitement.“Isn’t that right, Ian?You want to know all about the Finnegans of Magdalena, don’t you?”
No.He already knew more than he wanted to know and didn’t need to hear more.“Of course.”He managed a smile, put sound to his words that indicated sincerity.“I’m not sure how many relatives I have, and which are real cousins or real aunts and uncles.My father never talked about it much, but if you can fit them in over the next two weeks, then I’d like to meet one or two of them.”That sounded believable, even to him.
