“Slowly. Two people I met at that gala have agreed to let us come look at their collections. We have appointments next week, in the evenings. Are you available?” he asked.
She pushed her cloche back again and looked up at him. “I’d be happy to help you next week.”
“Good. I also wanted to talk to you about the Napoleon Society starting a new museum.” It had slipped his mind when he’d seen her Monday evening. “I’m still not convinced of the need for such a giant undertaking, but I’m looking at this from outside the art world. Do you think there’s enough support to be had from the public to warrant this new venture?”
“I’ve wondered the same thing. But considering the huge success the gala was, yes, there is enough interest to support it.”
“How huge is huge?”
She told him how much money was raised through the silent auction and donations. It boggled the mind.
Joe whistled. “All of that raised in one night, too. To think, my father lost his restaurant for want of a small fraction of that sum.”
Ridges lined her brow. “I’m so sorry,” she told him, and it was a relief that he didn’t need to explain anything, since he’d already told her when they were teens.
“Nah, you weren’t the one who scammed him.” And that was enough said about that.
———
Lauren waited for Joe to say more, but he looked away, a muscle bunching in his jaw. When he turned back to her, it was with an expression so studiously neutral, she knew the conversation was over.
Just as well. They’d come to the front of the line. Joe placed an order for two bags of roasted chestnuts, one bag of mini-doughnuts, and four hot chocolates.
Moments later, Lauren took the bags of food, and Joe balanced the steaming beverages on the cardboard tray that came with them.
As they reached Lauren’s roommates on the steps of the American Museum of Natural History, the rumble of a police escort on motorcycles cut through the din of the crowd. Joe handed the hot chocolates to the ladies, and Lauren distributed the bags of treats. A marching band came next, bearing a wide banner proclaiming the start of the Macy’s department store’s parade.
Lauren extended the bag of chestnuts toward Joe, and he pulled out a handful. Macy’s staff dressed as clowns, cowboys, and knights threw candy to children lining the street. Bears from Central Park Zoo lumbered by, followed by monkeys, elephants, and camels.
Lauren watched the camels with a broad smile and couldn’t help but think of Egypt. Of riding a camel herself one day, as she had always dreamed she would. Nostalgia swept over her as she recalled riding her father’s shoulders as a child, pretending he was the hump-backed beast.
She’d called out what she spied in their imaginary desert:“Sandstorm!”Her father had lifted her off his shoulders and huddled with her on the floor under his desk.“You’re safe,”he’d whispered and kissed the top of her head. Lauren had never felt more loved.
“Lauren?” Joe said. “I asked if you’ve ever ridden one of those.” He pointed to the long-lashed, shaggy camel.
“Not yet,” she told him. “Someday.”
Joe’s parents had outdone themselves. Most of the boarders had gone home for the holidays, but that hadn’t stopped the Caravellos from cooking a feast with all the trimmings for themselves, Joe, and Doreen, who had brightened the dining room with vases of burgundy and orange chrysanthemums. Finishing his last bite of pumpkin pie, Joe noticed his mother looking at the empty chairs around the large dining table.
“Those should have been filled,” she said softly, and Joe knew it wasn’t the college girls she was missing.
Pop cast his gaze downward, clearly understanding what Mama meant, too. Joe’s brother was married with children, and they hadn’t come for the holiday. Pop blamed himself for the breaking up of his family.
“I did call him to tell him how much we’d like to have them come,” he said.
Mama’s eyebrows rose. “And what did he say to that?”
The beat of silence that followed was full of meaning. Pop took a drink before responding. “He’s a busy man. The operator said he was too busy to take the call. It’s okay.”
“No, it’s not okay,” Joe countered. After all these years, Michael still refused to talk to his dad? Didn’t he understand that hurting Pop also hurt Mama? Hurt Joe? “You made mistakes. We got past them. It’s too bad he hasn’t.” That was putting it mildly. When Michael decided to cut ties with Pop, Joe might as well have lost his brother, too. Then there was Mama, who felt most keenly the absence of a daughter-in-law and two grandchildren she would have loved to spoil. Family was everything to Mama.
“He has his reasons.” Pop rubbed at a wrinkle in the tablecloth. “If I hadn’t—”
“That’s enough of that, please.” With a brave smile, Mama grasped Pop’s hand and gave it a firm squeeze. “I don’t remember inviting Guilt or Shame to the table today.”
“In fact,” Joe added, “I distinctly recall kicking both of them tothe curb. You were swindled, Pop. A victim of a crime.” It struck Joe then, as it often had, that the man who stole the Caravellos’ money had probably spent it all within a few months. Yet here they were, years later, still suffering the consequences. Sure, Pop owned his decisions that made him vulnerable to a scam. He’d kept their desperate financial circumstances hidden from his family. Lied about it, even. But the real criminal had gotten away, free to prey on the next target, and the next, and the next.
It wasn’t right.
