Читать книгу The Nest: America’s hottest new bestseller - Cynthia Sweeney D’Aprix, Cynthia D'Aprix Sweeney - Страница 13

Meeting at the Grand Central Oyster Bar was part convenience—Melody disembarked at Grand Central, which was halfway between downtown where Jack and Leo lived and Beatrice’s place uptown—and part nostalgia. On the rare occasion when the elder Plumbs had brought all four children into the city, they had always dined at the Oyster Bar, summoning plates of oysters with exotic names—Chincoteague, Emerald Cove, Pemaquid—and steaming bowls of oyster stew. The Plumb siblings loved the bustle of the dining room (where they never sat) and the ordered efficiency of the sprawling, no-reservations needed, sit-down counter (where they always sat). They loved the dramatically vaulted ceilings covered in ivory Gustavino tiles and the strings of white lights that managed to make the space feel both lushly romantic and slightly antiseptic.

Melody had arrived early to intercept her brothers and sister before they found seats at the counter. She’d made the bold move of reserving them a table in the dining room. She was sick of the counter; it was hard for a group of four to talk when sitting in a row unless they got an end spot, which rarely happened. They needed to talk today, and she’d always wanted to eat in the dining room, sitting around a table, like civilized New Yorkers would. But Leo was late and the maître d’ would only seat a complete party. They’d ended up at the counter fending off the waiter with orders of shrimp cocktail and Coke.

“We could have just said we were three and then pulled up a chair when Leo comes,” Jack said. “If he comes.”

“He’ll be here,” Bea said.

“You’ve spoken to him?” Jack asked.

“No, but he’ll be here.”

Melody was glumly opening another pack of oyster crackers. The maître d’ had snapped her head off when she’d asked if he’d save them a corner table. “Madam,” he’d said, sourly, “please enjoy yourself at the counter seats.”

“Have you spoken to him?” Jack asked Melody.

“Me?” Melody said, surprised. “No. Leo never calls me.”

“I got an e-mail from him at work on Friday,” Bea said. “But since he’s not here yet, maybe we should talk about what to say when he does get here.”

The three of them squirmed on their stools a bit, eyed one another warily.

“Well,” Melody said. “I—”

“Go on,” Bea said.

“I think we should, obviously, make sure he’s okay.” Melody spoke haltingly; she was unaccustomed to going first. Jack looked dubious. Bea smiled encouragingly. Melody sat up a little straighter. “I think we inquire after his health. Find out where he’s staying. Offer our support.”

Bea was nodding along to everything Melody said. “Agreed,” Bea said.

“And then?” Jack said, pointedly.

“And then I guess we ask about The Nest,” Melody said. “I don’t know. How would you like to start?”

“I’d like to hand him an invoice and ask him when he’s paying it,” Jack said.

Bea swiveled on her stool to face Jack. “Are you guys in some kind of financial trouble? Is Walker not working or something?”

Jack let out an exasperated puff. “Walker is working. Walker is always working. I would like to offer Walker the opportunity to not work for a bit. Eventually. As in next year, which was our plan and has been our plan forever—that Walker could cut back and we’d spend more time in the country …” Jack trailed off. He was not comfortable talking to his sisters about any of this. He wanted to get Leo alone and make his pitch for payback priority without the other two interfering.

“I’m worried, too, you know,” Melody said. “Soon we’ll be paying college tuition. You can’t imagine what it costs now. And the house—”

“What about the house?” Bea asked.

Melody didn’t want to talk about her house, about Walter’s completely insane and unacceptable idea about her house. “It’s expensive!” she said.

Bea waved at the waiter and gestured for drink refills. “I get that this stinks for all of us,” she said, “but I also know Leo. If we go on the offensive today—” She shrugged and looked back and forth at Melody and Jack. “You know I’m right. He’ll just avoid us.”

“He can’t avoid us forever,” Jack said.

“What are we going to do?” Bea said. “Stake him out? Garnish his nonexistent wages? Beg?”

“I think Bea’s right,” Melody said.

“Since when has being nice to Leo worked?” Jack said. “Since when has anything successfully forced Leo to not put Leo first?”

“People change,” Bea said, opening up another pack of oyster crackers.

“More often, people stay exactly the same.”

“I still don’t understand why he didn’t fight Victoria on the apartment and everything else,” Melody said. “Why he didn’t try harder to recover something.”

“You don’t?” Bea had a flash of that night in the ER, Leo’s face, his sutured chin, the whispers and moans on the other side of the curtain, the sobbing parents in the hallway, the mother quietly keening and fingering a rosary. “I do,” she said. “You would, too, if you’d been there.”

Melody became very invested in fishing a wedge of lemon from her soft drink and not thinking about the waitress. They’d been out of town the weekend of the wedding and had missed the entire mess. Jack had missed it, too; he never attended family functions. Melody needed to keep her energy focused on where it mattered: her daughters, her husband, her home.

“Oh, please,” Jack said. “That’s hardly the whole story. Something else is going on.” He was creating tiny origami-like folds on one corner of the paper placemat. “This is Leo we’re talking about. He’s got money hidden away somewhere. I know it.”

“What do you mean you know it?” Melody said. “You have proof?”

“No, but it’s the only thing that makes sense. I know it in my bones. Think about it. Since when has Leo been afraid of a fight?”

“Bea? What do you think?” Melody said.

“I don’t know,” Bea said, but the same thought had occurred to her. “How would that even work?”

“Oh, there are ways,” Jack said. “It’s surprisingly easy.”

The waiter was circling them now, annoyed. They’d decimated countless packs of oyster crackers, and empty cellophane wrappers and crumbs littered the space in front of them. Bea started gathering the crumbs into a small pile and brushing them onto a bread and butter plate.

“He’s not coming,” Jack said.

Bea checked her phone. “He’s just on Leo time.”

Then, as if on cue, Bea saw Melody sit up a little straighter and raise her left hand and nervously fluff her too-blonde bangs. A tentative smile lifted the lower half of her face. Jack straightened, too. His jaw slid forward the way it did when he was feeling defensive, but then he stood and gave a beckoning wave and before Bea could turn around, she felt a hand on her shoulder, its familiar heft and quiet preferential squeeze, and her heart did a tiny two-step, a little jig of relief, and she turned and looked up and there he was: Leo.