The Sweetheart Deal (4 page)

I
didn't sleep on the plane—I never could. Sleeping is such a private, vulnerable state, I was always fascinated when adults packed in a plane among strangers surrendered to it.
Sleeping together
. So I felt ragged and useless when I got to the house. Audrey was sitting on the porch. She stood up and waited, and cried against me after I dropped my bag, and I wept too. There was nothing to say.

The boys were all so big. At fifteen, Christopher looked so much like Leo, with the same dark good looks, only a year older than his dad was when we met. Brian and Andrew were handsome too, with Audrey's eyes and mouth, and both seemed more mature than middle-schoolers, having aged overnight, I thought. They all hugged me without hesitation. I hadn't seen Audrey and the boys in six years, when Leo had brought them all east for a visit with both sets of parents. I'd rented a place on Martha's Vineyard and they'd spent a week with me.

The house was much as I remembered it, but it had matured with the boys. What had been the guest room was now Christopher's room, and what had been the playroom was the guest room, around the corner from the kitchen. The baby gates and the other children's accessories that had littered every room the last time I'd been here were long gone. Because the family had filled as much room as the house had to offer, Leo had started the addition. Their bungalow in the northeast quadrant of the city had four bedrooms and was larger inside than it looked from the street, but with three boys, Leo had written in one email, there was no such thing as too much room. I thought the rooms downstairs were painted different colors than when I'd been here before. The dining room was red now, striking, and I didn't remember it that way. Audrey and Leo might have repainted, but I didn't ask. Maybe the paint was the same and I was different. I might not have noticed such things twelve years ago. Photographs lined the mantel. School portraits of the boys that I'd never seen. Several of all five of them. Leo and Audrey with Christopher as a baby. A portrait of Audrey and Leo on their wedding day, and one of the two of them from a day they'd gone skiing, their goggles pushed up, Leo's bulky glove wrapped around Audrey's shoulder. She had to know it was there. I'd only been in the house five minutes, but I felt like taking it down and putting it away. No one needed to see that. There were at least eight flower arrangements, a few sitting in each room, that looked like they had been set down haphazardly and without much thought.

“I made coffee,” she said, and poured me a cup. “How was the flight?”

“It was fine,” I said. “It got me here.”

“Did you sleep?” she said.

“Nah, I couldn't.”

“Do you need to take a nap?” she said.

I sipped the coffee and shook my head. “It will just mess me up for tonight. I'm fine.”

“Okay,” she said. She hadn't stopped moving since we'd walked into the house. “Listen. My parents and Leo's parents are here, Maureen and my brother are too. Everyone's at the same hotel.”

I knew Leo's family—his parents Glenn and Libby, and his sister, Maureen—as well as I knew my own. I'd met Audrey's parents, Marty and Claudia Lanigan, and her brother, Gabe, at their wedding.

She rested her hands on the counter and looked out the window above the sink. “Glenn keeps saying to me, ‘Whatever you need, Audrey, whatever you need.' What I need he can't give me, no one can. They've lost their son.”

“I know,” I said. I had traveled this terrain when my mother died, but hers had been a very different death. “People don't think they know what to do, but they're always capable of more than they imagined. If you can, just give them some direction. Or I will if you want me to. My father will be here on Friday.”

She turned away from the window and looked at me and nodded. “That's so nice of him.” She got a tissue and blotted her face. “So I need your help,” she said. “Maybe you want to shower first, but I need you to help me buy a suit this afternoon. A suit for Leo.”

“Okay.” I wasn't sure what she meant.

She wiped the counter and loaded the dishwasher. She was back to moving again, confused but committed. “I have to take his clothes to Matt MacKay, to the funeral home, and I need a suit,” she said. “I'm sure everyone expects me to bury him in his dress blues, but I won't. I'm not putting anything in the ground with him that he's ever touched or worn. So I'm buying a suit for him to wear for one thing only. And with a closed casket, it doesn't matter anyway. Let everyone think they know what he's wearing inside.”

“Okay,” I said. Now I knew what she meant.

“You have to try it on,” she said. “I know if it fits you, it will fit him.” I felt like I was scheming with the wife of someone who was still alive, a wife who wanted to surprise her husband with a gift.

“Okay,” I said for the third time in a row. Maybe that's all I was going to do while I was here. Agree with everything Audrey said.

We drove out of Portland, to a vast mall, and when we walked into Jos. A. Bank, four salesmen descended upon us, and one woman. She was the one Audrey spoke to.

“We could use a little help,” she said. “Can you give us some time to ourselves after we find what we're looking for?”

“Absolutely,” said the woman. “I'm Deirdre. I'm here to help as much or as little as you want. Please let me know what you need.”

“Thank you,” Audrey said. “Can we look at some of your nicest suits? We're looking for navy.” She put her hand on my shoulder. “For him.”

We followed Deirdre and we weren't there fifteen minutes before I was wearing the suit—Leo's suit—Signature Platinum Wool, Navy Thin Stripe. It was five dollars shy of $2,200.

“If you don't mind my saying,” said Deirdre, “this is beautiful on you, and the right size, but taking it in a bit”—she pulled at the back of the jacket and looked at Audrey—“don't you think, will make it exquisite.”

“Thank you,” said Audrey again. “It's actually a surprise for my husband and I think it will be a perfect fit.” I felt lightheaded. I realized I'd been holding my breath. I exhaled. “If he tries it on and we need to adjust it, we'll be back.” I needed to sit down. I wanted to take the suit off.

“Oh, I'm very sorry,” said Deirdre. “I thought you were together.”

Audrey smiled. “Thanks again for your help. I think we have what we need, but we'll let you know if we want to see something else.” I knew she was doing what she needed to, to get through this purchase she insisted on making, but I was about to come undone.

Thank God Deirdre got the hint, since those people don't always, and she left us alone.

“Thank you, Garrett,” Audrey said. Her eyes filled. She put her arm through mine and we looked at our reflections in the mirror staring back. “This is what I wanted. It's close enough to his uniform. Leo always looked so good in blue. So do you.”

“It's a good suit,” I said to the mirror. “It's a beautiful suit.” I couldn't wait to rip the fucking thing off.

Audrey wiped her face. She seemed at once the most fragile of creatures and a peerless force to be dealt with. “I'm going to pick out a shirt and tie,” she said. “I'll take this with me.” She slipped the jacket off my shoulders. She patted my back, draped the jacket over her arm, and walked away.

I went into the dressing room, sat on the bench with my face in my hands, and took deep breaths until I was ready to meet Audrey and hand over the pants. The fatigue from the flight and the weight of buying Leo's suit combined and refused to waver. I couldn't look in the mirror and acknowledge the image of my living self, so I turned my back while I changed. I don't know how many men had tried on that suit, but I was going to be the last person who did before Leo wore it till the end of time.

T
he day after I bought Leo's suit, I went to Ann Taylor alone. Erin offered to come with me. “You need help,” she said.

“No, I can do it by myself,” I said. “But if you could, would you take the boys shopping and I'll meet you downtown? Christopher is the only one with a suit.”

“Done,” she said.

I didn't think about it until I was shopping alone. How Garrett had tried on that beautiful suit while I lied to that nice woman who helped us. He looked sick by the time I paid, and I wondered if I had asked too much of him. How would I have felt if someone had asked me to be the model for a dead woman who would be the next and last person to wear what I'd tried on? Garrett hadn't said anything, of course he hadn't, and by the next day it felt too late for me to bring it up. After we'd left Washington Square, I'd dropped him off at the house and had taken the suit, shirt and tie, socks, and boxers I'd bought to the funeral home.
This is what he's wearing
,
I told Matt MacKay.

I knew what I wanted at Ann Taylor and declined all the offers for help. A dark gray suit—I refused to wear black, and I refused to wear a skirt or a dress—and one was easy to find. I was in and out of Pioneer Place in fifteen minutes. It had taken me longer to park.

Erin had picked up Brian and Andrew when I'd left the house. I texted her as I walked the few blocks to Nordstrom.
We're here, in the Boys Department
,
she wrote back.

By the time I saw them, Erin had already found each of the boys a dress shirt and suit; navy for Brian and gray for Andrew. No black for them either, and I was so relieved and grateful for Erin's having made exactly those choices, even though I hadn't said anything the way I'd meant to but forgot. The boys were both quiet and stoic, Andrew looking angrier than Brian, and Brian looking like he couldn't leave the place soon enough.

“They look terrific,” said Erin. “Both of them.”

“Thank you.” I hugged her and whispered into her hair. “Thank you so much.”

She clutched me back. “Of course. We're going to go grab a snack—do you want anything?”

I shook my head. “I'm going to buy them each a tie and I'll meet you outside.”

There was a customer in front of me so I had to wait. After she finished, I piled everything on the counter and the cashier folded it all and filled the shopping bag. She was very kind, but more reserved than I was used to the Nordstrom staff being, always so predictably outgoing, with their
How's your day going?
and high level of genuine professional interest in you for however long you spent with them. I was waiting for her gentle inquiry:
Special occasion?
But she only said how handsome the boys looked in the suits and what nice sons I had. I was prepared for her to be more solicitous, and I was glad that for whatever reason she wasn't.

“Thank you for your help,” I said when we were finished.

She came around to my side of the counter and handed me the bag. “You're so very welcome,” she said. “Please, take good care.”

Erin and the boys were waiting on the corner across the street, outside Starbucks, and the four of us walked in the direction both of us had parked.

“Did that tall woman working help you guys at all?” I said. “At Nordstrom. Or did someone else?”

“No, she did,” Erin said. “She was great. That's why we were practically done when you got there.”

“Oh, that's good,” I said. “I was just curious. She didn't have that usual bubbly chatter they always have, you know? I didn't want for you to have had any trouble. It was such a huge help.”

“No, no.” Erin shook her head. “Here. Let me take that.” As soon as she took the Nordstrom bag from me, she clutched my empty right hand in her left. “Sweetie, she was wonderful. I told her why we were there and asked her to not say anything to you. But she told me how very sorry she was. She'd seen the paper.”

After the funeral, I had my suit cleaned and I donated it to Dress for Success, hoping it would be just the thing for a woman on the cusp of taking her life in a new direction. I thought of a single mom. Maybe she would be only twenty-two or twenty-three. Maybe she'd recently finished school or a class where she'd developed new skills she was proud of. Maybe she'd gotten an interview she was really excited about, for a job she hoped to get. Like Leo's suit, I wore mine for only one occasion, despite the expense. I couldn't bear to hang it in my closet, where it would wait futilely to be worn on a happier day for an occasion that would never come. I knew when I bought it that I wouldn't wear it again. But the suit could mean all the difference for this woman I imagined. She'd be so excited about finding it, she'd call a friend. Maybe the suit would be part of what got her the job she wanted. And whomever it ended up with, I hoped at the very least the woman would feel lucky. She'd have no idea of the sadness it was part of before it came to her.

I
didn't know about Christopher and Andrew, but I was glad Garrett was here. Our grandparents and Aunt Maureen and Uncle Gabe had been here for a few days already, and everyone was a wreck but trying not to be for us kids—it was obvious. As soon as he got here, it seemed like Garrett decided his job was to try to keep everyone from going completely crazy and off the rails, I could tell, even though no one asked him to. Even though he was a wreck too, he'd known my dad's family forever so he knew how to deal with them the way no one else could have, even though I'm sure he was doing something he never wanted to have to do.

Both sets of grandparents had come out to visit us right after Christmas like they did every year. They always came in the summer, and then again right after Christmas, so it was messed up to see them not even two months after the last time we did, when we had exchanged presents and both grandfathers had worn Santa hats. I sat with the adults sometimes and listened when they talked about my dad, crying, trying not to cry, my grandmothers hugging each other, laughing about him and how he was, then crying again. It seemed like everyone was always drinking, and Granddad Marty and Grandpa Glenn were usually quiet, and drinking made them both quieter or cry more often, depending on the day. We ate the food that people brought and it was mostly good even if it was weird eating a dinner every night that someone we didn't know had made for us.

My best friend, Michael, and sometimes his younger sister, came over with his mom, pretty much every day, and I was always glad even though he seemed as sad as I was and all we did was watch TV with Andrew. Joe Assante came over a few times and he and Chris would leave the house for a while, even though it seemed like nobody else left the house that week, and sometimes Chris looked better after they came back and sometimes he looked worse, although every day he pretty much looked ruined, like he never slept at all.

Because of Michael and Joe, I felt bad for Andrew that he didn't have a friend come over like we did. Andrew had a lot of friends he liked the same, not just one super good one. So if he was around when Michael and I were watching TV, I'd ask Andrew to pick the show he wanted, and that's the one we'd watch.