The Whiskey Tide (43 page)

     
"I don't like girls who talk back." He hit her again and she staggered. "I don't like having my pants stolen, either."

     
Aggie's ears were ringing. She was barely aware of the hand she'd planted against the back of the sofa to keep herself upright. She'd never been hit in the face before. Mama and Peg had slapped her hands. Pa had paddled her a few times for severe misdeeds. But she'd never been hit.

     
"I told you not to show up here unless I asked you to, didn't I? Now get out."

     
Felix picked up a cufflink he'd dropped on a nearby table and threaded it through his flapping sleeve. Aggie stumbled toward the door, too proud to cry.

***

     
"They came in about ten minutes ago." Rosalie's words were tight and worried.

     
Through the closed parlor doors Kate heard their mother weeping, punctuated by the low sound of Uncle Finney's voice. He didn't appear to be haranguing her. From the little they could make out he was trying to soothe her.

     
"She'd gone to see about some job," Rosalie said nervously. "I don't know how she and Uncle Finney met up." She'd summoned Kate from her room where she was correcting papers. They looked at each other helplessly. "She's been crying like this the whole time. It's not like her, Kate. And... and people do collapse sometimes... have to be sent away...."

     
One of the sliding doors snapped open. Uncle Finney stuck his head out. "That cook of yours is gone, I suppose. Rosalie, come help your mother upstairs and fetch her some tea." He ducked back inside to where Mama sat sobbing as if she'd never cease. He took her hand and chaffed it.

     
"There, Ginny. It's going to be all right. I'll take care of you," he promised grandly. As Rosalie led Mama out of the room he glowered at Kate. "Trying to hold onto this house is ruining her health. Destroying her! You're to blame, making her think she can manage. Ridiculous!"

     
"You're the one to blame, not repaying the loan Pa made you."

     
He looked momentarily guilty, then resorted to bluster.

     
"Stop spouting such nonsense and persuade your mother to leave this albatross before her nerves collapse!"

     
"So that you can rent out our beach to rum-runners twice as often? So your conscience isn't troubled knowing Mama will be dragged into things if the police catch them?" Kate couldn't hold back her anger. Her uncle's sudden hangdog expression filled her with victory.

     
"I don't know what you're talking about!"

     
"Shall I read you a list of the dates they landed?"

     
His tongue flicked out to wet his lip. "I thought your mother would move. I never wanted to jeopardize.... I couldn't turn my back on that kind of money when your brother may fall ill again and need my help or... or...."

     
His tone had acquired the whining defensiveness of Woody's treacherous playmate Rupert Cass. He wet his lip again.

     
"You're not exactly innocent," he accused. "Don't you think I've figured out why the bank didn't foreclose? What you've really been up to when you spun those ridiculous tales about sailing lessons?"

     
Kate kept her face immobile as cold trickled into her stomach. Her uncle knew. He could betray her.

     
"We don't land booze here," she said distinctly.

     
But color was seeping back into Uncle Finney's flat face. He took a cocky turn around the sofa.

     
"You're a smart girl, Kate. It might be more than your mother could bear if you were arrested."

     
Kate let her breath out slowly. His smile was a threat. It saddened her that this petty excuse for a man was the brother her mother cherished and trusted.

     
"You're not the only one with connections, Uncle Finney. If I'm accused of anything illegal, I'll tell the police I made my first rum run for your pal Malcolm Townsend. Only I won't stop with the truth. I'll say you're the one who set it all up! What will all your puffed up business friends think of you then?"

     
His mouth half opened, then settled into a line. "You are an arrogant young woman and you need taking down a peg!"

     
"Perhaps. You're not the one to do it. You can see yourself out."

     
She regretted tipping her hand to him. Worried about it as she walked in a trance to the kitchen. They were at a standoff. She hoped. Each of them unable to betray the other. Yet she couldn't shake off a fear that in some way she didn't see yet, Uncle Finney had the advantage. Mired in thought, she scarcely heard the door open.

     
"I'm famished," Aggie's voice said. "And I've lost this job, too. I went to pick up my check and they told me not to come back."

     
Kate looked up and gasped. Purple bruises were forming along one side of her sister's jaw.

     
"Someone hit you!" It seemed unlikely the bruises were connected to Aggie losing her job. "It was Felix, wasn't it?"

     
The dumbwaiter started to rumble, which meant Woody was on his way down. The lift of Aggie's chin told the truth.

     
"I brought it on myself. He apologized. It won't happen again."

     
"Don't you remember that thin little woman who did the cleaning when we were in grade school? She'd have a black eye one week and a puffed lip the next."

     
"Felix isn't like that! I told you, he won't do it again."

***

     
"So what're you going to make of yourself, Joe?" Rita cocked her head so her dark curls stirred.

     
"What do you mean 'make of myself'?"

     
They were sitting chastely on the sofa in her family's apartment. Joe had been invited for dinner. Rita's cod had been excellent. She was a fine cook, having filled the role since her mother died. A throw with a diamond pattern covered most of the sofa, reflecting her determination to camouflage upholstery as threadbare as the Santaynas'.

     
"You know what I mean." Rita straightened the throw, which had slipped the minute they sat down. "You've traveled and things. Are you going to be a fisherman the rest of your life like my dad and your uncles?"

     
Joe knew they were talking about more than his choice of occupation. They were testing the marshy ground into the future. On the other side of the room Rita's father itemized what was wrong with the world to Rita's two brothers. Old man Pacheco was a complainer, though he seldom complained to Joe.

     
"Since you ask, what would you think if I opened a shop for boat engine repairs?"

     
She considered a minute. "That brings in a pretty good — I mean, Mr. Sant'Angelo does okay, doesn't he? Has a car — and his wife doesn't have to watch her pennies any when she comes in for groceries." Her sudden smile dazzled him. "You're awfully smart, Joe. I expect you could make a go of just about anything."

     
Her confidence boosted his own, which had suffered some since he'd recognized his feelings for Kate. The sparkle in Rita's eyes triggered his grin. Rita wanted nice things. She was smart and determined and would give him the kind of nudge he needed. Her hand slipped into his.

     
"I hope it works out, if that's what you want," she said softly.

     
On the other side of the room old man Pacheco had ceased his grumbling. Joe felt his eyes on them. Rita brought out cards and they played euchre for an hour or better. When Joe took his leave, she stepped outside with him.

     
Spring was on the horizon, but not yet evident in the night air. Joe wrapped his arms around her to warm her and they savored the feel of each other's body. Her full lips parted willingly. Their velvet caused his blood to surge.

     
His thoughts about Kate were fantasy. Rita was reality. Tangible. A girl from his own background, soft and willing in his arms. She stroked a hand down the curve of his neck, shivering once in the cold.

     
"Joe...." She looked over his shoulder. "Dad and the boys will be away Friday night. Going over to Lynn to hear a priest Dad knew as a boy talk at some men's group. They won't be back 'til ten or after. We'd have the house to ourselves."

     
Joe was silent. He understood what she was offering.

     
"You're sure? You want to, I mean?"

     
She nodded. "We've been going together a long time. I want to really be your girl. Completely, Joe."

     
A man would have to be crazy not to want her. He'd seen the looks she attracted in Finnegan's. Even Uncle Drake fell prey to lust in her presence.

     
"I'll be there," he said.

***

     
Mama cleared her throat when they sat down to lunch.

     
"I'd like to apologize for — for the scene I made yesterday."

     
Woody had gone home with Aaron. There was a feeling of intimacy in the dining room.

     
"I'd waited an hour to apply for a job and then the man I spoke to upbraided me for wasting his time when he learned I had children. I was down in the dumps so I thought I'd look at Lindemore's, just to cheer myself, but the clerks there acted as if I hadn't a cent to my name!"

     
She forked a smidgen of chicken salad into her mouth. Pink washed her cheeks as she remembered. "It's nearly true, of course, but after all the years I've shopped there you'd think they'd at least be polite! So I went to Willets, like a fool, and they were even worse."

     
Shared indignation mingled on the air, as unmistakable as potpourri. Their mother had patronized both shops regularly when they had money. She ripped a roll in half. A curious energy crackled from her.

     
"If I had any head for business — and money, of course — I'd open a dress shop! I couldn't be any worse at choosing things than Willets. I'd have decent quality and a seamstress on premises —"

     
"Mama, yes! Let's do it!" Aggie returned her water glass to its place so abruptly its contents sloshed. "I know about clerking. And modeling. We could ask Uncle Finney to lend you enough to get started. Don't you think it's a terribly clever idea, Kate?"

     
Kate hesitated. She had no idea how serious her mother was or whether she could make a go of a business. Still, Mama had to have some source of income and she hadn't been this animated since Pa died.

     
"It's too far fetched," Mama protested, but she was laughing. "It was just a silly daydream. I don't know anything about business or bookkeeping."

     
"Yes, you do." Kate surprised herself speaking. "You're a demon at budgeting and keeping our household accounts. Work out a list of the things you'd need. The costs. Uncle Finney wants us to be taken care of, doesn't he?"

     
Guilt might make him agree. Or the chance to appear magnanimous. Or the fear he'd otherwise be responsible for their maintenance at some point in the future. If he didn't, after the detestable things he'd done to this family, then Kate herself would see to it that her mother had this chance.