At Last (The Idle Point, Maine Stories)(30)

He's so wonderful, Gramma. You loved him when he was a little boy. I know you'd love him just as much now. You're not working for the Chases any more. What difference does it make if I see their son? He's so good to me, Gramma. He's handsome and kind and he makes me feel like the princess in a fairy tale except I know our story will have a happy ending.

But she didn't say it. Gramma Del was engrossed in Wheel of Fortune and, no matter how hard she tried, Gracie couldn't seem to find the words.





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Idle Point was a typical small town. News traveled fast and usually it ended up being dissected at the coffee shop next-door to the Gazette. When Noah was little, the men used to gather at Nate's Barber Shop but when Nate went unisex the men moved down the block to the coffee shop in a show of male solidarity. Times changed and nowadays the band of happy gossipers included men and women. The only requirements were a love of caffeine and a juicy story to share.

Ben used to take Noah for pancakes at Patsy's Luncheonette every Saturday morning before he was sent away to boarding school. Ruth would brush Noah's hair and dress him in a soft flannel shirt and jeans, then wave goodbye to the two of them as they drove off down the road. Noah had loved the way all the men stopped talking when he and Simon entered the room. "The boy can't stay away from your blueberry pancakes, Patsy," Simon said every single time as the place erupted in laughter. They all knew the truth. He was there to show off his son, his boy, the apple of his eye, the one who would carry on his name.

As he grew up, Noah began to notice that there was more than simple pride involved in his father's eagerness to show him off. There was a sharp edge to his father's pride, a certain belligerence that he'd been too young to recognize before, almost as if Simon were daring Idle Point to contradict him. Noah asked his mother about it once, but she'd told him he was imagining things. "We waited a long time for you, Noah," she said. "You can't blame him if he's sometimes a tad heavy-handed."

He accepted her explanation, but he never forgot the expression in her eyes as she turned away. He didn't want to know what made her look so sad.

He didn't want to know why his father had never loved him.

Noah's return generated a fair share of interest and before long it seemed as if the entire town knew what he was going to do before he did it. The guys at the Gazette teased him about prep school and his rich-boy haircut and the girlfriends they were sure he had by the dozen. If he talked to one of the typists, his father's pals nudged each other and exchanged winks. If he looked tired in the morning, they ribbed him about having had a big night before. They took breaks and lunches together at Patsy's same as ever, and the fact that Noah never joined them didn't escape their notice.

Or Simon's.

They'd asked Noah to join them for lunch that afternoon but he'd been halfway to his car and his mind was already consumed by thoughts of Gracie. He'd brushed them off with a shake of his head and kept on walking. It wasn't a big deal. At least it hadn't seemed so to him but it looked like he was wrong. Simon began reading him the riot act as soon as they sat down to dinner that evening.

"They're good men," his father said to him. "They're the ones you'll need in your corner when you take over the Gazette."

"I don't need them in my corner," he said, "because I'm never going to take over the Gazette."

"You say that now but you'll change your mind."

"I'm not going to be trapped in this place the rest of my life." He wanted to chart his own course, not follow in his father's footsteps.

"You'll do what I tell you to do," his father had said, anger tightening the corners of his mouth.

"You can't tell me how to live my life."

"Many sacrifices have been made for you. I—"

"Simon." His mother touched Simon's forearm with her hand. "There's no need for this."

He had never seen his father look at his mother with such fury. "Maybe it's time he learned what was sacrificed so that he could—"

"That's enough!" Fear laced her words, a fear so real Noah could almost smell it in the room.

Suddenly he had wanted to get as far away from there as fast as he could.

"Where do you think you're going?" his father had called out as he kicked back his chair and stood up.