The Last of the Stanfields(7)

When Michel at last emerged, Ray opened the door for him, and his son slid into the passenger seat. After a quick hug, Michel put on his seat belt and folded his hands snugly in his lap, his eyes fixed on the road as Ray started the car. A full two traffic lights later, the young man finally spoke.

“I’m very happy that we’re going to have dinner together, but it’s quite strange that the setting is Maggie’s flat.”

“And what’s so strange about that, my boy?” Ray asked.

“Maggie doesn’t cook. Therefore, it’s strange.”

“As I understand it, she’s going to order pizza. It’ll be a proper party.”

“Ah. Well, that factor does make it less odd . . . but still odd, nonetheless,” Michel declared, his gaze drawn to a lovely young woman crossing the street.

“Not bad!” Ray whistled.

“Granted. She is a bit out of proportion, strictly speaking,” Michel muttered.

“You kidding me? She’s gorgeous!”

“The average height for a female as of 2016 is five foot six. That woman is at least six foot one, well above average, with particularly elongated lower extremities.”

“Whatever you say, old man. But if I were your age, I’d probably appreciate those type of proportions.”

“As a matter of fact, I tend to prefer women who are . . . well . . .”

“Shorter?”

“Yes, well put. Shorter.”

“Well, whatever floats your boat, son.”

“I don’t quite see what flotation has to do with it.”

“It’s an expression, Michel. It means ‘to each his own.’ When it comes to women, everyone has different preferences.”

“Ah, yes. That seems like a logical conclusion to me. The initial expression didn’t make any sense at all, but the second is something of which I have seen proof.”

As the Austin moved into heavier traffic, typically fine English rain began to fall. The asphalt was shimmery and slick within minutes.

“My personal theory is that I think your sister is going to announce she’s getting married.”

“Which sister? I have two.”

“Maggie, I think.”

“Ah. And what makes you think that?”

“Call it fatherly instinct. Like a sixth sense. And, Michel? I tell you this now for a specific reason. I need you to understand this is good news, so when she makes the announcement, you know that the right response would be to show her that you are happy to hear it.”

“Ah. Why is that?”

“Because if you don’t, it’ll make your sister sad. When people tell you something they’re happy about, they expect you to share and demonstrate that happiness in return.”

“Ah. But why is that?”

“Because it’s one way for you to show them you love them.”

“I understand. And getting married is good news?”

“Well, my boy, that is a complicated question. But generally speaking, yes.”

“And will her future husband be in attendance?”

“Maybe. You really never can tell, with your sister.”

“Which sister? I have two.”

“I’m well aware, Michel. After all, I am the one who brought your two sisters into being—and your mother helped, I suppose.”

“And Mum will not be in attendance.”

“No, my boy. Your mother will not be there. And you know why.”

“Yes, I do know why. It’s because she is dead.”

“There you have it. It’s because she is dead.”

Michel gazed out the window before turning to face his father.

“And what about the two of you? Was it good news when you got married?”

“Wonderful news! If I could do it all over again, I’d marry her even sooner. So, it stands to reason it’ll be good news for Maggie as well. After all, happy marriages run in our family.”

“Ah. I’m not sure that trait can be considered genetic. I’ll have to confirm tomorrow at the university.”

“What about you, Michel? Are you happy about Maggie?” Ray asked softly.

“Yes, I think so . . . I am happy knowing that Maggie is going to get married, and more so now that I know it’ll be a happy marriage because that runs in our family, as you say . . . but I admit I am a bit scared of meeting her future husband.”

“What are you afraid of?”

“Well, I simply hope that the two of us will get on.”

“You already know each other, Michel. You know, good old Fred? Tall chap, nice guy. We’ve had dinner a few times at his pub. At least, I’m assuming he’s the one your sister is going to marry. But who knows—it’s Maggie.”

“It’s a shame that Mum can’t be there with you to celebrate the good news that her daughter is going to get married.”

“And which daughter might that be?” Ray replied with a wink and a grin. “We’ve got two.”

Michel chewed on this for a moment, then returned his father’s smile.





5

MAY

October 1980, Baltimore

The motorcycle roared its way up the hill. Whenever Sally-Anne twisted the throttle, dust streamed out from behind the back wheel. She had just a few more bends to go before the manor came into view. May was able to make out the limits of the Stanfield estate even from a distance, with the finials of elegant black wrought-iron railings forming an imperfect circle around the sprawling grounds. Her grip on Sally-Anne’s waist got tighter as they caught sight of the manor, tight enough to make Sally-Anne turn around and shout over the wind with a devil-may-care smile.