Catch of the Day (Gideon's Cove #1)(18)

“Apparently not,” Christy intoned, nudging her husband, who looked rightfully chagrined.

“It’s not funny, Christy,” Mom said sharply. “She’s never going to meet anyone behind that counter. Think of how you’re going to end up, Maggie! A spinster waitress like Judy.”

“I like Judy,” I answered weakly. Mom likes to go right for the kill.

“Now, Lena,” Dad said meekly. I knew it was no use. There was no stopping my mother on this subject. No daughter of hers was going to be unmarried. Not if she had a breath left in her body!

“Well, I just don’t understand why it’s so difficult,” Mom said to Father Tim. “She’s perfectly nice! Look at Christy! Did Christy have trouble finding a nice husband? No! So why can’t Maggie do the same thing? Maggie, if only you’d get a real job, some place where you could meet some eligible men. Like Christy—”

This comparison theme song, which I have mentally entitled “Christy is Better,” is one Mom’s sung many times. “Do you have to be so perfect?” I asked my sister.

“Sorry,” she sang, wiping mashed-up carrots from Violet’s eyelid. “I really can’t help it. It just happens.”

“—in my day, people wanted to get married,” my mother was saying. “Now, of course, everyone’s out there, doing all sorts of things. Why buy the milk when you can just rent the cow for free?”

Jonah shot me a quizzical look—Mom’s never been good with clichés—then mooed softly at Violet, who banged her spoon on the highchair tray in approval. Jonah mooed again, this time in my direction.

“I have a great idea,” I said. “Let’s pick on Jonah! Jonah, why haven’t you given Mom any grandchildren yet? What’s the matter with you? Don’t you have unprotected sex anymore? Don’t you care about your own mother?”

“Maggie!” Mom admonished. “There’s a priest in the room! Father Tim, I don’t know where she gets this trashy talk.”

But Father Tim was laughing, as I knew he would be. “I’ve no doubt that Jonah conducts himself like a gentleman,” he said. “Furthermore, Jonah, my man, I trust that you’ve given thought to—”

“Actually, Maggot, thanks for reminding me,” Jonah interrupted blithely. “I’ve got a date. Thanks for dinner, Ma.”

“Wait, honey, I have some leftovers for you,” Mom said, pressing a huge plate into his hands.

“Goodbye, you spoiled little prince,” I said, allowing him to kiss my cheek.

“Goodbye, you dried-up old hag,” he returned fondly. He turned to Christy. “Goodbye, beautiful, nice sister. Goodbye, filthy little baby.”

“You put me in mind of my own family,” Father Tim said. He looked a little sad, and I took the opportunity to pat his hand.

“You must miss them so much,” I commented.

“I do, Maggie. I do.” He patted back, and a shameful heat flowed up my arm to my heart.

After Violet was tucked into her portable crib, my parents broke out the Trivial Pursuit. “Three teams,” Dad announced. “The Mrs. and I are undefeated, Father Tim, so we don’t want to break our streak. Will, you can be with your lovely bride there, and Maggie, you won’t mind showing Father Tim the ropes, will you, sweetheart?”

Christy grinned wickedly. “I think we all know the answer to that,” she murmured so that only I could hear.

“Have you gained a few pounds?” I asked. “They look good on you.”

And so the rest of the night was spent quipping and insulting and laughing. Really, how could I not imagine Father Tim and me together? Maggie O’Halloran. What a great-sounding name!

The next day, I’m sitting in the rectory living room, having dodged the Gorgon Plutarski, who guards Father Tim like a pit bull protecting a steak. I stare at Father Tim’s beautifully shaped mouth and idly rub a patch of eczema on my knuckle. Tonight is the big spaghetti supper to raise money for a new roof on the western side of the church, which started leaking after a nor’easter last winter.

“The final count is closer to sixty people,” Father Tim says. He leans forward, clasping his hands together loosely. The scent of his soap drifts to me, and I try not to swoon. For God’s sake, Maggie. Literally. For God’s sake. He’s a man of the cloth— “Do you have enough? I hate to be putting this on you on such short notice, but apparently we had a few last-minute reservations.”

“Oh, no problem,” I say. It’s so cozy in this small living room, Father Tim sitting just across from me. I swear, I could look into those eyes for the rest of my life….

“Can you do the bread, as well, Maggie? I’m sorry it’s so late, my asking, but it completely slipped my mind.”

“Hmm? Oh, the bread? Sure. No problem.”

“Ah, thank heaven for you, dear girl,” he says, though he is only a year older. “You’re a treasure.”

A jewel, a treasure, darlin’… I know he calls everyone by those pet names, but still. We were so natural together last night, playing couples’ Trivial Pursuit, sharing huddled discussions over whether the answer was Eisenhower or Nixon, David Bowie or Iggy Pop…

I stand up, trying to shake myself mentally. Get over him, Maggie, I instruct myself. I need to stop. I really do. I want to. I’m going to. I sound like a drug addict. Perhaps there’s a twelve-step program for me. Priest Lovers Anonymous.