Long Night; Part 4

I love Maggie.  

As a writer, this is dangerous.  Because I like her so much, I tend to want everything to work out for her, and the scenes with Maggie tend toward almost saccharine sometimes.  I'm doing my very best to avoid that.  

But I just love her to bits.

Enjoy this next vignette about the long night, starring Magdalena!  Woot.

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Maggie was not particularly in the mood for another Delaney family dinner.  This one larger than the last.  She had a lot on her mind.  It had been one of the longest weeks of her life.  She had a new name, a new bank account, a new home, a new car, a new family, and a husband.  And tomorrow she was getting married…again. 

She’d asked Grey if he would be available to make the sacrament with her.  He’d gotten very quiet but he’d nodded, asked what time he should be at the chapel, what he should wear, and if he needed to bring anything.  He seemed resigned to the Catholic ceremony that he obviously viewed as redundant.  Well, he had been the one to offer it up as a possibility in the first place.  “We can be married by a priest as well if you’d like Sir.”  He’d said to her father at that painfully awkward wedding day brunch. 

Now it was time to actually do it, and to his credit he hadn’t put up a fuss.  But he’d been pretty taciturn and moody since that discussion.

And now they were arriving at the sliding glass door in the rear of the Delaney mansion once again, looking into the brightly illuminated perfect kitchen, granite surfaces covered with various platters and bowls and dishes for the evening’s festivities, and he’d hardly spoken a word to her in hours.  She was so nervous she’d nearly turned back three or four times on the walk over.

She consoled herself by focusing on the fact that he didn’t seem to have a large family and that this event would likely be very manageable.  Mrs. Delaney would be there, making sure conversations stayed pleasant and flowing.  Mr. Delaney would be there, and his was such a supportive presence.  Plus Grey’s twin sisters had been very pleasant and chatty last time, so they would probably be helpful.  And Ben Sinclair.  Maggie had never met a sweeter young man in her life—(Grey didn’t count because he’d turned out to be quite an ass, proving his sweetness false in the end) he was affable and warm and so very kind.  She’d be glad to see him again.

But Avalon didn’t seem to like her much at all and she was an intimidating sort of girl.  Maggie felt especially shabby and poor beside her polished elegance and refined sensibilities.  And then Grey’s grandmother would be in attendance.  Maggie’d never met Mrs. Calder, nor had Grey said much about her, but the woman had a reputation around Cedar Falls for being miserly, cruel, cold, and very sharp tongued.

And another set of butterflies was dancing in her belly because her boss would be in attendance.  She’d never seen Nolan Delaney in a social context before, and even though he was probably the finest man she’d ever met, she was becoming ridiculously self-conscious around him and dreading seeing him in this family setting.  He’d been somewhat aloof to her at the shop this past week.  She couldn’t quite put her finger on it, because he was as friendly as ever, smiled just as easily as he had before her honeymoon, but something was definitely more distant about him.  And it made her so nervous she thought she might vomit.  And she’d be meeting his family too. 

Grey slid the door open and a rainbow colored blur darted out from the breakfast nook and straight into his front with a delighted squeal of a greeting.

“Ooof!”  Grey grunted at the impact and the blank surprise of being ambushed on entry.  Then his face split into a genuine grin and Maggie was surprised at how her heart flipped in response to the sight of it.  He hadn’t been smiling much lately.

“Hey munchkin!”  He said, stooping down and lifting the colorfully garbed little creature from where it was wrapped around his leg, and tossing it into the cold winter night above his head.

It giggled exuberantly.  “Greyyyyyyyyy!”

Maggie remembered Lola Delaney.  She was the only member of Nolan’s family that she’d had the privilege of meeting so far, since he often picked her up from kindergarten and took her with him to work while his wife ferried the other children from school to soccer or instrument practice or other such activities.

“Hi Lola.”  Maggie said after Grey had finished tickling her breathless.  “Aren’t you cold out here without your coat?”

“Hi Maggie!”  Lola grinned.  “How come you’re here at my Uncle Jonah’s?”

Grey took the hint about the coat and carried Lola through the door and set her down on the kitchen floor once more.  Maggie followed and slid the door closed behind them.

“Can I take your coat?”  He asked Maggie as he shrugged out of his own.  The kitchen was quite warm, especially compared to the brisk air outside, and she was glad to doff the peacoat she’d borrowed from Viola.  She still hadn’t gone out to purchase a new one of her own.  She could only take so many new things at a time.  This week was: new last name; maybe next week would be new clothes.

But once she’d shed the coat she began to wish she’d at least gone out and picked up a few nicer garments.  The plain black dress she was wearing suddenly felt very frumpy as she stood in the glorious Delaney kitchen.  She’d bought it for her great-aunt Flora’s funeral the previous winter so it was conservative and simple and not especially flattering; and if it felt shabby in the kitchen she imagined it would feel like a trash bag when she stepped into that breathtaking dining room of theirs.

“Are you here to see Daddy?”  Lola pressed, then spun in place to show off the pretty billowing of her floor length peasant style skirt. 

Maggie laughed.  “Maybe I’m here to see you!”  She deflected, her eyes catching the stack of coloring books and the box of crayons over on the table in the breakfast nook.  “What are you coloring?  Can I see?”

Lola brightened and bounced off toward the nook with glee.  “I have four different ones.”  She explained.  “There’s one that’s princesses—it has every princess and all the dresses and some of the princes too.”  Maggie trailed after the girl and tilted her head to follow along as Lola flipped through a coloring book of Disney princesses.

“I’ll go hang these up.”  Grey said, uninterested in the coloring books, and evidently uninterested in sticking by her side this evening. 

Maggie nodded.  She’d have to learn to fend for herself in Delaney country sometime or other.  Afterall, she was Maggie Delaney now, wasn’t she?  She had every right to be here, standing in this kitchen, interacting with her boss’ daughter, unaccompanied by an escort.

Why did she still feel like such an imposter?

“Plus I have this one, there’s almost no room left in this one ‘uhcause I had it since I was little.”

Maggie repressed the urge to laugh.  If this girl got any littler she might just disappear.  She was a peanut.

“You’ve done a great job with that one.”  Maggie told her earnestly, looking at the wild scribbles on every page.

Lola tossed it away from herself and grabbed up the next one.  “This one is all the gods and goddesses.”  She informed Maggie.  “Nobody else in my kindergarten even has this one.  This is from India.”

“Wow.”  Maggie breathed, looking at all the magical creatures and figures on the pages.

“Yeah.  My Daddajee and Didima are from India.”  The girl turned her midnight black eyes up to Maggie and seemed to be waiting for her response.

Maggie wasn’t quite sure what the girl had just said, but she’d have guessed maybe she was referring to her grandparents.  “Wow.”  Maggie repeated, allowing her awe to color her tone.  “I’ve never been to India, have you?”

Lola looked pleased that Maggie was suitably impressed.  “No, not yet, but Dadajee and Didi tell me all the stories.  My Mummy has been lots of times and my Uncle Sanjay too.”

Maggie smiled.  “Has your Daddy been?”  It was wild to see this side of Nolan Delaney’s life.

Lola nodded vigorously.  “They went for a wedding present.  We’re all gunna go soon I think.”

Maggie raised her eyebrows and murmured about how exciting that sounded.  Then Lola moved on to show off her ‘most favoritest’ coloring book, this one featuring unicorns and mermaids and other very little-girl targeted illustrations.  She informed Maggie that her Daddy had promised her a unicorn for her birthday.

Her lips twisted into a small smile remembering the day her own father had explained to her that Unicorns had been too foolish to get on Noah’s Ark before the flood.  She’d cried for hours before reconciling the loss of such a marvelous creature.  Then she’d asked her Papa for a pony instead.  He’d agreed to think about it.

The kitchen door swung inward and Maggie saw the little girl scowl before turning herself to see a very elegant older woman breeze into the room.

She smiled at the woman, though she felt rattled to her bones at the prospect of meeting Grey’s grandmother without him at her side.  The woman wore a heart-stopping diamond necklace and dizzying diamond teardrops at her ears, as well as a diamond tennis bracelet and several more gaudy rings than were strictly necessary.  Her suit was of unmistakable quality, though Maggie didn’t know the first thing about brands and wouldn’t have been able to tell if it was Chanel or Yves St. Laurent or what.  It was knit and looked almost as if it might be armored—steel gray with ice blue threading.  She was slim and rigid, not too tall, but she looked formidable despite her slight frame.

The woman did not return the smile.  She raised an imperious eyebrow as she glanced over Maggie from head to toe.  Then she called over Maggie’s shoulder to Lola.

“That mother of yours is looking for you child.  Best get yourself out of the way and see what it is she wants.”

Maggie’s eyes widened.  The woman’s voice was just as chilly as her outward appearance would suggest, and there didn’t seem to be a drip of friendliness or warmth in her words.  Not even when speaking to a five year old.  Maggie swallowed hard as she felt Lola rising from her seat to obey the less than polite dismissal.

“She’s not in the way over here.”  Maggie assured the woman.

“Don’t be absurd, children ought not to be underfoot in the kitchen while food is being prepared.”

Maggie couldn’t imagine disagreeing with that sentiment more.  Her happiest memories of her mother were all set in their little family kitchen or in the kitchen at the restaurant.  Helping her mother prepare meals or bake desserts was part of the fabric of her understanding of family, of hearth and home.

Lola sidled up to Maggie’s leg, hesitant and unsure.

“Why don’t you go see what your Mummy wants and then maybe you can come back and color, ok?”  Maggie said in a kind, friendly voice.

Lola looked disappointed but she nodded and then scooted toward the kitchen door, swinging in a wide arc to keep as far away from the older woman as possible.

“Do you also nanny?”  The woman asked Maggie.

Maggie wished her brain didn’t feel so sluggish.  Also nanny?  “No, but I have a lot of young cousins.”  She answered with a smile.

The woman made a small snort.  “I could have guessed that much.”

Maggie felt her cheeks flush.  She opened her mouth to make a more formal introduction when the woman waved a dismissive hand and gestured to the various platters laid out on the kitchen island.

“I’m not sure which ones she wants to go out first, my guess is the pâté, so grab up a tray and get out there—we’re only waiting on the queer uncle, so I imagine it’s time to start.”   She turned on her expensive heel and pushed the kitchen door open, but paused.

“I’m so relieved you speak English, that will make everything easier.”  But she didn’t sound relieved, she sounded condescending and harassed.

Then she was gone.  Maggie stared at the gently swinging door and wondered what in heaven had just happened.  Her eyes fell to the covered trays on the counter.  She hoped she could figure out which one was the pâté.  She’d never even seen pâté before.  She thought maybe it was soft, though she couldn’t pull on any solid piece of learning to back that notion up. 

She lifted a few lids and settled on one that looked like grayish mousse on slices of baguette, garnished with what looked to be chives and maybe fig.  She lifted it with a sigh.  How on earth was Mrs. Delaney even related to that aging icicle?

She had a feeling it was going to be a very long evening.