Page 30 of Hush Money

I let her go because my self-control is hanging by a frayed thread. “Yeah?”

“Yeah.” She eases back, all shining eyes and reluctant smiles. “I’m sure I’ll regret admitting this, but I’m glad you came.”

I feel like I’ve just won the biggest prize imaginable. “I thought I was in the doghouse for smothering you.”

“You are, but now I’m opening the doghouse door.”

“Thank God.”

“I told my dad about you, by the way.”

“Oh? What does he think about us?”

“He thinks I’m crazy?—”

“Smart man,” I say darkly.

“If I may finish? He thinks I’m crazy, but he trusts my judgment.”

“I’ll take that,” I say, feeling deeply touched. It’s not as though Tamsyn and I are doing anything that requires a parental blessing. Even if we were, I’d never get it. Maybe that’s why this implied blessing feels so special.

“You’ve never even seen him, have you? Here. I’ll show you a picture.”

I watch, bemused, as she pulls up her phone and finds just the right picture. I’m preparing to say something kind and indulgent—he looks like a nice guy comes to mind—so I’m not prepared for my reaction to this candid shot. She evidently caught him by surprise one day in his mechanic’s garage. He’s wearing a light blue jumpsuit with Big Ralph embroidered on it in red. He’s got an arm raised to wipe his sweaty brow. He’s got some tool in a big hand that’s smudged with grease or oil. His hair is almost as dark as mine. And it’s straight and spiky. Not Tamsyn’s silky brown curls at all.

But now I know where Tamsyn got her expressive eyes and smile. As Big Ralph stares into the camera, I feel like I know where Tamsyn got her warmth, directness and honesty. Her endlessly sunny disposition.

I feel like I know him. Worse, I feel like I’ve suffered a tremendous loss because I never knew him.

“Good pic,” I say, swallowing hard.

“It’s my favorite picture of him. I feel like I really captured him.”

“I think you’re right.”

She puts her phone away. “Should we go? I’m done here.”

“Done?” I turn back, startled. “You sure?”

“I’m sure.”

That doesn’t seem right. I feel…unsettled. Suddenly I have unfinished business here. Even if I don’t know what it is. “Give me a sec.”

I get up and head over to the grave with no idea what I’m doing. But when I get there, I discover that there are a few blades of grass across the corner of the terracotta-colored marble slab, so I wipe those away. Then I crouch there for a moment and study the stone. It’s super simple. Just his name, nickname and dates of birth and death. But it says Beloved at the bottom, and that says it all, doesn’t it? My hand acts on its own, reaching out to rest on his nickname. And the words rush out with no conscious thought from me.

“Rest easy, Big Ralph. I’ve got her now.”

I give myself a minute, but there are no more words. So I get up and go back to her, taking her hand and pulling her up to walk with me while making damn sure I don’t look her in the face.

“Back to Great Neck,” she says cheerily. I get the feeling she’s giving me a minute to collect myself. I appreciate the consideration. “I just hope the traffic isn’t too bad.”

“We’re, ah, not going back.” My voice sounds huskier than usual, but I consider myself lucky that it’s working at all. “I want to see your old neighborhood.”

“Wait, what?”

“You’ve seen where I came from. Now I want to see where you came from.”

“You do?” She can’t hide her delight. “I thought you had too many other things to do today.”

---