Page 16 of Drawing Home
“Red Stripe. Hey, I meant to ask you earlier, what’s with the beard?” she said. Sean had sun-bleached hair and bright blue eyes. But his Scottish good looks were being sorely tested by his overgrown hipster facial hair.
“Don’t start with me. I got an earful from Alexis earlier.”
Alexis tossed the ring one last time, then bounded over to kiss Emma on the cheek. They climbed onto bar stools and Alexis passed her a Harbor Books bag with a paperback inside. “It’s an advance copy of a novel Penny might like,” she said.
“That’s so sweet of you!”
The bartender that night, Katie Cleary, slid Emma’s beer across the bar. Katie, the daughter of Hal Cleary, who owned the hardware store, was barely twenty-one. Emma had been working behind that very bar at her age.
It was how she’d met Penny’s father.
One early-summer night, a large, boisterous group had flooded the bar. They took over the table between the hanging moose head and the framed photo of Frank Sinatra. A delegate was dispatched to the bar for drinks.
He was tall with thick, wavy dark hair and dark brown eyes. He wore jeans and a black T-shirt and was extremely cute. He looked familiar, and she realized she’d seen his picture on posters outside the Bay Street Theater.
“Hey there,” he said, smiling. “Three pitchers of whatever you have on tap and four gin and tonics.” He slid a credit card across the bar.
Filling the pitchers, she looked closer at the group and spotted the actress Mercedes Ruehl, who was starring in the Bay Street Theater production of a play calledDinner.
“Is this some kind of cast party?” Emma asked.
He nodded. “Informal, but yeah, we’re heading into our opening weekend. We did two preview shows this week.”
“Very cool.”
“I’m Mark,” he said.
“Emma.”
“You don’t look old enough to be drinking here, let alone working here.”
She smiled. “Everyone tells me that.”
“Ouch. Sorry for being unoriginal.”
There was something big about him—the way he talked, the way he gestured. Later, she’d see similar qualities in his actor friends, but in the moment, it made him seem special.
Mark Mapson. Emma remembered how it felt the first time she’d said that name aloud; it crackled like candy in her mouth.
She learned he was from Maine, that he’d graduated from the University of Pennsylvania, and that now he was dealing with very disapproving parents as he pursued an acting career. He seemed fascinated by the fact that she’d grown up in the village and never left. “Not even for college?” he’d asked, and she had to say no twice. She told him she didn’t have money for school, and besides, she really just wanted to open a flower shop in town someday. “I like that,” he’d said. “So simple…so real.”
Sometime after midnight, his group dispersed and he asked for her number. She wrote it on a bar napkin. She watched him slip it into his pocket, certain he would never call. To her surprise, he did, and she didn’t even have to wait twenty-four hours. They met for coffee the following day, and by the time he asked for the check, she was in love.
Six weeks later, she was pregnant. They married at city hall a month before Penny was born. A year after that, he left.
“Earth to Emma,” Sean said, bringing her back to the present.
“Sorry. I’m a little distracted.” Should she tell them about the Henry Wyatt house? They were going to find out sooner or later. And why should she feel embarrassed about it? For some reason, she did. Maybe talking it over with Sean and Alexis would normalize it a little. “Something kind of crazy happened today.”
Before she could get into it, Chris Vincenzi walked in.
“Chris V. in the house!” Sean called out.
“You’re off early,” Emma said when he took the stool next to hers.
“Things got quiet.” He signaled for Katie and ordered a shot of Tito’s. “And I am moving on to job number two.” He waved his key ring in front of them.
“What’s that? Janitor?” Sean said.
