Chapter 12

Steve

My phone rings, but I’m busy thinking about last night with Eliza, so it takes me a minute to answer. I’m going to end up with a major set of blue balls if I can’t get her back into bed with me, so I’ve been trying to figure out how to make this work.

“Am I interrupting anything?” Mom asks when I finally get there.

“I’m at the stadium downtown doing paperwork. How are you?”

“I’m doing great. I just haven’t seen you in a while, and I wanted to make sure you were still coming to dinner tonight.”

I look up at the ceiling. The first Monday of every month I go to my parents for dinner, and it’s often a painful experience. “Will Olivia and Paul be there with the kids?”

“Probably not Paul. They’re not talking right now. But the rest of them should be here as usual.” When I don’t respond, she adds, “I’m making roast lamb with all your favorites.”

My stomach is ready. I love my mom’s lamb with roasted potatoes and carrots. I guess I should get the rest of me ready too. “I can’t wait,” I tell her. “It’s exactly what I need. I’ll be there.”

“Will you be bringing the woman you went to the party with yesterday?”

Wow . The story has only made the tabloids. I figured if Mom saw it, it wouldn’t be until it runs in the society page tomorrow. “What woman?” Seems better to play dumb.

“The one that’s plastered all over the tabloids and internet. She’s a looker. She must really like you if she paid twenty-five thousand dollars to go on a date. I hope you do something very special with her.”

I’m going to skip right over mom’s inquiring mind. “Do they list her name?”

“Elizabeth Rourke. Did you know her father owns the Tigers?”

This ball is rolling fast. “Yes. She did me a favor and bid on me for the bachelor auction.”

“The tabloid says two women were bidding aggressively to win a date with you.” Mom sounds giddy with that bit of gossip.

“Mom, Eliza and I work together. We’re friendly.”

“You know, there’s nothing wrong with settling down and having a few grandchildren for me to spoil.”

I pinch the bridge of my nose. “Both you and Olivia are terribly unhappy. Why would I want to do that?”

“We’re not unhappy.” She’s quiet a moment because I’ve been a little too direct.

“I’m sorry, Mom. I don’t want you to be upset. I’ll be at the house by six for dinner. Would you like me to pick up a brioche bread pudding from the Irish bakery downtown?”

“Oh, I shouldn’t…”

I know she’s thinking of her constant dieting. “I can get the chocolate caramel sauce. I’m sure the kids would like that.”

“Fine. Just make sure you’ll love me with a few extra curves.”

My mom is perfect. Her body has given her two children, and it houses the softest heart I know. I sing a few bars of “Just The Way You Are” by Bruno Mars.

She laughs. “I can see why those women paid so much to go on a date with you.”

After we hang up, I order the dessert from my phone and request delivery. Bread pudding is Mom’s favorite, but she won’t come into town for just that, so I often get it for her.

I return to looking at medical files. Hudson is doing physical therapy now, and I want to be sure he’s not pushing too hard. If he continues at this rate, he should be able to come back around the tenth week of the season, which is about the halfway point. I send a note to the therapist to find out when Hudson’s next appointment is, as I want to be there to see him.

My phone pings, and I smile as I read the message.

Eliza: We made the tabloids, and the Vancouver Sun’s pictures come out tomorrow.

Me: Our evil plan is working.

Eliza: Do you want to meet for dinner tonight to discuss the next part of our plan?

Me: I can’t. I’m having dinner with my parents. Would tomorrow work?

Eliza: I’m flying out to Toronto for an owners meeting, but I’ll be back for Friday’s game with the Calgary Oilers. How about Saturday night?

Me: That works. I’ll make a reservation. Are you craving anything ?

Eliza: I’m pretty open.

Me: Anything you don’t eat?

Eliza: Exotic. I’ll have ostrich, but not monkey brains, bugs, or snakes.

Me: Who took you out for that kind of meal?

Eliza: That’s a fun conversation to have over dinner.

Me: I’ll look forward to it. No monkey brains, bugs, or snakes. I’ll send you the reservation once I figure it out.

Eliza: Thank you!

I keep my head down, and before I know it, I’ve worked through lunch and the brioche bread pudding has been delivered.

When it’s time to leave, I turn the lights out and head down to the garage. On the way I see one of the women from accounting who always flirts with me.

“Hi, Dr. McCormick.”

“Good evening, Danielle.”

She smiles. “I saw you in the paper.”

I place the bread pudding in my car and try not to cringe. “Julia Martin is a good friend.”

“You got the highest bid. It must be nice to have women fighting over you.”

I chuckle. “They weren’t fighting over me. I asked Ms. Rourke to drive up the bid so we could donate as much as possible to the kids with cancer Julia’s fundraiser was supporting.”

“So, you’re not dating Elizabeth Rourke?” she asks, moving a bit closer .

“We’re friends.” I sit down in my car. “I’ve gotta run. I’m having dinner with my family.”

“Oh! Have fun.”

I wave and drive out of the parking garage. That was a little creepy. I’ve had true stalkers in the past. But nothing a good old restraining order won’t fix.

The drive to my parents’ is not an easy one. They live in the hills in a giant home, though for the most part they occupy about four rooms. My father’s goal was to have one of the most expensive homes in all of Vancouver. It’s in a gated community where several very famous Canadians live, including Michael Bublé and his family.

When I arrive, my five-year-old niece, Emma, races out, and before I can even turn off the engine, she’s opening my door. “Uncle Steve! You made it.”

I love her enthusiasm. She’s a perpetually happy kid, and I pray she never changes.

“Hey, munchkin. What’s going on?”

“Dylan upset Mommy. He pooped in his pants.”

“Well, sometimes three-year-olds will do that.”

Emma puts her hand in mine as we walk through the door.

The house is in its typical chaos. Dad is sitting in the sunroom with the evening news on very loud. Mom and my sister, Olivia, are working on dinner in the kitchen and gossiping.

I catch their eyes and throw my thumb toward Dad. It’s how we judge his mood. If I get a thumbs up, he’s good to talk to. Otherwise, I’ll be stuck with Mom and Olivia prying into my relationship with Eliza.

“He’s good,” Mom says as she chops vegetables.

Olivia shakes her head, but I decide to chance it anyway. I walk into the sunroom and sit down. “Hey, Dad.”

“Hey, Doc. What’s up?” Dad yells over the television.

I reach for the remote and turn the volume to almost nothing. “I’m good. What’s going on with you? Have you guys figured out your winter plans?”

“I’m going back to Hawaii. Your mother isn’t talking to me, so I don’t know what she plans on doing.”

Oh good, they’re not talking to each other. This is so much fun . Just after Christmas, my parents go toward sunnier weather. They’ve done Mexico, all over the U.S., Spain, and Greece.

“I told your father I was going to visit my sister in Dublin,” Mom calls from the kitchen.

“She didn’t tell me that,” he retorts.

I will my blood pressure to go down. “Is that why you had the television so loud? So you can’t hear her when she yells at you?”

He rolls his eyes. “I don’t care what she does. I get tired of hearing her yammer on about a bunch of nonsense. Tell me what’s going on with you. Olivia says you have a new girlfriend. Did you bring her here tonight?” He sits up in his chair and looks around.

There’s no way in hell I’d subject Eliza to this, even if she was my girlfriend. But I guess I may not have a choice if we do this thing. “I don’t have a girlfriend. Julia Martin did her annual bachelor auction, and I asked Tom Rourke’s daughter to bid on me and make sure she won. Another woman probably knew that and drove the price up. I didn’t mind. The charity helps kids with cancer.”

“So, you’re not dating her?”

I shake my head.

“What’s wrong with her?” Mom calls from the kitchen.

“Absolutely nothing. She’s beautiful, smart, loves football more than I do, and she knows better than to get involved with me.”

Mom stops mid-chop. “You’re handsome, smart, you make good money, and you’re great with kids. You’re a prize.”

“Mom, you remain the president of my fan club.”

“You should think about this Rourke woman,” she insists. “She might be the one for you.”

“She’s probably going to be my boss soon. That is, if I have a job next year.”

“What does that mean?” Dad asks.

“Come eat,” Mom insists as she puts the salad on the table.

We corral the kids and get them in their seats. Then we finally sit down and say the Catholic grace.

When I look up, Dylan is staring at me, and I can tell he’s got a bit of the devil in him. I make a face at him, and Olivia scowls. She is the devil. She tortured me when we were growing up, needling me until I’d react and then acting all innocent, so I was the one who got in trouble.

As we pass potatoes, carrots, lamb, and salad, we talk.

“Anyway, why wouldn’t you have a job with the team next year?” Dad asks again.

I explain the league’s new rule about the teams’ chief medical officers.

Dad stabs his slab of lamb. “That’s ridiculous.”

I take a bite and savor the glorious taste. But everyone’s eyes at the table are waiting for me to reply. “I agree. And Eliza does too, but she doesn’t have a lot of sway with the league. She might have more once she takes over operations. If her dad gives her the team, she’ll be the first female owner.”

“Why would she want to work in such a masculine field?” Mom asks.

Olivia looks at Mom like she’s grown horns and a tail. “I don’t know, maybe because there are no feminine or masculine fields? It’s a job. Maybe women aren’t players, but the Tigers’ front and back office are mostly comprised of women.”

I sit back and listen as Olivia schools my mother.

Mom finally has enough and holds up her hand. “I just grew up differently.”

She did. She was raised to be a wife, mother, and a good Catholic.

“Eliza told me she bought a place in The Butterfly. How’s that going?” I ask Olivia.

That fills the rest of our evening with a discussion of how architects really don’t understand structural building and their incessant desire to push boundaries beyond what manufacturers can provide. I listen and nod. Dad’s the one who chose the design. The building is going to be an architectural treasure for the city, and it’s difficult and groundbreaking, but they’ll make a lot of money. Once they’re on to the next building, they won’t remember how difficult this was, as long as they can avoid a mutiny among those waiting to move in.

The kids are getting antsy. Dad flings a carrot at Dylan, and he giggles, but Dad pretends not to notice.

“Dad, don’t teach him that,” Olivia warns.

“I’m the grandparent. I can do whatever I want,” he chirps.

Olivia gives me a look, but I just shake my head. He wouldn’t have allowed us to do that, but the rules are different for Emma and Dylan.

“What do you think Dad would have done to us if we started throwing food?” she asks.

Dylan picks up a spoonful of potatoes and carrots he’s mashed together.

“Oh, don’t do that,” I cajole.

Dylan’s eyes sparkle, and without even looking at Dad, he flings the potatoes.

I can’t control my laugh, and he flings more at me.

Olivia freaks out, screaming at me as if I’m the person who taught or encouraged her kid to do this.

“What about Dad?”

“I didn’t do anything,” Dad quips.

Olivia looks like she’s about to have a coronary.

Evidently Emma is feeling left out of the fun, so she throws a piece of meat at her brother.

I stand up and call a halt to the food fight.

Olivia kneels to wipe food off the floor. Mom has a housekeeper, so whatever she doesn’t get will be found by Helga.

“Come on, little guy.” I lift Dylan out of his seat. “Let’s get you cleaned up.”

We walk upstairs, and I strip him down in the bathroom. He points to his junk. “I have a big penis.”

“Man, you’ll be trying to convince women of that your entire life. But let me let you in on a secret. It’s not the size; it’s how you use it.”

“Don’t be teaching my three-year-old son that crap,” Olivia says over my shoulder.

“He’s the one who brought it up.” I send him to the potty while I turn the shower on.

Dylan steps in, and Olivia directs him while we watch from the hallway. He loves the low extra shower heads.

I can tell my sister is not her usual self. “Where’s Paul?”

“I’m assuming he’s with his girlfriend.”

I knew they were having trouble, but what? My fists clench. “I’ll kill him.”

She shakes her head. “We decided to have him move out last March. He met a twenty-two-year-old college coed, and they have lots of sex and he doesn’t have to worry about food fights and a wife who makes about eight times what he does.”

“Okay, there’s a lot to break down there. Why am I just hearing about this now and it’s been almost four months?”

“Because Mom and Dad don’t know.”

“You haven’t told them?”

She shakes her head. “And you’d better not tell them, either.”

“Oh, I’m not getting into that mess.”

“According to him, I work too hard, and I never want to have sex with him, which isn’t far from the truth. It’s hard working full time, and then he leaves everything else to me too. And before you start in on us having a nanny that cooks and lightly cleans, I don’t want her raising my kids. That’s our job.”

“I know how to kill him at least a dozen ways that will never show up in an autopsy.”

Olivia smiles. “Thanks. I’ll let you know.”

“I’m really sorry. ”

She shrugs and goes back into the bathroom to get Dylan out of the shower.

“What do you want me to do with these?” I pick up his dirty clothes.

“Throw them in the hamper. He’ll need them the next time he’s over.”

She gets him dressed in his pajamas, and I give her a tight hug. “If you want to get out of town when Paul takes the kids, let me know.”

“I want to meet Elizabeth.”

I wouldn’t mind that. They actually would get along great… “I’ll see what I can arrange. I think it would be great for you to start a female CEO group for Vancouver.”

Her eyes dance. “That would be awesome.”

After we go back downstairs, Mom helps me get Olivia out to her car. After she drives away, I head back in to help Mom clean up and do the dishes.

“Do you like women?” she asks as we wash.

I nearly drop a plate. “Yes, of course I do. I just don’t see myself settling down.”

“You’re so good with children, and you have a good job. What would stop you?”

I look up at the ceiling. “Mom, it’s not like I had a great example growing up.”

She looks at me, her eyes wide.

“Look, I love you and Dad. And I know you love me and Olivia. But you don’t love each other.”

“Of course, we do,” she insists.

“You go out of your way to irritate each other.”

“If we didn’t care, we wouldn’t do that.”

“You live separate lives.”

“So what? We do things together too.”

“If the church didn’t frown on divorce, you’d have kicked Dad to the curb a long time ago.”

She waves that away. “You grew up in a house where we were together. That’s what was best. ”

“It was,” I concede. “But it didn’t teach Olivia and me how to love, how to be in a real partnership relationship, and Olivia is repeating what she learned with Paul.”

Mom scrubs at her dish. I’ve hit a nerve. My lack of desire to marry comes up about once a year, and she somehow thinks something is going to change. It hasn’t. The real question is going to be how I manage their expectations after they eventually meet Eliza.

“I love you, Mom.” I drape my arm over her shoulder and pull her in for a side hug. “You are an incredible mother and grandmother. You’ve set the bar so high that no one will ever be able to reach it.”

She looks at me with tears in her eyes. “Thank you.”

“And Eliza loved the lasagna casserole.”

She lights up. “Maybe next month you’ll bring her to dinner?”

I look at her. “Why are you fighting with Dad?”

“We’re not fighting.”

“When was the last time you talked to him?”

“We talk all the time.”

“I’m not talking about the way he got upset that you put tomatoes in the salad just to irritate him tonight.”

“Just because he doesn’t like tomatoes, doesn’t mean the rest of us can’t have them. He can pick them out.”

This is how they barb each other, and this is not what I want.

After we’re done with the dishes, she walks me out to my car. “Do you need more freezer meals?”

“I’m doing okay right now,” I assure her. “I still have two or three left.”

“Bring Elizabeth to dinner. I promise your dad and I will behave.”

“I know, Mom. You always do.” I kiss her on the forehead and drive back to my place, thinking about Eliza and what I’m getting myself into.