A Hole in the Universe - Mary McGarry Morris [81]
“Shh,” the priest said, looking around. “I don’t know how proud we should be of that.”
Lisa turned as a sleek black car came down the street. “My mom and dad are here!” she cried, then ran to the driveway. Mr. Harrington hugged her while Mrs. Harrington removed two elaborately wrapped gifts from the backseat. Lisa’s father was a portly, balding man, shorter than his slender wife and daughter. Lisa’s mother was dressed in white—shoes, pants, and sweater—with her silvery blond hair pulled back from her tanned face in a small, smooth ponytail.
“I wonder how their trip went,” the priest said, watching the reunion.
“I don’t know. I’ve never met them,” Gordon said.
“Oh, you’ll like them. They’re very nice. You’ll like them a lot.”
Lisa hurried her parents over. “Mother, this—”
“Father Hank!” Mrs. Harrington said, pursing her lips in concern. “How’s your mother? Poor thing, how’s she doing?”
“Holding her own,” the priest said.
“We lit a candle for her in Balaton, didn’t we, Tom? It was the most darling little stone chapel, stained glass—”
“Mom! Wait! You haven’t met Gordon yet. Gordon, this is my mom, Mitzi, and my dad, Tom.”
Mr. Harrington’s florid, freckled face was belied by steady, deep-watching eyes.
“Nice meeting you.” Gordon shook their hands.
“Yes, and it’s nice meeting you,” Mrs. Harrington said through a forced smile, her pretty face frozen with discomfort.
“You any kind of a golfer like your brother?” Mr. Harrington asked.
“No, sir, I’m not.”
“Smart man! But I’m sure Dennis’ll take care of that in no time,” Mr. Harrington said. “Speaking of whom, where is my favorite son-in-law?” he asked, then headed off with his wife in a bluster of eagerness to tell Dennis all about their trip.
“Don’t feel bad. They were just nervous about meeting you,” Lisa said.
“I understand,” Gordon said before she left to catch up with them.
“I suppose that’s happened a few times,” the priest said as both men started to walk. “People don’t quite know what to say, do they?”
“No, I guess not. But that’s all right,” he said, looking past the priest for his own escape.
“Well, I give you a lot of credit for coming back. It couldn’t have been easy. Most people in your situation wouldn’t have.”
“I don’t know.” He paused by the front steps. “If you’ll excuse me, Father, I have to go inside for a minute.”
“Oh, sure, go right ahead, Gordon. But can I just tell you something first? Lisa’s told me a lot about you these last few years. She’s very fond of you. And . . . well, there’s no point beating around the bush here, Gordon—she asked if I’d make a special effort to get to know you. And I’d like to do that, but I also don’t want to force myself on you. So I thought maybe we could go out for a cup of coffee—or something. That is, if you’d like sometime.”
“Well, I don’t know. Maybe.” Sometime. In the far, far distant future.
“How about Monday? Nine-thirty? Ten?”
“I work in the morning,” Gordon said, relieved.
“When you get off work, then.”
“I don’t know my hours yet.”
“It doesn’t have to be coffee. How about a beer some night?”
“I don’t drink.”
The priest paused in that unspoken assessment Gordon was getting used to. “Okay. All right, then. Here.” He slipped a card from his worn, flattened wallet. “Here’s my number. Just give me a call when you know your hours. Or anytime, for that matter. I’d really enjoy talking to you.”
No one was in the house. Gordon wandered through the dining room and living room. He had to be careful. He didn’t want to break anything. He had never seen so many pretty ornaments, ceramic dishes, Oriental vases, statues, gleaming lacquered boxes, leather-bound books, carved birds so perfectly painted that from a distance they looked real. In the cabinet under the window, Dennis’s collection of antique glass paperweights dazzled in the sunlight. On the piano was a framed wedding picture of Dennis and Lisa with both sets of parents. He leaned close. Obscured by shadows, his father’s face was bleak with illness, his eyes faint in their hollows. Gordon smiled at the image of his