Maine - J. Courtney Sullivan [114]
“There she is!” her brother Paul hollered, far too loud. Even in the din, a few people turned to stare.
“You’re late,” she hissed, when the boys got close enough. “I’ve been waiting here forever.”
“Oh, now, don’t be dramatic,” Paul said. “We’re only a few minutes behind schedule, and believe me, you wouldn’t have wanted to see us before we had a drink. Tim was in tears!” He laughed raucously, and the other boys joined him.
It hit her then, as it sometimes did, that her brothers had already been to war and would soon have to return, like so many other young men in the room. There was news all the time of boys you had grown up with, dead and gone. Yet they still got upset over football games, and dressed up to go dancing. Life didn’t stop for anything.
One of the scarecrows extended a hand. “Daniel Kelleher,” he said. “Pleased to make your acquaintance.”
Is he handsome? she had asked her brother Timmy at Thanksgiving dinner, and he had scoffed before saying, He looks like Clark Gable, okay?
She realized now that her brother had been joking.
“Can I get you a drink?” the scarecrow asked. Alice requested a gin and tonic with lime.
He made his way up to the bar and she grabbed Timmy’s sleeve.
“How could you?” she hissed.
“What are you talking about?” he said.
“He’s a dud!”
“Quit being such a snob. Give him a chance, will ya?”
Daniel returned a few minutes later with a glass of clear liquid on ice.
“They were fresh out of limes,” he said. “Or should that be ‘out of fresh limes’?”
Alice hated him at once. She took the glass from his hand and turned toward the others to let all of them—especially Daniel—know that she wasn’t interested.
“These boys of ours are a bunch of real sore losers, Alice,” Daniel said with a laugh. She narrowed her eyes. He meant his own brother, too, but she certainly didn’t appreciate his referring to her brothers that way.
“Never underestimate the power of the Crusaders,” he went on, beaming. “Fifty-five to twelve, how does that feel, fellas? I bet it smarts, huh?”
“There’s such a thing as an ungraceful winner, too, you know,” Alice said. She gulped down the gin.
“Uh-oh,” Timmy said. “Pay her no attention, Daniel. She’s just sore with us.”
“No, no, she’s right,” Daniel said with a grin. “Very ungentlemanly of me.”
“Well, I owe you a drink, I guess,” Timmy said.
“You owe me more than that, but we can discuss it when your sister’s not around,” Daniel chuckled.
Alice emptied her glass. “Timothy, another G and T,” she said. “You certainly owe me a drink too.”
Timmy went to the bar and the other boys started talking about football.
Daniel turned to her. “So, your brothers tell me you work in a law firm. That must be exciting.”
“Not really.”
“Aww, come on. I think if it were my job I’d want to read all the files for the juicy scandals. Who’s suing who and all that.”
She cocked her head. She had never thought of that. It wasn’t a half-bad idea.
“I’m saving up to go to Paris when the war is over,” she said, which was almost the truth. “I’m going to be a painter someday. Well, at least I want to.”
“It’s good to have a daydream,” he said. “That’s what my mother always told us.”
She wanted to tell him this wasn’t a stupid daydream, that someone had paid her for her work, but he kept talking: “I’ve been working as a trainer in the gun mount on my ship for six months. It gets dull sometimes, you know? Before that, I worked as a junior executive at an insurance company, and yes, it was as boring as it sounds. I’ll have to go back to it someday. But I want to hit like Ted Williams. That’s what I fantasize about to get me through. I’m always getting in trouble on the ship for my ghost batting.” He assumed the batter’s position and swung an imaginary bat, right there in the middle of the club. “Say, did you hear about Ted Williams’s brother? He’s