The Girls' Guide to Hunting and Fishing - Melissa Bank [29]
"She died about two years ago," I say. "She was almost ninety, I think."
"She was a babe," he tells Laurel.
"She was a writer," I say, looking at my son.
He says, "So who's upstairs?"
"Her niece, Jane."
Barney says, "Does she look like Rita?"
"Anyway," I say to Laurel, "I'm here forever."
"That's lucky," she says.
"I could never live here again," Barney says. He sings, "Got those New York real estate blues."
I ask Barney if he's been at Kingston Mines, the blues club where he's been playing sax on and off for years.
He says, "I've been doing other stuff," and I can tell he doesn't want to talk about it. He leans back and picks the dead leaves off of my geranium. "So, Nina," he says. "What about a dinner party?"
"What about a dinner party?"
"Great idea." He says, "I'll round up the usual suspects," meaning his sisters. He gets the phone from the kitchen and brings it outside to us. He calls the restaurant and says, "Isabelle, please. Tell her it's Jerry Kinkaid." The name is familiar, and I suddenly remember Isabelle's greaser boyfriend from seventh grade. Barney makes his voice raspy and says, "Babe. Meet me at the tracks." He holds the phone out so we can hear Isabelle laughing. He clowns around with her, but he means to entertain us, too. He sings, "I'll Build a Stairway to Paradise," and hams it up; he dances, marching with a branch for a walking stick. Barney is always making everyone fall in love with him.
After he hangs up, he calls P. K. at the office. She's the youngest, a civil-rights lawyer. With her, Barney turns serious. "Hey, Peanut," he says. He smiles at Laurel, and takes the phone inside.
So I'm out on the terrace alone with Laurel. We're both quiet, and then she asks me about the documentary I produced about doormen. Barney showed it to her, and she tells me which doormen she liked best. She looks right at me while I talk, and I can tell she is really listening.
Barney comes back out and stands behind Laurel's chair. "We've got P. K., Isabelle and her beau—what's his name?"
I'm not sure. "Giancarlo?"
"That's it," he says.
"P. K. isn't bringing Roger?"
"Archived," he says. Very lightly he touches Laurel's neck and jaw and cheeks. "You need a nap, Bugsy?" He kisses the top of her head, and it occurs to me that I have not seen him this gentle with anyone since Julie, his ex-wife.
I tell Barney they'll stay in my room. I straighten it up, get towels, and Laurel helps me make up the bed with fresh sheets. Barney says to me, "I'm just going to sing her to sleep."
I go back to the terrace and sit down with my shopping list for the party. When Barney comes out, he doesn't sit with me, he hoists himself up on the wall.
I'd like to ask about Julie. I start to and stop. It feels strange with Laurel lying down in my room. But Julie was a part of this family;,you don't just forget. Finally, I say, "Have you seen Julie at all?"
"I have." He smiles, and it's insolent or sexual or mischievous, a bad-boy smile.
"How is she?"
"Great."
I give him a look.
He says, "Laurel and I had dinner with her Thursday."
Now he's serious, thinking about something. He says, "How's Dad?"
Barney never asks about his father. I say, "Dad?"
"Sure."
I tell him that his father's in a new gallery, a good one. I ask him if he wants to see the invitation to the opening, and Barney says, again, "Sure."
I get Ben's card from the mail tray. It's a beautiful invitation—three tiny reproductions of his paintings. I hand the card to Barney and say, "It's next Friday."
Barney glances at the invitation and says, "Now there's a must-miss."
He sits opposite me while I finish my shopping list.
"I can get this stuff," he says.
I say, "What have you done with my son?"
He smiles. "I don't know what you mean."
—•—
P. K. is the first to arrive. She comes straight from work, so she's got on a suit and is carrying a big briefcase. P. K. is a little plump, but on her it's pretty, childlike, and soft. Her face is flushed from climbing the stairs, and her eyes are expectant. She kisses me and whispers, "Is