Like Grownups Do (41 page)

After more applause, the Director added his kind words to the President’s sentiments. The two men shook hands with all present before leaving to return to Washington.

When they had gone and the murmuring died down, Jack tapped his glass again.

“Now I feel like the singer for the local band that goes on after the Beatles,” Jack said.

The crowd laughed.

Someone yelled, “Do Free Bird!”

“It gives me great pleasure to inform you that Christie and Tom Reardon are not only merely pregnant, they are really, most sincerely, pregnant.”

Tom and Christie stood and waved to the applauding crowd. Christie pushed Tom down into his chair. She continued to stand, took a bow, and waved some more as the people laughed and cheered her on.

Jack turned to Babe.

“Babe, would you give me a hand, please?”

Babe stood, and when Jack held out his left hand, Babe took it. Jack’s hand was damp and trembled slightly, making Babe more than a little bit nervous.

Jack tried to lean his cane against the table. It started to slide to the floor until Jordan caught it. Jack held his other hand out toward MG.

“Madeline?”

MG looked up at Jack and as Jack pulled gently, MG stood beside him.

Babe felt the weight increase on his hand He brought his other hand up to assist as Jack slowly lowered himself on his injured leg— down to one knee.

What greater honor is there for a man, than to be someone, for somebody?

Jack let go of MG’s hand and reached into his jacket pocket. He took out a ring box, and in a well-rehearsed and smooth movement, he flipped it open with his thumb and held it in front of MG.

“Madeline Eva Gerard,” Jack said, with an ever so slight quiver in his voice.

“I am hopelessly and madly in love with you. Will you marry me?”

Babe was broadsided by an emotional avalanche—from what he was watching and from the surge of electricity that was flowing through his hands.

He knew that he was about to cry, and when he caught sight of Jordan losing it, he did as well.

The crowd was a mixture of gasps, whimpers, and muted squeals, as a tear slid down MG’s cheek.

She put a hand to Jack’s cheek.

“I love you, Jack Englemann. Of course I’ll marry you. Now, get up here and kiss me.”

And the crowd goes wild.

When Jack regained everyone’s attention he announced,

“In keeping with Bureau tradition, we’re wrapping up here but we’re also not done yet. All those interested may reconvene with us at Momma’s Sofa where some of us will no doubt help close that establishment tonight. For those in need, we will have volunteer designated drivers positioned at these doors as you leave. Please make arrangements with them before you leave.

“I understand that Christie Reardon will be making her debut in this capacity—a fact that she is none too happy about.”

MG tugged at Jack’s sleeve. Lewis and Leo Schroeder approached their table carrying a gift wrapped box.

“Before we go, Babe, Lewis and Leo have something for you.”

“From the whole Schroeder family, Mr. Babe,” Lewis said. “And Mr. Englemann, of course.”

Lewis and Leo Schroeder handed Babe the box.

He lifted off the top, and from the box he pulled out an FBI K-9 service jacket.

Babe looked at Lewis and Leo.

“Your family is our family, Babe. Just on special occasions, though, huh?”

To greater applause, Babe said, “You got it, guys. Thanks a million.”

Amanda Richmond hugged her son again, her mascara a mess.

“I am so happy for you, Joshua. I hope you will be able to visit again soon. I have to get back to Chicago.”

”Of course, Mom. Thanks again for being here. Really,” Babe said.

“Come on, Amanda,” Robbie pleaded. “You don’t have to run off yet. This is Josh’s night. Stay a few more hours and I’ll make sure you get to the airport in the morning. You’ll be home before dinner time tomorrow. What do you say?”

“Well, “Amanda said, ”I don’t guess it really makes a rat’s ass, does it?”

She winked at Babe.

“I suppose I can nurse a Long Island for a while.”

“Uh oh,” Babe said. “You had to go there, didn’t you? Get her, boys.”

“Madam,” Leo said, standing next to Lewis and placing a hand on his shoulder. ”You’ll not find that foreign concoction on the menu of our fine drinking establishment.”

“Indeed, madam,” Lewis continued, “but do we have the perfect drink for
you
.”

Mr. Pendleton did not disappoint. He strutted in his new FBI jacket, and when MG lowered the rear window, he immediately stuck his head outside on his very first ever car ride.

A team of volunteers at Momma’s Sofa pushed several tables together to house the party. Lewis got the attention of one of his bartenders.

“Roland! VIPs here,” Lewis said, drawing an invisible boundary around the group with his index fingers.

Roland gave his Boss a thumbs-up, and turned to his fellow four bartenders.

”Heads up. VIPs in the house. Keep ‘em full.”

Amanda Richmond just thought she was nursing her Boston Harbor Iced Tea. Babe noticed that when Amanda’s attention was diverted elsewhere, Robbie was using his glass to refill hers. Babe made his way to his father’s side.

“I see what you’re doing,” Babe said.

“So?” Robbie said.

“So, you’re going to get caught. Signal me when you need a distraction.”

“God, I’ve always loved a good conspiracy,” Robbie said.

The number of toasts being offered went a long way toward keeping Amanda from ever catching on. And while Robbie was using his glass as a pitcher, the Momma’s staff was keeping his glass full, so he was getting just as plastered as his ex-wife.

A seemingly never-ending round of toasts went out to Jordan, Babe, Millie, Tom, Christie, Jack, and MG. After these dried up, the toasts began for Mr. Pendleton: First Dog to party at Momma’s Sofa. Best Dog to party at Momma’s Sofa. Person with the most legs to ever party at Momma’s Sofa.

Babe allowed his friend a half bottle of beer in a salad bowl. It just seemed cruel not to. Mr. Pendleton lapped the bowl non-stop until it was empty. He belched and then ran around the tables twice. He stopped and barked, which just about brought down the house.

The televisions were on inside the bar but receiving little or no attention. The Red Sox were in yet another rain delay. It was just past eleven o’clock.

Babe could hardly keep his eyes off of his parents. He had never seen his mother like this; her makeup imperfect, her hair having surrendered in its battle with motion, humidity, and gravity to fall around her face and down to her shoulders. Her laugh was…as if it had just been born.

Babe took Mr. Pendleton out the back door for a potty break, and as he opened the door back into the bar, he was met by music and laughter.

Babe went back to his seat and saw the source of the commotion.

His mother and father occupied the makeshift dance floor. Journey’s classic, ‘Don’t Stop Believin’’ blasted from the speakers with Amanda and Robbie singing along; Robbie was singing into a salt shaker and Amanda into a ketchup bottle.

Everyone in the bar was cheering the couple on—clapping and laughing. During a chorus cry of “
Oh-Oh-Woah
!” Robbie
tried to put the salt shaker down onto a table, but he missed. He then attempted a classic spin move, but he failed to stick the landing—flailing his arms and surely about to fall. Amanda reached out and grabbed him by the lapels and it appeared that she would perform the save.

Until she opened her mouth again.

“I got you, Babe.”

Amanda threw back her head and a laugh escaped that was nothing less than Glenda the Good Witch on helium and nitrous oxide.

Robbie’s weight and Amanda’s complete loss of motor skills left her nothing to do but slide clumsily to the floor, pulling Robbie down on top of her.

A moment of hushed horror swept the crowd as people jumped to their feet. Then they heard Amanda, and then Robbie start laughing again. The sounds of the crowd’s laughter refilled the room. Lewis was jumping up and down, wide-eyed and making slashing motions across his neck toward his team of bartenders. One of them finally noticed him and gave him the ‘okay’ sign. That was as far as the message went, since the entire bar staff was laughing so hard that they had tears in their eyes.

Babe was laughing as hard as anyone.

Millie stepped beside him. They looked at the spectacle in the floor before them.

“So, what do you think?” Millie asked.

Babe caught his breath.

“What do I think?” he said, as he pointed at the laughing heap that was his parents,

“I think that there is not enough therapy in the western world to deal with that.”

Thirty-Eight

T
he night was gloomy, moonless, and sagging under a continuing rain, outside of the floor-to-ceiling windows in the penthouse luxury suite that occupied the entire top floor of the most exclusive hotel in Paris.

As the doors of the private elevator opened, Hans bolted to his feet—scattering to the floor components of the three gun cleaning kits that lay before him on the heavy oak table. He grabbed a pistol from the table and assumed an offensive military stance.

Seated across from Hans with his back to the elevator, Dante Vlada smiled broadly.

“Relax, my friend,” Vlada said.

“Come in, Gabriel. We were beginning to worry about you.”

Gabriel entered the room and crossed directly to the picturesque windows.

“Your taste for the exquisite never disappoints, Dante—even in the face of defeat,” Gabriel said, “complete with your signature weather.”

Vlada laughed.

“Have we not progressed beyond the standard verbal sparring,” Vlada said, joining Gabriel at the window, “when it is obvious that I have discovered the key to this senseless game?”

“I am a little behind, Dante. Why don’t you catch me up?”

The room phone rang. Vlada answered it.

“The laundry is on its way, Hans,” Vlada said.

Hans returned to his gun cleaning, performing the rituals with the grace of an artist. He packed everything into cases, which he placed next to the elevator.

“Taking a little trip?” Gabriel asked.

“Our operation in Boston has come undone, yes,” Vlada said. “Frail humans were involved, after all. They are
so
difficult to predict, wouldn’t you say? In retrospect, I should have taken down Jack Englemann when he was at his most vulnerable. He surprised me, and I certainly did not foresee Russell Eckhart becoming my
Judas—
how unlikely was
that
?

“We have discovered the ‘safe house’ location for the ‘perverted hero of conscience’ and his wife. Hans has
very
special plans for them. I admit that I acted too quickly and with perhaps an errant amount of bravado. I do still possess quite the vast fortune, which is untouchable—arrayed as it is within this world’s elaborately devious systems of finance. And like a colony of single-minded insects with their ‘Queen’ intact…” Vlada threw his arms out to the side flamboyantly while sliding one graceful step to his right.

“We have merely to take one lateral step, and begin again. Do you know what
real
victory is, Gabriel?
My
victory? No, how could you?”

“I am very anxious to hear how you declare this a victory, Dante. Has madness overtaken you, at last? You will not be the first. And what a cast you join—a veritable who’s who.”

The bell on the elevator rang with the arrival of the dry cleaning. Hans tipped the attendant a hundred dollar bill and moved the clothing to garment bags. He hung these next to the elevator.

Vlada pointed toward Hans and the garment bags and spoke to Gabriel.

“An example of my ‘madness’, Gabriel—as simple as sending clothing to a laundry service. It was not necessary, was it? But do you know what it
is
, Gabriel? It is expected. It is normal. It is unequivocally human. Above all, it is
patient
.”

Vlada walked to the middle of the room.

“This list you refer to with your air of superiority—these
failures
of mankind. Not so unlike the failures of
your
kind: Impatient. Victims of ego. Unwilling to sacrifice for an ultimate vision—to buy time. Consumed by their desire for power. Unwilling to watch. To wait. To
learn
. Unable to use the laws that exist to their own advantage.”