Crossing Into Brooklyn by Mary Ann McGuigan

Author:Mary Ann McGuigan [McGuigan, Mary Ann]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Simon Pulse

fourteen

The roads were still wet from the rain. It started before school ended, but it was mostly over by the time we got to Brooklyn. It took forever to get there in mid-day traffic, and it seemed odd going by car. Dad did most of the talking, although he avoided going over the obvious again: why Mr. Mulvaney and Clover wanted to talk to Mom so badly and how I was going to explain why she wouldn’t do it. When I called Clover to tell her I was coming, I didn’t exactly make clear that it would be without my mother. Instead I was bringing my father, hoping if I came with a grownup—any grownup—in tow, they’d stop the nonsense and tell me what was wrong. They obviously needed money. Why they thought my mother would give them any was baffling. I wasn’t sure my father would either. The only way I could think of to help them was to find a way to sell Mr. Mulvaney’s drawings.

It didn’t take much convincing to get my father to take me to Brooklyn. Maybe he wanted a closer look at these people I’d been spending so much time with. Solving the enigma of the black holes could wait one more day. I had told him Mom refused to come to Brooklyn. He didn’t offer to try to persuade her, said he wasn’t the most effective lobbyist with her these days. Like I hadn’t noticed. So mostly Dad and I talked about the drawings. He asked me what size the frames might be, about fitting them into the trunk. Of course, I had no idea.

When we reached Clover’s building, she was waiting outside. The sunlight made the wet pavement glisten. We pulled over to the curb, and Dad looked at her, took a long, weary breath. “Go ahead,” he said. “I’ll go park the car.”

I got out quickly, climbed the stoop, and watched the car pull away. “Let’s get inside,” Clover whispered, as if the sunlight could protect us from only so much. Inside, the hall was dark, the smells strong. “I take it she wouldn’t come?” she said.

I shook my head no. “My father brought me,” I told her. “Maybe you can talk with him?”

“He’s a stubborn man, Maud.” She meant Mr. Mulvaney, of course.

Dad opened the door to the vestibule so slowly and cautiously that only the cool air he had let in made us turn. His grip on the door handle was tentative, as if it wasn’t a solid door at all but some prop on a movie set that he had to treat with care.

“Clover,” I said. “This is my dad.”

“John Lindstrum,” my father said, offering his hand.

“A pleasure, sir.” Clover shook his hand as if she were sealing a deal. “I hope you didn’t have too much traffic,” she said, turning to lead us up the first flight.

“Not much at all.”

“There’s just too many cars on the road nowadays,” she called over her shoulder. “Families have two and three.

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