State of Grace by Justine O’Keefe

Author:Justine O’Keefe
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Maple Tree Books LLC
Published: 2020-02-15T00:00:00+00:00

15

Men of Business

Out on the sidewalk, Jerome was talking to the greengrocer. Mr. Scapillini, wearing his white apron, was leaning against the doorjamb, blinking into the afternoon sun. He nodded to Grace as she approached, but continued talking in low tones to Jerome.

"Oh, yes, they call that one The Ramshead," he said, chuckling. "Always push, push, push, that fellow. Anything get in his way he ram right through it." He shook his head. "The man that come up against Rafe Ramsey's gonna get knocked down to size, make no mistake 'bout that."

"I've never seen him before," Jerome said. "He's not from around here, is he?"

"Used to be a big-time Boston lawyer. Anyway that's what I heard. Built himself a fancy place up north of here." Mr. Scapillini lowered his voice to a whisper. "Talk is, he does a lot of business over the border, if you know what I mean."

"I'm not sure I do," Jerome said. Before he could continue, the greengrocer took a step back into his shop, shaking his head and placing a finger against his lips.

Grace turned toward the bank to see the man in question hurry down the steps and slip behind the wheel of the black Lincoln. The automobile pulled away, heading north on Main Street. She entered the delicatessen and Jerome followed.

"Mr. Scapillini, you said something about that fellow doing business across the border," Grace said. "He's not working as an attorney up there, is he?"

The shopkeeper brushed bread crumbs off the counter and wiped his hands on his apron. "I got nothing more to say 'bout it. Back in the Old Country, we learn to mind our own business. You don't wanna get in the way of that fella, that's all I'm gonna say."

Grace woke the next morning to the sound of freezing rain pinging against the window. She moaned and rolled onto her side. This was Jerome's last day at home and they had plans to walk the loop between the Main Street and Brookfield bridges. She'd been looking forward to a few hours alone with Jerome, picturing them walking hand in hand beside the river, maybe sharing a kiss under the shelter of the pines.

Tossing back the covers, she padded to the window. It was even worse than she'd thought. Wet snow sagged off the tree branches, water dripped from the eaves, and passing cars splashed through inches of grey slush. Sleet pelted out of a gunmetal sky, blown sideways on gusty winds. She turned from the window and sat on the edge of her bed. Why couldn't this awful weather have waited until after Jerome was gone? She'd feel sad and lonely then anyway, and might even have welcomed a cold blustery day. She sighed and looked at the clock.

Her father would be leaving for work soon. It was time to dress and go down to breakfast. When she arrived in the dining room, his empty plate was pushed aside and he was scowling at the morning paper folded lengthwise at his place.

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