Obit by Anne Emery Read Free Book Online Page A

beverage mentioned in the obit. He looked at me as if I were a pint short of a six-pack. Well, it was worth a try.
    I made conversation with some of the other guests and was on my third beer by the time the wedding party entered, sat at the head of the room and invited the rest of us to choose our places at the elegantly dressed tables around the hall. Normie found four seats close to the action and hovered by them until we all got to the table and settled in.
    A multi-course meal got underway, a well-designed mix of Italian and Irish, heavy on the Italian. The wine was plentiful and of excellent quality, a gift, we were told, from relatives in Tuscany. People stood to make toasts, including Brennan, who said what a lucky young man Niccolo was, and how much joy the young pair had in store for them over the years. “Love is a joyous event, or series of events — at least if my distant memories serve me well.” This brought laughs from the crowd.
    Maura leaned towards me and said out of the side of her mouth: “I wonder just how distant those memories are for Brennan.”
    I looked at my watch and said: “What time is it?”
    Her reaction was instant and gratifying. “What are you saying!” I looked up and saw Brennan’s black eyes on me, and I knew he had seen my little performance with the watch. He continued his spiel without skipping a beat and wound up with a toast to the bride’s parents. There were more speeches, more fabulous food was produced, wineglasses were filled and refilled. Brennan, his brothers Patrick and Terry, and another fellow of similar vintage formed a quartet, got down on their knees in front of Katie and began to croon a number of old-fashioned love songs, including “True Love,” with its assurance of a guardian angel for each and every one of us. It was hokey but it was good, and the crowd loved it. Katie was laughing and wiping tears from her eyes at the same time. Niccolo beamed with pleasure.
    “Will you do that at my wedding, Daddy?” Normie begged.
    “I thought you didn’t want to get married.”
    “I changed my mind. Please? I want all those songs. Plus that one from my opera.”
    “‘Casta Diva,’ you mean.”
    “Right. Mummy can sing that one.”
    “I’d pay to hear that.”
    “You could hear it any time you wanted if you still lived in our house.” I had to look away.
    The quartet made way for the band, which would be offering a mix of Italian and Irish music. I took the opportunity to switch from wine, of which I’d had too much, back to beer. I heard Brennan ask for two double Irish whiskeys; he passed one to Patrick before moving behind me. Patrick and I got into a conversation about the music. Suddenly I lurched forward, spilling my beer on the floor. I had just been given a sharp clout in the back of the head. Brennan’s retaliation for the watch incident.
    Patrick raised his eyebrows. “What brought that on?”
    “If I told you, I’d just get clouted again. Harder.” I rubbed the back of my head. “I enjoyed the quartet. Good voices.”
    “If you enjoyed that, you’ll have to hear our ‘Lola’ some day. You know, the Kinks song.”
    “Oh yeah.”
    “If you can ever get the Burke brothers tanked up enough to do it, you’ll see a new side of Brennan’s musicianship.”
    “I’ll keep it in mind. Excuse me for a minute, would you Patrick?”
    “Sure. Catch up with you later.”
    I had seen Maura crooking a finger at me to come over and join her. Just as I started in her direction, she caught sight of Declan and waved. As he recognized her from his visit to Halifax, his scowl gave way to a wide smile. He looked like a new man.
    “Good evening, Badness!” he greeted her, and opened his arms. They embraced. He whispered something in her ear; she whispered back, and they shared a laugh. They chatted for a few moments, then she came my way.
    I drew her over to a series of shallow storage cabinets along the east wall of the gym. They were about six feet