Read Once Upon a Lie for Free Online Page B

remind him of this the next time they were invited to a Donovan family party, even if they had lobster and Johnnie Walker Blue. Jack often talked about how much he hated Sean but seemed to have forgotten when he got that invitation to the Fourth of July party in the mail. Turned out Jack Conlon’s love could be bought for a two-pound lobster and a shot of good whiskey, not to mention an opportunity to prove to everyone that he was still the same old Jack.
    Maeve had heard through the family grapevine—namely an e-mail from Margie, who seemed to want to reconnect with Maeve suddenly—that the widow Donovan had tried to follow her deceased husband’s casket into the back of the hearse that would take him to the crematorium before one of the stronger relatives stopped her. All for show or truly an exhibition of a lost love? It was hard to tell, hard to know. Although Maeve had done her fair share of family parties, and with the exception of the July Fourth extravaganza, she hadn’t spent a whole lot of time around Sean and his family after she had left for college, and that was the way she liked it. Sean made her skin crawl, while Dolores had been a neighborhood girl and a not very nice one at that, so Maeve had no interest in keeping that relationship going. Familial loyalty and devotion went only so far, and Sean didn’t deserve any of hers. Margie seemed nice enough, but Maeve wasn’t all that keen at rekindling what had been a casual friendship at best.
    Jack blathered the whole way down, and although he protested vehemently about being “ripped from the warm confines of the community room” to attend the ash scattering of the “little puke,” he was more than delighted to be traveling alongside his daughter on a jaunt that was sure to be interesting, given the players. Maeve had also promised him a late lunch at his favorite clam joint on City Island, and the prospect of that had him on his best behavior. He was dressed today in a natty tweed blazer, pressed khaki trousers, a bow tie, and loafers. The only sign that he had maybe lost the mental thread while he was dressing were the two different socks—one black, one green—that Maeve could see peeking out from beneath his cuffed pants.
    “You look handsome, Dad,” Maeve said.
    “Mimi Delaveaux helped me pick out this outfit,” he said, pulling at his collar. “I think she wants to get in my pants.”
    Maeve cringed.
    “You think the bow tie is a bit much, don’t you?”
    “I didn’t even know you had a bow tie,” Maeve said.
    “There’s a lot you don’t know about me, daughter of mine,” he said, but there was no humor in his voice, and that worried her.
    They were silent for most of the ride, Jack coming to life a little bit when they passed their old street. He craned his neck toward the window. “I can see it,” he said. “The old house.”
    “Do you want to drive by?” she asked, praying that the answer would be no.
    Her prayers were answered. “No,” he said. “Too hard.” He turned back around. “I loved it here, though. Didn’t you?”
    The number of lies she told herself, as well as her father, grew with each passing day. “Loved it,” she said flatly.
    They came to a stoplight on the avenue. Jack whispered as if they weren’t alone in the car, “I know why you asked, you know.”
    She wasn’t sure if this was one of his tangents or if he had something on his mind. She waited.
    “About that Saturday?” he said. “That’s when Sean died.” His voice got a little louder. “And I know that he didn’t die of those things you told me. I have eyes. I read the paper.”
    She made a left turn onto the avenue, keeping quiet. It was better that way.
    “You think I forget everything, but I don’t. I remember stuff.”
    “So where were you, Dad?” she asked quietly, not wanting to arouse the ire that he displayed infrequently but enough to keep her on her toes. From what she had read, the anger was part of the dementia that