The Widow's Son

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Book: Read The Widow's Son for Free Online
Authors: Thomas Shawver
of Emery. I suppose no one does, other than those who respect his work at Becker Systems. But I adore him.”
    “Mind if I ask why?”
    “He has poise, an air of competence, and a resolute calmness.”
    “That sounds fine for a curriculum vitae, but not a life partner.”
    Her face flushed at my bluntness.
    “Because he’s not vulgar, nor a snob. He’s not commanding or powerful or masterful. Because he’s not…”
    “All negatives. Do you love him or not? When you’re alone with him, does he take off his face to reveal his mask?”
    “How
very
droll, Michael. Certainly, he’s not like any man I’ve ever known. He’s quiet, but he likes to laugh with me. He’s smart, but not arrogant. He’s protective, but not smothering. And he’s open. He’s willing to grow and change; causing me to improve, too. I like that. I love him because he makes me think.”
    She might have been describing quantum theory; this was utterly inexplicable to me as I had no idea there was anything remotely interesting in Emery. All I saw was a boring guy who didn’t respond to my attempts at bonhomie. He didn’t find me charming and the feeling was mutual, so I assumed that everyone saw him as I did. How could he have such appeal to a firebrand like Natalie?
    “Makes you think? What on earth do you mean by that?”
    “His perspectives are different,” she said with a shrug. “I can’t really explain, but I find myself reliving our conversations and thinking about things in new ways. I don’t know, but it feels healthy. And we have fun exploring things together.”
    “Things?” I tilted my head, squinted one eye and gave her a look pretending I conjured them making love. “How
veerrry
interesting.”
    “Oh, for Pete’s sake, grow up, Mike! He’s a loner, and he hasn’t plugged in much to the world—movies, TV, books, music, and so on. I get to introduce him to the things l like, and he does the same for me, explaining his engineering and some of the odd things he thinks about.”
    She shook her head and grinned at me. “Now, mind you, he’s wrong as often as any man. But he’s willing to admit when he’s wrong. That’s not something you often see among members of your gender.”
    I wasn’t sure how to answer that.
    “Ummm, okay,” I said. “I’m just surprised you’d go for a…” I almost said”milquetoast,” “er, fella like him. After all, he’s not like your ex-husband, right?”
    Whomp!
    Natalie Phelan slapped me about as hard as I’ve ever been smacked by a woman—with the possible exception of Sister Mary Agnes Aquinas.
    Have I mentioned that the redhead had a temper?
    “Don’t you
ever
mention that bastard again, Bevan!”
    “What bastard?” I managed to utter while my tongue fished for loose teeth. “I never met the guy.”
    The emerald charcoals in her eye sockets dimmed, but continued to smolder. Her mouth spouted an apology that, when it finally came out, almost sounded sincere.
    “I met Sean Phelan when I worked at a bar in Boston,” she quickly added. “He was a charmer off the boat from Donegal with a quick wit and raucous laugh. But ‘Take what you can, when you can’ was Sean’s motto. The bastard married me for a green card. In return, he gave me Claire, a broken cheekbone, and damn little else when he left us for New York.”
    She paused to take a breath. “And you’re right, damn it. The first thing that appealed to me about Emery was that he seemed as far off the charts from Sean as I could find in a man.”
    The fire in her eyes dimmed. She placed a hand under my chin, lowered her face, and kissed me, lightly, on the lips.
    “I’m sorry, Michael.” This time it seemed genuine.
    “No harm done,” I said, and then risked getting smacked again. “Aside from Emery Stagg not being like your thuggish Hibernian, what else do you see in him?”
    “He’s not only extremely smart, but also considerate. I felt sorry for him at first. His painful shyness, the halting way he

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