121: Guarantee

November 5

Charlie swallowed a yawn as she climbed the stairs at Grand Central, surprised to spot a red beret waiting at the top rather than on the street. 

“Hello, Charlie Girl,” Millie greeted cheerfully with one hand perched on the handle of her cart as she nodded toward the two cups of coffee and pastry bag.  “I knew Jon wouldn’t forget to tell you, but I thought I’d watch the masses file through to be on the safe side.”

The older woman’s bruises were healing, but still evident enough that they gave Charlie reason to pause and wrinkle her nose with empathized pain.  She was worried that there was something worse going on that Millie was confessing to, it was beyond her control.  Stubbornness was a trait that she recognized well, and Millie had perfected it before Charlie had even known the meaning of the word.

“He did tell me,” she confirmed with a pleasant smile, letting it go and passing over the paper cup before dropping the bagels on top of the cart.  Since Jon had mentioned Millie’s enjoyment of a croissant when they had breakfast together, Charlie included one of those in the bag today.  “He also told me that you helped him choose a beautiful piece of jewelry.  Thank you for that.”

Subdued eyes lit with the sizzle of a Fourth of July sparkler, bringing an extra lift to the creases at the corners of her mouth.  “You liked it then.  I’m glad.”

“I love it, and the story behind it was so intriguing.”

Charlie didn’t like that her show of interest was enough to douse the sparklers and put a strain on Millie’s smile. “I’ve always thought so.  Can we sit and talk for a moment longer than usual?  Do you have time?”

“My schedule is becoming more and more flexible." What were they going to do if she was late?  Fire her?  She was only going to be there a week longer, anyway.  “Let’s hop the escalator to the dining concourse.  Sound okay?”

“Perfect.”

A few minutes later they were seated on the outside row of tables, immersed in the drone of people talking either to food stand workers, other commuters or their phones.  Watching Millie settle herself in one of the chairs, Charlie tucked her briefcase between her feet and popped the lid from her coffee to enjoy the aroma while composing a way to ask what prompted today’s meeting.

“It’s unusual for you to ask me to visit,” she ultimately dangled out there, assuming that the carrot would be taken.

“Yes, I know, and I hope it wasn’t an inconvenience, but…”  Pushing the paper cup aside, she regally folded her hands on the table and declared, “I’m invoking my God-given right as an old woman to be nosy.”

It was a struggle not to laugh at her refined belligerence, and after a moment, Charlie gave up trying and let her soft giggle slip free.  “We’ve been visiting for almost a year now, Millie.  I have to say that I’m curious to know what’s inflamed your nosiness after all this time.”

“Blame Jon.  He invited me into your life by letting me point out that bracelet you're wearing,” came the equally amused response.

“Well, then.  I’ll have to flog him with wet pasta next time I see him.” 

Which wouldn’t be until at least Sunday.  At about eight last night, after she got home from dinner with Izzie, the text came saying he and the guys were working late and that he was staying in Jersey.  That was right before she’d received the phone call that she wasn’t thinking about today – the one that had kept her up most of the night painting with the nine-millimeter next to the easel.

Then tonight was Jake’s football game, tomorrow night was the Knicks with both younger boys who would then stay over at Jon’s so that they could all go to Jesse’s game in Pittsburgh on Saturday.  Sunday brunch with Stephanie would be followed by more studio work and, depending on how things went there, Charlie and Jon would pick a bed to cohabitate in for the night. 

She had been completely truthful when telling Izzie that Jon was always busy and, while he invited her to join him in any those events, Charlie declined.  With legal work still consuming her days, nights were the only free time to paint.  The governor’s portrait was due by the end of the month and there were two new projects awaiting her attention, so the stars just weren’t aligning for she and Jon this week.

Although, after last night, she was tempted to force them into alignment. 

“A good noodle flogging never hurt a man,” Millie agreed now, drawing Charlie from her thoughts.  “Tell me about your schedule dear.  You mentioned that it’s becoming more flexible?”

“Yes.  I’m making a career change, that will take me out of the nine-to-five rut.”

“Oh.  How nice for you.”

There was an undertone of disappointment that prompted Charlie to pledge, “Now we’ll be able to go have a nice lunch every week instead of coffee on the run.”

Wispy brows pushed toward the brim of her beret.  “So you’ll be coming into Manhattan still from…  Where is it you live?”

“Brooklyn Heights.”

Those two words created a distance wider than the two feet of table space, and Charlie didn’t understand why.  “You have something against Brooklyn?”

“No, dear.  I just think you’re silly to make that trip if you don’t have to.  What is your new career, if you don’t mind my asking?”

Maybe the “unnecessary” commute was silly to some people, but Charlie couldn’t simply just walk away from the older woman.  Yes, Milliewas fiercely independent and seemed to do fine on her own, but she was still aging and would continue to do so while remaining on the streets without dependable shelter.  In the absence of finding her a permanent place to stay, these welfare-check visits were the only thing that allowed Charlie to sleep at night. 

It still remained to be seen whether she’d be able to sleep the first night the temperature dipped below freezing.

She needed to talk to Jon about this.  Millie seemed smitten with him, so perhaps he could convince her to make a change.  Charlie would even be willing to have her live in the brownstone either part-time or full-time.  

Something.

Anything.

“Art,” she answered to the question at hand, while planning a call to her influential boyfriend between here and the office.  “Now that my boys are grown and my life… is changing, I’m accepting newfound encouragement and support to pursue my dreams.”

Distant eyes warmed again as fondness claimed the nuances of Millie’s expression.  “I will presume that comes from the other member of Team Monogamy and skip to asking what medium your art is?”

“Paint, mostly, but also drawing.  And your presumption is correct,” she confirmed with a grin.  “Which is something else I wanted to ask.  Since you were kind enough to help him choose a bracelet, I hoped you might do the same for me.”

“Ah, dear girl…”  Her frail chuckle was raspy from decades of use.  “A man needs help shopping, but women were born to shop.  I’m sure you’d be much better able to choose something for a man of his stature than I.”

Leaning forward, Charlie sought to convey her sincerity by clasping Millie’s hand inside hers.  “Whether that’s true or not, your opinion would still be valued – and your company appreciated.”

It was precisely the right thing to say, as Independence Day resurged with a fresh sparkler display in the eyes that had seen countless holidays .  “That's very kind of you.  Perhaps I will – if you’ll indulge my curiosity.”

“Of course.”  With a gentle squeeze, Charlie’s hand slid free so that retreat and rest her back against the plastic chair that looked just like those around it.  “What is it you’re curious about?”

“Your husband.” 

The abruptly succinct answer startled her, making her just as abrupt in saying, “I didn’t realize you knew I was married.” 

“I… overheard a phone conversation that Jon had on Monday and asked some pointed questions that were none of my business.”  When realizing that Charlie was tensing, the older woman flapped impatient fingers in her direction.  “There’s no point in getting your knickers in a bunch and doubling the amount of wet noodles to flog him with.  You and I both know men don’t stand a chance against an inquisitive woman.”

Of all people, Millie wasn’t going to judge, and for that matter, Jon would never say anything inappropriate.  He was the embodiment of tact, discretion and diplomacy – except when they were arguing.  Letting her shoulders rest more naturally so that the muscles weren’t bunched, Charlie admitted, “We are a persistent gender.”

“Indeed.  Now, I believe he mentioned ‘blackmail’ and ‘extortion’.  I wasn’t comfortable pushing the bounds of my nosiness about those with him, so that’s why I asked to see you.  And if you feel it’s none of my business, then that will be the end of it.  But I really am quite… interested, intrigued, concerned.  Any and all of the above.”

Was it going to make any difference of a harmless little homeless woman knew?  Charlie was more concerned about the media butting into the life of a celebrity’s new love interest.  So far, all had been quiet on that front, but she was holding her breath in anticipation of the moment when someone would unearth that little tidbit and exploit it. 

As for Owen…  Well, she didn’t give a tinker’s damn who knew what a louse he was.

“I’m convinced that the man I married has become psychopathic.  He’s spent twenty years letting me earn a living for our family while holding me emotionally hostage.”  With that brief introduction, she offered Millie the Reader’s Digest version of “Life with Owen”.  Her conclusion was, “And he was prepared to commit me to some facility, making everyone believe I was the one who needed mental help.”

In accordance with Jon’s request, she was still seeing her therapist, but she didn’t need mental help, by any stretch of the imagination.

“Nobody would believe that load of horse puckey,” Millie guffawed rudely while scooting her now-empty cup back and forth between fidgety hands on the table’s surface.  “And what is this about your desire for swift justice?  Is there an underlying reason beyond your desire to be rid of his heinous ass to more formally claim a very nice ass?”

There was, in fact, and it had happened just yesterday evening.  The timing was such that she hadn’t told anyone yet, but the incident was definitely one more reason Charlie would like to see Owen rotting in a locked room without a key.

“Actually…” she confessed hesitantly with a smile at the "ass" comment.  “My husband called last night, threatening to have someone take my dog for a ‘very long walk’ if I don’t drop the charges.  According to him, the longer I wait ‘the more tragic things will become’.  He spoke in nothing but vague terms and innuendo considering that all his calls are recorded, but he got his point across and managed equally infuriate and terrorize me.  Swift justice, swift vengeance…  Either would do.” 

Owen Foster didn’t have ties with criminals who could carry out his threats, and Charlie knew it.  He’d led such a fantastical life for so many years, that he was simply no longer playing with a full deck.  That call was him grasping at one more desperate straw to recover his life. 

He may as well call it a lost cause, because she sure as hell wasn’t going to give it back to him – nor allow him to infringe upon hers and Nana would outlive him.  Charlie would see to it, personally, which was why Vivi was taking the dog to the groomer and back to her house today.

Millie, however, didn’t know that Owen was full of shit and watched with stoic concern as her companion took a final swallow of coffee.  Putting the empty cup on the table, Charlie kicked herself for venting and making this poor woman worry.  Living on the streets was worry enough of its own.

“Oh, and convicted felons aren’t entitled to divorce settlements,” she added with a gleeful wink meant to lighten the air.  “The longer it takes to convict him, the more years I’ll have to remained tethered to his ‘heinous ass’, because I’m not giving him half of everything.  I’ve been praying for a miracle all week, but so far, nothing.”

The sunlight streamed in the windows, projecting a glint that gave Millie’s aged eyes the appearance of being hard, even as she gently theorized, “Miracles are all around us, dear.  Your miracle is in that charming beau of yours and how he’s swooped in like a Jersey knight to rescue the princess trapped in the tower.  I used to know men like that.  They were rough on the outside but also something akin to Robin Hood under all their bravado – especially when it came to women, children and animals.  They always fascinated me for that reason.”

That sounded a lot like the man who had stood at Charlie’s back for support while she confessed her sins to the Del Vecchio clan.  The man who took them on when she no longer had the energy.  Who made them understand and worked with them to devise a plan that had gotten her this far. 

“Jon likes to think himself rude and crude, but he’s actually pretty Robin Hoody himself.  He has a soft spot for anyone in need, and I’ve been blessed to receive so much of his help.  I just worry that he’ll tire of this drama before it’s over.”

Sitting forward to rake Charlie’s empty cup in and stack it in her own, Millie radiated an aura of serene confidence.  “No, he won’t.  He’ll be right there holding your hand at the end.  I guarantee it.”