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  Ricky jumped up and down and said, “Trout—that’s great.”

  It was good to see Ricky take an interest in something other than cooking.

  Then the young man said, “You can sauté trout in olive oil, and it’s supposed to be phenomenal.”

  Seamus said, “You can pan-fry or deep-fry them, too.”

  Now Trent stepped in. “You like to fish, Gramps?”

  “Back home—I mean in the old country—I fed my family many a time with my skill at fishing. We would stand in the icy waters of the streams coming down from the hills, and I could fill my bucket with fish.”

  I had to say, “I thought your dad was a baker. Didn’t he feed the family many a time?”

  Seamus just gave me a sharp look. Then he said, “We all had to feed the family.”

  Mary Catherine stepped into the brawl. “I fished back in Ireland, too.”

  Shawna said, “Did you have to feed your family?”

  “No, darling. But we used to camp, and I liked to fish. In fact, I could fish your Gramps under the table.”

  Chapter 38

  It was like a duel in eighteenth-century France. The fishing contest was on. Old Irish against young Irish. It couldn’t have been more exciting if one of them had slapped the other across the face with white gloves.

  I couldn’t believe how quickly the kids got ready and found all manner of fishing rods in the garage. They each set about a task. Fiona grabbed some bread from the pantry. Ricky and Eddie dug for worms at the edge of an overgrown garden. And I checked the structural integrity of the dock, which ran from the shoreline more than seventy-five feet into the water, where it opened onto a wide platform.

  The family divided into two factions. Those who wanted to see if Seamus was telling another of his tall tales and those who wanted to see what Mary Catherine was bragging about. It was fun from everyone’s perspective.

  Out on the dock, I was impressed with the way Seamus handled the rod. He pulled in two decent bass before I had the first bite on my line. Then he started explaining to Ricky the subtle nuances of casting and reeling the worm in slowly.

  Then Trent hooked something that made his reel whine as it swam out to deeper water. Trent put on an odd accent and said, “That’s a big fish.”

  Eddie immediately said, “Aye, that’s a twenty-footer.”

  Trent came back with, “Twenty-five. Three tons of him.”

  I laughed out loud when I realized my sons were doing a scene from Jaws. I smiled as the boys worked the line until whatever they were pulling in broke free.

  Then I heard a shout from the shoreline. My natural instinct as a father made me race down the dock toward shore. As I leaped onto solid ground, I saw Juliana up to her knees in the cold water and Mary Catherine standing on the shore.

  Just as I skidded to a stop, I realized they were helping a squealing Chrissy pull in what appeared to be the winning fish. She tried turning the handle of the small kids’ reel as the rod bent nearly in half under the weight of the fish.

  Mary Catherine gently coaxed Chrissy to walk backward and helped her with the rod. Ultimately it was Mary Catherine who pulled the giant lunker onto shore.

  It was a catfish unlike any I had ever seen. It had to be six inches across at its head and almost two feet long.

  Chrissy looked down at the fish and said, “We aren’t going to eat that, are we?”

  By now Seamus had walked up, and he chuckled as he said, “Of course we are. Catfish is even tastier than cat.”

  Chrissy was suitably horrified, while the rest of us laughed in the warm sunshine.

  These were the days I lived for.

  Chapter 39

  Our first dinner at Mildew Manor looked like a feast from a medieval lord’s castle. We pushed two tables together and covered them with a long tablecloth. On top were baskets of bread, a platter piled high with roasted corn on the cob, and plates heaped with trout, bass, and, of course, catfish.

  I was impressed with Ricky’s ability to cook the three kinds of fish in different ways. He sautéed the trout, fried the catfish, and baked the bass. It was a wonder to behold, and he never looked happier.

  As we sat down, a couple of the kids looked ready to pounce on the bounty we had placed on the table. But the sight of my grandfather at the end of the table as he cleared his throat froze everyone in place.

  He bowed his head, and everyone followed his example. In what we liked to call his prayer voice—a serious and solemn tone he rarely used in other situations—Seamus said, “Dear Lord, thank you for allowing us to all be here together and experience the wonders of nature and the beauty of this land. And thank you most of all for giving each of us the ability and insight to realize what a great day this was and how important each of us is to the family. And, dear Lord, please protect our sweet Brian as he works to overcome the obstacles placed before him. Amen.”

  In unison, the entire table followed with “Amen.”

  The trout went first, then the bass. I noticed a hesitation among the kids to try the breaded catfish. It wasn’t the typical entrée served on the Upper West Side of Manhattan.

  I winked at Seamus, who immediately understood what I wanted to do. We both reached for a piece of catfish and then pretended to fight over it. That drew the attention of the kids, and before I knew it, all the pieces of fried catfish were being devoured. It was such a big hit that I wondered where I would be able to buy catfish in the city when we got back.

  As the meal wound down and we looked out over the lake and the setting sun, I knew I had to treasure these moments with my family. How many times had I let something like this slip past me because I was focused on work?

  As amazing as the whole day had been, I couldn’t help but think how much better it would have been if Brian had been able to join us.

  I thought back on my grandfather’s prayer. I needed to have the insight to appreciate how great a day like this could be. I also felt a touch of sadness at how rarely days like this happened.

  Chapter 40

  As darkness closed in on Mildew Manor, I realized I was exhausted. I had only grabbed a couple of hours’ sleep since we’d left the city and visited Brian.

  Now I found myself strolling hand in hand with Mary Catherine around the edge of the lake. This was anything but tiring. We walked at a leisurely pace, and I enjoyed hearing the sounds of the forest at night. Sometimes I forgot that, growing up in a place like New York City, I didn’t have a chance to hear those sounds on a regular basis.

  We walked about a quarter of the way around the lake on a path made of pine needles and maple leaves that had been blown toward the lake from deeper in the forest.

  I turned and looked back at the house, which was now about half a mile away. The ghost stories must’ve had an effect, because every light in the house was on.

  We stopped at a little clearing and, like magic, Mary Catherine pulled a blanket from the big bag she seemed to carry everywhere.

  I said, “What all do you have in there?”

  She smiled and said, “Anything you ever need. Haven’t you noticed?”

  “I notice everything.”

  “Have you also noticed that we haven’t had any alone time for quite a while?” She reached up on her tiptoes and kissed me on the lips.

  I said, “I’m sorry. It’s been a rough time lately.”

  “I’m not complaining, just commenting.”

  I took her in my arms and said, “Comment on this.” I kissed her. I couldn’t have loved her any more. I started to speak, but she put her finger to my lips.

  She smiled and said, “I don’t need you to talk. I just need you to look pretty.”

  Somehow I found my second wind and wasn’t nearly as exhausted as I thought.

  Chapter 41

  When I woke up the next morning in the king-size bed, I didn’t want to admit that my back was a little sore from making love on the blanket by the lake. It was never a good idea to admit something like that to your younger
girlfriend.

  As I stood in the kitchen, secretly stretching out my back and legs, I heard a car pull into the front yard.

  Mary Catherine looked up from her coffee at the kitchen table. “Are you expecting any visitors?”

  Before I could answer, I heard Shawna open the front door, and I heard a woman’s voice. I knew exactly who it was.

  Mary Catherine followed me into the living room to greet our guest, who was still standing in the doorway, chatting with Shawna.

  Sandy Coles turned her attention to me and said, “She doesn’t remember me at all.”

  I stepped across the living room and gave my former partner from the Forty-Ninth Precinct a hug.

  I said, “She was barely a toddler when you fled the city.” I stepped back and was amazed that this pretty, hard-nosed cop, who stood almost six feet tall, hadn’t seemed to age at all in the past eight years. I couldn’t help but say, “You look amazing.”

  Then Mary Catherine cleared her throat.

  I jumped to it and introduced them. I didn’t even stumble over the word girlfriend when I introduced Mary Catherine. I said, “Sandy is the one who found the house for us.”

  Mary Catherine said, “So this is your old NYPD buddy?”

  Sandy said, “Back in the Forty-Ninth, Mike and the other guys in the squad always treated me as an equal. Unfortunately, that meant I had to put up with all their juvenile jokes. We’ve been buddies ever since.”

  I appreciated that she had the sense to realize the pickle I was in. She rescued me further by saying in a grave tone, “Mike, I could really use your help.”

  I saw the pained look on Mary Catherine’s face. She was afraid she was going to lose me to some new investigation.

  Sandy said, “The town is going to be mobbed for the Fourth of July parade. We have three of our officers out with the flu and two others on vacation. We could really use some help keeping the crowds in check and making sure no one does anything stupid.”

  “All you need me for is crowd control?”

  “That’s it, Detective. Are you too good for it anymore?”

  I could read the relief on Mary Catherine’s face. But I still waited until she gave me a little nod of her head.

  Sandy said, “It’ll earn this beautiful family of yours seats in the reviewing stand right in the center of town.”

  I said, “I’m sure I could handle just about anything that walks in your town. Except maybe an errant moose.”

  Sandy laughed and said, “That’d be funnier if I hadn’t had to chase off more than my share of moose over the years.”

  It was awfully good to see her again.

  Chapter 42

  On the Fourth of July, all the kids could talk about was the parade. They had been to all kinds of parades in the city. Parades for the Yankees, gay pride parades, parades celebrating every possible nationality, and, of course, the obligatory Saint Patrick’s Day parade. Seamus was generally in charge of getting everyone excited about that.

  Today I was already arguing with the old man about whether he would use a wheelchair.

  He said, “I don’t need a wheelchair. I can walk as well as anyone.”

  “But Seamus, we don’t know what the crowds are going to be like. It may get hot by the time the parade gets going. It just makes good sense for you to make use of the wheelchair we toted along.”

  “It also makes sense for me to get some exercise.”

  Jane stepped up next to her great-grandfather and said, “What if I promise to stay right next to him the whole day?” She looped her arm through his, and the old man beamed.

  I couldn’t say no to that. It was one of the sweetest gestures I’d ever seen one of the kids make toward their great-grandfather.

  As we were about to leave the house, the wheelchair was in its normal place by the front door, but Seamus had something else in his hand.

  I blurted out, “What the hell?”

  He held up the black top hat and smiled. Then he slipped it on his white head. “Quite dashing, don’t you think?”

  “If you’re the guy from Monopoly.”

  “The brim will keep the sun off my face, and if we’re in the reviewing stand people might think I’m in charge.”

  “Well, there’s no arguing with that logic.” It was all I could do to usher my grandfather to the van and pacify the kids who were already in their seats, ready to go.

  After I got the family settled in the comfortable reviewing stand, I swung by the police staging area, and Sandy gave me a vest to put over my shirt that said PARADE MARSHAL. My only real connection to the police, though, was the portable radio she gave me. My job was simply to keep people from wandering into the street, and if I saw something serious, I was to get on the radio.

  I started my job as a volunteer for the Linewiler Police Department. Sandy had recruited several others. Two were retired cops living in town, and one was an off-duty firefighter. I imagined it was hard for most men to say no to her.

  I tried to enjoy the parade, watching the homemade floats and listening to the bands as they marched by. The theme, of course, was the pioneer spirit of Maine and national pride. More than one float looked like it had a papier-mâché Paul Bunyan on it. When I asked, I was told it was just a woodsman. Of course Paul Bunyan was not from Maine.

  I stuck fairly close to the reviewing stand and noticed how many people came up to introduce themselves to my family. It took some people a few seconds to realize that all the kids were in one family. Looking at it from their perspective, I could see why they might be a little confused. But this was the new millennium, and kids were being adopted by an increasing number of families in the United States.

  The other thing I noticed was how well the local cops were treated by the people from the town. It was nothing like New York, where the cops had to be on edge and in survival mode almost all the time. The townspeople were calling the cops by their first names and slapping them on the back.

  New millennium or not, that was something I wasn’t used to.

  Chapter 43

  After the parade, everyone headed to the historic firehouse on the north side of town. It was easy to find because the parade ended directly in front of it.

  Sandy had stepped into the reviewing stand and sat next to Mary Catherine. I saw them whispering and giggling, then Mary Catherine told me the entire family was going to a clambake at the firehouse.

  We walked, as a family, almost half a mile to the firehouse. Seamus was given a ride in a golf cart by a heavyset Kiwanis Club member. With his top hat on and riding in the comfort of an electric cart, he really did look like a parade official.

  I noted that every storefront was filled and businesses seemed to be prospering in the small town. They had three separate schools: an elementary school, a middle school, and a high school. And it didn’t take long to hear people boast about the high test scores and the number of kids who went on to college.

  I sat on a picnic bench with Seamus safely tucked in next to me. I was keeping a close eye on my grandfather, but aside from looking a little tired, he seemed okay.

  I lost track of some of the kids, but mainly it was because they had gone off to play various games. Trent was playing baseball at a diamond across the street. Bridget and Fiona were playing a kind of hide-and-seek game with some local girls. Even Eddie and Ricky were playing soccer in the open field next to the firehouse.

  Somehow the atmosphere had gotten me to drop my usual guard-dog attitude toward the kids. Is this what the real world looks like? Is this what normal feels like? It sure seemed nice. Friendly people, comfortable atmosphere. A guy could get used to this.

  I looked over at Mary Catherine as she tried some clams coming right off the grill. She laughed at something a woman said, and I realized this was the best possible place we could’ve come for vacation.

  Maybe this could be more than just a vacation spot. If a tough cop like Sandy could find her work rewarding in a little town like this, why couldn’t I?
r />   The idea intrigued me so much that I even started to worry about the one sticking point. What would happen to Seamus? Would he be able to transfer to a church up here? We couldn’t just leave him in the city with none of his great-grandchildren close by. Who would listen to his wild stories?

  Then there was Brian. I had no idea what would happen to him. But maybe Maine would be a good place for him to get a fresh start when he got out of prison.

  Sandy walked over and said, “Your family seems to be enjoying themselves.”

  “You were right, Sandy. This place is perfect.”

  “Almost. We do have problems, just like everywhere.”

  “Like what?”

  “Heroin use is up. Way up. It’s cheap, and there are a dozen dealers with connections in the city. But it’s nothing a big-city cop like you couldn’t handle. That is, if you had a mind to help.”

  “This place has a drug issue?”

  “Every place has some kind of drug issue.”

  She gave me a lot to think about.

  Chapter 44

  Mary Catherine joined me at the picnic table, bringing a plate of clams and two bags of potato chips.

  With a broad smile she said, “Isn’t this wonderful?”

  Seamus muttered, “I think it would get boring after a while. It’s a nice vacation, but that’s it.”

  I looked at her and said, “The kids seem to love it.”

  Mary Catherine said, “Everyone is so friendly. I’ve already met half a dozen women who want me to join one club or another. I keep having to explain that we’re just visiting.”

  Sandy sat on the bench directly across from me. Her blue eyes found mine, and she reached across and took hold of my hands. She said, “I’m so glad you guys came.”

  I caught the look Mary Catherine slipped me. What did she want me to do? Jerk my hands out of Sandy’s? Instead we both listened as Sandy said, “You could probably lease the house you’re staying in year-round, if you’re interested.”