An Invincible Summer (Wyndham Beach), Mariah Stewart [best classic novels TXT] 📗

“You probably should have led with matriarch.” Emma leaned over the desk for a better look.

“Tell me you’re still deciding,” Chris said as he walked toward the desk, an envelope in his hand.

“Oh. Hi.” Emma barely looked up from the catalog. “No, we haven’t decided yet. Nicole—this is Nicole. Chris, she’s going to do our tattoos.”

He reached beyond his mother to shake Nicole’s hand.

“Oh my God, you really are Chris Dean.” Nicole sounded as if she was going to need oxygen sometime soon.

He nodded. “And this really is my mom and her friends. I’m hoping you can help them out a little here.”

“I’m trying.” Nicole was clearly starstruck.

“Herding cats?” He raised an eyebrow and smiled.

“Not yet, but close.” Nicole smiled back and seemed to relax.

“So let’s see what we’ve got here.” Chris looked over his mother’s shoulder, then flipped a few pages. “Mrs. Flynn, anything jump out at you?”

“You mean, have I found something I want on my body from this day until the day I die?” Maggie shook her head. “Not yet.”

“Mrs. Bryant?” He turned to Liddy.

“I liked the ‘see no evil, hear no evil’ monkey thing, but your mother nixed it,” Liddy told him.

She pointed to the tattoo of the three monkeys, and he laughed. “You would each get one, though, right? You wouldn’t have all three monkeys on your . . . where are you getting this tattoo, anyway?”

“Inside left ankle,” Emma spoke up. “How about a feather? As in birds of a feather.” She held up the catalog.

“It looks more like a phallic symbol,” Maggie noted.

Emma held the book out at arm’s length. “Maybe. It’s been a while, though, so I’m not sure how accurate my memory is.”

Chris coughed. “Mom. Move on.”

They pored over several more pages before Maggie said, “Wait. Go back to the last page. I saw something . . .”

Emma flipped the page, turned it around. They all leaned closer.

Chris tapped on one image. “This one.”

“That’s the one I wanted to look at.” Maggie studied the image. There were three curlicues, their curves representing ocean waves. “I like it. Three waves, sailing on the sea of life together. The sea is eternal—there’s some quote about that, but I don’t remember what it is.”

“Good call, Mrs. Flynn. You grew up in a bay town together, and you’ve weathered life’s storms together.” Chris looked from his mother to each of her friends.

“I like it. It’s small enough to be discreet, and it’s pretty, and it has significance. But not on my ankle.” Maggie pointed to her inner left wrist. “Here. I want to see it whenever I want without pulling up my pant leg, rolling down my sock, or taking off my boot every time. Easier to pull up a sleeve.”

Liddy nodded. “I agree.” She held up the catalog. “This is what we’re celebrating with our tattoos, right? The fact that all our lives we’ve gone through all manner of shit together and yet we’re still rolling on together?”

“Mrs. Bryant,” Chris said, obviously amused, “one thing I always liked about you, you always put it right out there.”

“I like it. Waves on the same sea,” Emma agreed. “Good job, Maggie. You saved poor Nicole here an afternoon of the three of us going round and round and . . .”

Chris laughed and held up a hand as if to stop her flow of words. “Please. I’ve been there. This young woman has a business to run. So you’re set? This is it?”

Emma, Liddy, and Maggie nodded.

“Great. Glad that’s settled.” He handed Nicole the envelope. “As promised. Four front-row seats and backstage passes. I can’t thank you enough for accommodating my mom and her friends. I’ll give you a shout-out at the show tonight, in case anyone’s looking for a tattoo.”

“You might want to wait to see if I do a good job.” Nicole took the envelope with shaking hands. “You wouldn’t want to be remembered in Charlotte as the guy who gave everyone a bum rec on a tat.”

“I think you’ll do fine.” He turned and kissed first his mother—“Love you, Mom”—then Liddy and Maggie in turn. “Guys, it’s been great to see you. I’m glad you made it to the show. I’ve gotta go—I have an appointment in fifteen minutes, and I can’t be late. Nicole, thanks again. I’ll see you tonight.” He was almost to the door when he paused and turned back. “Hey, Mrs. Flynn, don’t forget to tell Nat I said any show, anytime. I’d love to see her again.”

“She’ll take you up on that, I’m sure,” Maggie said. He nodded and left, the bell over the door ringing softly.

“Phew.” Nicole slid back into her chair, fanning herself with the envelope.

“Take a drink of water and calm yourself,” Emma told her. “You’re not going to be sticking a needle in my skin with those shaky hands.”

“Sorry. I’m fine. He’s just . . . so . . .” Nicole was still a little wide eyed.

“I know.” Emma patted her on the arm. “He’s a good boy.”

It was such a mom thing to say, Maggie’d laughed at the time, and she laughed at the memory as she got off the train at her Center City stop and walked the three blocks to Flynn Law.

Once at the office, she greeted the receptionist and several staff members who passed in the hall. She chatted with Lois as she unlocked the door Art’s assistant had guarded like a pit bull since the day Art went out sick. Maggie sat at her late husband’s desk in the office she’d taken over as her own those times when she’d ventured into Flynn Law to take care of the responsibilities Art had unexpectedly left to her. When he was dying, he’d told her he’d changed the structure of the firm so that while Alvin Cummins was in charge of the finances, and George Young was effectively the senior partner and managing attorney, she, Maggie, would be the final word on any matter of substance.

“Trust them to do their jobs,” Art had told her. “You won’t need to get