The Sisterhood

The Sisterhood

by Geri Fitzsimmons

copywrite 2007

USA, 1982

The Connor compound lay at the high end of the island bordered by the bay and sufficiently segregated from the noisy tourist area of Ocean City, New Jersey. The main house was a mammoth two-story structure that sported a gaming court in the rear. It was surrounded by well-tended gardens enclosing a playground for the family's pampered young. Several private guest cottages were scattered informally with their open patios facing the bay. On one of these, Ann Ryan relaxed in the pleasant summer sunlight, waiting the appropriate hour to join the Connors at dinner.

She looked down at bay where several boats were docked. A group of teenage boys lugged water skies ashore as they exchanged banter with a cluster of girls.

Radiant in their colorful beachwear, the girls were striking tantalizing poses at the end of the private pier. This view of Catherine Connors' adolescent daughter and her companions brought memories to Ann Ryan.

Hanging on the fringes of the older girls was William Connors’s eight-year-old daughter. Her golden haired cousin and her entourage ignored the dark haired child. As Ann continued to watch the innocent flirting between the young people on the pier, she suddenly saw herself in that shy little girl.

Shelia Connors, Catherine Anderson and Andrea Nelson, were like the three evil stepsisters plaguing Cinderella. Trouble was, Ann Ryan thought, they were the beauties and she was plain little Annie Ryan.

How easily Catherine's daughter transferred into Shelia Connors. Kathleen possessed that same thick mane of gorgeous blonde hair that capped her aunt Shelia's head. Never a single pimple had dared to erupt on the flawless complexion of their ruling princess. Lovely in their own right, Catherine Anderson and Andrea Nelson were Shelia’s ladies-in-waiting. The remainder of the girls flocked about the three leaders senselessly mimicking their every move. Ann Ryan was the tag-a-long they occasionally noticed. Too old to enjoy playing with the younger children, too young to be completely accepted by the older youngsters, she had always felt out of place.

Ann was a child of ten when Michael O’Neill invaded their paradise. She remembered now how things changed with his arrival. Almost from the start, the boys competed for Michael’s friendship. John Connors, who’d always been the masculine leader in their crowd, deferred constantly to Michael’s decisions. John’s once ordered, “We’re going to do this,” switched to, “what do you think about this, Mike? “

James Beechen, with the sexy English accent and those luscious golden curls, sniffed after Michael like a trained hound obeying his every command as if in mortal fear of the Irish youth. What the girls once referred to as James’ enchanting accent and delightful manners, Michael soon had the crowd calling, James’ ‘girly ways’.

Bradley Fitzgerald, cousin to the Connors, was the only boy who occasionally opposed their new leader. Bradley fresh from his Nob year at the Military Academy didn’t feel inclined to ‘hup to’ for this interloper. The sophomore cadet bragged, “I’m a survivor--had my ass roasted by experts.” Still, it only took one violent encounter; with Michael beating Bradley so viciously he vomited, to put him permanently in his place.

Too young at the time, Ann didn’t realize the situation was flaming into snarling sexual competition among the boys while the teasing girls stoked the fires.

There had never been a question, even back then, but that one day Catherine Anderson would be Mrs. John Connors. It was as if their families signed a contract at the birth of their firstborn offspring. Of course, the exotic Andrea Nelson bewitched all the young males and easily drew John’s attention to aggravate Catherine. Then for some reason, perhaps the macho smell of a cadet, Andrea sunk her claws into Bradley Fitzgerald; so by the end of the second week of that summer, they were thought a twosome.

Then came Michael O’Neill.

James Beechen had worshipped the beautiful Shelia Connors since the first time her brother John brought him home several summers back. But it was Shelia, Michael wanted. When Michael nonchalantly made his choice known, James didn’t so much as gripe only stepped aside. It was Shelia, still satisfied with handholding and cuddling, who found ‘The Brute’ too aggressive and stopped him cold. So Michael moved in on Andrea, or so Shelia said, because Andrea did ‘Dirty things’ with Michael, she wouldn’t.

That was how many years and how much heartbreak ago…Ann lost her enjoyment of the delightful scene of the young teens on the pier. From the corner of her eye she saw Shelia coming from the back of the main house.

Shelia crept like a fugitive. Her head turned up and down and side to side as if hunting a way out. Her tall frame was held in a forward runner’s stance though she picked her steps carefully.

As Shelia headed towards her, Ann felt the urge to slink away. She preferred the loudmouth alcoholic to this timid creature the drugs created.

“Annie, such a lovely evening, do you mind if I join you.” Shelia carefully lowered herself into the companion lounge. She said the correct words but the sameness in the tone of each one made Ann want to scream.

Snap out of it girl, she thought, can’t you see what they’re doing to you. She only said, “Shelia, certainly, how nice.”

Shelia didn’t actually look at her. She didn’t focus on anything. Her eyes, shattered marbles from which the color and light escaped, were expressionless like the frozen features of her face. “Little Annie Rooney came back.” She mumbled as if not actually talking to anyone. “At thirty three, divorced, and free.. . free...what was Annie’s Englishman like? Andrea said he was old and stuffy and safe. Catherine described him as well bred.” She giggled. Then she sniffled as if on the verge of weeping and unable to do so. “Why didn’t you let me come to the wedding? I would have behaved. You were my little sis...no… I never had a sister.”

Ann wanted to take the pathetic woman in her arms, hug the fragile creature she’d become, but she was afraid to. “Shell, I invited you. Don’t you remember you were ill at the time and James didn’t think it wise for you to travel.”

“James!” She showed a spark of life. “That piece of shit!” Then the dullness returned and she seemed to be conversing with herself. “He’s still my husband. Unlike Annie, I can’t rid myself of him. He and Daddy struck a deal, you know. James got the worst of it but I’m better than a coffin.” She began to laugh hysterically her long fingers slapping at her temples made Ann leap up.

“Shell!” She started to reach for her but Shelia spun off the lounge and landed on her knees. The dead stare in her eyes halted Ann.

“Don’t touch me!!” She got up and stumbled back the way she’d come. Ann could see Shelia’s mother had stepped outside and was waiting for her. She watched the older woman gather her daughter close and lead her away.

Ann let out the air she discovered trapped in her throat. In her mind, she formed the excuses the Connors would make because Shelia wouldn’t be joining them for dinner. Catherine, she decided, must keep a record book so she didn’t over-use the same excuse.

A sliver-gray Continental pulled into the parking area. It caught Ann’s attention. The driver stepped out. Ann automatically lifted her arm in a wave then dropped it and nervously finger-combed her hair. Look at that-- he went right inside without glancing her way. Damn that Catherine. Why hadn’t she warned her? The ivory jumpsuit made her look stubby. She could have worn... Stop it! Back up. You’re kidding yourself. Michael’s not here to see you.

He hadn’t so much as called her since her divorce. Her sudden marriage hadn’t mattered to him so why should her divorce. Andrea couldn’t have put it better when she teased her, that Michael’s daughter didn’t need a nanny anymore. Ann paused to glance at her reflection in the glass of the patio door. She hadn’t gained a pound—why did she look fat? It was the cut and color of the one-piece suit. She bought it a weak moment when she felt horribly skinny. Well, it was too late to change; she might as well make the grand entrance.

A narrow bridge formed the walkway to the deck that nearly dropped off into the lustrous satin sheen of the turquoise waters of the bay. Lined along the edges with flowerpots and Venetian-style lampposts, the bridge gave an Old World charm to the back gardens. The lazy bay breezes caressed Ann’s skin as she stepped lightly over the wooden planks to the glass doors that spanned the rear walls of the two-storied residence.

Though everything the Connors owned advertised wealth, each area of their lives was set for the perfect scene. There was no fawning butler to usher guests into the informal dinning room. The family friendly summer home boasted a staff of causally dressed young people who blended into rather than stood apart from the residents and guests. The young man, who slid the door open, wore a tank top, shorts, and sandals. The smile he sported would have been followed with an, “Ann.”

Only it was irrupted by Michael O’Neill who stepped past him to hug her. “Annie! Kate just told me you were here. I was on my way to fetch you. You look great.”

“Michael, what a nice surprise.” She did her best to pretend it was.

‘Kate’ only Michael dared call Catherine Connors ‘Kate’, stood clutching her husband John’s arm and wearing a ‘Cat that caught the canary’ grin.

“This should be a pleasant evening now.” John Connors’ flawless smile always gave Ann a feeling he was hiding something unpleasant. “Mike was disappointed to find he missed Shelia and James’ departure by only a few minutes.” So that was it. They were going to pretend Shelia wasn’t there.

“Ann will do nicely as a dinner companion,” Michael said. His lips lightly brushed her hair as he squeezed her arm. “You have to fill me in on what you’ve been up to. When did you get back to the States?”

Who was he kidding…he’d known she was home. Damn him! This was all lip service. Ann considered pulling her arm away. Thought about just turning and walking back down the path—no--running. Jumping into her car…. then she had her anger in check. She couldn’t make a fool of herself. “Been home a few weeks.” She forced a smile. Inside she felt the heat continuing to rise as she glanced up into his face, so she quickly dropped her eyes. Desiring to make the Connors squirm, she said, “I saw Shelia a little while ago. She didn’t mention leaving.” But her words fell flat overshadowed by the information John was relating.

“Things are really coming together, Mike. The latest polls are giving me a safe majority….”

Michael’s interest in the missing Beechens took second place to John’s ‘Campaign speech’. Ann had learned years ago how to tune out the nonsense.

When the need for financial gain was lacking, the desire for power drove arrogant men into politics. She had to give John Connors credit though, he did sound like he believed only he alone could protect and better the life of his constituents. His Republican opponent was an antagonist out to destroy the fabric of society. Michael’s responses might have convinced someone else that he believed Connors, or even gave a damn. Ann knew different. Michael enjoyed the games but despised the players.

Well, at least he didn’t completely ignore her. He installed her in a seat at the table and claimed the chair next to her. The attention he awarded her brought to mind those pleasant times, in the past, when Michael O’Neill decided Ann Ryan could be of some value to him. Why did she continue to love him? Even in Jeffery’s arms, she fantasized she was with Michael. How sad, no wonder her marriage had been so short lived.

***

Ann Ryan parked her auto beside the sturdy black sedan. For all the years she had known him Thomas Devlin never owned anything but sturdy black sedans. She smiled as she thought that and slipped out of her own sports car to make her way past his vehicle to the side door. She hit the remote that brought the garage door down to hide the cars from view.

Mr. Thomas Devlin never did anything flashy. He never owned anything flashy. It was like he wanted to always blend in and never to be noticed. Her key fit perfectly and the door swung inward welcoming her to a cool dark interior. It was a relief after the blazing sun and sand of her weekend at the beach. But then her fingers unconsciously reached for the light switch. She flicked it. Nothing? She flicked it again. Nothing? With the heavy drapes drawn, the room remained in total darkness. Suddenly a strange queasiness came over her—she flicked the light switch up and down nervously as she called, "Tom, Tom." No sound reached her.

She stood just inside the door and stared into the room. Where in hell was he? He knew she was coming. Why in hell didn’t the electricity work? What's the matter with me? It's daylight out, I've been here a zillion times, all I have to do is walk over and pull the drapes. Still she stood in the doorway and suddenly she screamed, "Tom!" at the motion of the connecting door to the hall swinging open.

"What are you yelling for?" A shadow stepped to the end table. Abruptly the glow from a lamp cast a gentle light in the room. Thomas Devlin stood looking at her like she'd suddenly lost her wits.

Ann’s laughter verged on hysteria. She tossed her shoulder bag on a chair and ran across the room to throw her arms around his neck. "Oh God." She clung to him. "Tom, I was just suddenly so frightened."

He held her close as he questioned, "Why? Did something happen?"

"It was so dark… The light…" and then she felt really foolish and giggled.

"The light?" His eyes followed hers to the overhead fixture and he replied the obvious. "The bulb blew. Actually I went to the mudroom." He pulled something from the pocket of his robe. "To get a replacement."

"Please." She gave him a quick kiss on the cheek and moved out and away from him as she said, "Replace it. I came here to relax and instead I nearly go into shock. Guess I'm just so strung out." Ann flopped on the couch and watched as the man mounted a stepladder. She withdrew a cigarette from the package on the table and noticed a slight tremble still affected her hands as she lit it.

The job accomplished he stepped down and folded the ladder and set it against the wall.

“How did your weekend go?” He asked as he made his way to the small bar to prepare Ann's Old Fashion.

"You can double up on that," she said with a deep sigh. "I could probably use straight whiskey. I do wish you had showed up. Oh, Tom it’s so sad. They have Shelia over-medicated to the point she’s a zombie.”

“The family must feel it’s for the best. She’s been giving them a rough time. Several bad auto accidents... if she wasn’t a Connors she’d be ‘cold turkeying’ it in a Mexican jail. I spent more air hours over the desert than in my office the past year. The first big mistake was trying to hide her away in Clovis. She can’t handle the loneliness. Then cutting off her local supply only made her head over the border.”

She took her drink from Tom's hand as he joined her on the sofa. She rested her head on his shoulder. “Don’t you feel any pity for her?” She knew Shelia loved him. She wanted to ask him if he ever really loved any woman. She thought about the way he looked, so strong and sure of himself, and wondered why she had never felt physically attracted to him.

“Annie, you’ll never understand the way it was with Shelia. Hell, I don’t understand. Fancy me trying to explain it to you. Drink your drink, lass. ”

“One guess who did show.” She frowned as she remembered Catherine’s excuses for neglecting to inform her he would be there. Of course Catherine swore she didn’t expect him. ‘Michael has a way of popping in. He’s family you know.’

“Can’t imagine.” He said and turned his face to bury his nose in her hair. “I called you last night. There wasn’t any answer.”

“I was with Michael.”

“You are a damn fool.” His voice didn’t so much as lift. He moved a few inches away and stared into her face. He raised his fingertips to his forehead in a flippant salute. “Farewell, again, beautiful dreamer.”

“Don’t be so melodramatic,” She said and handed him her glass. “It seems to have a hole in the bottom.”

She watched the stiffness in his back as he moved away. Her own voice took on a caustic rumble that surprised her. “I’ve done the marriage bit. Believe me, Tom, I was much happier in the years as Michael’s mistress than those rotten months as Jeffery’s bride. I didn’t see myself as a 24 -7 hostess and sex-on-demand wife.”

“Now who’s being theatrical?” He handed her the fresh drink but didn’t reclaim his seat. Instead he ambled back to lean on the bar. “I don’t get it. Jeffery gave you everything you wanted from Mike.”

“Not everything. But that’s personal.”

“Oh, yes, I forgot, Jeffery doesn’t have a bitchy kid to drive you insane. He doesn’t hold you close one minute and chase you off with a stick the next.”

“Shut up!” Instant anger sent the heat rushing through Ann. How dare he, Tom, of all people, say something like that. She jumped up the rage filling her voice. “Better yet, since you worry so much about me, would you like to marry me?”

“Sorry, girl, I’m not into sadistic pleasure. You want someone to whip you it won’t be me.”

She started to cry. Foolish silly tears, but she couldn’t stop the onrush. Then he was holding her. “Annie, I didn’t mean to hurt you. I just hate for you to get tied up in a nothing situation with Mike again.”

“I love him. I can’t help myself.” She buried her face in Thomas’s chest. In his arms she could feel secure for a little while. Why couldn’t she just love Thomas, want him the way she wanted Michael. Why was she blubbering like an idiot? This damn depression she was suffering. That English doctor had warned her it might happen and if it did she needed to talk it out. How? Did he think she could just call her mommy, or a best friend? How could she tell anyone she’d rid herself of a problem that might have made her divorce difficult? Jeffery had been so understanding and unemotional about the whole business. It was simply that their marriage had been a mistake. Would he have felt that way if he knew she was carrying his child?

“Annie, you know you’re damn important to me. I can sense you a have a big time problem. It’s been bothering you since you came home—so it’s not just Mike. Why don’t you lay it on me? Maybe I can help?”

The trembling started in her face and then her whole body was shaking as if the temperature had dropped to zero. The only thing warm were the tears in her eyes. “an abortion,” she gagged and nearly screamed, “I killed my own child just to rid myself of Jeffery’s.”

Thomas held her as she forced out the excuses for what she’d done between sobs. “If Jeffery knew he might have fought the divorce. Prevented me from leaving the country. I didn’t want to have a child without a father. What if Jeffery wanted custody?” He didn’t ask questions, didn’t offer advice nor denounce her. He simply held her.

USA

1984

Ann Ryan O’Neill wondered if the air-conditioning in Catherine Anderson Connors’ sanctuary could be malfunctioning. When she first joined Catherine, in the attractive room with its cool leafy motif done in shades of green from pale-near-white to a striking emerald, she’d been chilled. Now, with the luncheon barely disturbed, though an hour had slipped by, Ann started to sweat. It wasn’t a big disgusting flood from her body that might become offensive; but rather an unpleasant peppering of the skin now and then with a tendency to increase with Catherine’s mood swigs.

“I hope you approve, Annie.” Catherine had pleasantly welcomed her to a spread of a dozen dishes arrayed in an attractive setting of crystal and china. “I’m into Oriental food. For some reason it must be less fattening, look how delicately built Asians people are.”

“Of course you are discounting Sumo wrestlers.” Ann smiled. “But I do enjoy Chinese and Michael can’t tolerate even the smells.”

“Knowing my cousin, he probably has never tasted it.” Catherine poured out two glasses of wine before Ann could stop her.

“Love, I’m afraid I’ll have to settle for ice tea.” It seemed pathetic that the first person she’d tell her news to should be Catherine. Simply because she was turning down a glass of wine. Her Mother’s generation would have drunk the wine and most likely enjoyed a second glass without one guilty thought. Damn the advancements of medical science. Of course Roselyn would never have considered options to correct this condition like her sinful daughter did.

“Annie, you’re not…oh how marvelous for you. Michael must be ecstatic.” The sudden outpouring of pleasure did wonders for the suffering face. All the expensive cosmetics available to her couldn’t completely hide the emotional havoc Catherine had gone through. Still, she maintained proper control in public and only someone like Ann, who knew her well, could see the agony beneath the surface expressions.

Ann tried to make light of her condition. “Well, I don’t know about that. I haven’t told him as yet. I’m not exactly looking forward to the next six months. Can’t you just picture this silly little body of mine all round and ripe.” She pretended to find the idea funny, though in truth it terrified her. Before she first visited the doctor to confirm her suspicion, she’d rubbed her flat hard belly and prayed that a tumor or some other ghastly growth was preventing her periods and could be easily removed.

Convinced her husband wouldn’t exactly be thrilled at the prospect of another child, God, what had his other two already put him through, she had seriously considered the logical option of abortion. Only the memory of the depression she went through when she rid herself of Jeffery’s offspring, kept her hesitant. Then time slipped by and took the decision out of her hands.

“The months will go quickly and think about the reward at the end.” Catherine was toying with shrimp and squashing rice with her fork. “Michael may be all gruff and groany at first, but believe me it will be an act. He soon will be bragging to his chums. Then making all sorts of elaborate plans for the child before it’s even born. Men always enjoy reproducing—since it’s so easy for them.” Tears glistened in Catherine’s eyes but only for an instant. Her napkin made short work of them and she smiled. “The poor fellows have always had to accept their progeny on trust. So when they claim one, they invest a tremendous amount of emotional commitment to it.”

“Let’s talk about you,” Ann said. “I’ve been so wrapped up in my own family, I haven’t been able to be the supportive friend I should. With everything plaguing you and now, RJ.”

At the mention of her dead son, Catherine’s head shifted quickly back and forth as if trying to prevent Ann from continuing. She said, “Please do taste some chicken, it’s not highly spiced. Shall I summons the maid to heat it up?”

“Cathy, you can’t stop talking about things—It only makes it worse.”

“Life hasn’t played exactly fair with me, has it.” Catherine poured and sipped at a second glass of wine. “I came from such a perfectly normal family.” Anger sparked her words and gave animation to her face. “Only to fall into the cesspool my Father-in-law created. But John and I won’t drown in it. I’m not going to let that happen.” She reached over to gently pat Ann’s hand. “Forgive my blubbering. In your condition Annie, you mustn’t let other people’s problems upset you. Life is actually looking up for us. Raymond is improving daily. He is walking unaided now and has recovered a lot of his speech. I think his grandson’s death has renewed the life in the old man. My Mother-in-law believes there is something Raymond feels he must take care of. Whatever.” Catherine lifted the decanter of tea and topped off the small amount missing from Ann’s glass.

“That poor woman.” She discussed her Mother-in-law in a monotone that gave no clue as to how she truly saw the woman.

“She spent a lifetime catering to that overbearing ‘Silverback’. She ignored Raymond’s affairs and even accepted Andrea. She knew the child was Raymond’s but let Andrea remain part of her own daughter’s life for all those years.

Sometimes I could hate her for allowing Raymond’s little bastard in her home and fostering the closeness between Shelia and that bitch. But then I remember what it finally cost her and can only pity her.”

“Oh, Catherine, you really think she knew?”

“Of course she did. A wife can pretend for show but she’s never blind to what her husband does. I really wish you’d eat a bit more dear, you are feeding two now.” Catherine took Ann’s hand in hers and squeezed it gently. “Our little Annie—a mother.”

The idea apparently amused her. “My Michael’s wife. You know Ann; I think I fell into a raging passion the day Michael trudged up the stairs of our home and into my life. But he was a cousin, perhaps not in the first degree.” She gave a sharp laugh. “But a cousin none the less-- my mother pounded that into my head. The last thing my parents wanted was for us to become attracted to each other. Of course I had already chosen John. But it was nice daydreaming about Michael. It irritated me to no end, when Andrea moved in on him the very first summer.

With all those lovely girls in our crowd—why Andrea?”

“You have to give her credit, Catherine, she was lovely.”

“Sometimes I hated her. But then most of the girls were never exactly fond of Andrea. If Shelia didn’t bring her into our group, she would have never made it on her own.”

“Still, she was very sexy—who could blame Michael.” Ann didn’t like to dwell on Michael’s conquests. It added to this self-pitying feeling she’d developed of late. Naturally it was her condition. She chuckled before she said, “Andrea could be pushy—remember how the other boys followed her with their tongues hanging out.” It was some comfort to blame Michael’s excesses on hormones that he apparently had in check now. “Thank heaven we all grew up.”

“When it comes to sex, Annie, powerful men remain boyish.” Catherine seemed to be suggesting that Ann not expect the impossible. “To those heroes each conquest is an adventure. If they’re immediately successful it usually has a short time frame. If they have to work at the seduction it becomes a challenge and far more interesting. Please, dear, do have one these egg rolls, the shrimp is delicious.”

Ann began to pick at her food again to please her hostess. “And when there’s a squealing mistake?” She said softly and glanced down at her still flat stomach.

“Of course then it becomes more complicated. Thanks to medical science those mistakes are less common now.” Catherine sampled her own food. Taking small delicate bites and chewing so discreetly her mouth barely moved. She coaxed Ann to try different tidbits. She lifted covers and described the contents as if they were delicacies Ann had never tasted before.

Ann assured herself that she would never see things in the cold-blooded manner of her friend. Ann didn’t want Catherine to remain on her kick of analyzing the male of the species, she said, “Thomas tells me that William is also recovering.”

“The family can thank his wife for that. Sarah is a strong lady. Instead of giving up like Shelia’s husband, she’s put some backbone into William and his dependency on alcohol is being conquered. He’s returned to work—it was so pleasant the other night at dinner listening to him argue with John over some political nonsense. Of course William has his children’s future to be concerned with. If Shelia only had children, she wouldn’t have had time to become the drunkard she did.” Catherine was consuming her third glass of wine. “I do hope you have a little boy. Michael’s daughter is such a handful and I’m sure he’d love a son.”

“Catherine, we have a son.”

“Of course. How silly of me.”

She knows! The thought came to Ann as if someone had slugged her in the chest. Catherine knows Gavin is John’s child. She’s probably known since Andrea gave birth to him. Perhaps she is warning me to keep Andrea’s son away from her children.

“But then a man can never have too many sons.” Catherine went on in a tone that advertised her own pride of accomplishment. “John is so proud of Jason’s achievements at the Academy. I do believe our little Drew is going to be another RJ. The boy is only thirteen and already comes up with legal questions that could stump a judge.”

“How is Kathleen holding up under all this?”

“Our little princess? Really Anne we’ve done our best to shield her but it’s been difficult. Especially now with RJ’s death, Kathleen was so attached to her big brother. At times I find myself wishing we’d had a sister for her. But then she has already developed her own little sisterhood of confidants like we did.”

Confidants—each with a knife at the other one’s throat was what Ann wanted to say. Instead she said, “It would be nice if my child was a little sister for Deirdre.” Suddenly she was reminded of Deirdre’s reaction to the Clark’s little girls and silently prayed for a son.

“Annie, please, you can’t wish that on my Michael. He’s done more than his penance with Deirdre, in fact we all have. Let him enjoy this child—do give him a boy.”

“Afraid that’s out of my hands.” Ann said and together they laughed.

Then Catherine assured her. “I wouldn’t worry. It’s all in the genes. We never knew Deirdre’s mother but Michael didn’t speak well of her.”

In an attempt to squash Catherine’s desire to malign Deirdre’s other parent, Ann offered a change while not going too far off their subject. “Did you hear the O’Donnells’ had a boy? Almost ten pounds, twenty-three inches long, heavens can you imagine as tiny as Megan is, she must have been walking on her knees at the end—if she could walk at all. I do hope mine doesn’t try to come out smiling with a full set of teeth.”

“She actually went through the birth there? When she could have so easily come home—I’m certain Seamus would have agreed… it would have been so much safer. I always did and London has much better medical facilities than Dublin.”

“Catherine, I swear, for an intelligent woman, you sound like they are living in a third world country.” Ann hid her contempt with laughter. “This has been a lovely get together. We really must find time more often.”