Page 110 of The New Place

As much as I don’t, Ned braces for him to say, or some other cutting remark. But it doesn’t come, just Charles’s steady gaze and his words hanging in the crisp air.

Cool, Ned has the absurd urge to say in response. Or maybe That’s so great or something else equally banal.

Charles looks so much like Abbot. Composed and severe and yes, Ned recognizes his own nervous reaction from back in Abbot’s class, and recognizes too the curiosity under it, the desire to push at that harsh facade.

“He never talks about her,” Ned hears himself say.

“No, I don’t imagine he does,” Charles says softly. “It’s been difficult for him. For Liesl too, of course, but different than for Henry.”

“For you too, I’m sure.” Are they talking about this? Yes, apparently, and Ned flounders, unsure where to go. Toward more, if he’s getting a chance, Charles apparently willing to have a conversation about the one topic Abbot can’t stand. “I—I’m sorry I never got to meet her.”

“She would have enjoyed time with you, as well. And seeing Henry with you, most especially.”

Is that kindness in this man’s eyes? Sentiment? Thinking of his wife and this life his son has, and how she’ll never see it?

Because it’s not the derision Ned’s looking for. It’s far gentler. Like when Abbot’s sternness lifted to show the quiet, calm man beneath it.

Charles draws himself up before Ned can press for more, back into the imposing man he is, all height and coldness, whatever vulnerability in that moment wrapped up and tucked away once more.

“Have a good evening,” he says, and then he’s brushing past Ned and exchanging a folded bill with the valet driver for his car keys, and calling for his daughter.

“Thank you,” Ned manages, but he’s been dismissed.

24

ABBOT

Abbot can hear the low timbre of Ned’s voice as he reads Peggy a story, and the soft sounds of Dan and Cheryl moving around the kitchen. He sits against the headboard of Ned’s bed, Baxter’s chin resting on his leg, his laptop open to the About page of the place Liesl wants go to tomorrow as he checks its open hours. With Ned, she had insisted, so it’ll have to be after he’s done with work for the day. Though then Peggy can come too and enjoy—he scans the website—arcade games, batting cages, and mini golf. They can finish the day by making caramelköpfli together. A different evening entirely from the one he just endured, and far better.

He wants—he doesn’t even know. A glass of wine. A cup of tea. To simply bang his head against the wall. A lobotomy, so he can erase the last few hours from his memory, and maybe take with them the preceding days as well.

He wants too the energy to go downstairs and enjoy good company, when instead he’s retreated on instinct and wrapped himself in solitude.

This was supposed to be his time with Liesl. She could’ve landed and come to the Coppolas’ house for dinner, and he could have watched Dan joke with her and Cheryl fuss over her. They could be driving back to Portland now as she berates his music choices and plays her own instead, the volume too high, the lyrics jarring.

It’s some measure of comfort that their father being here means she’s at a hotel with him, that she’ll be staying in Boston tomorrow, and that he gets tonight here with Ned, but the price of a horribly long dinner is steep.

When Ned comes in, Baxter’s tail thumps in welcome, and Abbot puts aside his computer. Ned pauses, then lays down next to Abbot on the bed. Abbot finds himself hesitating, though as Ned settles with his head near Abbot’s hip, he can’t resist the urge to run his fingers through Ned’s hair.

Ned pushes into the contact, his eyes closing. “You okay?”

“I’m glad dinner’s over with.”

“Me too. Baxter, you’re not supposed to be on the bed.”

Baxter’s tail thumps again and Ned sighs, reaching out to pat him.

“Medical dispensation?” Abbot offers.

“As long as he’s not bugging you. He’s staying the whole time Liesl’s here? Until next week?”

“Baxter?”

“Ha. No, your dad.”

“Yes, but I’m sure he’ll see colleagues while he’s in town and I don’t believe he’ll accompany us tomorrow evening to…” Abbot glances at his screen. “FunZone, Arcade and More.”

“Liesl has great taste. We went there all the time when we were little,” Ned says. “I should tell Pat to come.”