“Got it,” said Jen, checking her watch.
“You said you sang a little,” said Eddie, nodding. “Bet you can earn some nice change here. Tips and all. A social worker’s salary can’t be much.”
The expressions on her sister and Mike’s faces…priceless.
“Does anyone have duct-tape?” asked Doug in a quiet voice.
“I’m outta here,” said Jen. “We’ll straighten it out later.” She leaned over to kiss Doug. “You can always stick him with the whole check,” she whispered. “And order me a steak!”
“Genius.”
##
“Start with something peppy and patriotic so that the diners can join in,” said Tony, “but then switch to solos where they just listen. We don’t want them to stop eating and drinking.”
“Gotcha,” said Jen. “Business is business with music on the side.” Perfectly reasonable.
She looked at the band leader, gave him her key and a few titles she’d thought about in advance. “Can we do this?”
“Sure can.”
She took the mic from Tony and welcomed the diners to join in singing It’s A Grand Old Flag. What could be more patriotic than a George M. Cohan tune?
Enthusiasm almost raised the roof.
“You did a fabulous job,” said Jen to the happy audience at song’s end. “You must all have had voice lessons sometime in your lives. Honestly, I couldn’t have done it alone!” She bowed, waved, and invited them to sit back, eat, drink and relax while she celebrated some of the country’s cities and states.
Looking at the band, she nodded and drifted into John Denver’s Take Me Home, Country Roads, a celebration of West Virginia. The applause hadn’t died down before she began Arlo Guthrie’s City of New Orleans.
When she finished, she waved, blew a kiss, wished them a happy Fourth. And arrived back at her table in time to see salad being served.
“Better than ever,” said Doug. “Every time, you always amaze me.”
“I have a lot of fun,” said Jen. She glanced at her sister. “Remember when…”
Lisa’s hand went up like a traffic cop’s. “Don’t go there. I’m having a good day, no crying, no exhaustion. I don’t want to look backward.”
“You’ve got it,” said Jen
“I don’t know what any of you are talking about,” said Eddie, turning toward his son, then looking directly at Jen. “But I do know that she’s a keeper!” He paused a moment before saying, “Be fair now, Jennifer. You told us you ‘sing a little.’ Is that what you call a little?”
“Yup,” she said, nodding. “It’s a wonderful hobby. I enjoy it maybe because it’s not my job. And…in all modesty…I guess I’m pretty good at it.” She immediately felt heat creep up her neck. Her own fault. Since when did she compliment herself?
“Pretty good? You’re great!” Doug’s praises had her blushing harder.
“Lisa and I used to….” She stopped herself, glanced apologetically at her sister.
“I forgot. Sorry.”
The server appeared and removed the salad plates before Helen spoke up.
“About the music — I imagine it’s soothing after dealing with all the hard cases you must have. Homelessness, child protection…gosh, what area are you in?”
Jen ignored her family’s stupefied expressions and glanced at Doug in appeal.
He leaned toward his parents. “Let’s step back a bit. You may have concluded that Jen’s a social worker, but if you think back, she never claimed to be. What she said was, ‘I help people, particularly with budgeting.’ You both assumed social work was what she meant.”
“Oh.” A pink tint stained Helen’s face.
“Well then, why the mystery? What do you do for a living?” Eddie’s confusion
reinforced his wife’s.
Jen took a deep breath. “I do help people,” she said. “Just in a different way. I help them manage their money.” She waved toward the door. “In a building not too from here. Fidelity Investments.”
The silence around the table was broken by Eddie’s deep laughter. “Financial consultant! Oh, boy.” He pointed at his son. “Good work. I said it before, this one’s a keeper. You picked a real winner who’ll help you stay out of trouble.”
##
His father’s words crashed against Doug’s ears and tore his last nerve. He flew to his feet and loomed over the man. “You listen up, Ed Collins, and listen well.
You may not believe this, but I’m making a good living as a playwright.
“And as for Jennifer, she was a keeper from the first moment I saw her. From the time she was eighteen. From the time I read her first essay and saw into her heart. She’s not only smart, she’s beautiful inside and out. Why do you think I came back to Boston? She’s everything I want and everything any sane man would want for a lifetime, would want for…a wife.”
His voice dropped to a whisper, and he spun toward Jen. Tears were running down her cheeks, and he caught them with shaking fingers. “Oh, my God, Jen. I love you so much. I wanted it to be romantic, on a cruise, or at the beach, but—”
He gazed blindly from side to side, unfocused on everything but the woman in front of him.
