pointed out several of the more prominent buildings, including a complex comprised of the tall structures of McAllister Marbleworks. “Here’s the downtown district,” Patrick said as Mary stole a glance out the window, “and here’s Main Street Park. The house is just up ahead.” The Victorian-style homes were growing larger and larger. The house at the end of the street was the grandest of them all, a great yellow Victorian set against a backdrop of autumn maples. Patrick pulled into the circular driveway.
Mary looked around. There were at least six other cars parked around the house. Several young men stood on the porch, talking over drinks and cigars. The wide front door of the house was open, leaving only a screen door that did nothing to conceal the voices of other guests already inside. The windows and door spilled light into the evening. Mary fought to keep from retching. The house was a great gaping monster from which she might not emerge.
“I thought you said this was only a family dinner.”
“It is. Everyone here is family.”
Mary’s face lost all trace of color, and her hands suddenly became so clammy that her fingertips ached. Her violent trembling returned, and she seized Patrick’s arm before he could open the driver’s side door.
“Please, Patrick, I can’t go in there,” she said, her voice rising to a fevered pitch. “I’m not ready for this, I--”
Patrick glanced at her, and, for just a second, his green eyes flashed a strange hostility. His voice, though, was as soothing as ever.
“Mary! Mary, you are ready, and everyone is expecting us. Don’t worry. It won’t be as bad as you think.”
He extricated his arm from her grasp and quickly got out of the car. When he came around to her side to help her out, she again grabbed his arm and squeezed it as hard as she could. Patrick gasped in surprise and shook his head as if she were a naughty little girl. “Now now, I told you not to worry,” he said, patting her hand and pulling her toward the house.
Waves of nausea washed over Mary.
“Hey, Patrick!” said one of the men on the porch through a cloud of cigar smoke. “We were beginning to think you weren’t comin.’ Yeah, we thought you mighta got lost out there in the country, if you know what I mean.” The men sniggered, and the speaker winked and elbowed the man standing next to him.
“Right,” Patrick said. He patted Mary’s hand again. “Fellas, I’d like you to meet Mary Hayes. Mary, these are two of my cousins, Phil and Donovan Leary.” The cousins nodded to her. “The loudmouth is my brother, Jacob.”
Mary took a deep breath and looked up at the three. She managed to smile. Immediately, the faces of the three men lit up with dopey grins.
“Call me Jake,” the younger McAllister said. “And if I’m a loudmouth, it’s only because I’ve had an older brother to set a great example for me. Isn’t that right, Patrick?”
Patrick scoffed and guided her into the monster’s mouth. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Mary,” Jake called after them.
A butler held open the screen door for them, and Patrick and Mary walked through the grand foyer of the McAllister home. They made their way into a large sitting room in which people were gathering. Patrick proceeded to make the rounds, introducing Mary to more cousins, aunts, and uncles. Patrick noticed his father across the room, pouring himself a brandy. As he glanced proudly down at Mary. Stephen followed his son’s gaze and promptly overfilled his glass.
Through all this, Mary looked up only occasionally, and gripped Patrick’s arm with such ferocity that her knuckles turned white. She was thankful that Patrick moved between introductions quickly enough to prevent anyone from saying much to her. When the arm supporting Mary finally began to ache, Patrick bent down and whispered in her ear.
“Would you like to take a break?”
“Please, yes.”
They turned to exit the great room, but were blocked by