Free Been In Love Before: A Novel by Bryan Mooney Page A

Macgregor.”
    “Hello.”
    “Thanks so much for returning my call. I don’t really know where to start.”
    “Well, I see we are scheduled to meet tomorrow. How did you get my name?”
    “I was given your name by my daughter-in-law, Patti Macgregor. Her uncle had been in one of your groups. She seemed to think you might be able to help me. You see . . . I lost my wife two years ago . . . to cancer. I’ve been to counseling groups before and stopped. They just didn’t seem to help.”
    “Mr. Macgregor, as a volunteer, I hear that a lot in my role with this program. Most of the people we have in our groups have been through other meetings and not found them to be helpful, until they come to us.” Her voice sounded so pleasant, even captivating. “We are different in what we do and how we do it. We first meet with you and then talk about your interests, your background, as well as your loved one, and what you would like to get out of our program. We also offer bereavement sessions, which you may find helpful; however, we prefer to stress activities to get you out meeting other people in the same situation that you are in. How does that sound, Mr. Macgregor?”
    “It all sounds good, except the ‘Mr. Macgregor’ part. Please call me Robert.”
    “Okay . . . Robert. I’m a volunteer and usually do my volunteer work out of my business office. The program has a real small budget. I would like to have you come in and sit with me for an initial meeting and evaluation here at my office. It should take no more than thirty or forty minutes.”
    “Sure.”
    “I know my administrative assistant set a meeting for us at ten o’clock, but could we do it later tomorrow afternoon, say four o’clock?”
    “Can we make it earlier than four? I have a dance lesson at five o’clock.”
    “You dance?”
    “Ah . . . yes, of course. Doesn’t everyone?”
    “Wonderful. Okay, how about two o’clock tomorrow?”
    “That works great. I do have one question for you, though.”
    “Yes . . . ?”
    “I remember . . . years ago, I went to school at Saint Mary’s with a Coleen McGrath. Your voice sounds vaguely familiar. That doesn’t happen to be you, does it?”
    “Yes, it is. My legal name is Coleen McGrath Callahan. You said your first name was Robert? Robert Macgregor? And you went to Saint Mary’s?”
    “Yes. Do you remember me?”
    “No, I’m sorry. I can’t say that I do.” A twinge of guilt went through her body. “But it was a very big class with a lot of students. I only went there for three years before my parents moved and I transferred to a different school.”
    “Oh well, I guess I’ll see you tomorrow, two o’clock. Bye for now.”
    Coleen hung up the phone but continued to look at it in a strange sort of way, daydreaming back to her school days.
    Robert Macgregor? Wow! She had lied; of course she remembered him—she remembered him so very well. Tall, dark hair, broad shoulders, with an easy smile and a mischievous twinkle in his eyes. He drove the girls wild at school. She had the biggest crush on him all through school but never had the nerve to approach him. Good girls just didn’t do that back then. He asked her out to the movies a few times; she was always shy around him. He was so persistent and kept asking until she finally started going out with him.
    She smiled as she thought about what she was going to wear the next day for their meeting. Yes, it was going to be a very special day. And he dances! I wonder how much he’s changed? Time will tell, she thought, as she hummed an old tune and left her office.
    As Robert hung up the phone, he could not get her out of his mind. How would she look after all these years? Would she remember him? She had said she was widowed. Was she . . .
    “Hi, Pop!”
    He looked up to see his irreverent and very pregnant daughter-in-law standing before his desk. Patti looked as if she was going to have the baby right there in his office