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I was expecting to say hi to Ralph, the evening doorman, but there was a new guy standing by the mailroom in the wood-paneled lobby. A short, stocky thirtyish guy with black hair who I’d never seen before. He reminded me a little of the old-school tough-guy actor Charles Bronson. He must have been hired while we were away, I thought. The New York minute strikes again.
“Yes, may I help you?” he said with a thick foreign accent. Albanian? I thought. Polish?
“I’m Mike Bennett. I live in eight A. I’ve been away for a while.”
The guy checked the board.
“Oh, yes. Bennett. Hello, Mr. Bennett. I am Joseph. I am new.”
“Nice to meet you, Joseph,” I said as the door opened behind me and I heard peals of laughter.
“It’s Dad!” somebody screamed.
I turned around to see Fiona and Bridget and Jane and Ricky and Eddie and Trent running like a bunch of manic dwarves at me across the lobby. They were still in their Holy Name uniforms, dragging backpacks and lunch bags.
“Group hug!” the girls screamed as they crashed into me.
“Oh, yes, and group kissy-wissys, too!” Ricky said, making kissing sounds as he piled onto the scrum.
I smiled as I shrugged at Joseph. My guys seemed even loopier than normal, which was saying something. They must have had a long day, too, by the looks of it.
Joseph seemed a little overwhelmed as I introduced my large, boisterous family.
“So many children,” he said, smiling. “Incredible.”
“Don’t worry, Joseph,” I said, winking at him as the kids dragged me toward the elevator. “All the others should be along any minute now.”
CHAPTER 16
THERE WAS AN AMAZING surprise waiting upstairs.
My first clue that things were looking up was the heavenly aroma of roasted meat that washed over me as I opened my front door.
Could it be? I thought as I stopped in my tracks and closed my eyes and inhaled. I smiled widely as I nodded. Why, yes, it could!
It was a pot roast, the comfort food to end all comfort food, at least for me. Not just any old pot roast, either. I could tell it was pot roast à la Mary Catherine, made with roasted garlic and red wine. As I locked up my Glock, the scent was suddenly accompanied by some serious sizzling from the direction of the kitchen. My mouth instantly watered. There was some sort of deglazing action going on in there, some sort of luscious homemade gravy being made.
After the day I’d had, God, or at least his angel here on earth, Mary Catherine, was finally taking pity on me.
After I washed up, I walked into the dining room to spot most of my kids seated around our massive dining room table. As I high-fived and tickled everyone hello, I noticed that the nice linen tablecloth had been set out along with the Bennett family heirloom mismatched china and silver.
“What’s up with the Sunday dinner on Monday?” I whispered to Shawna as I sat. “Don’t tell me I missed another birthday.”
“I wouldn’t be surprised,” Seamus said across from me as he tucked a napkin into his Roman collar.
A moment later, Mary Catherine, Jane, and Juliana, who’d all apparently been working their fingers to the bone, came in, carrying the beautifully prepared feast. In addition to the roast, there was a mountain of mashed potatoes to rival Everest, I noted with amazement.
“I have just died and gone to Irish heaven,” I said to Mary Catherine as Jane set the gravy boat down in front of me like a sacrifice. “What’s the fancy occasion? Please tell me we had a visit from the Publishers Clearing House people.”
“No occasion, really,” Mary Catherine said with a little smile as she sat. “Call it the First Supper.”
“The First Supper?”
“It’s the first chance we’ve had since we got back home to have a real supper together,” Mary Catherine said. “I thought we should celebrate.”
“I like the way you think,” I said as I forked pot roast onto my plate.
“Eh-hem,” Seamus said loudly as he put his hands together and closed his eyes.
