Somehow, this felt appropriate,” Nick said. He was sitting on a bench near one of the chess tables outside the Chess and Checkers House in Central Park as Phoebe approached.
“You couldn’t have picked a place that wasn’t freezing?” Phoebe said, giving him an anguished grin. It was late in the afternoon, and the Chess and Checkers House was closed. He handed his scarf to Phoebe, who wrapped it around her neck. In an attempt to warm up, she stomped her shoes against the ground as they sat on the ice-cold bench.
Nick gave her a big bear hug, but it didn’t seem to help. “Sorry,” he said, slightly embarrassed at not having realized how cold it would be inside the park. “We can keep walking.”
Phoebe gave him a kiss on his ear. “Hey, it was a valiant effort. I feel like I haven’t been inside the park in weeks.”
They looked around. The wisteria, so lush in the summer, had gone dormant. No one was playing chess. Nick remembered back to that night several months ago when they had been challenged to decode the address of the Society’s town house, and how new and exciting it had all seemed: the perks, the thrill of membership, the doors that would open for them. And that second Society event had almost seemed like a second date between Phoebe and him. He thought back to how he had imagined she would never like him, and how they were both so happy when they had finally gotten together over Thanksgiving. Now they started walking together out of the park.
“How’s your grandfather?” Phoebe asked.
Nick shrugged in frustration. “I didn’t stay,” he said. “The paramedics said he had a massive blockage. To be honest, I was sick of all the family drama.”
Phoebe touched his shoulder as they walked. “But don’t you-I mean, don’t you care about what happens to him? I mean, he is still your grandfather.”
Nick shook his head bitterly. “Yeah, I guess I care, in that way that I’m supposed to care. But do I really care? No. What they’ve done is inexcusable. He may not be in charge of the Society anymore, but I still hold him responsible, along with my dad and everyone else. And why he had to have a stroke during the funeral, I have no idea. He certainly succeeded in taking people’s attention away from the real event.”
Nick kicked the muddy leaves on the ground as they walked.
“You don’t think he faked it for that reason, do you?” Phoebe asked.
Nick smiled grimly. “No. He’s a bastard, but I don’t think he’s able to spontaneously give himself a stroke. Anyway, he’s in the hospital now, recovering.”
“I’m sorry,” Phoebe said.
Nick shrugged again. “I really don’t think about him the way I know you’re supposed to feel about family.”
Nick wondered, as they walked, if these feelings would ever change. His family had betrayed him. First they had covered up their involvement in the Society. Next they orchestrated the deaths of two people Nick knew. He had been blocking it out during most of the past two weeks. And then Patch had come into the fold, had been instantly declared a member of the Society after he had infiltrated the retreat. Nick was happy that their rift was starting to heal, but it had brought up a host of other issues. Would Patch ever forgive him for shutting him out during those months? And would Patch accept the truth Nick now knew, the secret his father had told him the morning after Patch’s initiation?
Nick had decided, for now, that that conversation had happened to a different Nick Bell, that he and Patch were good, that there were no rifts to be mended, no awkward subjects to be broached.
“Are you doing okay?” Phoebe asked.
He realized he hadn’t said anything in several minutes, had been staring at the ground as they walked. He appreciated how Phoebe would, most of the time, leave him alone to his thoughts when she knew he needed it.
“I’m so angry at all of them,” Nick said. “I mean, how can we be part of this when we know everything that they’ve done? And now, with my family, I can already sense it. If we tell them we want out, they’re going to deflect it: it’s going to be all about my grandfather and his health. ‘Don’t bother us now, Nick, not when your grandfather’s health is at risk. Stop worrying about petty things, Nick.’ As if our friends dying is somehow petty.”
“Maybe going to them isn’t the answer,” Phoebe said.
“So what can we do?”
Phoebe paused. “Boycott the mandatory meetings? Not just us, but the five of us-you and me and Lauren and Patch and Thad. That’s a third of our class. It would drive the point home, don’t you think?”
At that moment, Nick’s phone started buzzing. Phoebe motioned to him to answer it, and he picked it up, even though it was not a number he recognized.
“Your grandfather would like to see you,” a male voice said.
“Who is this?” Nick asked.
“It would be in your best interest to visit him at the hospital. The other family members are gone.” Whoever was calling didn’t want to identify himself.
“Why should I visit him?”
“He knows about your wishes. He wants to help you.”
The line clicked off.
“You’re not going to believe this,” Nick said. “We’re being summoned-well, officially, I’m being summoned-to go see my grandfather at the hospital because he ‘knows about our wishes.’ Whatever that means.”
Phoebe shook her head. “Do you really think you should go?”
“I don’t know,” Nick said. “Would you go with me?” He thought back to that moment in the fall when he and Phoebe had promised to look out for each other.
Phoebe paused, and for an instant he thought she might turn the other way, catch a cab downtown, never speak to him again.
She nodded slowly, taking his hand. “Let’s go.”