Character Interview #2: Conlan and Finn from LOVERS AND OTHER STRANGERS

“He’s better now. A lot better,” Con says. We’re sitting in the weathered Adirondack chairs on the long front porch of The Birches, watching Finn, who’s painting. He’s positioned his easel on the green lawn sweeping down to the rocks at the edge of the bright water, and he’s working, absorbed and oblivious to our quiet observation.   “He had us all worried for a while.”

 

“You mean because he was depressed about Fitch?”

 

Con nods absently, all his attention on Finn. “He’d have had a hard time with it anyway, but given the circumstances…”

 

I don’t comment on the circumstances, particularly Con’s role in them. Instead, I say tactfully, “Too many things hitting him at once?”

 

“He was still recovering from the accident last winter, still vulnerable emotionally and physically, though he’d never agree with that.” Con smiles faintly. “So when it all did finally hit him, it hit him hard.”

 

“There’s nothing he could have done.” No one knows that better than me.

 

“True. Guilt isn’t always logical. The fact that Finn was the only person with a valid reason for not noticing what was going on, didn’t matter. From his perspective, he’s the one person who should have known.” The stern lines of Con’s lean, ascetic face ease. “But like I said, he’s better now. He’s sleeping. He’s eating.”

 

“And he’s painting again.”

 

Con’s laugh is wry. “Oh yes. He’s painting. Every damn minute of every damn day. The daylight hours, anyway.”

 

“Do you mind? You’re writing, aren’t you? You had a book due, I thought?”

 

“No. I don’t mind. I tease him about it, but no. It’s a relief. It’s standard operating procedure for the Barrets.” From inside the house we hear Martha humming as she sets the dining table for the family luncheon.

 

Con remembers he didn’t answer the rest of my question. “The book got put on hold while Finn was – anyway, now that we’re past all that, I’ll be back to work soon, too.”

 

“How are Martha and Uncle Thomas and everyone else?”

 

“It was rough on everyone after the news broke. The publicity was hell. Seal Island was wall-to-wall with reporters and news crews for a few weeks. But things quieted down. Life goes on. Thom’s in Europe this week. And you know Martha, nothing could make her happier than having one of her chicks back in the nest.”

 

“So you’ve been living at The Birches?”

 

Con nods. “It was better for Finn. We’ll be moving out to the estate in the fall, and then he’ll come with me when I fly back to England to finish my research.”

 

Across the lawn, Finn has stopped work and is packing up his paints and easel. He raises a hand to Con and Con, smiling, lifts a hand in reply. We watch Finn cross the grass, walking toward the house. He still has a slight limp, but he no longer needs the cane. He’s thin, but he was always thin. He’s tanned and healthy looking, eyes bright and smile relaxed.

 

We get the greetings out of the way, Con excuses himself to fetch ice tea for us. It is a very warm day. The sun is hot, despite the cool sea breeze.

 

“He’s certainly very attentive these days,” I remark.

 

Finn, scraping at the paint beneath his fingernails, smiles faintly, privately.

 

“So all is forgiven?”

 

He looks up at that. “I don’t think I’d have made it through these last months without Con.” He stares out at the sparkling water. “Anyway,” he says at last, “after everything that’s happened, it kind of puts some of the other things in perspective.”

 

“I suppose so. How’s Paul these days?”

 

Finn laughs.

 

“What’s so funny?”

 

 “Nothing. Paul’s in Paris for an art show. He met a navy lieutenant.”

 

“So he made a full recovery?” Then Finn’s words sink in. I say slowly, “Did you say a navy lieutenant?”

 

Finn nods.

 

“A French naval lieutenant?”

 

“No. American. Actually, maybe he isn’t a naval lieutenant. I might have got that part wrong. He’s something in the military though. He was over there for some kind of D-day celebration.”

 

“David Bradley?” I ask in alarm.

 

Finn squints as though gazing into the hazy blue distance of sunlit ocean. “Maybe.” He sounds doubtful. “David something, for sure.”

 

“Wait,” I say. “Hold everything. That’s definitely wrong. Paul and David Bradley? No. That’s not going to work.”

 

“Probably not,” agrees Finn. “Most of Paul’s relationships don’t work.”

 

I am already on my feet and hurrying down the steps. 

 

Finn watches my departure, puzzled. “Aren’t you staying for lunch?”

 

“No. I can’t stay.”

 

“Not even for ice tea? Con’s bringing—”

 

“Not for anything!” I break into a run.

 

 

 

   

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

  

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Character Interview #1 - Jeff and Austin from A VINTAGE AFFAIR

I see them walk into the Magnolia Room, the bar at the Stonewall Jackson Inn where they first really started to get to know each other. Austin is talking, Jeff is listening, smiling faintly, his gaze taking in the nearly empty room. He spots me, touches Austin’s elbow. Austin breaks off what he was saying, looking a little wary.

 

For some reason I always think of Austin as blond, but it’s Jeff who is blond. Austin has dark hair and the boyishly pouty, unthreateningly exotic looks you’d expect of a Calvin Klein underwear model – though he’s not remotely the pouty type and his modeling days are long behind him. Jeff has a more straightforward handsomeness. Those all American good looks that effectively sell so many pick up trucks and pairs of Levis.

 

“Red or white?” Jeff asks and Austin shakes his head, amused.

 

“Surprise me.”

 

Jeff goes to the bar and Austin comes over to the table to greet me.  We get the preliminaries out of the way, and I ask, “Does he often?”

 

Austin is still smiling, still wary. “Does he what?”

 

“Surprise you?”

 

He relaxes a fraction. “Yes. As a matter of fact, he does.” The look he throws Jeff, now busily charming the lady bartender, is affectionate.

 

“So how are things going? Where are you living now?”

 

Austin tunes back in. “We’ve been doing the long distance thing, but as of last weekend…” he expels a long breath, “we’re homeowners. We bought a house in Buckhead.” His smile is happy, even content.

 

“So you’re relocating to Georgia?” I admit that’s a surprise. I thought it was more likely they’d move north.

 

“It’s easier for me to relocate than Jeff. He’s got contacts here, both in law enforcement and the community. It would take him years to build that network up again. Whereas I can work from home a lot of the time.” He shrugs.

 

“But you’re not living in Madison?”

 

“No.” There’s a pause before he adds, “Buckhead gives us both a little breathing room.”

 

Jeff rejoins us. He sets a glass of white wine in front of Austin. “Muscadine Supreme. From Georgia Winery.”

 

Austin makes a hm sound and gently swirls the wine to release the bouquet. We watch as he sniffs the glass thoughtfully. He hms again and Jeff smiles faintly, tolerantly. He’s drinking beer which he raises toward me in greeting.

 

We wait as Austin tilts the wine glass and checks the color. Finally he takes a sip. He considers.

 

“So you’re still in the PI business, Jeff?” I ask as Austin takes his iPhone out and makes notes.

 

Jeff nods.

 

“How’s that pay?”

 

“Enough.”

 

Of course, they’re not hurting for money. Austin inherited a bundle when Harrison passed away.

 

“Have you solved any more mysteries?”

 

Jeff says briefly, “Every day.” Austin looks up at that he and Jeff exchange funny little half-smiles. Private smiles.

 

“What are you doing now, Austin?”

 

Austin’s face gets that closed look again. Guarded. “Writing mostly. Exploring the possibilities.”

 

“Like?”

 

“He’s had a lot of offers,” Jeff says. “Anybody’d be lucky to have him.”

 

Austin grimaces.

 

“I think he ought to open his own winery,” Jeff says.

 

“It’s not that easy, Jeff. It’s not just about money or even land.”

 

“You could do it.”

 

Austin is shaking his head.

 

“How’s Ernest?” I ask, since that seems like a safe topic.

 

Jeff chokes on his beer. Austin bites his lip and tries not to laugh. He answers, “Ernest is  building a rocket.”

 

“His second rocket,” Jeff says. “The first one blew up.”

 

“Do you see much of him?”

 

Austin says, “He’s at school right now. But I try to see him every couple of weekends.”

 

“What does Ernest think of Jeff?”

 

Jeff says gravely, imitating Ernest’s adult-sounding tone, “An interesting specimen, Austin.”

 

Austin laughs. “He didn’t say that. Not exactly.”                                          

 

When Jeff chuckles, his eyes crinkle. He drinks his beer and doesn’t bother to argue. 

 

“What do the assorted and various stepmothers thinks of you two getting together?”

 

“Assorted and various things,” Jeff drawls.

 

Austin smiles faintly, watching him.

 

“Do you ever see the Cashels?”

 

“Naw,” says Jeff.

 

“I met Cormac for lunch when he came to New York to meet his publisher.”

 

“That was your good deed for the year,” Jeff responds.

 

“He’s okay.” Austin shrugs dismissingly.

 

I say, “You know, a lot of readers thought you two wouldn’t last.”

 

“Us?” Austin seems genuinely startled.

 

Jeff’s mouth twists, but he doesn’t say anything. He seems more interested in Austin’s response. 

 

“What’s been the biggest challenge for you?”

 

Austin’s brows draw together as he considers. Jeff answers that one. “Trying to make it work long distance. Plus Austin travels a lot. This winter he was backpacking for a month in South America. I think I heard from him a total of three times. I had no idea if he was alive or dead.”

 

Austin makes a pained face. “You’d probably hear if I was dead.”

 

“That makes me feel a whole helluva lot better.”

 

I interrupt, “What’s the most fun about being together?”

 

“All of it,” Austin says.  

Jeff meets his direct gaze unhesitatingly. “Yeah, no matter how much time we spend together, it’s not enough. So we’re buying this house onChatham Road.” 

 

“Chinese wallpaper in the dining room,” Austin says. Apparently that’s a good thing.

 

“What do you fight about?”

 

“Chinese wallpaper?” Jeff suggests.

 

 “We don’t really fight,” Austin says.

 

Jeff states, “We disagree over Austin’s notion that it’s okay to veer from his itinerary without letting anyone know, and that it doesn’t matter if he forgets to check in for a week.”

 

Austin expels a long breath but doesn’t argue. They’ve been over this ground once or twice. He says, “Nobody has ever shot at me when I’m working.”

 

Jeff opens his mouth. I interrupt, “What have you each learned from the other?”

 

Austin says, “To phone home regularly.”

 

Jeff laughs. He says, “That the right person makes a difference.”

 

“To what?”

 

“To everything.”

 

“He means sex.” Austin is teasing Jeff. Jeff looks mildly uncomfortable, but that’s not the surprise. The surprise is that Austin is so relaxed that he can joke about something that was surely painful to remember at one time.

 

Jeff says almost stubbornly, “I mean everything.”

 

Their gazes hold briefly. Austin inclines his head as though acknowledging a point.

 

“What do you laugh about?”

 

Jeff says confidentially, “Well, when Austin gets excited he has this little trick—”

 

“Jeff.”

 

Jeff laughs.

 

“Bastard,” Austin says without heat. Jeff is still laughing, and after a moment Austin joins in.

 

Which answers that question – and probably all the rest of them.