April & Oliver by Tess Callahan Page A

knows I’m allergic.”
    “And mistletoe, I see,” says Oliver.
    Nana waves her hand to suggest he is being foolish. Oliver slips Bernadette an amused glance. Nana has a string of gentleman
     friends, all eager to please, none succeeding. He has no idea how she meets them. “You remember my fiancée, don’t you?”
    “Imagine April working on Christmas Eve. Did you ever hear of such a thing?” Nana asks.
    “Bernadette,” he reminds her. “You met at Thanksgiving.”
    “Air traffic controllers, okay. Police officers. Telephone operators. But bartenders? Can’t people live without a gin and
     tonic for one night?”
    “Not everyone’s Christian,” Oliver says.
    “Exactly. Couldn’t she have found a nice Jewish fellow to fill in?”
    “Maybe she wanted to work,” Bernadette says.
    Nana looks at her directly for the first time, scrutinizing. “How did you two meet, anyway?”
    “Oliver came to my rescue,” Bernadette says. “He saved one of my kids from drowning.”
    “She’s exaggerating. The kid wasn’t even close to the river.”
    “He slipped on the rocks. He could have fallen in.”
    “Excuse me,” Nana says. “You have children?”
    “Not my own. I work with special-needs kids. We were doing a cleanup in the park. Oliver was jogging by when one of the kids
     took a spill. I never could have picked him up myself.”
    “Picked up Oliver, you mean?” Nana asks.
    Bernadette blushes. “The boy,” she says.
    “Believe me,” Oliver says with a smirk, “I was the one who picked up Bernadette. I’d seen her before. She’s amazing with these
     kids. They light up when she’s around.”
    Nana studies her. “You must have a lot of patience to do that kind of work.”
    “I try.”
    “Patience isn’t always what Oliver needs,” Nana says, raising a brow. “Sometimes he needs a good kick in the pants.”
    “I’m good at that, too.” She grins, glancing at Oliver.
    Nana appraises her. “What kind of special needs? Do you work with mongoloids?”
    “Nana,” Oliver says gently. “They’re not called that anymore.”
    “Mentally retarded, then? I’m sorry if I can’t keep up with the lingo.”
    “Yes,” Bernadette says. “Kids with mental and physical disabilities, everything under the sun.”
    “You must be a strong person, then,” says Nana.
    “I love the kids,” Bernadette says. “Some days it doesn’t feel like work at all.”
    “And other days?” says Nana.
    “There are heartbreaks, of course. It can be hard.”
    “On those days, you’ll have Oliver here to listen to all your sad stories at the end of the day. He’s good at that.”
    “Yes, I know,” she says softly, looking at Oliver with affection.
    “Give me your hand,” Nana says.
    Bernadette extends it reluctantly. “Do you read palms, Mrs. Night?”
    “Don’t be ridiculous. It doesn’t take an astrologer to see that you don’t do much housework.”
    “Nana!” Oliver says.
    But Bernadette only smiles. “My secret is cold cream.”
    “Hm,” Nana says wryly, relinquishing Bernadette’s hand. “Mine, too.” She studies her for a moment. “You realize, don’t you,
     that Oliver is not your ordinary man.”
    “If he were, I wouldn’t be marrying him.”
    “He’s not going to give you a conventional life.”
    “What’s that supposed to mean?” Oliver says, but the women ignore him.
    Bernadette smiles gently. “Well, Mrs. Night, I was under the impression that I give
myself
my life.”
    “Those are pretty words,” Nana says. “But don’t underestimate the influence of marriage. After all, here you are living in
     New York because of Oliver.”
    “Actually, it’s the opposite, Nana. I found a law school here because Bernadette is doing her doctorate at Columbia.”
    “You’d be back anyway,” Nana says. “You have unfinished business here.”
    “Really?” Oliver laughs uncomfortably. “And what might that be?”
    “You remind me of Oliver’s mother,” Nana says to Bernadette.