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June 1982
Sean McKenna waved along with the rest of the crowd outside of the reception hall, wishing the newly married couple their best wishes as they set off on their honeymoon. It felt strange to the nineteen year old redhead to have been the best man at his own father's wedding, but that feeling was easily offset by his happiness that the old man had found joy in his life once more.
It had been nearly a decade since Bridget McKenna had died, and for most of that Sean had feared his father might never recover from that loss. Then, just two years ago, Madeline Conner came into Padrick McKenna's life and things quickly changed. Nine years younger than the forty-five year old dentist, the bookstore owner had also been married once before, a short lived union that had ended in divorce by their second anniversary. The two had been introduced by a mutual friend who thought they might hit it off, an assumption that had been proven right.
With the bride and groom now gone, the party began to slowly break up and it wasn't long before only a dozen guests remained. One of whom, at least as far as Sean was concerned, was the only dark cloud on an otherwise perfect day.
Eleanor Ryan was the mother of the bride, and while Sean had only met her a few days before, the amount of time he spent with her was about to increase dramatically. As a wedding gift to his new wife, Padrick had arranged for some major renovations to the house that they would now both call home. A makeover that would see painters, carpenters and electricians descend on the three story colonial over the next two weeks and transform the place.
Sean had offered to oversee the renovations, but, having been burned by contractors in the past, Padrick was worried that the workmen might try and put one over on the inexperienced college student. He had expressed that concern at the rehearsal night dinner a few nights before and Mrs. Ryan, who had been sitting next to him, told him to put his mind at ease.
Her late husband, she explained, had been a general contractor out on Long Island for nearly thirty-two years, and even though her own career had been spent as a hospital nurse, she'd learned enough from him that she could spot cheap materials and substandard work almost as well as he could. She'd be happy to extend her visit and keep an eye on the project.
Sean could see the wisdom of having someone more experienced keep an eye on things, but having the older woman staying at the house was, he believed, going to put a major crimp in his social life. Madeline had given up her apartment at the end of May, putting her stuff in storage until the work was complete, and had been staying in the guest room -- or at least maintaining the fiction that she was -- during the week before the wedding. Eleanor, meanwhile, had been staying at a nearby hotel. Since the guest room wasn't part of the renovation, Padrick had immediately suggested that she make use of it rather than pay for an extra two weeks at the hotel.
The retired nurse hadn't said or done anything to make Sean think that he was going to have a problem with her, but he just had the feeling that she would be. Just the fact that she was sixty-three, which put her right between his 'real' grandmothers, was enough. He loved his grandparents, and felt himself fortunate to still have them around, but it didn't take much for them, especially his grandmothers, to get on his nerves. All it usually took was a conversation to start with ... "When I was your age ..."
'Shit, that's all I need, a third grandmother to tell me what's wrong with my life,' Sean thought as he suddenly wondered if that was what his father's remarriage made her.
"I'll say it again, you do look dashing in that tux," a voice said from behind Sean, causing him to turn.
Barely an inch shorter than Sean's own five eight, Eleanor Ryan was a medium framed woman with short auburn hair, cut just above her neck. She had a modest but firm bust, emphasized by the beige, mid-sleeve embroidered dress she was wearing. The rest of her, it had to be noted, had also held up pretty well. The smile on her face was warm and expressive, and most people formed a good first impression of her -- Sean being an exception.
Eleanor's compliment caused Sean to reflexively glance at his image in the nearby glass door which, while not quite reflective as a mirror, still returned a good enough image to prove the truth of her accolade.
"Sean, I'm about to head back to the house," Eleanor said, "and I was wondering, do you need a lift, or do you and that young lady I saw you with earlier have plans?"
The young lady she was referring to was Jennifer Greene, a brown haired beauty who had danced several numbers with Sean during the reception. The two of them had been an item back in high school, but the relationship had fizzled out when he went off to college. Jennifer didn't believe in long distance relationships. She was currently seeing Donald Robinson but had come solo to the wedding with her family.
"No plans, Jennifer went home with her folks," Sean replied.
"Oh, that's too bad," Eleanor empathized. "She seemed like a nice girl."
Sean just shrugged.
"Well, I'll just have a last word with the caterers before we go," the older woman said, changing the subject, "so I'll meet you by the car."
-=-=-=-
The car she referred to was a late model Blue Metallic Range Rover with a light brown interior, not exactly what one thought of as an 'old lady's' ride. Rather than see it, as a clue to what might have made her different from the image he'd formed in his head, Sean simply assumed it had belonged to her husband and she hadn't sold it out of a sentimental attachment.
The reception hall was only a fifteen minute ride from the McKennas' house in the Prospect Park South section of Brooklyn, and as they made their way through the residential streets Eleanor tried to make conversation, expressing her hope that her staying at the house for the next few weeks wouldn't cause him any problems.
"I'm sure it'll be fine, Mrs. Ryan," Sean replied as they turned onto Ocean Parkway.
"Oh, you don't have to be so formal," Eleanor smiled. "I'm sure that we can come up with something better than Mrs. Ryan. At least something that doesn't make me sound so old."
'Well, you are, aren't you?' Sean thought but was smart enough not to say, inquiring instead if perhaps she now expected him to call her grandmother?
"Heavens no," she laughed loudly. "I would think that the last thing you need is a third grandmother."
"What should I call you then?" Sean asked, thinking that she had almost read his mind.
"Well, your dad just calls me Eleanor," she offered after a moment's thought. "Why don't we go with that?"
"Both of my grandmothers would've boxed my ears if I called an adult by their first name," Sean mentioned. "They'd say it was disrespectful."
"Well, that might've been true when you were a kid," Eleanor replied, "but you're a grown man now. So, Eleanor is fine."
By the time they'd made a right onto Beverly Road, Sean was beginning to wonder if perhaps he had been wrong in his assumptions about Eleanor.
-=-=-=-
It didn't take more than a day into the renovation for it to become clear that Eleanor had definitely been the best choice to oversee it. Thinking that Sean was still in charge, the boss of the painting crew had convinced the younger man that a lesser brand of paint would do as good a job as the higher priced one that Padrick had ordered. He'd be willing, he further told the teenager, to pass along the savings by reducing his bill.
