Riverside Park Read Online Free PDF Page A

civilizations, which is to say, to speak in their respective fields of English and history. Mother Stewart tended to talk about soap operas, so Amanda’s older friend, Mrs. Goldblum, could help out a little there. There were Emily and Teddy, of course; Grace snoozing in her carrier; Madame Moliere, and Miklov, the assistant director of the children’s soccer league in Connecticut. He was from the Czech Republic and the children called him Mickey-Luck. Also present were Rosanne DiSantos, no longer a housekeeper but a hospital LPN, Rosanne’s beau, Randy, a detective in the Bronx, and Rosanne’s seventeen-year-old son, Jason, who had to leave dinner early to go to work at Captain Cook’s. Amanda walked Jason to the door.
    â€œThe tips are really, really good on Thanksgiving,” he explained. Amanda had known this strapping young man sincehe was two years old. He was attending Bronx Poly Sci, hoping for early acceptance to the University of Pennsylvania to study engineering.
    â€œWill Celia be bartending today?” Amanda casually asked.
    Jason’s head jerked in her direction. “You know Celia?”
    â€œShe lives in our building.”
    â€œOh. Um, yeah, I guess she’ll be working,” Jason said, his face ringing with red.
    Amanda returned to the dining room wondering if Jason was sweet on Celia or if he knew something about Celia he didn’t want Amanda to know. Like the fact that Howard went there while she and the children were in Connecticut.
    Amanda had never entertained uncomfortable thoughts like these until Grace was born. She didn’t care what anybody said; carrying a third child at forty-three had almost finished her. Unlike her first two pregnancies, with Grace she’d been chronically tired and ill. She had also grown immensely heavy and the birth had been difficult, ending in an emergency cesarean. Mercifully Grace was fine, and after a few weeks, Amanda started feeling better. Physically anyway.
    Most of the weight was off now, but Amanda’s hormones—or something —were still out of whack. Her considerable sex drive seemed to have utterly vanished. And there was no way, not with how well her husband knew her, that she could pretend otherwise. And she knew this hurt Howard’s feelings, that whatever sex life they could manage at this point was so one-sided.
    Dinner flowed into dessert.
    â€œMickey-Luck’s going to play us tomorrow,” Teddy told Rosanne.
    â€œHe’s going to play you for a fool?” Rosanne kidded.
    â€œNo, in soccer!” Teddy said, laughing.
    â€œIs that your real name?” Mrs. Goldblum asked the soccer coach. “Mickey-Luck?”
    â€œMiklov,” he answered.
    â€œMiklov,”Mrs. Goldblum rehearsed.
    â€œI’ve got a new recipe for it,” Mother Stewart told Mrs. Goldblum. “Hot or cold, it makes no difference, it’s wonderful meat loaf. Just ask Howard.”
    â€œWith soccer and riding and music lessons,” Amanda’s mother was saying, “I’m beginning to wonder when these children have an opportunity to play.”
    â€œI told you I didn’t like the play,” Amanda’s father said.
    â€œDo you watch All My Children? ” Mother Stewart asked Mrs. Goldblum.
    â€œI watch all the children,” Madame Moliere answered in her heavily accented English.
    â€œThe cheeldren are great,” Miklov said, nodding. “They leesen, they practice and they do goot.”
    Amanda and Howard tried not to laugh but it was difficult. There were so many conversations going on there simply was no thread to follow. Everyone seemed happy, though, which was all that really mattered. Even Miklov, who usually featured a deep sort of Slovak scowl, was smiling.
    He was a good-looking young man of twenty-six whose professional career in soccer had ended in his own country with an ankle injury. Amanda never really understood how Miklov had come to their