Mary Kate and Black Mike: ‘The rest of the story’

(Mary Kate Skeffington, best waitress at Dinty Callahan’s Restaurant in South Boston, circa 1925, receives a large, unexpected cash Christmas present from two mysterious customers. She and the surly restaurant manager who is secretly in love with her, Michael J. “Black Mike” Kelker, decide to make an offer to the owner to buy the restaurant from him.

If you would like to read the entire first part of this story for details of the synopsis above, click on the link “The Christmas” at the top of the home  page and you will be taken to it.)

——

Dinty Callahan, reasonably sober for a change, looked from one to the other of his two most reliable employees as they sat in his little office at the rear of the restaurant.

“Well, and what is it you’re wantin’? Raises, I’ll wager,” he said, looking as if he wished he were at Grogan’s instead.

“No, Dinty, it’s not,” said Mary Kate. “You know, Dinty, the place isn’t what it used to be, and with all due respect, you’re not helpin’ it much.”

“So you’ve asked to see me so you criticize me character? Is that it?” asked Dinty, his face flushing. He was a small, dapper man, widowed two years previously. His excessive drinking had begun shortly after his wife’s death.

“Not at all,” answered Mary Kate. “We’ve a business proposition to make. We’d like to buy the restaurant, and take it off your hands.”

Dinty sat up, surprised, and looked searchingly from one to the other of his employees. Black Mike nodded his agreement with Mary Kate’s words.

Dinty ran his hand over his face,  trying to disguise a sly, calculating look. He had not expected this — and the place had become like a burden to him.

“And where would the likes of you two be getting the money to buy one of South Boston’s finest eating establishments?” he asked grandly, sounding like a squire on the Ould Sod. Dinty didn’t want to sound too easy if business was to be transacted.

“We got it honest, if that’s what you mean,” said Mary Kate evenly, but with a slight edge to her voice.

Dinty was quick to smooth things over — no point in spoiling a golden opportunity for himself.

“Now, lass, I meant no disrespect. If you have it, you have it, and it’s not my head that’ll be bothered about it.”

A half-hour of dickering, and the three shook hands on a deal closed. Mary Kate had carefully squirreled away what was left of the old couple’s gift. Black Mike and his mother had a little money put by. The old lady insisted that he use it for his part of the down payment.

On the day that ownership was transferred, after Dinty, Mary Kate and Black Mike had signed their agreement, Dinty handed over the keys and left the new owners with a little surprise:

“Ye think I’ve been going to Grogan’s so much to guzzle the beer. Well, I’ve done my share of that and more. But there’s another reason. Unbeknownst to you two, I’ve been seein’ that delightful little Nora Cooney, the head waitress. And she’s consented to become me wife!”

He tipped his hat, buttoned his coat, and sauntered out the front door, leaving the two new owners watching him go with surprised looks on their faces.

——

Black Mike and Mary Kate worked to return their new business to its glory days. Cleaning, painting, refurbishing, and changing the name — it was now the “M & M Dining Room” — did much to start the customers streaming in again.

But hovering always in the background was a tension. Because Black Mike was certain now that Mary Kate knew of his feelings for her — although he’d never said them to her in words.

And he was right. Mary Kate was aware that she was more to him than just a partner. But she could not forget the teachings of her parents and her church: As long as Pat Skeffington lived, she was a married woman.

But Pat was far away, and Michael was here. She could not help noticing little things about him that she had not been aware of before.

How he would lift a heavy pot off the stove so Old Hilda didn’t have to struggle with it, and without her asking, or his expecting any “Much obliged” for the act.

How he quietly continued a young waitress’s pay when she was sick with the flu for a week. She was recently widowed, and supporting a young son and daughter. When she tried to thank him upon returning to work, he pretended some of his old surliness and told her to get busy and never mind the sentimental nonsense.

How much of his gruffness was now, in fact, just a part of playing a role, as if he thought it was expected of him. Children who came to the restaurant with their parents began to see through it easily, and he would joke and tease with them. Both parties seemed to enjoy the banter hugely.

Standing by the kitchen door one day, watching him recite a Mother Goose rhyme to a little girl at Table Four, Mary Kate found herself thinking, as she had on that night she watched him walk away after taking her home, I knew I’d find the good man inside you, if I just looked hard enough.

One day they were helping each other lift a heavy case of produce to carry it out of the pantry, and the bottom of the case suddenly fell out, scattering groceries all over the floor. It struck them both as hilarious and they erupted in laughter. As they stared at each other, their laughter gradually subsided, and Black Mike suddenly leaned forward and, without touching or embracing Mary Kate, kissed her on the mouth.

She returned the kiss ardently — for a few seconds, until she came to herself, then drew back as quickly as if stung by a bee. Mary Kate clapped one hand over her mouth in shock, stared at Black Mike in amazement that her heart had reacted so much more quickly than her head, then turned and fled from the pantry, and the restaurant.

——

Mary Kate was back at work as usual the next day. Black Mike breathed a sigh of relief, but neither mentioned the incident of the day before. But she was still mortified at what she had done, and torn by her feelings toward her business partner.

Things went on as normal at the restaurant for a couple of days — except that the tension between Michael and Mary Kate was more pronounced than ever. The employees began exchanging knowing glances about the situation, and wondering what would be the next act, and when it would occur.

Old Hilda opened the pantry door to fetch some potatoes on the second day — and suddenly realized that Mary Kate was already in there, all by herself. She was facing the rear wall, and seemed to have her hands folded in front of her. Old Hilda held her breath, listening:

“Blessed Mother, please help me! The church pulls me one way, but me heart tugs me another!  I want to do what’s right, but I’m not sure what’s right any more … and it’s, it’s so hard on ths old Irish girl …”

Mary Kate broke down, sobbing as if her heart would break. Old Hilda backed silently out of the room, closing the door gently so her friend wouldn’t know she had been overheard. The old cook hurried out to the alley and burst into tears herself.

After a time Mary Kate emerged from the pantry, paler than usual but composed, and went back to work.

Twice that day Black Mike caught her watching him. Both times she looked away quickly — but not quickly enough.

The next morning Mary Kate surprised her partner by going to him the first thing and saying, “Michael, could you come to my place at 8 o’clock tonight, to talk about the business?”

“Tonight? Your place? Why, why, yes, Mary Kate, I’ll be there,” Black Mike replied, stunned by her sudden invitation, and not quite sure how to take it.

She said nothing more about it that day, and Black Mike went through the motions of his job, not daring to hope that “business” meant anything more than that.

As 8 o’clock neared that evening, Mary Kate caught herself glancing into the mirror, fluffing her hair and smoothing her dress — for the third time.

“Stop that, lass!” she said aloud, angry at herself.  “This is a business appointment.” She slapped her face lightly with one hand.

At 8 o’clock sharp there was a knock on her door. There stood Black Mike — but he looked so well groomed and nicely dressed that Mary Kate’s eyes popped. She recovered quickly, though, saying, “Hello, Michael; glad you could come. Have a seat here at the table.”

Her partner glanced around, questioningly; where was Little Paddy?

“He’s at Mrs. McGillicuddy’s, my landlady,” Mary Kate explained. “She’s bringing him back a little later, after we’ve finished talking business.”

She produced ledger books, payroll records and the like. Dinty’s record keeping had been very sloppy, and there was much of a mess to straighten out, Mary Kate said.

Black Mike’s face fell a little. But he pitched in manfully and they began going over the tangled records.

As they worked, though,  he couldn’t help noticing how lovely her auburn hair looked down on her shoulders, and how the lamps highlighted her fair Irish complexion.

And she couldn’t help noticing that he noticed.

They had plowed their way through the “Accounts Payable, 1925” ledger when there was a sudden knock at the door.

Mary Kate frowned in annoyance, glancing at Black Mike. “There’s Mrs. McGillicuddy. She wasn’t supposed to — I mean, I didn’t think she’d be bringing him back this soon.”

She arose with a little sigh and strode to the door. Grabbing the knob, she was already saying, “Hi, Mrs. McGillicuddy, you’re early,” as she opened it.

The skin was yellowish looking, the forehead lined, the hairline receding a little. The eyes were tinged with red.

But their auburn still bored into her as on that day long before.

“Hello, Mary Kate.”

She stopped breathing for several seconds, let it out slowly, shook her head in disbelief. Then she finally spoke.

“Patrick Skeffington!”

——

“You have your nerve, coming back here just like nothing’s happened, after you walked out on me and our son!” cried Mary Kate angrily to her husband, as he stood in her living room looking the worse for wear.

“I’ve nerve, have I?” he rejoined. “Here’s my wife, entertaining another man in me living room, and she says I’ve the nerve! Who might you be, my man?” he said sharply to Black Mike.

“Michael J. Kelker, if it’s any affair of yours,” the other answered, his hackles rising. “You’re a tad presumptuous for a man what abandoned his own family, aren’t you, boyo?”

“Michael is me business partner — and that’s all,” insisted Mary Kate with heat.

Black Mike gave her a hurt, crestfallen look that Mary Kate missed, as she was eyeballing Pat’s current sorry state. But Pat saw it, and gave a knowing little nod.

“Yer tongue’s not telling me what yer heart feels, Katie me love,” he said.  Pat sat down heavily, uninvited, in one of the chairs in the living room, sighed and said, “Ah, well, you’ll have plenty of time for business, and other things too, before much longer.”

Mary Kate stared at him, her mouth open slightly, and then said with a slight tremor in her voice, “What’s that supposed to mean, Patrick Skeffington?”

Pat grinned sardonically, leaned forward, pointed to his cheek, and said, “See this? See how yellow me skin is?”

They nodded.

“Well, it’s from the drink, so the doctor tells me,” Pat said.

“You’ve a few oils on you right now, my man,” said Black Mike after giving him a practiced once-over.

“Faith, when don’t I have lately?” answered Pat, leaning forward to rub his face morosely with both hands. He straightened up, sighed again, and went on.

“A few months ago I started feelin’ bad — me stomach, me kidneys — just feelin’ like I’d took a beatin’. I finally went to a doctor. He said I’d done too much of the drinking. I’ve got the liver complaint. He called it cir … well, something that starts with c-i-r; I can’t recall the name he gave it.”

An ominous silence filled the room.

“What are you sayin’, Pat?” asked Mary Kate softly, staring at her husband.

“In another month or so, it’ll be all up with Pat Skeffington,” he said, with an ironic little smile. “Me wicked ways have caught up with me, they have.” He gave a mirthless little chuckle.

Pale as a ghost, Mary Kate arose and walked around the room, her arms folded, her hands rubbing up and down them in distraction.

“Pat, I don’t know what to … to …”

“I haven’t come back here to ask for money — or sympathy either, if it comes to that,” Pat said, his tone sharpening again. “I know I’ve been a bastard as a husband and father. But I wanted to see you and Little Paddy again before I go.”

There came another knock on the door, and this time it was Mrs. McGillicuddy and Little Paddy.

“I’m sorry to be so early, but the lad insisted on comin’ back now — said he had a feelin’ that — Oh!” said Mrs. McGillicuddy, catching sight of Pat.

“Dad? Daddy?!” cried Little Paddy.

“It’s me in fact, me lad, big as life!” cried his father, and the child rushed to him and into his arms.

Black Mike’s shoulders sagged, and he turned away from the little scene.

“Oh Daddy, I knew you’d come back some day,” declared Little Paddy, smoothing his father’s hair with his hand. “Now the three of us can all be together again.” And he glared across the room at Black Mike.

Little Paddy had not liked the restaurant manager since the first time he met him, because he sensed that there was something between him and Mary Kate that could come between her and his father. You see, the boy had never ceased to hope and pray that his father would return to them.

Mary Kate glanced at Black Mike with a look that said, “I’m sorry, I’m really sorry, for both our sakes, that this evening turned out the way it did.”

“Saints above, how you’ve grown!” said Pat to his son. “Why, you’ll be as tall as your mother before long!”

“I’m the tallest in my class at school,” Little Paddy said proudly.

“Well, it’s getting late, Paddy; I think it’s your bedtime,” said Mary Kate firmly.

“But can’t I stay up and talk to Dad a little longer?” the boy asked plaintively.

“Plenty of time for that tomorrow, son,” answered his father. “Go on now, like a good lad, and pleasant dreams to you.”

Pat rose from his chair shortly after Mary Kate had put their son to bed, saying that he was going to the cheap rooming house where he had been staying.

“I can make up a decent bed on the couch for you, Pat,” Mary Kate said.

He looked back at her and said, “No, Katie love. There’s no couch I could stay on, knowing you were in a bed in the same house.”

Mary Kate blushed, and Black Mike turned his head away so she wouldn’t see his smile.

——

Pat’s liver complaint grew progressively worse. He ignored his doctor’s orders, spending hours each day with the drink — as much of it as he could afford, at any rate. Came the day he had to be admitted to the charity ward at a Boston public hospital.

The past forgiven, if not forgotten, Mary Kate and Black Mike spent as much time at his side as they could while still keeping the restaurant in business.

“I can understand Katie being here a lot; but why are you comin’ to see me, Michael?” asked Pat from his hospital bed one day, his skin more yellowish than ever and his face haggard from the failing liver.

Black Mike looked steadily at the man who had come into his life suddenly and unwelcomed, and said, “Because Mary Kate loves you, and because since I’ve gotten to know you I’ve decided you’re a decent man who took some wrong turns.”

Pat nodded ruefully.

“I’ve done that, for sure and certain. You know, Michael, it’s a shame we didn’t meet sooner, under happier circumstances. We could have been good mates.

“Might have hoisted a glass or two together,” mused Black Mike.

They took Little Paddy to see his father often, and although they never told him directly, it didn’t take the bright lad long to figure out that Pat Skeffington did not have much time left.

And Little Paddy’s grudge against Black Mike began to ebb away.

“Michael, is my dad going to die?” asked the boy one day as the two of them walked down to the hospital cafeteria together.

“Well, lad, yes he is, as we all are, in our time,” said Black Mike, patting the boy’s shoulder.

“Is my dad a bad man for leaving my Mom and me the way he did?”

Black Mike pondered this for a long time. Finally he replied, “Paddy, your father did what he felt he had to do at the time he did it.  Some people aren’t cut out for the roles life forces on ’em. Your dad really does love you and your mom, and in my book, that’s all that matters.”

And later that day, when Mary Kate and Paddy were both out of his room, Pat laid his hand on Michael’s shoulder as the latter sat on the side of Pat’s bed, and said, “Take care of me Katie love and me boy, will you, Michael?”

“I will,” Black Mike answered, and his voice broke.

——

When Pat’s end came, Mary Kate was holding him in her arms tenderly, and Michael was gripping his right hand in both of his own.

——

After Pat’s Funeral Mass, Mary Kate and Black Mike returned to work. And her emotions were now more turbulent than ever.

She was sure now that she loved Michael, but at the same time she felt guilt — for her husband was in his grave, and to make her feelings known to Michael, soon, seemed to her disloyal to Pat’s memory.

The situation caused rising tension at the restaurant, with the two owners short-tempered with the help, and also with each other.

Finally, Old Hilda confronted Mary Kate in the kitchen one day.

“Mary Kate, you’re me employer now, so you can fire me for sayin’ this if you want. But, woman, you’re actin’ like a damn fool. Your husband is in his grave, and it’s not your fault and it’s not Michael’s fault. You can wear your widow’s weeds if you like, but you’re not doing yourself any good, nor Michael, and certainly not Pat Skeffington!”

Mary Kate listened silently to the other woman’s words, nodded, and went about her business.

Later in the day, as Michael was going over some paperwork in the restaurant office, Mary Kate walked in hesitantly, closed the door, stood before him, and said, blushing and glancing at him, and away, and back, “Michael, I have something to say to you …”

——

Dinty Callahan glanced up from his place at the bar at Grogan’s, then lowered his beer mug in pleasant surprise.

Mary Kate and Michael had just walked hand-in-hand into the place, dressed to the nines. There was no doubt now to anyone with two eyes in his head that Mary Kate was as in love with Michael as he was with her, for it radiated from her face like a halo.

“So you’ve finally admitted to yourselves what the rest of us have known for months!” cried Dinty happily. “And you couldn’t have chosen a better place to celebrate! Nora, the best table for our new happy couple!”

——

Mary Kate still insisted that they wait a couple of months longer to marry, out of respect for Pat’s memory.

When the big day finally arrived, they were married by Father O’Neill at St. Bridget’s. Dinty gave the bride away; Clancy the cop stood up with Michael, who Clancy had once accused of being drunk because he was in such a good mood. Paddy looked on happily, for while he still mourned the loss of his father, he had fully accepted Michael now as his new stepfather.

About a year later, Paddy was proud as a peacock when he told his school chums that he had a brand-new brother and sister — twins!

They were named — you’ll never guess — Mary Kathleen and Michael Joseph. But to save confusion around the house, they would be called from infancy, Kattie and Josie.

Josie was tall, slim and auburn-haired; Kattie, a husky, solid brunette. Their parents all over again — only in reverse.

They became fixtures around the M & M as they grew from toddlerhood, to kindergarten, to elementary and then high school. They were the “mascots” for all the staff — along with Puss ‘N, who was growing old but still prowled around the place on his aging legs and always appreciated kittie treats.

As they left school, Kattie went off to a business college, with an eye to taking over her parents’ restaurant some day. Josie, who had inherited his mother’s fine singing voice (in a tenor key, like Pat Skeffington’s),  had an amiable, happy-go-lucky disposition. He went into small-time entertainment, appeared in restaurants and taverns all over New England for years, playing his banjo, singing and charming the folks with his keen Irish wit.

Their big brother Paddy, who appointed himself their protector as they grew up, joined the Boston Fire Department as soon as he was old enough, carving out a career for himself battling the city’s blazes. Worked for the department 30 years. Earned a bunch of awards for bravery above and beyond, he did. Saved people’s lives several times. He was like his mom that way; always givin’, seldom takin’.

Mary Kate and Michael had 30 wonderful years together, and never a hard word between them, or so I’ve heard. Who would have thought that, with the tempers on those two?

One evening at the restaurant, not long after their 30th anniversary, Michael was stricken real sudden, and died within minutes. Mary Kate was holdin’ him in her arms, and crying to the Good Lord not to take him from her. But Michael knew better; he gasped out, “It’s no use, darlin’; it’s me time. We’ll meet again — in a better place …”

They had no time to call a priest before Michael breathed his last. But many agreed with Mary Kate when she said that whatever sins Michael didn’t have time to confess, he had no doubt out-weighed them long since with the good deeds he had done for years — often in secret.

Needless to say, Mary Kate was devastated at losing her man. But a few days after the funeral, when her children and grandchildren were gathered around her at home, she said, like a real philosopher: “Well, it’s a lucky woman I’ve been, for sure. As it turned out I had two good men in me lifetime, each in his own way. Many women don’t even get one.”

More years passed; Mary Kate saw her grandchildren grow up, and have children of their own. Her auburn hair grayed, then whitened. Her tall willow-tree body thickened in middle age, then became thin again, then scrawny, as she lived through her 80s into her 90s. Only her cornflower blue eyes — and her Irish temper, once aroused — didn’t change.

Mary Kate sat down in her rocking chair one day in her 93rd year, fell asleep — and never woke up again. I’d wager that Pat and Michael were standing beside St. Peter at the Pearlie Gates, waiting for her when she got there.

——

So — that about brings us up to date. Kattie’s still running the M & M Restaurant — she’d never change the name, of course. Josie finally retired from his entertainment career — only he can still be persuaded to play and sing when they have festivals at St. Bridget’s. He does it just for fun now — not money.

What’s that you say? Who am I? Oh, it’s the busier I’ve been here talking all this time that I forgot me manners. I’m Jim Jack McGillicuddy. Mrs. McGillicuddy, Mary Kate’s old landlady, was me grammy.

You’ll recall that when I first described Mary Kate, I said I’d been in love with her — at one time. And I was. As a child, I thought she was the most beautiful female I’d ever seen. Still do. Uh, except for me wife Sheila, of course. We’ve lived here in South Boston all our lives. We’re retired now;  can tell that by looking at us, can’t yous?

Well, not to be rushing you folks off, but me wife’s and my best friends are due over for dinner any minute. They’re retired, too. All old folks here — but we’re “hangin’ in there,” as the young folks say today.

Oh, here they come now. This is Maureen, my wife’s best friend for many years. And this here is her husband — my best friend.

He had a nickname as a child — but he hasn’t used it for many years. Too juvenile, he says.

Besides, there was someone he wanted to remember and honor.

Folks, meet Pat Skeffington.