Chapter 2

Occupying a location that few bars in the country could surpass the Manahan’s proved Stanley Marcus’ maxim, “Location, location, location,” Duffy proved to his partners that he was everything they could expect in a successful entrepreneur. Not only was he able to retire the debt on the business three years early but by the time he was forty he was a member of the board of directors of Santa Fe Federal Bank, a partner in Sandia Mountain Partners, and a member of the city council. In short, he had become a wealthy and well-respected man at a youthful age.

Having seen marriage after marriage fall apart among his contemporaries in the hospitality business Duffy never married. Since he was socially prominent, he became the most eligible bachelor in town, even being sought after by several debutant’s mothers. Although there were rumors of bedding many of the eligible bachelorettes in town and from elsewhere, nothing was ever discovered that he dallied with married women. From Duffy’s standpoint, he had too many business and professional interests to risk jeopardizing any of them by cuckolding a current or prospective business associate.

Ellen Firestone wasn’t the only happily married woman who fantasized about sex with Duffy Manahan. Middleditch and Edmonson’s wives did as well. But Ellen was the only one of the three who didn’t hit on him. In his mind, it proved two things: she was a happily married woman, and she was too classy to stoop to that kind of cheap behavior. What she didn’t know was that had she done so, Duffy would have had a hell of a time turning her down. Though he was not a celebrity in a national sense he was indeed a luminary in New Mexico. Women often compared him to Sean Connery with blue eyes and a full head of mahogany hair.

When Craig Firestone died of a heart attack at the age of sixty-three Duffy was shocked and saddened. It had been Craig who set the wheels in motion for his business success. Though older, Craig was Duffy’s best friend. At the same time, he loved Craig’s wife Ellen. He always remembered the troubled look she gave him the night he announced that Sean O’Doul was going to sell him his business. Though It was Craig who acted, he always felt that without Ellen’s input Craig would never have included him. All along, he continually lusted for the lovely woman and thought he was in love with her.

It was a year after Craig died when Ellen finally came back into Manahan’s: the watering hole of Santa Fe Federal, Firestone Real Estate, and Sandia Mountain Partners, as well as most of the members of the City Council. She had been a regular patron, coming in with her husband and often with women friends as a group. This time she came by herself. To Duffy, it seemed like she was on the make but not for him. After Craig died it had been all he could do to restrain himself from approaching her on his own. But out of respect for Craig and for Ellen—in that her husband had not yet been gone a year—he held back. It stimulated him to put the date of Craig’s passing in his mental calendar a year hence. At that point, he thought he could summon the courage to at least call her.

That night when she came in by herself was making him crazy. Darren Schultz, one of his long-term regulars was hitting on her. After he ogled her and made stupid advances Ellen finished her drink, said goodbye to Duffy, and abruptly left. He wanted to tell Darren to leave and never come back but the bar was the meeting place for many such liaisons. He had seen bigger assholes score with grosser approaches and worse lines. But to Duffy Schultz was like the Camelot “honey dumper” approaching Queen Guinevere.

About a week later she came in with her son Tony, about ten years younger than Duffy. Ellen seemed back to her usual self but wasn’t looking at Duffy in the same playful way that she used to. Such is life, he thought hoping that the old mojo hadn’t vanished. Tony looked a lot like Craig and seemed to be a nice man. He remembered how often the Firestones brought their son into the Pub for dinner. But that night there seemed to be a different dynamic between mother and son. Uncomfortable with the feeling he admonished himself for his taboo thoughts. Just the same he marked the date of Craig’s death on his mental calendar again, more aware that the anniversary was still two months away.

It was approaching ten o’clock; there were still several patrons at the bar. Duffy rarely tended bar ‘til closing anymore, Mel Schmidt did that unless he needed time off for something. Mel was to Duffy what he had been to Sean O’Doul, the promising young man he hoped would take over one day. Once again, Duffy thought how wise he was not to marry. Had he done so his wife would have played a secondary role to Manahan’s? He loved this life too much. Being between the bar and his bottles was just something that was part of him. Besides, the woman he would have chosen to marry had always been the well-satisfied wife of a friend. Now she was his widow. He was facing the mirror when he saw her come through the door. Like Lisa Lund in Casablanca, she was walking pensively toward Rick to the far-off strains of As Time Goes By. There was no question that Ellen had something pithy on her mind.

Walking toward the bar until it stopped her, she said in her quiet, husky voice, “Would you please have a drink with me, Duffy? I need a friend tonight. Can we talk?”

As she seductively sauntered back to the table where she and Craig always sat, he turned to the rows of bottles and took down a twenty-six-year-old Glen Fiddich Scotch. Pouring one on the rocks for her and one for himself he put the drinks and the bottle on a serving tray and took it to the table. Sitting across from Ellen he handed her the drink. Picking up his own (she was holding hers high in front of her) he lifted his and awaited her toast. “To Craig,” She said. They clinked glasses and sipped.

Duffy toasted, “To Ellen.”

“I don’t know why Duffy, but I’m finally prepared to drink to that.” They clinked glasses again and sipped.

“You should at least try to figure it out,” Duffy said. “Remember that night twenty some odd years ago when I told Craig and you that I was going to buy O’Doul’s?”

“I don’t think a month goes by Duffy when I don’t think of it,” she said.

“You gave Craig such a strange look Ellen; it was a look that I didn’t understand at the time. But gradually I understood how deeply you have cared for me over the years. In my mind I had you going home and lobbying hard for me like you would have if I had been your son.”

With a wistful smile, she said, “You correctly imagined Duffy. But it wasn’t too hard to sell. Craig always talked about what a future you had and wondered how you could figure into our future.”

Duffy held up his glass, “To the Firestones then.” She nodded, clinked and they sipped.

“And to sons,” she said holding up her glass, ‘clink’ sip as she thought, and lovers.

Duffy thought, a good thing for both of us that I wasn’t your son, and said, “I haven’t seen Tony in years. He’s turned into a handsome and genuinely nice man ... he’s in his forties isn’t he.”

“Forty-two,” she smiled. “And thanks for the compliment.”

“This is the third time you’ve come in here since Craig’s passing Ellen ... and in less than three weeks. The first time I saw a grieving widow, the second a proud and happy mother ... and tonight?”

Her smile was pathetic as she answered with the question, “ ... a hopeful friend?”

Duffy sighed. As he sipped his scotch, he directed his eyes toward the bar but looked far into the distance. With butterflies in his stomach, he looked back at her and said, “I’ve been a hopeful friend from the time I met you, Ellen.”

Reaching out her free hand she patted the back of his hand with her fingers and in a soft, warm voice said, “You were not much more than a boy Duffy Manahan. But the looks you gave me? OH MY.” She grinned as she squeezed his hand. “Forgive me for saying it but I’ve always had a thing for boys.” Blushing at the blatancy of her comment she thought of the “sexual training” she had given Tony during puberty then just last week she re-experienced just how effectively she had done it.

Blushing at her comment Duffy suddenly saw a completely different side of Ellen Firestone. To him, she had always been an idealized woman—untouchable. She never came on to him like other women had, including two of her best friends, Maureen Middleditch and Elke Edmonson. And here she was opening her feelings to him like no other woman he had ever been with during his philandering pursuits. “But in all these years Ellen you have never come on to me as other married women have.”

Laughing in a near-silent chuckle she responded, “And based on the conversations I’ve had with Maureen and Elke you spurned their advances.”

With a troubled countenance he explained, “I didn’t mean to implicate them, Ellen.”

Having always appreciated Duffy’s confidentiality Ellen held up her hand as if to absolve him. “One of the many things my age has taught me, my friend, is that we’re all human beings, we’re not characters in a morality play. At the time I was upset with them, but I’ve since allowed for circumstances that may have led to their ‘need for carnal knowledge,’ as someone once said in a movie. I don’t know whether they are happily married but they give the appearance of their marriages being worthwhile. And I’ve never denied that it is more difficult for some not to scratch their itches than it is for others.”

“But YOU, the one married woman I would have had a terrible time turning down, never hit on me, Ellen,”

“So, I am one of the lucky ones Duffy. My marriage was worthwhile and fulfilling. And regarding my marriage, it was Rocky Balboa who said, ‘We fill gaps, Paulie. She has gaps and I have gaps. She fills my gaps and I fill hers.’ Craig and I filled each other’s gaps Duffy—all of them. Cary and Frank weren’t properly filling Maureen’s and Elke’s gaps. And that’s probably why they hit on you.” She smirked at the witticism of her next statement, “And by the way, was it because they were wives of business associates that you turned down your opportunity to fill their gaps?”