Bygones (5 page)
“Why did you?”
“I was angry.”
“So was L”
Bess paused. “I saw him tonight.”
Randy looked away. “How is the
sddo.b
.?
”
“Randy, you’re speaking of your father, and I won’t allow that kind of language.”
Randy worked his shoulders in irritation. “Mom, get off it. You hate his guts as much as I do, and you haven’t made any secret of it. Now all of a sudden you’re buttering up to him?”
“I’m not buttering up to him. I saw him, that’s all.
At Lisa’s.”
“Oh, right. I guess she told you. So you bummed out or what?”
“Yeah, I guess you could say that.”
“I was, too, at first, but now I’ve had a day to think about it, and I think she’ll be okay. She wants the kid, and Mark’s okay, you know? I mean, he really loves her, I think.”
“How do you know so much?”
“I spend time over there. She cooks me dinner, and we watch videos together-stuff like that: She helps me get my head on straight. Mark’s usually there.”
“Lisa said you’ve agreed to stand up for them . . .
.
And to cut your hair.”
He chuckled. “You’re
gonna
like that, huh, Ma?”
“You got some girl who’s going to miss it?” she teased, reaching as if to pinch his cheek.
He reared back and brandished both hands, karate fashion. “Don’t touch, woman!”
They poised as if on the brink of combat, then laughed together and hugged. No matter the worries he caused her, moments like this were her recompense. Ah, there was something wonderful about an adult son. His presence in the house gave her someone to listen for, someone else moving about, a reason to keep the refrigerator stocked. It probably was time she booted him out of the nest, but she hated losing him, no matter how seldom they exchanged banter such as this.
When he left, there would be only her in this big house, alone, and it would be decision time. , He released her, and she smiled affectionately.
Then she said, “About the wedding He waited, settling back into his customary nonchalance.
“Lisa asked your father and me to walk her down the aisle.”
“Yeah, I know.
- “And?”
“And there’s going to be a dinner at Mark’s parents’ home to introduce the two families. Can you handle that?”
“Lisa and I have already got that covered.”
Bess’s lips formed a silent oh. These children of hers had a relationship that seemed to have left her several years behind.
Randy went on. “Don’t worry. I won’t embarrass the family.”
He began to rise, but Bess caught his arm.
“There’s one more thing I think you should know. Your father and Darla are getting a divorce.”
“Lisa told me.
Old love-‘
em-and-leave-‘em
Curran.”
He gave a disgusted laugh and added, “I really don’t give a damn, Mom.”
“All right, I’ve told you.” Bess flipped her hands in the air as if to excuse him. “End of parental duty.”
He rose from the bench. “You better look out, Mom. The next thing you know, he’ll be
knockin
” on your door again. He made a fool of you once. I sure hope you don’t let him do it again.”
“Randy Curran, what kind of an-airhead do you take me for?”
Randy swung away and headed for the dining-room archway. Halfway through it he used it to brake himself and turned back to her.
“Well, you were sitting there playing that sang he always liked.”
“It happens to be one I always liked,
to[
*
thorngg’I
”
Randy leveled his gaze on her. “Yeah, sure, Mom,” he remarked dryly, then gave himself a push off the doorframe and left.
Chapter Three
THE
St. Croix River
valley lay under a cloak of winter haze the following day as Bess left home for her shop. It was a frigid, windless morning.
Stillwater
snuggled in a bowl of wooded hills and limestone bluffs that pressed it close against the placid waters of the river. It appeared, at first glance, a city of rooftops-steeples, mansards, peaks, and turrets-all of them dropping toward the small downtown that rimmed the west bank of the river.
Bess drove down
Bess had her usual English muffin and coffee at the St. Croix Club restaurant,
then
headed for her shop. It was on Chestnut Street, two doors off
Main
-an ancient building with two blue window boxes, a blue door, and a sign that read BLUE tats,
aoME
-SCNPE’S, with a likeness of the flower underscoring the words.
Inside, it smelled of the potpourri and scented candles she sold. The walls were papered in a cream that matched the painted woodwork, and beneath the molding ran a border strip of blue irises. Bess’s grandmother had grown blue irises in her yard. Even as a child, Bess had dreamed of owning her own
business,
and way back then had known what it would be called.
Bess picked her way through the maze of lamps, art prints, easels, brass picture frames, and dried botanicals to a steep stairway that climbed to a tiny loft. Cluttered with swatch and wallpaper books, the loft was an inadequate office by any standard. Yet every time she considered giving up the store to get a bigger one, it was the loft that kept her there. It had character and history, and both appealed to Bess.
She did paperwork and filing, made phone calls, and got some design work done before Heather arrived at
and called upstairs, “Morning, Bess!”
“Morning, Heathen How are you?”
“Cold.”
Bess heard the basement door open, and close as her clerk hung up her coat. Then her footsteps made the loft stairs creak. Heather stopped near the top of the stairs-a forty-five-year old woman with stylish tortoiseshell glasses, garnet fingernails, and strawberry-blond hair glazed into fashionable disarray.
“You have a
appointment, you know,” Heather said.
“And a
and a
.”
“I know, I know”. Bess handed Heather various notes, gave her instructions about ordering wallpapers and checking on incoming freight, and left the store confident that things would run smoothly while she was gone. It was a hectic day, as most were. Three house calls left her little time for lunch. She drove from
Stillwater
, across the river to
Hudson
,
“You had nine calls,” Heather said.
Bess flopped onto a wicker settee, exhausted. “Okay. And thanks, Heather. I’ll see you tomorrow.”
When Heather was gone, Bess headed for the loft.
Upstairs, she dropped into her desk chair and opened a turkey-and-sprout sandwich she’d picked up. She was staring at a stack of furniture catalogues when the phone rang. “Good evening.
Blue Iris.”
“Mrs. Curran?”
“Yes?”
“This is
Hildy
Padgett, Mark’s mother.”
A friendly voice, neither cultured nor crude.
“Oh, yes, hello, Mrs. Padgett. It’s so nice to hear from you.”
“I understand that Mark and Lisa had supper with you last night and broke the news.”
Bess set down her sandwich. “Yes, they did.”
“I want you to know right up front that Jake and I couldn’t be happier. We think the sun rises and sets on your daughter. When they told us they were getting married, we were just delighted.”
“Why, thank you. I know Lisa feels the same way about you.”
Hildy
Padgett continued. “Well, we’ve given them our blessings, and they want very much for all of us to meet, so I suggested a dinner party here at our house, in
White Bear Lake
, on Saturday night.”
“Saturday night . . .” Her date with Keith.
But hove could she put one ordinary date before this? “That sounds fine. May I bring something?”
“Lisa’s
brother,
is all. Just be here at seven, and we’ll get those kids off to a proper start.”
When she’d hung up, Bess sat motionless in her chair. She longed suddenly to be with Lisa-to touch her, to hold her. Ignoring the work that needed attention, she leaned forward, dialed Lisa’s number, and asked if she might come over for a talk.
Thirty minutes later Bess was entering the setting of last night’s confrontation with Michael.
She hugged Lisa more tightly and a little longer than usual.
“Mom, what’s wrong?”
“I guess I’m just being a typical mother. I was sitting there at the store, getting all misty-eyed thinking about you.”
“Oh, Mom.”
Lisa curved an arm around her mother and led her toward the living room. “I’m getting married, not cloistered.”
“I know. I just wasn’t prepared for it.”
“Dad wasn’t, either.” They sat on the sofa, and Lisa put her feet up. “So how did it go when the two of you left here last night? What did you decide about Mark and me?”
Bess’s expression became
wi
/l. “That you’re my only daughter, and you’re only getting married once-at least I hope so.”
“That’s why you really came over, isn’t it?
To make sure I’m doing the right thing.”
“Your dad and I just wanted you to know that if for any reason you decide marriage to Mark isn’t what you want, we’ll stand behind you.”
“Oh, Mom, I love him so much. When I’m with him, I’m more than I was. He makes me want to be better than
the me
I was before. It’s as if”-Lisa gazed at the ceiling, searching for the proper words-“as if all the negative stuff disappears. And the funny thing is
,
the same thing happens to Mark. From the night we met, we never felt like we had to be phony with each other. We can admit our weaknesses, and that seems to make us stronger.”
Bess sat very still listening to the most stirring description of love she’d ever heard. “Oh, Lisa,” she whispered, and moved to take Lisa in her arms. It was at once shattering and gratifying to learn that her daughter had grown up, that Lisa and Mark had discovered how to communicate. They had found the proper balance between praising one another’s virtues and overlooking one another’s shortcomings, which translated not only into love but into respect as well. It was something Bess and Michael had never quite learned.
Bess tenderly touched her daughter’s face.
“Where have I been while you did all this growing up?”
“You were there.”
“Exactly.
There-mining my business.
But I suddenly feel as if I spent too much time at it and not enough with you. If I had, I’d have seen this relationship between you and Mark blossoming. I wouldn’t have been caught so off guard last night.”
“Mom, you handled it okay. Believe me.”
“No. You handled it okay, and so did Mark.”
“Mark’s mother said she was going to call you. Did she?”
“Yes, she did. She’s delightful.”
“So everything is set for Saturday night? No objections?”
“Now that I know how you feel, none.”
“Whew! That’s a relief. About-the rest-the dress, and all of us walking down the aisle together-you’ll do it, huh?”
“Yes, we’ll do it.” Bess grinned. Then she said, “It’s getting late. I should go. It’s been a long day.”
Rising from the sofa, Lisa said, “You work too hard, Mom. But I have a feeling that when Mark and I have this baby, we’re going to lure you away more often. Just feature that-my mom a grandma. What do you think?”
“I think my hair needs bleaching. The roots are beginning
to ,show
.”
“You’ll get used to the idea. What does Dad think about being a grandpa?”
“We didn’t discuss it.”
“
Oooo
, I hear a cool note.”
“You bet you do. Now that the emotional part is over, I can tell you that
was
an underhanded trick you pulled last night.”
“It worked though, didn’t it?”
“We’ve drawn a truce for the duration of the wedding festivities-nothing more.”