Down by the River (7 page)

“The years go by very swiftly, Grace,” said Frank.

Grace rolled her eyes. “Well, then all the more reason for me to make a few of my own dreams come true while there is still time.”

Elaine, usually quiet during family skirmishes, finally leaned forward to speak. “Mother, you're not doing this just so Frank and I can have the house, are you? I would feel awful if you're sacrificing the home you love and moving away so you won't have to see someone else living here.”

Margaret, ever the drama queen, put her hands on her hips in irritation. “See what you and Frank have done, Elaine—pushing and pressuring Mother to get out of her home so you can have it? You're making her move away from us all. And I don't blame her for not wanting to move over to Greenwood. Grandmother Jane said she wouldn't want to live over there with all those old people who sit around and reminisce about the past and talk about their aches and pains. She said it would drive her crazy.”

Grace suppressed a giggle. That did sound like Jane. She was eighty-six now, and no one had dared to suggest to her that she move into a retirement community. She lived in an uptown townhouse she'd bought after Charles's father had died, and she'd made it clear to all of them several times she had no intention of leaving it. Pearly Mae, the help Jane had employed since her early married years, still lived with her and looked after her needs.

“Margaret, I'm not moving because Frank and Elaine would like the house. However, I am very pleased they want it. You know it's too large for me. It needs a family. And I'm glad it's going to stay in our family.”

She paused. “However, I do have one exception I want to make in the sale.”

Frank sat forward, looking nervous now.

“I want to retain the garage apartment for myself so I can have a place to stay whenever I want to come see the family. It has a nice little kitchen, a good-sized living area, a big bedroom, and a bath. It will do very nicely for me when I want to close the Mimosa for a week now and then and come to visit with my family. And I won't feel like I'm imposing on anyone if I have my own little place.”

“Oh, we'd be pleased for you to keep the apartment, Mother.” Elaine reached across the table to take her hand. “And I would want you to come back any time you like—and to stay as long as you want. Ava and Sophie love you so much. They will both miss you.”

Barbara, Mike's wife, leaned forward then. “That's the part that is hard for me to understand, Mother Grace. All of your family lives here in Nashville, including five grandchildren who love you. Why do you want to leave us? Have we done something to upset you?”

“Absolutely not, Barbara. And I will miss being close to everyone. But Nashville is not so far from Townsend. I can come home often—and you can come to see me as often as you'd like.”

Grace heard Margaret mutter. “Not bloody likely.”

Ken's wife, Louise, tapped her fingers on her water glass restlessly. “Well, there are some other problems with your moving that you haven't seemed to consider.”

Her voice sounded snippy, and she looked annoyed. “You often keep the grandchildren for us when we have to travel, you know—or when we go on vacation. This summer, you've already committed to keep our Ethan for several weeks—and to keep Mike and Barbara's two, Chuck and Lauren—while we all go on that Alaskan cruise and when we have our week at Hilton Head, and for the Friday nights when we all go to the symphony. Also in the fall there are the ballgames. You always keep all the children when we go to the Vanderbilt games. You always have. It's like a tradition. The children look forward to it. Traditions are important to children, Mother Grace. And, as you know, children thrive better when they have stable family lives.”

Louise smiled her nicest schoolteacher smile at Grace. “I really don't think you've been giving enough thought to your grandchildren. You know, you can't go back and recapture these years. And children grow up all too soon.”

Grace looked around the table at the adults who had once been her own little children and knew this to be all too true. She listened to the murmur of their voices as they began to chart up all the free babysitting services they were going to be deprived of if she moved. She felt a little ashamed of her children for bringing these commitments up. They were thinking of themselves now, and of what was convenient for them, more than thinking of her—or their children's—happiness.

Mike looked toward the head of the table where Charles used to sit. “What would Dad have thought about your doing this, Mom? Have you considered that?”

Grace bristled at Mike's words—particularly at his tone of voice. “Actually, I think your father would have been more respectful of my decision to make this move than any of you.”

“I seriously doubt that,” Margaret put in sarcastically. “Ken's right. You have no background preparing you to run a business. And Dad would have known that.”

“Your father and I visited bed-and-breakfasts together in all our travels around the U.S. and in our trips abroad. It was a special pleasure of ours. You should remember I kept scrapbooks of our visits. And your father and I often talked about possibly buying our own bed-and-breakfast someday.”

“Pipe-dreaming and putting together scrapbooks of visits to inns does not prepare you to run one, Mom.” Mike scowled at her. “And Dad's not here anymore to help you run a business. I'm sure he wouldn't approve of your doing this on your own. As the head of the family now, I have to express that for him.”

Grace was growing tired of this discussion. “Look. Although this may seem like an impulsive decision to all of you, it is—after all—
my
decision. I am an adult woman, not a child who needs guidance. And Charles made sure I would have my own income. You all know that. You may not have much confidence in my ability to run a bed-and-breakfast successfully, but I may very well surprise you. It is often difficult for children to imagine their mother in a career capacity—especially when she's been at home at their beck and call for so many years. And, obviously, none of you seem to be aware of the work I did and responsibilities I carried in all the nonprofit endeavors I was involved in all these years.”

Margaret rolled her eyes dramatically when Grace paused.

“The point is, I
have
bought this bed-and-breakfast. I do not intend to change my mind about that decision, even though you are obviously not supportive of my plans. And I have every intention of moving to Townsend as soon as I can make arrangements here. Mrs. Oakley, the former owner, says I still have time to get in touch with many of her former clients who come in June and July—and that I also have time to advertise and attract new clients for the late summer and for the fall. Many people visit the Smokies then to see the colors.”

Only a set of scowling faces met hers. “You might want to remember I also have family in East Tennessee. My parents, my sister and her family, and my brother and his family live nearby in South Knoxville—about twenty minutes from the inn. In a sense, I am going back to my family as well as leaving family here. My own roots are in the East Tennessee area, children. And I want to do something useful with the rest of my life. I've been so busy with family and home that I haven't had time to try my own wings like most of you. I think it is my time to do that. I feel really happy about this decision. I wish you could feel happy with me.”

No encouraging words came back—just continuing frowns.

“What about all your beautiful furniture?” Louise looked around with sorrow. “It won't be the same here when the place is all cleaned out.”

Grace smiled. “Much of the bed-and-breakfast is furnished. So I plan to leave most of the formal furnishings here with Frank and Elaine, if they would like to have them. They both like antiques. And I plan to talk with each of you privately about things in the house you might want for your own homes.”

Barbara wrinkled her nose and sent a warning look to Mike. Both the boys had very modern tastes in their lake homes. It would be unlikely either of them would want much from the house here.

“Some of the furnishings I'll take with me, of course, Louise. I'll also take some of the furniture over to the garage apartment to fix up my little place there.”

Margaret laughed and sent a telling look around the table to her siblings. “That will be a challenge! What do you plan to do with all those piles of craft items, some not even half finished, and all the boxes of craft supplies that have filled up that apartment to the gills for ages? I hope you'll finally trash that stuff.”

A snigger ran around the table. This was an old joke.

Grace had done crafts of one kind or another since she had first married. Well, actually, she'd even done crafts before that. She possessed a creative streak and liked to make things with her hands. Over the years, she'd taken a multitude of different kinds of arts and craft classes around the Nashville area. Charles and the kids had viewed Grace's crafting as a curse that kept one household area or the other constantly covered with assorted messy projects on old newspapers. As the children grew up and left home, Grace had taken over the garage apartment as her work and storage area. Okay, to be truthful—mostly as her storage area. She'd meant to clean out the place for years now. But had never gotten around to it.

Mike spoke up. “News flash, Mom. I am
not
going to help clean out and carry off all that craft stuff. So don't even think about asking me.”

Ken echoed Mike's sentiments.

Grace's mouth tightened. “I haven't asked anyone to help me. I'll take care of it by myself.”

Margaret giggled. “You may have to rent an entire moving van just to carry off all that junk.”

Again, Grace felt annoyed with her children. They'd never valued the crafts she had made or the skills she'd learned in doing them. Charles hadn't been much better.

Her anger flared. “I'll have you know there is some very nice work packed away in that garage. It's not junk.”

Barbara gave her a kind but patronizing look. “Yes, but people don't decorate with craft items in their houses anymore, Mother Grace. Things have changed.”

Grace thought about the décor of the Oakley then—colorful, old-fashioned, full of bric-a-brac and handcrafted items. She decided not to tell her children what the Oakley looked like just yet.

Sighing, Grace braced herself for another barrage of criticisms. She could hear the family tuning up to talk about the waste of their father's hard-earned money on a hair-brained scheme like this. This was all going much worse than she'd even imagined.

Actually, the arguing might have continued into the night if the grandchildren hadn't started to tire. Then everyone began to leave to take the children home to bed. It had grown late. All but Grace worked the next day, as well—even Margaret. She was doing a short teaching internship in the music department at a nearby college.

The good-byes were tense and strained as Grace saw her family off.

Just as Grace thought she could begin to let down, Charles's mother Jane showed up. She'd been to a concert pianist performance, but had stopped by on her way home to wish Margaret a happy birthday. Of course, Margaret immediately told her about Grace's buying the bed-and-breakfast, and then Jane lit in on Grace in full force.

“I can't believe you've made such a foolish decision, Grace. I always told Charles that marrying a girl with small town roots and from so little money was a mistake. But you did well, being a good wife to Charles, all in all, and you kept a nice home. I can't say you ever disgraced us until now—although there were times I'd like to have seen you have more polish. And I always wished you'd become accomplished at something along the way, rather than flitting about in all those silly crafting classes over the years. I used to dread the holidays—wondering what new homemade item I'd have to unwrap and pretend to like.”

Grace winced. It was no secret that Charles's mother had never liked her. Jane had been internationally famous, after all, as a concert pianist before she married. It was hard for Grace to match that. Jane hadn't even married until thirty-three, and then she'd only had the one child: Charles. Her expectations for him, naturally, had been high. It hadn't taken Grace long to realize she didn't exactly measure up with Jane.

Jane hobbled over on her cane to put an arm around Margaret. Jane was a blond, like Grace and Margaret. But she was a bottle blond now with a pencil-thin body and a hard, tight face. There had always been an arrogance and outspokenness about Jane that intimated Grace. Grace liked peace. She was no match for Jane's sharp words and biting criticisms.

Jane gave Grace a critical look down her nose. “So now you're going to sell your home right out from under your own child, here, before she's even grown and gone. How do you think that makes Margaret feel, Grace? She came to the door crying. I saw it, even though she tried to hide it.”

Margaret was obviously more upset than Grace had expected her to be.

“You know I'll make a place for Margaret at the bed-and-breakfast, Jane.” Grace had never been able to call Charles's mother by a more intimate term. “It's not as though she won't have a home anymore. And the inn is quite large.”

“It will hardly be the same, though, will it?” Jane's tone was condescending. She patted Margaret on the cheek and spoke to her fondly. “Your dear father would turn over in his grave if he knew what your mother had done.”

Jane turned a hard glance on Grace. “It's thoughtless and selfish of you—going off and leaving all your family here. I have often been disappointed in you, but this time definitely takes the top prize.”

Grace sighed. Jane would certainly miss bossing her around in the future—that was for sure.

As if reading her thoughts, Jane narrowed her eyes and gave Grace a hard stare. “I'm sure Margaret can stay on here with Elaine and Frank in her own home.” She patted Margaret's arm affectionately. “I'll talk with Elaine. There is no reason you should be forced to leave your family home until you're ready to have one of your own.”