For Your Love (10 page)

“Thought I'd show you the town, then go grab something to eat at the Dog.”

“The Dog and Cow,” she said, chuckling.

“The Dog and Cow.”

“That's insane.”

“Nice place, though.”

“All right, forward!”

He steered onto the main road. Still not quite believing she was there, he kept stealing looks at her which she met with a smile.

“Still can't believe this is real,” she said.

“Same here. Trying not to stare at you.”

She reached up and squeezed his hand. “It's okay, stare all you like.”

It was one of those bright December days when the sun glistened off the snow-­crusted fields.

“Haven't seen this much snow since we moved away,” she said, glancing out her window. “Or been this cold.” She was wearing a red parka and a black knit hat. “This jacket is almost doing the job. Almost.”

“When I lived in California I enjoyed the weather, but after a while I got tired of the sameness. Wanted to see the leaves change and the trees budding in the spring.”

“Understandable, but I'll take sameness over freezing any day of the week. Do your boys like winter—­do they ice skate and ski cross country, like Mal and I and our friends used to do?”

“Yes. In fact, we'll be setting up the town ice rink this weekend. Should be cold enough for it to stay frozen. Do you still skate?”

“I do. Taught Val when she was little. The lessons came in handy when she was in New York. She loved skating at Rockefeller Center.”

He was taking the long way into town, past Clay and Bing's place.

“Clay's place, right?” she asked.

“Yes.”

“Your dad said he was still here. His folks still living?”

“No, they passed away when I was in LA.”

“Sorry to hear that. They were nice folks. I wonder what ever happened to Genny Gibbs? Clayton worshipped the ground she walked on, but she wouldn't give him the time of day. You probably wouldn't know—­before your time.”

He laughed. “She's still in town.”

“Get out!”

“Yep. Still here.”

“Oh, my goodness. I figured she'd be living in Paris or someplace. She so wanted to leave this little country town. Do you think we'll see her?”

“We'll hunt her down if you like. She stays with Marie and Tamar.”

“Marie Jefferson?”

The skeptical tone made him turn. “Yes.”

She had a slightly sour look on her face.

“You and Marie didn't get along?”

“I got along with her fine. She didn't get along with me.”

He found this fascinating. “Why not?”

“She had a thing for Mal.”

His eyes went so large, he almost drove off the road. “Marie Jefferson?”

“Yes, Miss My Family Helped Found This Town Marie Jefferson. Had a thing for him, just like Clay had for Genny. She couldn't stand me. I thought it was funny. As the kids say today, it wasn't like she was taking my man. Her and those stupid cat-­eye glasses she used to wear.”

He didn't know whether to be appalled or laugh.

“What?” she asked.

“Marie's still here, too.”
And,
he almost added,
wearing her cat-­eye glasses
. “In fact, the new school is named for her. The Marie Jefferson Academy.”

“Oh, hell.”

“And she's my Lily's godmother.”

“Shit.”

His eyes grew even larger.

“Sorry. I'm supposed to be trying to make a good impression. How am I doing?”

The mischief in her eyes made him laugh again. “Is this the real you coming out?”

“Possibly. I talked to my daughter last night, and the last thing she said to me was ‘Mom, now that you and Trent have found each other and you're cool, please don't be out there acting like a hot mess.' ”

“She know you pretty well?”

“You reach a certain age, and your children think they're the parent. Which is fine, especially when I need her to bail me out of jail.”

He almost wrecked the truck again.

“Too much sharing?”

“Let me park before you make us hit a snowbank.” He pulled into the Power Plant's lot and parked.

“What a beautiful building. What's something this cutting-­edge doing here?”

Before he could respond, she undid her belt and got out. He watched her shade her eyes against the low-­hanging winter sun and study the red architectural wonder. He supposed her interest was rooted in her being an artist. Its lines and structure had always appealed to his inner engineer as well. He cut the engine and got out, too.

She was still taking in the building appreciatively. “How long has it been here?”

“Almost four years now.”

“My goodness, it's beautiful. Who was the architect?”

“I'd have to go in and ask. My office is inside.”

“If I had to work a nine-­to-­five, I wouldn't mind doing it in such a great place. Can we go in?”

He made a grand gesture of offering his arm.

Inside, she found the atrium entranceway just as intriguing. She took in the lush plants lining the floor and then raised her eyes to the skylight overhead. “How do you keep the snow off the glass?”

“There are solar fibers threaded through it.”

“Really?”

“Top-­of-­the-­line tech in all the new buildings. Come on, let's see if Lily and Bernadine are here.”

“Mal's Bernadine?”

He nodded, and noted her hesitation. “Don't worry. Bernadine's a very classy lady. She doesn't do drama. Promise.”

 

T
he sun was still shining when he and Rita walked back out to the truck. Just as he'd promised, she'd had nothing to fear from Bernadine. The Boss Lady had been warm and welcoming.

Fastening her seat belt, Rita cracked, “What in the world is a regal woman like her doing with a country jester like Mal?”

Trent chuckled and turned the key to start the engine.

“She's what, five-­eight and about a size eighteen?” she went on. “Built like a damn goddess, and drop-­dead gorgeous. And you were right. Very nice.”

He remembered Bernadine's first year and the hoops she'd forced Mal to jump through before even thinking about entertaining his company. “She gave Dad a real run for his money, believe me.”

“I'll bet she did. And your Lily. Beautiful as the flowers she's named for.”

“Thanks.”

“Easy to see she loves you madly.”

“I love her even more.”

“Have you been married since high school? I remember the prom picture in the photo album.”

“No, only a little over a year. She's wife number three for me.”

Her surprise showed in her voice. “You're kidding. We didn't talk about this yesterday, did we?”

“No.” He told her about his failed marriages—­first to Felicia, the high-­powered lawyer he'd helped put through law school. “I wanted kids. She said she did too, and we agreed that once she passed the bar, we'd figure out how to balance children and our jobs.”

“Didn't work out?”

“No. Told me she'd changed her mind about the whole child thing, and that she'd gotten a tubal during law school.”

Her jaw dropped.

“Got married again two years later. Mia. Owned a bookstore. Lasted six months. She was sleeping with one of my business partners.”

“Oh, Trenton.”

“Decided the big city had kicked my ass long enough, and for the last time, so I came home.”

“I'm sorry.”

“Thanks, but I got Lily eventually, so I won in the end.”

“Yes, you did.”

He was about to pull out of the lot when he remembered something. “You never did finish telling me why you had to be bailed out of jail.”

She laughed. “I'm sorry. Didn't mean to leave you hanging. Protesting. I'm a child of the sixties and seventies, and after we moved to California, I went to Berkeley.”

“Oh, okay,” he replied.

“Then you know all about what it stood for back then?”

“Yes. American history class in undergrad.”

“Ah. I spent my four years at Berkeley protesting against everything from Nixon to the war to the police shootings of Black Panthers. Then I went to the Sorbonne in Paris to finish my art studies and protested there. Two years later I came back to the States, and I've been marching for or against issues since. Women's rights. Civil rights. Rights of the poor. Last month it was for a sound immigration policy, and two weeks before that against the navy's deep-­water testing, which endangers our whales. Paul says Val grew up to be a lawyer because the two of them spent so much time in courtrooms watching my lawyers trying to convince judges why I shouldn't be locked up.”

“But all great causes. She had to be proud of you.”

“Oh, she is—­they both are. And she's done her share of marching as well.”

He pulled out of the Power Plant parking lot and tooled slowly down the street so Rita could see the new church, recreation center, and school.

Again she was impressed by the architecture. “Such great buildings—­even the one named for Old Cat Eyes.”

Trent smiled inwardly. He hoped there wouldn't be fireworks if the two met during Rita's visit.

“I was supposed to ask Ms. Brown the architect's name,” she added, “but I was too busy being impressed by her fabulousness. And she's responsible for all this?”

“Every brick, paved road, and light pole. There's a small subdivision, too. You'll see that when we go home for dinner.”

The leveled lot holding the listing remnants of the Henry Adams Hotel, which had served as a movie theater in her day, caught her attention. “What happened?”

“Tornado in 2005. Took the school, too.”

“That's so sad. A lot of necking went on in that balcony.”

He chuckled. “Bernadine's trying to restore it.”

“I like that idea. I hope it happens—­that old building represents so much of what this town was about.”

He agreed.

As Trent would tell Lily later, when they walked into the Dog and heard Stevie Wonder on the juke box singing “Skeletons in Your Closet,” he should've taken it as a sign and walked right back out. Instead, he watched his mother look around in amazement.

“This is a nice place, Trent.”

“We're real proud of it. It used to be a well-­loved dump before Bernadine waved her magic wand.”

Since it was a bit after the lunch rush, the place wasn't real crowded. Mal came up and was about to speak when Rita asked excitedly, “Is that Genevieve?”

Trent grinned. “Yes, it is.”

“Mal, do you think she'll remember me?”

“I think she just might.”

And at that moment Genevieve, seated at a table with Marie, glanced up. When she saw Rita, her eyes widened. She said something to Marie, who looked over as well, and Marie's eyes flashed icily.

But Genevieve was on her feet, hurrying over to where they stood. “Rita!”

They met and hugged and rocked and laughed, while Marie watched distantly.

“My god, girl,” Genevieve gushed. “I didn't know you were here. You look so good!”

“California living. It's all about the bean sprouts and the yoga. You look damn good yourself.”

“My goodness! When did you get in?”

“Yesterday.”

Trent interrupted. “Let's find a seat, ladies. We're blocking the entrance.”

They got a booth, and Mal brought Rita a menu. “You want something to drink, Rita?”

“Just water for now, Mal, thanks.” She couldn't seem to take her eyes off Gen.

“So you're living in California?”

“Yes. I told Trent I expected you to be living in Paris.”

“I wish. Glad to have you back.”

“Hello, Rita.” It was Marie.

“Hey, Marie.”

“I heard you were here.”

The air in the room changed. Genevieve looked tense.

Mal returned with Rita's water. “Good to have her back, isn't it, Marie?”

“Not really.”

“Marie!” Genevieve gasped.

Mal was staring at Marie as if he'd never seen her before. Trent was pretty floored, too. He'd seen her angry before, but usually it was a classroom setting, when one of the students had gotten out of line.

Rita Lynn picked up her water and sipped slowly. She raised her eyes to Trent, and it was impossible to tell what she might be thinking. She set the glass down again. “Marie, I'm here to visit my son, not to rehash stupid shit from high school.”

“Marie,” Gen said quietly, “go back to the table.”

“Shut up.”

“What?”

“I said shut up, Genevieve.” Marie glared at Rita Lynn.

Gen stood up and asked in an incredulous voice, “Who in the hell do you think you're talking to?”

By then all the other diners were staring.

Rita Lynn very calmly picked up her menu and began perusing the offerings.

Marie snapped, “Oh, what? Now you're going to ignore me?”

Rita didn't raise her eyes from the menu. “Yes, I am. Just like I did forty-­five years ago. Mal, get your girl. The last time she and I got physical, it was two weeks before she stopped looking like Joe Frazier after being whipped by Ali.”

Trent froze.

Mal shouted, “Time out! What's going on here?”

Marie looked like she wanted to jump across the table and snatch Rita up.

Gen asked him coldly, “Are you really that clueless, Malachi? Still?”

“Apparently. So fill me in.”

“Shut up, Genevieve,” Marie warned. “You just worry about the fact that she slept with Clay, too.”

Genevieve paused, looked at Rita Lynn, who verified the disclosure with a tight nod. That fact rocked Trent, but he had to give it to Gen, who turned to Marie and yelled, “Earth to Marie! Forty-­five years ago.”

Mal blinked. “Wait. Rita, you had sex with Clay?”

“Just like you had sex with Lisa Green, Adele Pettiford, Constance Phillips, Bobby Jo Mitchell . . . shall I go on? At least I did it with Clay during one of the many times you and I broke up. You did those other girls on some of the same nights after we went out on dates.”

Trent had never seen his dad look so small.

But his mother wasn't done. “And as for Ms. Cat Eyes here, the only reason she's got her panties in a twist is because you never asked her to take them off.”

Trent jumped, and Mal did, too.

Marie screamed, “You bitch!”

Rita Lynn threw her water in Marie's face. “Go home.”

Marie shook with fury. Trent thought she might be in tears, but she was so wet from the face down, it was hard to tell. Without a word, she hurried over to her table to retrieve her coat and purse and left.

There were shocked faces all over the diner, and you could hear a pin drop.

“Sorry, Gen,” Rita said.

“She started it. You finished it.
Que será será
. How long will you be here?”

“After this, Trent may be taking me straight to the airport.” She gave him a small smile, which he returned.

“Well, I need to go see about Marie, if she hasn't driven off and left me. Next time you're here, we need to get together and catch up. Good seeing you, Rita.”

“Same here.”

“Bye, Trent.”

“Bye, Gen.”

Genevieve walked past the silent Mal without a word.

Rita glanced up at Mal, who looked as if he wasn't sure how to react. Trent knew exactly how he felt. “Can I order now?”

“Uh, yeah, sure.”

“I'll have your number six with the honey mustard on the side, please.”

“Coming right up.”

Later that night, as Trent and Lily lay in bed, he told her the story. When he'd finished, she said, “Wow. Sounds like that old show
Peyton Place
.”

“I'd say it was more like
The Real Senior Citizens of Henry Adams
.”

Beside him, she chuckled in the darkness.

Dinner with the family had gone well. Rita Lynn had been warm and showed great interest in her grandsons, but he'd noticed the hint of sadness behind the smiles. When he drove her back to Tamar's, she'd been quiet and subdued.

“So what was up with Marie, do you think?” Lily said now.

“No clue,” Trent admitted. “I mean, she must be really hurting if she's holding a grudge after such a long time. And why be mad at Rita? Marie couldn't force Dad to like her.”

“Maybe she thought she'd've had a chance with Mal had Rita not been there? I don't know.”

“But she's been like his sister their whole lives. From his reaction, he didn't even know she had a thing for him.” He replayed Gen's withering question:
Are you really that clueless, Malachi? Still?
“Have to admit, when they started talking about who was sleeping with who, and Rita rattled off that list of names, I was like, I am way too young to be hearing all this.”

She chuckled once more. “Glad I missed it. Never known my godmother to pick a fight like that before, but sounds like she did.”

“Definitely. Rita Lynn handled her business, though.”

“Does Marie know the circumstances surrounding your birth?”

“I assumed Dad told her, but maybe not. She didn't bring any of that up.” He wasn't sure who knew what about him being brought back to Henry Adams by Rita's mother or why Rita had never visited before now. “I'll have to ask him. Man, Rita really laid it on him, though. He looked like Inch High, Private Eye, when she finished.”

“Her coming back has been very interesting, to say the least.”

“True, but I'm still glad she's here.”

“So am I.” She turned her head on the pillow. “Just thought of something. I wonder if Marie's reaction had anything to do with her son and his adoption?” Marie found herself pregnant during her first year in college, and her out-­of-­wedlock son was taken immediately after birth and put up for adoption. Marie never even got to hold him. Two years ago, he'd called, asking to meet her. She'd agreed, thinking he meant to establish a relationship, but she was wrong—­he only wanted to see what she looked like and to learn whether there were any health problems in the gene pool. It broke her heart. “Do you think she resents Rita being in your life because she can't be in the life of her own child?”

Trent had no answer. He eased her into his side. “I don't know, but I hope she and Genevieve made up. I hadn't seen Gen that hot since the day she decked Riley.”

“I've been wanting to have a high school reunion, but after this drama today, maybe I need to rethink that.”

“Maybe.”

“Rita should come back and spend Christmas with us. I know it's last-­minute, but I assume you'd like that, and the boys certainly would.”

“What about you? After all, Marie is your godmother.”

“We invite her too, and sell tickets.”

He laughed so loud he was afraid he'd awakened the boys. Once he recovered, he asked, “Are you sure?”

“Certain. I want her to have a relationship with us. She's your mom. You two are owed that, after being apart for so long.”

Trent didn't think his love for her could grow any higher. “You're a remarkable woman, Lily Fontaine July.”

“Glad you figured that out.”

“I'll ask her in the morning.”

“Good. Now show me how remarkable I am.”