In a Moon Smile (6 page)

“Wasn’t that place sold?”

“Yes,” Chesney nodded. “But for some reason I just want to drive past it again. I want to be where I once loved to be, even if it’s just for a while. You remember all the holidays and summers I spent there with my grandmother?”

“Oh, gosh, I loved Grace,” Becca’s hand spread across her heart as if it was suddenly spilling over from sweet memories. “Remember when she invited us to help with the Christmas cookie party at church? She was so amazing. And she loved you so much, didn’t she?”

Chesney smiled and nodded even though her throat was filling up with grief. Just a few days ago, she had knocked around the idea. But the decision to go had not been made until last night when Jack showed up unannounced at Chesney’s apartment. He begged her to have a drink with him at what used to be their favorite pub on Madison. So Chesney followed him like a puppy dog out of her building and down the block. Even though she did not want to sit with him or hear anything Jack had to say, she went with him anyway. In the dark bar, Chesney was stunned to feel so relieved that she was not marrying the jack ass.

“I think it was cold feet that made me do that…” Jack had said in a
l
ow voice.

“Do what?” Chesney challenged.

“You know…what I did with Belinda…” Jack dropped his eyes and his face got red.

“What you did with Belinda…” Chesney sat there for a moment, quietly stirring her drink. “If I remember correctly, what you did with Belinda involved some handcuffs and...”

“She meant nothing to me,” Jack said.

“And obviously, neither did I,” Chesney added dryly.

“I didn’t know what you meant to me until I lost you,” Jack said in a high, squeaky voice. While he continued to claim a deep, unending love for her, Chesney tuned him out as well as she tuned out the busy chit chat from her mother or her sister.

Somewhere between her second and third dirty martini, she made a couple of decisions. One was that she definitely hated Jack’s guts. And second, that she definitely needed to be somewhere safe. A vision of Grace’s house flooded her mind and made her smile.

“I didn’t really mean what I said the other day,” Jack was saying when Chesney decided to tune back in to the conversation. “Chesney, I still love you. And I do want to marry you. In fact, I want to go with the original date and all the plans, okay? I’m telling you, sweetie, it would have been more than terrible for both of us if these troubles had been leaked to the media. Can you imagine? Here I am, running for a seat on county council and I’m second in line for partner at my firm. And you, well you write those cute little love books. My career would have taken a big beating, you know? What in the world was I thinking? Of course we will go through with the wedding, honey, just like we planned.”

Her mouth was numb from the evening’s alcoholic jaunt through heartbreak and Chesney grinned stupidly across the table at Jack. What was he saying? Her mind felt fuzzy from the drinks. “Go through with the wedding?” she stared at him, suddenly very aware that she was drunk. No, actually she was more than drunk. She was downright shit-faced, as her male friends in high school used to say. “You said you still want to marry me?” She looked at Jack, puzzled. “Is that what you said?”

“Yes,” he nodded happily. Isn’t that great news, honey? I didn’t mean what I said that day in my apartment about not wanting to marry you. And I know, Chesney, that you didn’t mean what you said either.”

“Oh no, no, no,” Chesney wagged a finger back and forth like a windshield wiper. “Oh no, Jack. I absolutely
did
mean what I said to you. I absolutely
do
hate your hairless little ball sack and your slick chest. I absolutely
do
hope Belinda Fat Ass suffers from terrible crotch rot. I absolutely
do
hope that your dick falls off.”

Trying not to stumble, she stood up and patted Jack’s hand. “By the way, I don’t give a rat’s ass what happens to your career. And let’s see,” she paused and planted her hand thoughtfully on her hip. “Oh yes, I remember now. Jack, you can go straight to hell, okay? Good-bye, Jack.”

Chesney left the bar, thankful for the sobering cold air on her face once she stepped outside on the street. She walked home, never feeling again like she wanted to cry over that man or any other men, for that matter. All she could think about was how much she wanted to see her grandmother’s house. It had been far too long since she had been there, in the midst of those priceless memories.

She smiled easily at Becca and sighed, knowing all of a sudden that her life would be fine. It would require some redirection, but it certainly was not ruined. Jack Ass was not worth a total wipe-out of all the good things she had in her life.

“Maybe the people who live there now will invite you to walk around inside the house again,” Becca said. “Maybe that experience will help you get grounded again.”

“Maybe,” Chesney shrugged. “Anyway, I’ll be away for a couple of days. And like I said, when I get back, I’ll drop the bomb at the Blake household about the cancelled wedding.”

Nervously pasting a fake smile on her face as she arranged the casserole lid covering the too dry, too spicy, baked ziti, Chesney carefully stepped on the rug by the door.  She prayed that her heart continued to beat. She felt sweaty and sick.

You are not the same person your mother saw a few days ago. You must introduce yourself today as the adult daughter who grew herself one bad ass backbone.

“Chesney? Is that you, dear?” Madelyn, the willowy mother of perfection floated through the formal dining room. Chesney stiffly stood in the entry, forcing herself not to fling the ziti and bolt. “You brought a dish? Oh, you didn’t have to bring anything.”

Madelyn brushed her pink cheek against her daughter’s, took away the casserole and smiled. Crisp, cool looking Madelyn Blake could pass as a countess. She offered that royal attitude that often left Chesney wondering if she should kiss her mother’s hand or something, being such an underling in her presence. Again, Chesney wished for the energy to make it through this family get-together without sprinting off to the bathroom to sob or vomit or both.

“You look lovely,” Madelyn said. “Your hair is very becoming when you wear it long. It makes you look so young.”

Oh, my gosh! My hair has not been above my frigging shoulder blades since eighth grade. Natural curl turns it into a puffy Brillo pad. So if it is short, my hair looks exactly like a woman’s very neglected bush. Come on, Mom. Don’t you know anything about me?

Chesney said nothing except thank you and filed away yet another reminder that Madelyn Blake might not be successful in picking her daughter out of a line-up. She didn’t seem to actually see Chesney at all for who she really was.

I’ll bet she doesn’t remember my dress size or my favorite color. She has never bothered to ask any of those questions. Ever. I’m invisible unless I am once again causing my parents some kind of morbid embarrassment.

“Your sister is in the kitchen, feeding the baby,” Madelyn said. Just mentioning her only grandchild brought a blush of pride to Madelyn’s chiseled cheeks. That grandmotherly glow temporarily blinded Chesney as she slipped around the edge of the sofa. Her fingers lingered on the leather, wishing something in the room could be soothing. But it was again that dental office experience.

“Your father and Cooper are in the study, smoking those nasty cigars,” Madelyn said with a laugh. “I was slicing tomatoes for the salad when I heard you arrive. And the bread is baking.”

Here it comes, Chesney thought as she followed her mother toward the kitchen.

Any minute now. When I’m least expecting it. Or after I’ve been expecting it for more than an hour and I’m trying to trick myself into thinking it won’t happen. Any minute….

She walked a few steps behind her mother, into the sunny kitchen where the cobalt blue and stark white color scheme, with pops of lemon yellow, carried on that crisp, cool look of her mother. Charlotte, looking pink and motherly, glanced up from her perch by the window. She smiled their mother’s smile. Her hair was the same blonde as their mother’s lovely hair. In fact it fell to her shoulders in perfect, straight strands.

Chesney allowed her eyes to meet her sister’s gaze and she was immediately filled with envy. That twinge was accompanied by an odd ache like the one Chesney experienced in elementary school when other girls left her out of recess games. Definitely, she was the outsider here. Between the two tall, perfect, skinny blonde women, Chesney was the family dwarf, the family misfit with the ridiculous hair. She felt the need to drum up an old fantasy. That she would one day learn she was adopted and that her real family would search for her and love her quirks, such as the hatred of coffee and wine. They would embrace her fuzzy hair because they too had fuzzy hair. There would be a tearful group hug and they would promise to be extra loving when she blundered.

Charlotte cocked her head to the side and said it. “Hello, Chez. Where’s Jack?”

Damn it.

Chesney scanned the kitchen, expecting to see her perfect sister’s words bounce around on the counter tops like ping pong balls. She braced herself, waiting for Charlotte to grab the kitchen light, shine it on her face and begin the interrogation. Where was Jack? How much money does he make? Was it true that he owns both a Jag and a Lexus? Why didn’t Jack drive the Range Rover anymore? What about the property Jack bought in Costa Rica? When could the family plan to stay there? How much did the engagement ring cost?

“Jack couldn’t be here today,” Chesney said quickly.

It wasn’t exactly a lie. Jack really couldn’t be there or anywhere in Chesney’s company. She hated him. But she left out that fact. She averted her eyes from her sister’s puzzled gaze and turned her attention to Piper. Charlotte’s tow-headed gift to the family gurgled happily in the high chair next to Charlotte. She kicked her pudgy little legs and grabbed at a few Cheerios with pudgy hands curled into fists. Chesney smiled, noting that Piper was the only other family member with short legs like hers.

“Hello Sweet,” she cooed at the baby girl. Piper’s eyes were such a beautiful gray, exactly the color of Aunt Chesney’s eyes and grandmother Grace’s eyes. Fringed with long, soft lashes, and filled with wonder, the baby blinked up at Chesney. And for a moment, Chesney considered crying when she noticed that Piper’s nearly bald little head was covered with wispy blonde duck down. Piper might grow up to be petite like her aunt. But Chesney was brought to tears, so grateful that Piper’s hair would be like her mom’s and her grandma’s hair, not like the curly mess her aunt wrestled with every day of her life. In the back of her heart, Chesney realized that she was grieving already about the the fact that sweet little Piper wouldn’t belong on her team, either. Still, Chesney was a Blake without an island.

Piper will be on the pretty side of the Blake family portrait.

“My sweet grandbaby makes the biggest mess with one single cookie,” Madelyn said as she took a swipe at the Piper’s face with a soft towel.

“Isn’t she the most beautiful child in the world, Chesney?” Charlotte asked.

“Of course,” Chesney nodded. “She’s an angel, Charlotte.”

And she meant that. Piper was a stunning baby. Chesney ached to hold her, rock her, love her. But at the same time, that familiar twinge of guilt and failure rose in her throat. As the oldest daughter in the family, she was not married. And she wasn’t a mother. She definitely understood those unspoken messages and expectations. Well after today, she might not have a family at all. Then she wouldn’t worry anymore about all the ways she never measured up.

I have failed the family. Once again, it was Charlotte who saved the day. Charlotte who inherited our mother’s tall, willowy presence and straight, blonde hair. Charlotte, first with a storybook wedding, and now, the first once again, to use her perfect eggs to produce not just a grandchild, but an incredibly lovely one.

Standing in the midst of the two beauty queens, Chesney tried not to obsess about her petite frame, her flat chest and her unruly auburn curls. She had suffered through these self-esteem attacks since she was six years old, wearing her younger sister’s hand-me-downs, which always required hemming. She walked over to the counter and faked a great deal of nonchalance as she grabbed a carrot stick from the relish tray.

At that moment, Charlotte’s better half, Cooper, the man with the personality of cardboard, walked into the kitchen. He towered over the Blake women, barely clearing the kitchen light. Cooper was wearing a perfectly starched white shirt with the cuffs rolled up to expose an expensive watch. His slacks were perfectly creased. Every hair on his sandy brown head was perfectly groomed. He definitely belonged with Charlotte. And with Madelyn, too. They were all models.

Chesney fought the urge to accidentally on purpose dribble some veggie dip on Cooper’s perfection. That would really rock his world. He would leave immediately, hyperventilating about the trauma of a stained, monogrammed button-down.

“Dinner smells wonderful, Maddie,” Cooper said to his doting mother-in-law.

Then he offered a half grin in Chesney’s direction and shot a zing while her guard was down and her mouth was full of carrot stick with ranch dip.

“How are you, Chez?” Cooper asked, then added, “Hey, where’s Jack?”