Rose Harbor in Bloom (11 page)

She ignored the question.

“He’s irresponsible with money?”

Rather than listen to his litany of questions, she walked away.

“I know. He has a roving eye.”

“Would you stop?” she demanded.

“Ah, so that’s it.”

No way was she letting Oliver know he’d hit the bull’s-eye.

At that precise moment, as if Lenny was aware he was the main topic of conversation, her cell rang. Glancing at the caller ID, she hit the respond button.

“Don’t call me again,” she all but shouted, and then immediately ended the call.

The door to her grandparents’ room opened, and Julie stepped out. “Who was that, dear?”

“No one important,” Annie said, forcing a smile.

“Did I mention Betty and Vern are already in town?” Kent called from their room.

Annie knew the couple were good friends of her grandparents’. Vern had been in the navy at the same time as Annie’s grandfather,
and the couple had stood up as best man and maid of honor for Kent and Julie.

“Unfortunately, they aren’t staying at the inn. Betty has a sister in town, and they decided to spend time with Gerty,” her grandmother explained. “I do wish they’d booked the inn. It’s in such a lovely location. Kent and I are going out to dinner with them this evening. You two won’t mind, will you?”

Oliver answered before Annie had a chance: “Not at all. It would be my pleasure to take Annie to dinner.”

“Ah … that’s not necessary,” she scrambled to assure her grandmother. “I’ve got a hundred things to do.”

“I’ll help,” Oliver offered.

Annie fought down the desire to stomp on his foot. “Thank you, but I have everything under control.”

“Annie, sweetheart, don’t ever turn down a helping hand,” her grandmother advised, giving Annie’s waist a gentle squeeze. “Now, where’s your grandfather? I swear that man is always lagging behind everyone else.”

“I’m coming, I’m coming,” Kent said, as he stepped into the hallway. He closed the door to their room and then twisted the knob several times to be sure it was locked. “Now, what is everyone in the mood to eat? I say we go out for Mexican.”

“Kent,” Julie said with a groan. “You know how Mexican food gives me heartburn; besides, all that cheese isn’t good for your heart.”

A frown darkened her grandfather’s face. “I haven’t had cheese in weeks. If I want to splurge and have cheese, then I will. You’re not in charge of my diet, I am, and I want Mexican.”

“We can order a chicken salad, Grandma,” Annie suggested.

“Oh, all right. I don’t know why it is everyone feels they have to tiptoe around your grandfather.”

Her grandparents walked ahead of them, arguing over something
new as they all made their way outside to where Oliver had parked the car.

“Were they like this all the way from Portland?” Annie asked Oliver, shaken by their bickering.

“I’m afraid so. They’ve been snapping at each other from the moment we left.”

“Oh, dear.”

“How about a truce, Annie?” Oliver asked. “Between you and me. If we can be civil to each other, maybe they’ll follow our example.”

Annie knew better than to trust him. But then he looked down at her with those deep brown eyes and she almost gave in. “We’ll see.”

He shrugged. “Okay, have it your way.”

While Annie joined her grandparents, Oliver went back to get a recommendation for a Mexican restaurant from Jo Marie. He returned in quick order and slid into the driver’s seat next to Annie’s grandfather. Annie and her grandmother sat in the backseat.

“Jo Marie said there’s a great place not far from here called the Taco Shack,” Oliver said as he started the car engine.

Annie’s grandmother muttered something under her breath and grimaced.

Annie patted Julie’s hand. “I’m sure it will be all right.”

Julie looked out the side window and whispered, “I think it’s wrong the way everyone caters to your grandfather. It’s wrong, I tell you.”

“I heard that,” Kent growled. “No one is catering to me, especially you.”

“Don’t you remember …”

“Julie has the memory of an elephant,” Kent said, leaning toward Oliver. “She brings up stuff from forty years ago as if it happened yesterday.”

“I think we’re going to have lovely weather for the vow renewal,” Annie piped in before the two broke out into a full-blown argument.

“Who said anything about renewing our vows?” her grandfather asked, twisting around to look at Annie. “At the rate your grandmother and I are going, this marriage won’t last another week.”

“You’ve been threatening to leave me for fifty years. One would think you’d have done it before now.”

“Children, children,” Oliver said, chuckling softly.

“Oh, look at that cute restaurant,” Julie said, pointing to a pink Victorian-style building as they drove past.

“That’s the tearoom I mentioned when I first started looking for someplace to hold the reception,” Annie said. “Unfortunately, the restaurant isn’t set up for receptions.”

“It looks just perfect,” her grandmother mused aloud. “I bet they serve incredible lunches.”

“You couldn’t get me within ten feet of that place,” Kent muttered. “You won’t see me in a tearoom with my pinkie in the air, sipping tea.”

“I wouldn’t want to go there with you anyway.”

“Ah, here we are,” Oliver said, cutting off their argument. He made a right-hand turn into the restaurant parking lot. “This looks to be every bit as good as Jo Marie promised.” He parked directly in front of the Taco Shack.

After listening to her grandparents bicker for the entire ride, Annie’s stomach was tied into one giant knot. All her memories of her beloved grandma and grandpa had been those of a loving couple. Not once could she recall a cross word between them. Here they were about to celebrate fifty years of marriage and it was almost as if they couldn’t stand the sight of each other.

When did this happen? Annie didn’t have a clue how she was
going to pull off this event with them constantly picking at each other. Hopefully it was nerves and everything would go back to normal in short order.

As if he was a true gentleman, Oliver opened the back passenger door and helped her grandmother out. Kent didn’t wait and was already halfway across the parking lot. Julie hurried to catch up with him.

“Everything will work itself out,” Oliver assured her.

“How can you say that?” Annie whispered, ready to weep. “This is a disaster.”

“It’s not so bad,” he said, discounting her fears. “They’re just a little stressed out with all this fuss over their anniversary.”

“Are you saying I shouldn’t have gone to the trouble to plan this party?” she flared. “Is that what you’re telling me?”

“I’m saying don’t worry; it’s going to turn out just fine.”

Annie sighed, hoping he was right. She wiped a hand across her face. “Sorry, I guess I’m a little stressed out myself.”

“I could help you relax,” Oliver offered, and pressed his hand to the small of her back.

“Yeah, right.”

“I could always kiss you … again.”

“You don’t want to go there, Oliver Sutton,” Annie murmured, and slapped his hand aside.

“Ah, but I enjoyed it so much the first time.”

At the sound of George’s voice coming over her cell phone, Mary’s knees shook so badly that she needed to find a place to sit down. Thankfully, the Adirondack chair on the veranda was close by. She sank into the wooden seat while pressing the cell phone hard against her ear.

“Where are you?” George asked with a sense of urgency as though she were in desperate need of help.

“Washington.”

“State?”

“Yes.” Her own voice sounded breathless, as if she’d raced up several flights of stairs.

“Are you all right?” His voice became less frantic. “Do you need anything?”

To her horror, tears flooded her eyes and she found it impossible to speak.

“Mary? Talk to me.”

“I … I have can … cer.” She hiccupped the words.

Her announcement was followed by a long pause, as though he was as shocked by the diagnosis as she’d been when she first heard the word. He recovered quickly, though. “When can I see you?”

By the sheer force of her will, Mary managed to gain control of her emotions. She grabbed a tissue from inside her purse and held it to her nose. When next she spoke her voice was steady and strong. “Seeing me isn’t such a good idea.”

“I beg to differ.”

George, sweet George, always so polite and caring. How he ever convinced himself he was in love with her was beyond Mary’s comprehension.

“I need to see you,” he said.

Clearly the fact that she had cancer had hit him hard. Blurting it out like that had been a mistake. As big a mistake as contacting his office had been.

Mary struggled within herself.

“Tell me where you are,” he insisted, “and I’ll come right away.”

Mary refused to let him even consider leaving. “You’re supposed to be in court,” she reminded him.

“Screw that.”

“George, no.”

“Then promise me you’ll let me see you.”

Squeezing her eyes shut, Mary battled down the nearly overwhelming desire to agree, but she couldn’t. Even now she didn’t understand what craziness had taken hold of her to seek him out. In any other circumstances she would never have given in to this weakness.

The threat of her own mortality made her weak in areas where
she’d always been strong. Nineteen years ago she’d walked away from George. She’d never intended to see or talk to him again and here she was craving his touch, craving his gentleness and caring. It would make everything worthwhile if she could see him again. One last time.

“Mary, did you hear me?”

“Yes,” she whispered.

He hesitated, and then softly, ever so softly, he added, “Please.”

A sob rose in her throat and escaped, sounding like the cry of a small injured animal.

“Mary, are you crying?”

Even at the very end of their affair, she hadn’t shed a tear, and now here she was blubbering like a newborn, swallowing back tears.

George spoke again. “I can take anything but the sound of your tears.”

“I’m okay, I’m okay,” she insisted. Dealing with weakness in any form was foreign to her. Drawing in deep breaths, she struggled for composure for several seconds. Straightening, she squared her shoulders. “I’m fairly certain your wife wouldn’t take kindly to the two of us meeting, and—”

“I’m divorced.” George said, cutting her off.

The news rocked Mary. Divorced? “When?”

“Years ago now. What about you?”

For the first time since she’d answered her cell, Mary relaxed. “I never married.”

“Never?”

If she had been interested in sharing her life with anyone, it would have been George.

“I never loved Kathleen completely,” he elaborated. “She knew my heart belonged to you going into the marriage.”

Mary didn’t want to hear this, and at the same time she hungered for every word.

“For a while it didn’t matter,” George went on to say. “We were content with each other, but then, after a few years, we weren’t. I wasn’t surprised when she asked for a divorce.”

“Children?” The word nearly stuck in her throat.

“No.”

“If anyone deserved to be a father, it was you.”

The line went quiet as he digested her words.

“I’m so sorry,” she whispered. She’d robbed him of that opportunity along with everything else.

It went without saying that he knew what she was telling him.

“I know,” he whispered back.

They both took a moment to reflect on the past. Mary wasn’t willing to break the silence. From the first there’d been a strong connection between them. In the beginning it had manifested itself physically, but this cord, this tie, this link between them, was also spiritual and by far stronger than anything she’d experienced with any other person, even family. Just hearing his voice, it was as if nearly twenty years had evaporated into thin air. Whoosh, and the years disappeared. It felt as if they had never been apart.

“How long have you had cancer?” he asked, his words low, concerned, and fearful.

“I was diagnosed several months ago.”

“Where?” was his next question.

She hesitated and then decided he might as well know the worst of it. “My breasts. I had a double mastectomy.”

He didn’t comment about her breasts being gone.

Mary had anguished over the decision when really there had been only one sensible choice: her life. In retrospect it should have been an easy decision. It hadn’t been. It felt as if she’d been stripped of her femininity.

“What stage?” This was asked with a hitch in his breath, as if he was afraid to ask but yet had to know.

“Four.”

“The prognosis?”

“Undecided.” The one word explained everything, she supposed.

“So that’s why you’re here. You’ve come because you want to make your peace with me?”

Had she? Earlier, standing at the waterfront, watching the water lap against the shore, Mary had admitted she’d flown across the country because of George. If she were about to meet her Maker, then she intended to stand before God with the sure knowledge that she had done everything within her power to right her wrongs. She’d lied and misled George and had lived with that guilt all these years. At the time it had seemed the best thing to do under the circumstances. She couldn’t be the woman he wanted, the wife or mother he needed her to be. Their bicoastal relationship was doomed from the beginning; if he hadn’t recognized it, she did. Because she was the stronger of the two, she’d ended it, and in the process, among everything else, she’d badly hurt George.

“Yes, I suppose I did come to make peace,” she admitted softly.

“Then you’ll agree to see me.” He wasn’t about to let up on the subject, she realized.

“Oh, George, is that really necessary?” She wanted to be with him again so badly, but she didn’t want him to see her like this.

Her hand automatically went to her head.

Her bald head.

All that remained of her once-thick, dark hair was stubble. She did what she could to disguise it with a silk scarf, but she wasn’t fooling anyone. Wigs were a disaster on her. She’d given up on them after the first week.