“You have to grow up sometime. Don’t you want to have children?”
He shrugs. “Until Carla got pregnant, I’d never thought much about having children. It was just one of those things in the far-off future that I would worry about when the time comes. Maybe I’d be fine with not having children.”
She strokes his hand. “You’re nothing like your father, Rhett. You’re a better man than he ever was. And you’ll be a better father.”
Everett jerks his hand away and sits up straight in his chair. “Is that what you think? That I’m worried I’ll beat my wife and kids?”
“Isn’t it?”
Everett jumps to his feet, kicking his chair out of the way. “I need some air.”
Changing into running clothes, he heads out into the brisk morning. He takes off down the road at a sprint, running as fast as he can until he struggles to breathe. Until he realizes he’s running from the truth. He knows he has the alcoholic gene. What if he has the abusive gene? His father never hit his mother, never even raised his voice to her, until after Everett was born. His father hated him. Of that much he’s certain. What if something goes so wrong in his life and Everett lets it get the best of him? He’s lost control of his anger many times before. But only with guys. Never with a woman. Not until that day he was tempted to slap Naomi.
Even if a miracle happened and things worked out with Presley, would he want to have children with her? He can’t honestly answer that. Just as he’s not sure he can be a part of Carla’s baby’s life. It’s in the best interest of the child to keep it away from him.
When he finally returns home two hours later, Mary, dressed in jeans and a sweater, is standing in front of the fireplace looking at the urn. She doesn’t acknowledge Everett, and wanders from room to room for the rest of the day, lost in her thoughts.
They eat dinner in a companionable silence. He’s thrilled to see his mom devour two slices of the store-bought supreme pizza.
“How’re you feeling without the meds?” he asks.
“More pain but less nausea is the trade-off for giving up the narcotics. But I feel less depressed and more like myself.”
On Saturday, Mary surprises him by making his favorite Mexican dinner—beef enchiladas, homemade guacamole, and virgin margaritas. She’s not much of a drinker either. It’s hard to enjoy a cocktail when you live with an abusive alcoholic.
She still winces in pain sometime, but mostly, she’s moving around a lot better.
“What’s all this?” he asks when he sees the kitchen table set with placemats, linen napkins, and a small purple mum in the center.
“We’re celebrating your success.”
“That’s awfully sweet of you, Mom.” Everett kisses Mary’s cheek as he holds her chair out for her.
“I’ve been thinking about moving to Nashville with you,” Mary says, draping her napkin across her lap. “But I have some questions.”
“Fire away.” He forks off a bite of enchilada and stuffs it in his mouth.
“The timing is ideal. Our lease here is up at the end of December. But what would I do with all our stuff?”
“Haul it off to the dump.” Everett stops chewing and flashes her a mischievous grin. “Seriously, Mom, aside from the family photo albums, what do we own that’s worth keeping? We have a hodgepodge of furniture and knickknacks that you’ve picked up at yard sales and second-hand stores over the years. Other people’s junk.”
She smiles, covering her mouth to hide her missing tooth.
He points his fork at her. “The first thing we’ll do when we get to Nashville is take care of that tooth.”
“What about this?” She waves her cast at him. “Who will take this off when the time comes? My doctor is here.”
“That’s no big deal. We’ll find an orthopedist in Nashville.”
They eat for a minute in silence. “I would at least like to take my sewing machine and clothes.”
His mom has a closet full of classic, never-go-out-of-style clothes she’s created out of fine fabrics she saved her money to buy. Sadly, Everett has never seen her wear a single one of those outfits.
Everett’s face grows serious. “You can take whatever you want, Mom. If we need to hire movers, we will. However, I had in mind for the two of us to go on an adventure. We’ll sell your minivan. It’s probably worth about ten grand. And we’ll load whatever will fit in the back seat of my truck. We’ll donate everything else to Goodwill.”
"Have you spoken to Carla yet? You can’t leave Atlanta with that business unfinished.”
“I’m aware. I’m still trying to decide how to handle it.”
With a look of reproach, Mary says, “There should be no decision, son.”
Her reprimand stings, and they eat in silence for a few minutes.
Finally, he says, “We’re in no hurry to get to Nashville. If you want to make a detour to Charleston or New Orleans or Disney World in Orlando, we can.”
“Or to Hope Springs so you can see your girl,” she says with a wide smile, this time not bothering to hide the gaping hole in her mouth.
He loads up a chip with guacamole. “What girl?”
“The one who has stolen your heart,” she says. “Don’t bother denying it. I’m your mama. You can’t lie to me. You hide it well, but I’ve noticed a faraway look in your eyes.”
Everett takes a long drink of margarita, wishing it had tequila in it. His food goes cold while he tells his mom about Presley. About how her gray eyes twinkle when she laughs, and her hair is the color of sugar maple leaves in the fall. How she’s funny and smart and how he wants to be around her all the time.
“She sounds lovely,” Mary says in a soft voice. “What happened between you two?”
He explains about Carla showing up at the homecoming party and Naomi accusing him of stealing money from the inn.
“Son.” His mom reaches for his hand. “You’ve never known true happiness, and I want that for you. I’m the wrong person to offer advice on romance, but if you think she may be the one, don’t let Presley get away. As for Stella, you must clear your name with her as soon as possible. The last thing you want is an allegation hanging over your head as you start your new career. Such a thing could come back and bite you in the rear end.”
“Don’t worry, Mom. I have every intention of clearing my name. I just haven’t figured out how to do it yet.”
Everett takes his plate to the microwave and waits for it to reheat. When he returns to the table, he asks, “Have you ever known true happiness, Mom?”
“Every single minute I spend with you.”
This chokes him up, and he pauses a minute to steady his voice. “I mean with Dad. Did he ever make you happy?”
“For about a day when we first met.” She drags a chip through the guacamole, but she doesn’t eat it. “The truth is, we were happy for a long time. And I loved him with all my heart. That’s why I stayed with him all these years. I took my vows seriously when we married, for better or worse, in sickness and in health. And he was sick, Rhett. Not just the diabetes, but the alcoholism.”
“If you move with me to Nashville, I vow to help you find that happiness again.” He chucks her chin. “I want that for you.”
28
Presley
Presley spends most of her time at work with Lucy on Thursday and Friday. They compose the wine list for the official Thanksgiving feast Cecily is planning at Jameson’s and brainstorm ideas for the art show/wine dinner auction Presley has scheduled for the first weekend in December. Presley has plenty of opportunities to break the news to Lucy. But she doesn’t share Rita’s optimism that Lucy will be overjoyed to learn Presley is her biological daughter. And the now-familiar fear of rejection holds her back.
Her days are meaningful, packed with planning sessions for the upcoming holidays, but unbearable sorrow fills her nights. She misses Everett like crazy. She cries herself to sleep and wakes feeling drained. While she’s furious at him for lying to her, she’s also deva
stated by the hole he left in her life. Her apartment that had begun to feel like home now feels desolate. She envisions Everett everywhere. In her bed with his arm propped behind his head. Leaning against the kitchen counter, sipping on coffee. Sitting next to her in the open window. Eating pizza on Big Blue. Reminding herself that she doesn’t need his kind of problems does little to comfort her aching heart.
She works from home less than before and spends more time at the inn, which is now buzzing with activity. Jameson’s is booked every night and room reservations are on the rise. When Presley tells Stella about Emma, Stella says, “By all means, hire her! An intern is just what we need. We’ll pay her something, although it probably won’t be much. If things continue to go well, we’ll go on a hiring spree after the holidays. One of those positions will be a full-time assistant for you.”
Presley relishes the idea of having an assistant to help with the job’s more monotonous tasks.
When Stella meets with Mark and Marcia Porter on Wednesday, their fresh ideas, endless enthusiasm, and comprehension of the tourism industry win her over. She hires them on the spot, and on Friday, the Porters present an advertising campaign that blows their team away.
“If we work all weekend, we can begin rolling it out on Monday,” Mark says.
Marcia explains, “We’re planning a major overhaul of your website, but for now, a few carefully placed high-resolution images of the grounds and newly remodeled rooms will at least be an improvement over what you already have.”
Lucy, sitting next to Presley, whispers, “Do you think those two ever sleep?”
Cupping her hand over her mouth, Presley whispers back, “There’s no way they came up with that campaign in two days. I’ll bet they’ve been secretly working on it for weeks, hoping to win our account.”
Lucy laughs. “You know it.”
Early Saturday morning, Katherine and Presley leave in Katherine’s pickup truck for the Christmas tree farm. They have no shortage of things to talk about during the sixty-minute drive.
They’ve no sooner exited the city limits of Hope Springs when Katherine says, “I took your suggestion and scheduled an appointment with the fertility specialist. You were right. I can’t get in to see her until mid-January. But I feel so much more relaxed, just having the appointment on my calendar.”
Presley smiles over at Katherine. “Good for you! Now, cook your husband his favorite meal and put on some sexy lingerie. Stop worrying about conceiving and have a little fun.”
Katherine inhales a deep breath, letting it out slowly. “You know, I can’t remember the last time we had sex for enjoyment. I will do that very thing tonight.”
Presley chuckles. “I’m sure Dean will appreciate the attention.”
They drive on for a while in silence. When Presley thinks about how much she’d love to show Everett a night of romance, she reminds herself that he betrayed her.
Drew Terry, the owner of the Christmas tree farm, is waiting for them when they arrive. He’s a mountain of a man, about Presley’s age, tall and broad-shouldered with thick sandy hair. His wife, Susan, runs the gift shop that sells seasonal indoor plants like poinsettias, Christmas cactuses, and amaryllis, in addition to nature-themed fake trimmings.
Katherine and Presley spend hours picking out three trees for key spots at the inn. An enormous Fraser fir, tall and full, for the lounge. A beautifully shaped cedar for the solarium. And a short, fat spruce to accommodate the lower ceilings in the entry hall. Katherine negotiates a reasonable price for the fifty-plus wreaths Stella wants for the exterior windows on the first floor.
On the way back to Hope Springs, Katherine says, “I found a source for old-fashioned outdoor ribbon. The red velvet and gold metallic kind. I ordered miles of it. You don’t, by any chance, know how to make a bow?”
When Presley shakes her head, they say in unison, “YouTube.”
Katherine stomps on the gas pedal as she passes a tractor trailer. “Stella mentioned that there were boxes of Christmas decorations in one of the basement storage rooms, but I’ve been too busy to check them out.”
“I’ll do that,” Presley volunteers. “How soon can we decorate?”
“I’m sending my crew for the trees and wreaths next Friday. But Stella won’t let us decorate until after Thanksgiving. She says Thanksgiving deserves its moment in the limelight.”
Presley laughs. “I don’t disagree with that. If you need any help with Thanksgiving flowers, I’m your girl. I have plenty of extra time at the moment.”
“No word from Everett?”
“None. Stella hasn’t heard from him either.” Presley presses her palms against her temples. “Despite all the bad stuff I know about him, I can’t get this guy out of my head.”
“Only time cures the breakup blues, I’m sorry to say. But food definitely helps. Let’s get some lunch.” Without waiting for Presley’s response, Katherine pulls off the highway into a roadside diner parking lot. “This place comes highly recommended.”
Presley casts her a skeptical glance. “Seriously? What truck driver do you know who’s eaten here?”
“Not a truck driver. A Christmas tree farmer.”
Based on Drew’s suggestion, they order cheeseburger platters, which are phenomenal, and Presley eats every morsel on her plate.
They arrive at the inn around two. Not ready to face her lonely apartment, Presley retreats to the basement in search of Christmas decorations. She passes through the tasting room, careful not to disturb Lucy’s wine tasting and continues on to the sizeable storage room at the end of the dark hallway.
The storage room is filled with rolling coatracks and castoff furniture. Boxes marked Christmas Ornaments are stacked in the back corner amongst a forest of fake Christmas trees. She randomly selects one of the larger boxes and rips the packing tape off the top. Inside, nestled in layers of yellowed tissue paper, are Christopher Radko tree ornaments. She carefully unwraps several, lining them up on the concrete basement floor. The ornaments are old, but they’ve aged well. Presley envisions them grouped together on the fat tree in the entryway, making an impressive display to welcome guests. In the other boxes, Presley discovers an extensive collection of Byers’ figurines, an entire Boehm nativity set, and a Swarovski star tree topper.
“Wow. Look at all this,” Lucy says when she enters the storage closet an hour later. She drops to her knees on the floor beside Presley. “These must be worth a fortune.” She picks up a nutcracker ornament and studies it. “This takes me back years. My mother had a collection of Radko ornaments. I wonder if they’re still in the attic at the house, or if Mom and Dad took them to Shady Grove with them.”
Here’s my opportunity. Presley sucks in a deep breath. Now or never. “I had dinner with your sister and nieces in that house on Wednesday night.”
“You did?” Lucy furrows her brow. “I didn’t realize you knew Rita.”
Presley never mentioned meeting Rita for fear Lucy would ask questions she wasn’t prepared to answer.
“We met briefly at the homecoming party. Emma invited me to dinner to interrogate me about a career in event planning.”
Lucy laughs. “That sounds like Emma. She’s a resourceful one.”
“That’s exactly the word I used to describe Emma when I asked Stella to hire her as an intern.”
“What did Stella say?”
“She was thrilled. Emma is all set to work with me over her Christmas break.”
“Emma is hardworking and creative,” Lucy says. “She’ll make an excellent intern.”
Presley stares down at the angel ornament in her hands. She’s afraid to see Lucy’s reaction when she drops the bomb. “I need to tell you something, Lucy. I have reason to believe I’m your biological daughter, the child you gave up for adoption.”
The ornament Lucy is holding slips from her hands and crashes to the floor in a million pieces. “Why would you say something like that? I told you my story in confidence, and now you’re making up lies.” She s
crambles to her feet and flees the storage room.
Presley runs after her. “Lucy, please! At least give me a chance to explain.” When they reach the wine shop, Presley corners Lucy behind the checkout counter. “I was adopted as a baby. I came to Hope Springs in search of my birth mother. I had reason to believe she—”
Lucy screams. “What do you want from me? If it’s money, I don’t have any.”
“I don’t know what I want, honestly, but it’s not money. I inherited plenty from my . . . from Renee. I guess maybe I’m looking for a certain kind of closure.”
“Well, I can’t give it to you.” Lucy comes from behind the counter, and with surprising force, she shoves Presley out of the way. By the time Presley catches her balance and exits the shop, Lucy is on the elevator and the doors are closing.
Presley considers taking the stairs to the main floor, but she decides not to go after her. This is not at all what she’d expected. Not what she’d hoped for. Lucy completely shut her down without even hearing her side of the story.
With tears blurring her vision, she returns to the storage closet and repacks the ornaments in the boxes. She’s stopped crying and has somewhat pulled herself together by the time she finishes the task an hour later. She’s finally ready to go home and is waiting for the elevator by the wine shop when she hears the muffled sound of crying. Looking around, she spots Jazz crouched down in the far corner of the cellar.
Hurrying over, she kneels down beside the child. “What’s wrong, sweetheart?”
Jazz sobs, “I ran away from home. Stella’s not in her cottage. Can you find her for me?”
“Of course.” Presley sits down on the floor, pulling Jazz onto her lap as she removes her phone from her purse. The Wi-Fi reception can sometimes be spotty in the cellar, but the call goes through on the first try.
Stella answers on the third ring, sounding groggy as though just waking from a nap. “What’s up, Presley?”
“I’m in the wine cellar at the inn. Jazz is here looking for you. She says she ran away from home.”
Show Me the Way Page 19
