“Late last night.”
His texts had been brief and harried and written between lectures and often late at night.
“I would have phoned…”
Stretching my arm across the table, I took hold of his hand. “It’s all right, I understand.”
“I’m glad. I thought about you. Missed you.”
His words pleased me. “I thought about you, too.”
His phone hummed, indicating he had a text. He glanced down, read the message, and frowned.
“Is everything okay? You look upset.” My question hung in the air like an overinflated balloon, as if he were debating how best to answer.
“It’s nothing,” he said. “My daughter is asking me to buy her a new car, which is ridiculous, seeing that she has a perfectly good one now.”
“Kids,” I said, grateful it wasn’t anything as traumatic as another death. “Did I mention Allie got a tattoo a while back?”
“A tattoo of what?”
“An arrow. She claims she’s headed in a new direction, whatever that means.”
Rowan grinned, something he didn’t do nearly as often as he should. A simple upward movement of his mouth worked wonders with his appearance. I’d always viewed his features as sharp, angular. Everything about him softened when he smiled. His eyes brightened, and there was a vulnerability, an openness, in him that I’d viewed at rare times.
Reaching for my hand, he squeezed my fingers. “How about a play? Come from Away is playing at the Fifth Avenue Theater. I understand it’s a marvelous production. Could I interest you in an evening at the theater?”
“I’d like that.”
Rowan quickly checked online for tickets, then we agreed to the day and time. “I’ll look forward to this Saturday.”
“Me, too.”
My phone dinged, indicating a text message. It was from Allie.
I’m bringing Wyatt over to the house. Thought u should know, seeing how you freaked out the last time I brought a friend home.
I didn’t freak out.
Whatever.
I wasn’t going to argue, especially over the phone with text messages.
Thanks for giving me a heads-up.
Later
Rowan and I enjoyed our break. It was hard to return to work, and I knew it was for him, too.
* * *
—
The lights were on at the house when I arrived home, which meant Allie was still there. As soon as I opened the garage door and parked the car, Allie appeared in the doorway to the house, her arms akimbo. She glared at me with narrowed, intense eyes. Her face was full of accusation.
“Hello to you, too,” I said as I climbed out of the car. The look she wore was familiar.
She moved aside when I approached the doorway. Stacks of clean laundry were neatly folded atop the dryer. The clothes didn’t belong to my daughter. They were men’s jeans and shirts. It didn’t take long to put two and two together.
“You’re doing Wyatt’s laundry?”
“Yes. He gives me rides. It’s the least I can do.”
I set my purse down. “Is something wrong?” I said, trying to quickly address whatever was bothering her, rather than let it brew.
“Yes. I’m upset,” she said, raising her voice a half-octave. “I gave Wyatt a tour of the house.”
This was said as if I should be keenly aware of some outrageous deed on my part, although I couldn’t imagine what it was that had produced such ire.
“And?”
“And, I went into my room,” she said, her outrage growing with every word. “MY. ROOM,” she repeated, enunciating each word slowly and harshly.
“And the problem is?”
“Mom!” she cried, tears cresting in her eyes, ready to fall down her cheeks. “Your clothes are in my closet.”
So that’s what this was all about. “Allie, my summer clothes are in your closet.”
“But that’s my room.”
“I know, but you aren’t using your room right now, and your closet was practically empty.” Allie had carted nearly everything she owned to her dorm room. My closet had been bursting with four full seasons of clothes. It had made perfect sense to me to use that empty space in her closet, so I could store my spring and summer outfits away from the fall and winter clothes I was currently wearing.
Allie was having none of it. “You can’t put your things there. That’s an invasion of my privacy.”
Now didn’t seem to be the time to reason with her. “In other words,” I said, remaining calm, “you want me to move whatever is mine back to my room.”
“Yes,” she cried, as if that was understood.
“Even though you’re not living at home and will be in Japan for six months starting with the spring quarter?”
“Yes.” The girl had a look that would cut through rock. “Don’t you see how wrong this is?”
Frankly, I didn’t. However, arguing wasn’t going to help. Seeing how upset this made her, I decided to wait until she was in a calmer frame of mind and readdress the subject then. Okay, I’d admit I should have discussed using part of Allie’s closet for my things. In retrospect, I probably should have stored my clothes in Paul’s room, not Allie’s.
“Furthermore”—she wasn’t finished yet—“does Paul know what you’ve done to his room?”
It’d been a year since Paul had last lived at home for any extended period. This last summer he’d been home for a grand total of five days. He’d worked forty-plus hours a week at the restaurant. Almost everything remained exactly as he’d left it. His rock-band posters remained on the walls. His sports trophies were on the shelf, along with a variety of other awards. My son didn’t need his bedroom to become a memorial.
“Do you mean the easel and painting I’m working on in there?” I hadn’t signed up for the art classes the way I’d wanted to. Growing impatient, I’d decided to paint and was working on a field of wildflowers.
“Exactly. How could you, Mom? It’s…It’s like you don’t want Paul or me in your life any longer.”
“Don’t be ridiculous.”
“I’m not. That’s just the way I feel.”
Allie was feeling rejected and insecure.
“This is your home and will be for as long as I live here,” I assured her. “And if I move, then that house will be yours, too. You will always be welcome, no matter where I live.”
Allie sniffled.
“And I’ll always be your mom. Nothing will ever change that.”
“You got new dishes and towels, and you’re using our rooms. It’s a lot to take in, you know?”
“I know,” I said softly, and held my arms open for a hug. My daughter came to me and we hugged each other close.
A horn sounded from the driveway.
“That’s Wyatt,” she said, and broke away from me. “He went to get us a pizza. I’ve got to go.”
“Okay,” I said, releasing her. I watched as she loaded up the clean clothes into a laundry basket and headed out the door to Wyatt’s car.
The house was still and silent after she left. After twelve hours on my feet and the emotional confrontation with Allie, I needed nothing more than time to myself. Returning to my room, I ran the bath water and while I waited for the tub to fill, I curled up on the padded bench that looked out over Puget Sound. After taking in several deep breaths, I let the view calm me.
My window on the bay.
CHAPTER 24
Maureen
I checked the address that Logan had given me on my car’s navigation. He’d invited me to dinner at his house in West Seattle, and now, as I pulled into his neighborhood, I had a major attack of butterflies. My hands went to my stomach, hoping to hold my nerves at bay. This invitation was important. I hoped it would give me a window into his world, a
s I knew only a little about him. He recently mentioned that he had a son and daughter, both living in this area with their families.
The plans were all in place for us to attend Swan Lake, performed by the New York City Ballet. I couldn’t wait. I hadn’t told Logan exactly what I’d had in mind, only that it was a surprise. All he knew was that he had to wear business casual. I knew he was apprehensive, but I wasn’t overly worried. I’d been in unfamiliar territory myself at the football game, and I did just fine.
Logan’s home looked like it’d been built in the early 1960s. It had two dormers jutting out from the roofline, and steps led up to the front porch between two brick columns. The lawn was carefully maintained and there were purple cabbage plants in planters decorating either side of the small porch. That he’d kept the house and yard up so well showed pride of ownership.
I’d never had a man cook me dinner, and the invitation had made me anxious, which was why I’d needed some bolstering from Jenna and Tori before the date. They’d enthusiastically encouraged me to go. Unsure of the protocol, I brought a bouquet of autumn flowers with me.
Straightening myself, I squared my shoulders and walked up the concrete walkway to the house.
After I rang the doorbell, I stepped back and waited. When the door opened, a young woman answered with an apron tied around her waist. I blinked, afraid I’d arrived at a stranger’s house.
Before I could apologize, the woman recognized my confusion and broke into a huge smile. “You must be Maureen.”
Too stunned to speak, I nodded. I was expecting Logan to answer, not someone I didn’t know.
“I’m Misty.” She held open the screen door for me. “Dad’s on the back patio getting your steaks ready to grill. He asked me to watch for you and let him know when you arrived. Come inside. This is my chance to drill you with questions before I let Dad know you’re here.”
The comment would have alarmed me if not for her huge welcoming smile. He hadn’t said anything about his daughter joining us. Coming into the house, I was greeted by a warm fire in the brick fireplace. The mantel had framed photographs spread across the top of it.
“You don’t say much, do you?” Misty cheerfully noted.
“Sorry.” I didn’t know what to say, thrusting out the bouquet of yellow and brown chrysanthemums tied with an orange ribbon to Misty. The arrangement looked manly enough for Logan to enjoy them.
“Dad has talked about you so often that I feel like I already know you. But I actually don’t, so this is the perfect time to ask you a few questions.” She smiled again. “I hope you don’t mind.”
“I’m glad to meet you, Misty…and sure, ask away.” I silently wondered what it was that I was agreeing to.
“My real name is Melissa, but I got tagged with Misty as a kid.”
“I go by Maureen, but your dad sometimes calls me Marian.” It’d irritated me in the beginning, but not so much now that I was familiar with his sense of humor, and it was with fondness that he used it these days.
I slipped off my coat, which she took and hung in the hall closet. I followed Misty into the kitchen and watched while she put the flowers in a vase. “Dad was nervous about this dinner and asked me to help. I hope you like brussels sprouts. I roasted some of those to go along with the steak and baked potatoes Dad’s preparing.”
“I do like them. You didn’t need to go to all that trouble.”
“It wasn’t any trouble. Besides, I was anxious to meet you.” She opened the oven to check the potatoes. “They’re perfect,” she said, and turned it off.
Looking out the kitchen window, I saw Logan diligently standing in front of the barbecue.
“Come sit down. Dad will be in any minute now.”
We parked ourselves in the living room on the chairs next to the fireplace. I could see the family resemblance. Misty had the same tilt of her mouth as her dad had. Over the last weekend I’d paid a lot of attention to Logan’s lips. I enjoyed his kisses.
“I have a brother, Matt. We’re both married, two kids each. We all live within blocks of each other. You’re the first woman Dad has invited to the house since my mother left him. Just so you know, he’s never mentioned any other woman to us besides you. I do have one big question, though.”
I took a big gulp in anticipation of the question but nodded, indicating she should ask away.
“Do you mind telling me what happened that Friday night a few weeks back? He was pretty upset and said he’d made a big mistake with you.”
I didn’t want to rehash that night at the sports bar. “It’s a long story to squeeze into a few short minutes.”
“I guess that means you’d rather not discuss it?”
“You’d mentioned we only have a short while before your dad finishes with the steaks.”
“Right.” Misty tilted her head to one side. “You’re not at all like what I imagined.”
I suspected I might be a disappointment to her. “How did your dad describe me?” It might not have been a good idea to ask, but I couldn’t help being curious.
“He didn’t tell me much about your looks. Dad’s not hung up on appearances. You’re petite, which surprises me. And pretty. He likes you, and that’s saying something when it comes to my dad. He’s been alone for a long time now. My brother and I were convinced that he intended to stay that way. Do you mind sharing with me how you met my dad?”
“At the library. I’m a librarian.” That was an easy question to answer.
“Dad didn’t tell me that.”
I would have assumed Logan would have explained at least that much to his daughter. “He came in on his lunch break one Monday and asked me to suggest a good book. That’s how we began talking. In the beginning, he came in once a week, almost always on a Monday, and he’d have a few comments about what he’d read from the book I’d recommended. After a while, he began to show up more frequently throughout the week, and then he asked me out and I…went.”
“Cool,” she said. “Dad has always been a reader.”
“I am, too.”
“That makes sense seeing that you’re a librarian. He told me you were levelheaded and that you had strong feelings about certain subjects.”
That was an accurate description of me. I heard the sliding door off the kitchen open.
“Misty?” Logan called.
“In here.”
Logan appeared and paused when he saw me. A big smile lit up his eyes, making them sparkle. “Hey.” He turned his attention to his daughter. “You should have let me know Maureen was here.”
“No way,” Misty said cheerfully. “And miss the opportunity to interrogate her?”
An instant look of concern marred his face. “Thanks for the help,” he told his daughter. “I’ll take it from here.”
Misty shared a knowing smile with me. “I believe I’ve been told that my company is no longer needed, and not in the friendliest of terms,” she said in a stage whisper. She was grinning, and I could see she hadn’t taken offense. She disappeared into the other room and returned with her coat.
“Have fun, you two. Great getting to know you, Maureen. Here’s my number in case you ever want to chat. I’ll connect with you later, Dad.”
“Glad we had a chance to meet, Misty.”
“Bye, sweetheart.” Logan walked her to the front door and kissed her cheek before she left, thanking her for her help.
Once the door was closed, he turned to me. “It’s good to see you. I apologize if Misty made you uncomfortable.”
“Really, it’s fine. She loves you and is curious about me. That’s only natural.”
And it was fine. I liked meeting one of his children, and I’d been enjoying getting to know him better. This past Sunday, Logan had come to the house to watch the Seahawks away game. I’d popped popcorn, set out a bowl of nuts, and made a plate of cheese, cr
ackers, and sliced meats, as well as a veggie tray. He’d brought beer. We’d sat close together on my sofa and he’d looped his arm around my shoulders, resting his ankles on my coffee table as we watched the game together. Unfortunately, the Seahawks had lost. I discovered that Logan was a “Monday-morning quarterback,” a term I hadn’t heard before but which he explained to me. He analyzed the game, the plays, and the mistakes, disgruntled by their performance and the loss.
“What did my daughter have to say?”
“Not much.”
He laughed. “I know my daughter. Did she grill you with questions?”
“A few. She said I was the first woman you’d invited to the house since your divorce. I took it as a compliment. I take it as one now.”
“Did she say anything else that might come back and bite me?”
“No…only that she and your son had assumed you’d given up on dating.”
“I had,” he said, “until I met you.” He disappeared into the kitchen, as if this was more than he’d wanted to admit.
I followed behind him. The table was set, something I hadn’t noticed earlier. Two grilled steaks were sitting on a platter in the middle. He opened the oven and, using a pot holder, brought out the aluminum foil–wrapped baked potatoes and the brussels sprouts.
“Anything I can do?”
“There’s a salad in the refrigerator. Dressing is in the door.”
I opened the fridge and brought out the salad bowl and the dressing and set those on the table beside the steaks. Once everything was out, we sat down.
On an earlier phone call, Logan had asked me how I liked my steak. It was cooked to perfection. “This is delicious,” I assured him after my first bite. There was more food here than I could possibly eat. After all the trouble Logan had gone to to make this meal special, I’d do my best to enjoy as much as my stomach could handle.
“I can grill a great steak and a mean rack of ribs, but this is a forewarning: That’s the extent of my repertoire.”
Window on the Bay Page 19
