“Would you have . . . waited until things were really bad, and then let me know? How would that have played out? Me, trying to get acquainted with my nephew while you were in the battle of your life.” Pity for her mother wasn’t strong enough to dampen the anger flaring inside her. “Emerson is not handling this well, in case you haven’t noticed. He’s pretending you’ll bounce right back. I don’t want him devastated when we’re forced to move your bedroom downstairs and he can no longer avoid the realities. We need to guide him toward difficult realities now. We need to prepare him.”
“You’re right, of course. He’s pretending I’m fine.”
“This must be a first. You’re agreeing with me?”
Rosalind pursed her lips.
Undeterred, Darcy forged ahead. “Mother, there is another option.”
A muddy silence fell between them. Darcy knew not to break it.
At length, her mother said, “Please don’t start. I’m comfy here on the couch. If you go into another speech about a heart transplant, I’ll be forced to leave the room.” She patted Darcy’s hand. The rare display of affection was stunning. “Your sister would be proud of the way you’ve put yourself wholeheartedly into Emerson’s life. You’re doing a fine job upholding the agreement.”
“You know about the agreement?”
“Elizabeth told me. Just a few days before she died. We were arguing about her mood swings. High, low, energetic, despondent—I was concerned about her instability affecting the baby. Then she announced that if anything ever happened to her, you would raise her baby. I don’t mind admitting I was furious. How could she pick you over me?”
“It wasn’t a contest, Mother. I’d just graduated from college. You were always wrapped up in another court case.”
The wrong thing to say. A muscle in Rosalind’s jaw twitched. Ceding the high ground wasn’t something she did easily.
“It doesn’t matter now,” she said. “You’ve proven yourself up to the task of raising your nephew.” With an air of resignation, she lifted her left hand. Grimacing, she slowly bent and then straightened her fingers. “The pain is maddening today. My fingers are on fire. I suppose this means the end of my dignity. Ruth says leather gloves will help.”
Darcy winced. No matter how much she argued with her mother, she didn’t relish seeing her in pain.
“Dr. Tanaka wants you to wear gloves?”
“Don’t ask if I’ll wear them outside of the house. I won’t. There are some humiliations I won’t condone.”
Pain in the extremities was an awful result of her mother’s disease. Anti-inflammatory drugs helped, but the pain would become severe in the coming months.
“Should I go out tonight, buy a pair?” Darcy asked.
“Don’t bother. I’ll have Gwynn pick them up.”
“Who’s Gwynn?”
“My new home health aide. I hired her this morning, after you and Emerson left for the craft fair.”
“What? I wasn’t even aware you were considering the idea.”
“I contacted a service last week. Gwynn’s first day is Saturday. I have her scheduled to come three days a week after that.” At Darcy’s surprise, Rosalind chuckled. “Why are you and Latrice convinced I ignore all your suggestions? We need another able body in the house. I can’t have you and my loyal housekeeper curtailing your lives. You’re afraid to leave me alone for ten seconds. As if I can’t manage.”
“We worry about you.”
“Worry less, and invest your energies in your own lives—and Emerson’s. Speaking of which, go to the block party on Saturday. You spend too much time cooped up in the house.”
“Why don’t we go together? We can watch Emerson play cornhole and wolf down too much junk food. Whenever you’re tired, we’ll leave.”
“No thank you. There are too many women in the Falls with whom I don’t associate.”
“Like Morgan Harbert?”
“Morgan doesn’t attend the block party. Children’s baseball games and hot dogs aren’t her thing.”
“Good to know.” At the craft show, Darcy had spotted the insurance agent. The goose egg on her brow was an angry red. “May I lend some advice? Don’t be so hard on everyone. You might make some friends.”
“Darcy, you amaze me. You believe my behavior is at the root of my unpopularity?”
“You’re saying it’s not?”
Rosalind tipped up her chin, a clear sign the discussion was over. Then she frowned at her daughter’s hands.
She tapped Darcy’s wrist. “Do the world a favor and visit a manicurist before Saturday.” A foolish move, and she winced. The pain didn’t stop her from adding, “Your nails are more ragged than a chain saw. If you refuse to use polish, can’t you at least file them?”
Wearily, Darcy rose. “I’ll check on dinner.”
Nella ducked in the nick of time. Tippi hurled a bag of dinner rolls into the shopping cart.
It was Wednesday, and her elderly mother had been in a lather since Monday. Gossip about Rosalind’s altercation with Morgan Harbert had reached the geriatric crowd, including Tippi and her friends.
At Monday’s poker game in Nella’s living room, gossip rang out at the table faster than the quarters tossed out to make bets. Who would the prickly judge assault next? With Rosalind now retired, would she use her abundant spare time to settle old scores? Given her legal connections, she could assault whomever she liked and never spend a day behind bars!
The theories were ridiculous, but Nella held her tongue as she ferried out pots of tea and gingersnaps for Tippi’s gambling pals. News of Rosalind’s life-threatening illness wasn’t yet part of the rumor mill. Michael had told Nella in confidence; she had no desire to share the terrible news.
Not that her decision mattered. Tippi’s friends were still in the dark about why Rosalind was now settling old scores—but Tippi knew the truth.
Beside the shopping cart, Tippi growled. “Do no harm. Isn’t that the main gist of the Hippocratic Oath?”
“Mama, I wish I’d never confided in you back then. If I’d known you’d still be bringing it up years later, I wouldn’t have.”
“Nonsense. I would’ve found out . . . about you, and the others. I have lots of friends too, you know.” Tippi reached for a loaf of bread, hurled it into the cart. “A woman scorned has a long memory, especially in a town the size of Chagrin Falls.”
“He’s been gone for eight years now. There’s nothing to gain by rehashing his exploits.”
“Tell it to Morgan Harbert. I’m sure it felt just like yesterday when she ran into Rosalind in the parking lot.”
“No, that was just bad luck,” Nella insisted, although from what she’d heard, the goose egg on Morgan’s brow was impressive.
“Wake up, Nella. Some hurts don’t heal without a good dose of sunshine. You think Rosalind won’t confront someone else? Just you wait. She’s no longer at the courthouse every waking minute. She’s got lots of time now to get some payback. When she does, the gossip will reach more ears.”
“You’re overreacting.”
Her mother waved off the remark. “If Darcy had never come home, none of this would matter. But she’s here now. Sooner or later, someone will speak out of turn when she’s within earshot. If Morgan hadn’t almost knocked herself out cold running from Rosalind, she might have blabbed right there in Dr. Tanaka’s parking lot. Imagine how much this will hurt Darcy if she learns the truth through the grapevine.”
“I know you want me to tell her. I can’t.”
Nella wouldn’t know where to begin. Broaching the subject promised to upend every notion Darcy held about her parents’ marriage. There was nothing to gain by correcting her misconceptions. Dr. Jack was gone, and Rosalind was dying. The betrayal that had eroded their marriage no longer mattered. It wasn’t a burden Darcy should carry.
Tippi said, “If you don’t have the stomach to discuss this with Darcy, then tell Michael. He’s a grown man. He’ll make sure no one says the wrong thing
if she’s nearby.”
“I can’t tell him either. He’ll never forgive me.”
Tippi latched her hands on the cart, began pushing. As the fury melted from her face, her gait slowed. In the bakery aisle, she eased the cart to a standstill. Brett Long, the new pharmacist at the drugstore, wheeled past. Faking cheer, Nella waved at his three-year-old daughter. The toddler was tucked in the cart’s seat with a teddy bear.
Nearing tears, she regarded her mother, studying her with the unconditional love that formed the bedrock of Nella’s life.
Tippi dug a tissue from the pocket of her dress. “Find the courage to tell your son. Michael won’t judge you.” She handed over the tissue to catch the tears pooling in Nella’s eyes.
“No, Mama.” Nella swabbed at her eyes. “I’m not burdening my son. I’ll deal with my sins privately.”
Tippi thumped her on the arm. “Sin? What sin?” She patted Nella’s cheek. “You’re human. You made a mistake . . . like all the other women who fell for that dishonorable man.”
Chapter 20
Dust spun through the air like planets in a lonely universe.
Wielding a broom, Darcy took an awkward swipe at the cobwebs hanging in silvery threads on the basement’s cinderblock. She’d checked all the storage rooms. The source of the dampness remained a frustrating mystery. If there was a crack in the foundation, she’d never find it without assistance.
“Darcy? Are you down here?”
The basement was a maze of forgotten boxes and musty rooms. “Hold on, Samson,” she called. She wended her way past the row of storage rooms. “I’ll come to you.”
In the main area of the neglected basement, naked light bulbs glared from the rafters. The wall beside the stairwell was packed waist-high with boxes, ancient steamer trunks, and wooden crates. She found Samson peering into a cardboard box.
“What is all this stuff?” he asked.
Withdrawing a musty textbook, he flipped through the pages. Puffs of dust exploded beneath his nose. He sneezed.
Darcy examined the cover. “It’s a medical textbook—my father’s. I doubt either of my parents ever threw anything away, including all their stuff from college.” She gestured at the cluster of steamer trunks and wooden crates. “You’re looking at Goodridge family history.”
“Your daddy inherited this place?”
“That’s right. If you’re ever game for a real treasure hunt, sift through my grandparents’ belongings. They were bigger pack rats than my parents. Some of my great-grandparents’ belongings are also down here, in the storage rooms. They built the house.”
“Your daddy’s whole family sure was rich.”
“The winning streak would’ve ended if my parents hadn’t married. My father was a talented doctor, but he didn’t have much sense about money. My mother handled everything, including their investments. When Elizabeth and I were kids, we weren’t allowed to bother her on Sunday nights. That’s when she took care of the bills and reviewed the week’s stock trades.” Dropping the subject, she led him up the stairwell. “Are you here to grab lunch? This is a first. I thought you were hooked on Nella’s Italian cuisine.”
“Most days, I am.” He looked around the empty kitchen. “Where is everyone?”
“My mother is having a good day. She took Emerson to the science museum. The new school year begins in three weeks. She’s been meaning to take him.”
“Your mama is driving? Darcy, why didn’t you take them? She was feeling poorly yesterday.”
Touched by his concern, she kissed his cheek. The easy affection they now shared brightened his expression.
“It’s all good. Latrice insisted on going. She’s driving.”
“Great. Then you’re not busy.”
“Not really.”
“Michael is taking me to check out a used truck. The contractor he’s building the kitchen cabinets for, Kyle Mandel? He’s got a Ford pickup he wants to sell. It’s old, but Michael promised to help me fix it up. He said he’ll teach me the basics of car maintenance. I won’t waste money on a mechanic.”
Excitement peppered the explanation. Samson’s first set of wheels—a milestone for any teenager.
“Will you come with us?” he asked. “I want your opinion before I make an offer.”
“I’d love to tag along.”
The heavyset contractor lived three blocks over from Latrice’s home in the Falls. His tidy ranch house sat well back from the street. Children’s outdoor gear covered a long, rectangular lawn in need of a mowing. At the top of the driveway, Kyle was pacing before a blue Ford F-Series truck in remarkably good condition.
Michael parked at the curb. “You go on ahead,” he told Samson. “Kyle wants to show you the truck before we talk money.”
“Yes, sir!” Samson sprinted off.
Climbing out, Darcy whistled softly. To her eye, the gleaming blue vehicle was in mint condition. “The truck looks brand-new. Are you sure Samson can afford it?”
“It’s five years old. But, yeah, he can. Kyle will give him a great deal.”
“Is Kyle giving him the great deal, or you?” She knew Michael had a soft spot for her young friend, and he was generous by nature. “This transaction has your fingerprints all over it.”
“I kicked in a few hundred bucks and new cabinetry for Kyle’s downstairs powder room.”
“You’re too kind.”
He shrugged off the compliment. “Do me a favor. Don’t tell Samson I pitched in. Making a grown-up purchase is an important milestone for a teenager. Besides, he banks every paycheck. He deserves a break. He’s almost nineteen, Darcy. Time for him to spread his wings.”
“Emerson, and now Samson.” She leaned against the front grill of Michael’s pickup, savoring the pleasure on his face. “You missed your calling. You should’ve become a father years ago.”
“I like kids. I always have.”
Hooking his thumbs in the pockets of his jeans, he joined her. With silent amusement they watched Kyle lift the Ford’s hood to discuss something they couldn’t hear. The eager Samson flitted beside him, his hands jumping across the engine block. A kid in the proverbial candy store.
His smile broadened when he spun around. “We’ll be right back,” he shouted. “We’re going for a test drive.”
Michael gave the thumbs-up. “Have fun.”
Kyle got in behind the wheel. The engine rumbled to life. Grinning at the teen’s enthusiasm, he slid back out. He lumbered to the passenger side.
Samson climbed in and shut the driver’s door. Darcy watched his every move. She became dimly aware of a ringing in her ears. A metallic taste filled her mouth.
Adrenaline.
The truck started down the driveway.
The memory of Elizabeth standing in the road caught Darcy by surprise. Panic drilled into her. Sprinting forward, she flailed her arms through the air. She was across the grass in an instant.
“Samson, don’t drive too fast!”
The truck slowed a fraction. He turned onto the road.
A plume of exhaust hung above the road as the truck disappeared from sight. He was fine. Perfectly capable of handling the vehicle. She pressed shaky hands to her temples. Beneath her fingertips, her pulse danced erratically.
Michael approached. “It’s okay, Darcy.” He studied her with concern. Then he gently led her back to his truck. “Kyle won’t let him drive too fast.”
Perspiration sprang onto her brow. “Samson pulled out of the drive, and before I knew it—”
“I know. You remembered the accident.”
“Right.” She wiped the perspiration from her brow. Then she laughed. A sudden, spontaneous release of emotion. “Am I a complete idiot? Screaming at the top of my lungs—it’s a miracle I didn’t make Samson drive into a ditch.”
“You’re not a complete idiot. But, yeah, screaming at a new driver isn’t the best move. Not unless you’re willing to spring for the truck repairs.”
The mirth in his eyes made her laugh aga
in. “Thanks. You’re making me feel so much better.” In truth, the humor did help.
He cocked a brow. “You missed your calling. You should’ve become a mother years ago.”
“I like kids. I always have,” she said, stealing his line.
“You like kids because you are a kid. Emerson shares lots of details. Like how the two of you play Monopoly while hiding under a blanket.”
“We now have matching flashlights. I bought them last week.”
“And you built a contraption to keep squirrels out of the bird feeder?”
To her merit, the squirrel baffle was inspired. “All it takes is a roll of twine and peanut-butter-covered bird seed for bait. Oh, and an old tennis racket. Emerson helped me devise the pulley system. The squirrels go for the bait, and the racket swings down. Easy peasy.”
“The furry critters are keeping their distance from the feeder?” Michael asked, grinning.
“Yeah, but they do get a consolation prize. We toss out handfuls of seed at the tree line—away from the bird feeder.”
“Face it, Darcy. Your inner child has morphed into an outer child. One of the many reasons you’ve never meshed with Rosalind. I’m sure she was born with her strict code of ethics and brittle personality fully developed. No assembly required.”
A fair enough observation. “I suppose I am the whimsy in the Goodridge family tree. Footloose and fancy-free,” she added sarcastically. Nothing was further from the truth, but she appreciated his notice of her creative side. “And here I thought I’d lost the talent.”
“During your time wandering the earth? Not a chance.”
“Good to hear you’re confident I haven’t.”
“So.” He offered a pirate’s grin that nearly took her hostage. “Do you want all the nasty details about my conversation with Emerson?”
“The cozy chat when I took him to the fair? I’m afraid to ask.”
“In my defense, I didn’t expect him to drill me with questions about my relationship with you. It’s your fault that I spilled. He wanted to know why you’d gone red-faced while talking to me.” Michael leaned in, cornering her against his pickup. “Actually, you’re blushing now. Am I making you nervous?”
The Road She Left Behind Page 23
