The Move (The Creek Water Series Book 2)

by Whitney Dineen

  Shelby asks, “How long did it take your wife to start feeling like herself again?”

  “Regina and I aren’t married,” my dad says matter-of-factly. “We’ve been together for thirty-five years though, so we’re a solid couple.”

  Shelby looks surprised by this news and Beau full on gawps like he’s never heard of such a thing. The silence is deafening. For some reason, Bertie feels the need to add, “Regina thinks marriage is a form of slavery.”

  “Really?” Beau asks at the same time Shelby declares, “She’s right.”

  Beau turns to Shelby and demands, “What do you mean, she’s right?”

  “Look at my parents,” she replies. “They don’t even love each other; they simply co-exist like they’re in some kinda business arrangement. Mama tells Daddy what to do and he does it, but then he goes off and cheats on her. It’s disgusting.”

  Bertie intervenes, “In Regina’s case, she feels like it’s the women who are the slaves.” He adds, “Which is clearly nonsense. A good relationship is about equality and partnership. Sometimes one person does more, and sometimes the other one does, but in the end it all balances out.”

  Shelby says, “It sounds like you want to be married.”

  “I do,” my dad confesses. It’s the first time I’ve ever heard him say that.

  “I don’t think I want to be,” Shelby decides.

  “What do mean?” Beau demands. “I thought you were always hoping to get married.”

  “That’s what my mama wants. But I think I want what Bertie and Regina have. I want the person I’m with to be bound to me out of love and devotion and not out of legal duty. I think people have to try harder if their partner doesn’t have a lawful obligation.” She turns to my dad and asks, “What do you think? Do you try harder because Regina could walk away if she wanted to?”

  Bertie looks like he’s been hit in the face with a bucket of ice water. “I don’t know,” he finally answers. “I don’t think so. I’m pretty sure I’d be the same person I am now if we were legally wed.” I think he’s suddenly worried that my mom might consider his coming to Missouri as an act of abandonment. If so, there’s no telling what she’d do.

  Beau stares at Shelby and demands, “Are you saying that you want to live with someone and raise a family with them but not be married?”

  Shelby seems to be missing the defiance in his tone, and answers, “That’s what I’m saying.”

  “That’s unseemly, Shelby,” Beau decides. Then belatedly, he looks at my dad and adds, “I don’t mean to offend you, Bertie.”

  “No offense taken, son. Like I said, I’d like to be married to Regina, but she doesn’t share my feelings.”

  I can’t stay quiet another minute and ask, “Does Mom know how you feel, Dad?”

  “Of course, she knows. We talk about it all the time.”

  “You do?” I’ve never heard them say a word in my earshot.

  “I ask your mother to marry me every year on the anniversary of our moving in together. Every year she says that we’re fine the way we are.”

  My heart hurts hearing this. I never knew he did that. “Dad, you need to stand up for yourself and not let Mom run you over like this.”

  “Honey, I love your mother. She’s giving all that she thinks she can. Just because I want to be married in the eyes of the law doesn’t mean she has to want the same thing. And if we have to continue on like we are in order to be together, then so be it. Regina is worth it.”

  I can’t help but wonder if my mom shares his sentiment.

  Chapter 23

  The rest of the meal is insanely uncomfortable. Beau keeps peeking at me out of the corner of his eye like I’m some kind of science experiment gone wrong. Finally, over crème brûlée, he says, “I suppose you don’t want to get married, either.”

  “I definitely do,” I tell him. “I share my mom’s beliefs about equality, but I take after my dad on the marriage front.”

  “Do you wish your parents had been married?” he asks.

  My dad waits for my answer, as though on tenterhooks. “I do,” I finally answer. “Aside from believing in the institution, I think it’s a comfort for a child to know that their parents love each other enough to commit in that way.”

  Poor Bertie looks like I’ve kicked him in the stomach when he asks, “Did you worry your mom and I didn’t love each other?”

  “No, Dad. I always knew you did. Mom marches to her own tune. And while I respect that, my tune is a little more traditional.”

  Shelby interrupts, “I’ve never felt like my parents’ marriage meant anything other than they were doing something they were supposed to do.”

  “My folks are very committed to each other and love each other deeply. I want what they have and that includes marriage,” Beau interjects.

  Shelby acts like she couldn’t care less. She shrugs her shoulders and says, “Then you should go for it.” I have a feeling they have a big conversation in their near future. Clearly, they aren’t seeing eye to eye on one of the basic principles of coupledom. I try to push away a feeling of excitement that’s creeping in.

  Beau asks for the check, but when it comes, I make a grab for it. He pulls it out of my hand. “Dinner is on me,” he says.

  “Beau, we asked you to join us. This is our treat,” I reply. Bertie doesn’t so much as twitch, let alone make a move for his wallet. My mom puts the food expenses on her credit card, so he’s not in the habit of paying when the bill comes.

  “No, ma’am,” Beau says. “A gentleman likes to pay.”

  Shelby grabs the check from Beau’s hand and declares, “Oh, for corn sake, no woman needs a man to pay for her. I’m buying.”

  Beau looks at her like her head is about to spin around Exorcist-style. “I thought you liked that I paid,” he accuses.

  Shelby shrugs, “Maybe I used to, but times and people are changing, Beauregard. I don’t have to be the woman I always was. I’m evolving.” I’m not sure I’d call what Shelby’s doing evolving as much as finally realizing who she is outside of her mother’s shadow.

  My dad announces, “I’m perfectly delighted to have any of you take me out and I’m evolved enough to let you.” He turns to Shelby, “Thank you for dinner, young lady.” Then he looks at me and Beau and declares, “You can treat me another time.”

  Beau chuckles. I’m not sure if it’s out of appreciation for my dad’s sense of humor—although I know he’s not joking—or a much-needed tension breaker, but either way, he says, “I’ll look forward to sharing another meal with you, Bertie. This one was certainly enlightening.”

  Beau and Shelby leave after Shelby pays the bill. My dad asks for a coffee refill before declaring, “I’m sorry, honey. I never knew before how you felt about your mom and me.”

  “I didn’t spend every waking moment worrying about it, Dad.”

  “Even so, if Regina knew it meant that much to you, maybe she would have agreed to get married.”

  “It doesn’t matter anymore,” I say. “You made your choices and I’m going to make mine. That’s how life goes, right? We’re all responsible for our own happiness.”

  Bertie sighs. “Life feels more complicated than it did before I came here.”

  I snort rather loudly. “Your life is a lot more complicated. I’m not sure Mom is ever going to forgive you.”

  “Maybe not,” he says. “But after all these years together and all the concessions I’ve made for her, she needs to give me a pass on this one.”

  I’m not sure what concessions he’s talking about, but he seems to have discovered a backbone he’s rarely displayed in the past regarding my mother. For both their sakes, I hope she forgives him quickly.

  I walk my dad back up to his rental and help him blow up his air mattress. Then I make up his bed for him and even fill his new coffee pot so all he has to do is turn it on in the morning. Before I go, I say, “I’m really glad you’re here, Dad. I love you.”

  He wraps his arms around me.
“I love you too, honey. So, so much.”

  “I’ll stop by tomorrow and see how you’re doing. Let me know if we forgot anything that you need me to pick up on the way.”

  “Will do. But don’t worry if you don’t hear from me. I don’t know what’s going to happen tomorrow until I see the morning light. I may be too distracted to call.”

  I know exactly what he means. My dad is notorious for forgetting to feed himself or even shower during times of great inspiration. My mom always nags him into acting semi-human when he’s in the midst of a creative surge. For as much as Regina claims that marriage is slavery, she does a lot for my dad. I can’t imagine things would be any different in their day-to-day relationship if the state of New York declared them legal. I’ll happily take her place while he’s here to ensure his continued existence, because that’s what family does for each other.

  I know one thing for sure, I’m going to call my mom tomorrow and act as my dad’s champion. I’m guessing she might feel a little ganged up on, but it’s the right thing to do. I probably won’t mention the fact that I’m planning on moving here during that particular call. Better to pace myself and let Regina absorb one bombshell at a time.

  Chapter 24

  Emmie is still out with Zach when I get back to her house, so I quietly let myself in and go right to bed. I lie there for ages, replaying the day in my head before finally giving up and taking a blanket outside. I’m asleep within seconds.

  When I wake up, it’s morning and I feel refreshed and full of energy. I can’t wait to tell Emmie and her mom that I’ve decided to move to Creek Water. I grab my blanket and rush inside to find them planking to “What’s Love Got to Do With It?”

  “Don’t get up on my account,” I say. “I wanted to let you know that I’m going to put in an offer on your old family home.” They both drop to the floor.

  “What are you talking about?” Emmie demands. “You mean the house on Millionaire’s Row?”

  “That’s the one,” I tell her.

  Both Emmie and Gracie are on their feet in seconds. Gracie demands, “You’re gonna live here in Creek Water? Honey, that’s the next best thing to happen since Emmie came home with the baby!”

  I love how excited they are. Emmie looks like she’s going to pop right out of her skin. “When did Beau show you the house? What are you going to do for work? You want to come work for us? I mean, the money would be nothing like you’re used to, but it would be something.”

  I shake my head. “I saw the property yesterday, and no, I don’t want to work for you, I’m going to turn the house into a bed and breakfast.”

  “What a fantastic idea,” Gracie declares. “I can’t wait to tell Lee.” She’s got her phone in her hand and she’s typing away in no time flat.

  By the time I’m pouring my first cup of coffee, Lee is storming through the front door. When she spots me, she screams like I’m a rock star and she’s twelve. “Oh. My. GOOOODDDDDDD!!!” she shouts. “What a fabulous idea. I’m so thrilled I can hardly stand it!” “Wait until you meet the neighbors,” she says.

  “Are they nice?” I ask, momentarily worried.

  All three Frothingham women share a look before Emmie exclaims, “So nice!”

  Before I can ask about them, Lee commands, “All y’all go get changed. Let’s go see Beau together.”

  We’re dressed and down at the old sewing machine factory in under an hour. We do not arrive in an understated fashion, what with all the chattering and flurry of excitement emanating from our little group.

  The receptionist says, “I’ll let him know you’re here.”

  But Lee waves her off and shouts, “Beauregard, it’s your mama. I’m coming in.”

  Beau walks out of his office. “What are y’all doing here?” he demands.

  “Is that any way to talk to me?” Then she leads the march into her son’s office. Once we’re all settled, she announces, “We have some happy news.”

  “What in the world could that be?” he demands. I swear I witness a grimace, but it happens so fast I couldn’t put money on it.

  “Lexi here wants to place an offer on the old family home. Isn’t that the most exciting thing you’ve ever heard?”

  Beau does not seem to share his mother’s enthusiasm. In fact, if this were a cartoon, there would be steam coming out of his ears. “That’s not a very good idea,” he finally says.

  Lee replies, “Why not? I think it’s just about the best idea I’ve ever heard.”

  “It’s a big house for one woman, Mama.”

  Gracie asks, “Would it be too big for a man?”

  Beau replies, “A man would have an easier time taking care of it.”

  “What?” his mother yelps. “I did a better job raising you than that, young man. Don’t you go acting like some kind of male chauvinist.”

  “I didn’t say she couldn’t do it, I said it would be a lot of work.”

  Emmie wants a piece of this. “No, sir, you said it was too much house for one woman. You need to apologize.”

  “I don’t need to do any such thing. I do not think that Lexi should buy this house. There, I said it.”

  “I don’t care what you think, Beau. You sit down and prepare the offer like you’re being paid to do,” Lee admonishes. He stares at her like she’s an alien—an alien who might put him into a time-out if he doesn’t behave himself.

  “Mama,” he starts to say, but she cuts him off.

  “Don’t you Mama me. Sit down and do your job.”

  Beau looks at me and says, “You’re going to need an inspection. And just so you know, the roof probably only has a couple of years left on it. A new one will run you twenty grand, easy.”

  Lee demands, “What’s going on here?” She looks between me and Beau.

  I shrug my shoulders. “He’s trying to convince me that I shouldn’t buy the house by predicting doom and gloom.”

  “No, ma’am,” she says. “There’s something more.” She looks at her son and adds, “If you don’t want me to start speculating, boy, you better get busy and do your job.”

  Boy jumps to it. It’s fun to see the kind of pull Lee has over her son. As tough as he tries to be with me, he apparently knows he doesn’t stand a chance against his own mother.

  Beau sighs. “How much do you want to offer?”

  “Full price,” I tell him.

  “Traditionally, people put in a lowball offer when the house has been on the market for a while. We should go in low and let them counter,” he advises.

  “Nope,” I tell him. “I think the house is worth a lot more than they’re asking, so offer the full hundred and forty, contingent on the inspection passing, of course.”

  “Do you have a mortgage company lined up?” he asks.

  “I’ll find one today and get going on it.”

  Beau changes strategy and tries to be nice. “Lexi, I really don’t think this is the right move for you. If you’re set on living in Creek Water, why don’t you let me find you something a little more manageable.”

  “Beau,” Lee cautions, “you’re being condescending, and I demand you stop it right now.”

  “The reason I want to live here is because of that house,” I say.

  He apparently knows when he’s licked because he stops talking and starts typing on his computer, although he looks none too happy about it.

  By the time we leave his office, I’m flying high on life. I can’t believe I’m about to become a homeowner.

  Emmie asks, “Do you think we can take Mama and Auntie Lee up to meet your daddy while we’re here?” Three hopeful faces stare at me.

  “I suppose now would be the best time. Once Bertie starts painting, he’s not going to want to do any socializing.” Although I know he won’t be overly enthusiastic to have us all drop by, I don’t know how to keep that from happening. We’re only one floor away, so there’s no point in calling to give him two minutes warning.

  I say a little prayer and lead the way, hoping
for the best.

  Chapter 25

  I knock on the door, but there’s no answer. So, I knock louder, but still nothing. “Maybe he’s in the shower,” I say to Emmie and family. Although I’m guessing that’s probably not the case as personal hygiene often takes a holiday when my dad is in the throes of creating.

  Emmie suggests, “Why don’t you go in and check on him, and we can come back another time?”

  “That’s probably for the best,” I tell them.

  “Shoot,” Gracie says. “I was excited to meet your daddy. Why don’t you ask him when he thinks the best time is for us to have him over? We can make our schedule work around his.”

  I agree before saying goodbye to the Frothingham contingent and using the spare key to open Bertie’s door. I’m not prepared for what I find. Dad has already assembled three huge canvases that are lying on the floor. Each must be at least ten feet square. It looks like he’s already primed them because the canvas is bright white instead of its natural oatmeal color.

  “Dad!” I call out as I walk in. No answer. I start looking around the space, but don’t see him anywhere. I climb the stairs to the sleeping loft and call out again. Nothing. When I get to the top stair, I’m greeted by a sight that I’ve never seen before. My dad is near the far wall standing on his head.

  I rush over to him, but he doesn’t move. I touch his ankle and find that’s it’s icy cold. My god, has he died standing on his head? He’s so rigid, I start to wonder. When I shake him gently and he doesn’t come to, I start to panic. I shout, “DAD! WAKE UP!” Nothing.

  I’m about to dial 911, but for some reason, I call my mom first. She answers, “Do you see what you’ve done, traipsing off to God-knows-where, Missouri?”

  “Mom, I don’t have time for this conversation. I think Dad might be dead.”

  “Explain.” That’s all she says. There isn’t so much as a hint of concern in her voice.

  “He’s standing on his head and he’s not answering me when I call his name. Not even when I shake his frozen foot. Seriously, I think he’s …” I pause as emotion chokes me, before continuing, “gone.”