“We have more news,” Grandma said, taking a deep breath. “And this one is a doozy.”
“What is it?” Stan sniffed.
“You’re a father.”
We all held our breaths as we waited for his reaction.
“What?” he asked, shocked. “Are you sure?”
“Yes,” Grandma confirmed.
“And she’s really nice,” Greta yelled from the backseat. “And very pretty.”
“Where is she?” Stan asked, almost panicked. “Who’s she staying with?”
“She lives by herself as far as we can tell,” Grandma answered.
“What?” Stan screamed into the phone.
“It’s okay,” Grandma said quickly. “She looked healthy…”
“Get back over there!” he demanded. “And bring her back with you!”
“Stan,” Grandma tried to comfort him. “She’s doing okay…”
Stan cut her off. “So help me, Geraldine, if you don’t go in there and get her, I’ll drive over there and get her myself.”
We all looked at each other, shocked with the tone he had taken with Grandma.
“Okay,” Grandma finally said. “I’ll see what I can do.”
Grandma got off the phone and we looked at each other. “What in the heck was that all about?” Virginia asked.
Greta sighed. “People don’t think millennials can take care of themselves. I hear about it all the time on the news. Stan’s only known he was a father for five minutes and already he’s a helicopter parent.”
We got out of the vehicle and started the familiar walk back up the girl’s porch. We all stepped back and let Grandma Dean be the one to handle things. “Thanks,” she said to us sarcastically.
Grandma knocked on the door and the girl answered right away this time. Most likely she had been watching us from the window, wondering what in the heck we were doing loitering in front of her house.
She smiled at us like she did before, but there was a hint of wariness behind it. “Hello again,” she said brightly.
“Hello,” Grandma said nervously. “We were wondering if we could talk to you again for a minute.”
“About my mother?” she asked.
“No,” Grandma said slowly. “Do you know someone named Stan Bennet?”
“Stan?” she asked, clearly concerned. “Is he okay?”
“So, you know about him?”
“Of course,” she said, moving aside. “Please, come in.”
We walked straight into her living room, which was dark thanks to the overgrown bush outside the window. She motioned for us to sit down on the overly worn furniture. We all took a seat and she sat down in a chair near the kitchen. From where I sat, I could see my reflection in the old box television that sat across the room.
“Is Stan okay?” she asked again.
“Well,” Grandma started. “I hate to tell you this, but it seems someone is after him.”
“What do you mean?” she asked, her eyes as big as the coffee stains on the furniture.
“Someone is trying to kill him,” Greta blurted out.
The girl was shocked and put her hand to her mouth. “Is he okay?”
“He’s okay for now,” Grandma assured her. “But he’s worried about you. He…wants you to come back to Florida with us.”
The girl’s eyes started to fill with tears. “He wants me to come to Florida? To see him?”
Grandma nodded.
I could tell we were all trying to figure out the same thing—were those happy tears or sad tears?
Suddenly, she bolted upright. “Give me a minute to pack my things! Can I ride with you? There’s no way my car will make it that far!”
We all looked at each other, not expecting this turn of events. Finally, Grandma nodded. With that, the girl ran out of the room and disappeared into a hallway off the living room.
“Looks like we’ll be adding another passenger to the ride home,” Grandma said unenthusiastically. “I guess that gives us plenty of time to get to know her.”
“I’m sure she’ll have plenty of questions about Stan,” Virginia said, brushing crumbs off the couch next to her. She sighed. “Poor girl. At least her mother told her a little bit about him, or at least his name.”
It wasn’t long before the girl came back in the living room carrying two suitcases. “Do you think you’ll have room for my things?” she asked.
“Oh yes,” Virginia assured her. “We have plenty of room.”
“Great!” she said happily. “I’ll be right back.” She disappeared down the hall again.
Greta laughed. “Maybe you should’ve asked how much more she had before you answered that question.”
We all stood and Greta and I grabbed her two suitcases since we were sitting the closest to them. We could hear her coming back down the hall and Virginia stepped forward to help her with whatever baggage she had this time. But when she appeared, we all froze. That wasn’t the baggage we expected her to be carrying.
When she saw our faces, she froze too. “Stan’s going to hate me, isn’t he?” she asked, tears filling her eyes again.
We stood there, speechless, not sure what was going on. “I know I should’ve told him. And now you’re all staring at me, judging me.” She started to cry.
We looked at each other, unsure what to say. “Stan could never hate you,” Grandma said, putting her arm around the girl. The half-awake toddler in her arms started to cry too.
“There, there,” Greta said, rushing toward the child. “It’s okay.”
“This is Stan’s…” Grandma stopped, hoping the girl would fill in the blank.
“Daughter,” the girl finally said.
Oh my gosh! Boy, did we have it all wrong!
“Are you Sydnie?” Virginia asked.
“Well, of course,” she said, sniffling. “Who did you think I was? Oh my goodness. Did you think I was his daughter?”
“No,” we said at once. But Grandma turned and grimaced. Hopefully the girl, Sydnie, didn’t see right through us.
“So, who is this precious little one?” Greta asked, touching the little girl’s hair.
“This is Lillian Rose Bennet,” Sydnie said proudly. “But I call her Lily.”
A chorus of “aww” rang out from the Grannies and I was pushed aside as they all went up to her to baby-talk their approval.
Standing back and taking a good look at Lily, I could tell she was related to Stan. She had his gray-blue eyes and the same dimple in her chin.
“Can one of you hold her?” Sydnie asked. “I need to pack her some snacks, if that’s okay.”
“I’ll take her,” Virginia said the quickest. I could hear Greta let out a sigh of disappointment.
Grandma turned to her and whispered, “Greta, why don’t you run outside really quick and call Stan. Let him know we were mistaken.”
Grandma was pushing the job off on Greta but she didn’t seem to mind. “I’ll come with you,” I said, following her out the door.
She had already dialed Stan’s number by the time we made it down the porch steps. Stan answered, his voice still full of panic.
“Stan,” Greta said, a nervous excitement to her voice. “I’m calling with some more news.”
“Is the child okay?” I could clearly hear his voice, even though the phone was pressed to Greta’s ear.
“Yes,” she said, looking up at me. “And she’s coming home with us.” Greta put her hand over the phone and whispered to me, “Let’s not tell him the whole story.” I nodded in agreement.
I couldn’t tell exactly what he was saying but he sounded relieved. “And there’s more news,” she said. “It turns out we were wrong. Her mother, Sydnie, is still alive.”
He said something that I couldn’t make out and Greta let out nervous laughter. “Yeah,” she said. “It was just a misunderstanding.”
Stan’s words were muffled again and Greta answered him. “Yes, we’ll see you tomorrow. I’ll take a picture of her and text it to
you when we get in the car.” She was quiet for a minute. “She’s a beautiful little girl, Stan. She looks just like you.”
When Greta got off the phone, she had tears in her eyes. “I’ve never heard him so happy,” she said, wiping away a tear that had escaped and ran down her cheek. “We got to tell a very sad man today that he is a father. What a crazy, unexpected day this has been.”
She turned to walk up to the house and I remembered that I needed to talk to her. “Greta,” I said, reaching out and touching her arm. “Can I ask you something really quick?”
“Of course,” she said, stopping on the sidewalk.
“You said the other night that you saw an unsigned contract with Les’s name on it at Larry’s house, right?”
“I did,” Greta confirmed.
“Are you sure it had his name on it? Was it maybe a different Les?”
“No, it was him,” Greta said. “I even took a picture of it to show you.” She pulled out her phone and looked through her pictures. “Here,” she said, handing it to me.
Sure enough, in the middle of the picture was the contract. As I studied it, something else got my attention. Behind it, partially covered by Les’s contract, was another contract with the exact same information but with a different name—William Conrady. That’s weird, I thought. Why would there be two contracts for the exact same property with different names on them?
Before I had time to come up with an answer, Grandma and Virginia came out of the house carrying suitcases with Sydnie carrying her daughter and a large baby bag.
Within minutes, we were all buckled in the SUV and I had been sequestered to the third row so Greta could sit in the middle with Sydnie and Lily. Since Lily’s carseat was rear-facing—Sydnie said it was safer that way—I got a good view of the little girl. She still looked half-asleep, but even so, she smiled and laughed as Greta played peek-a-boo with her.
“May I take a picture of her?” Greta asked Sydnie. “To show Stan? I promised him I would.”
“Sure,” Sydnie said. She leaned in close to her daughter and Greta took a picture of them both. Before Greta sent the picture, I saw the text. “Your wife and daughter are coming home.”
Suddenly, a man who had no people had a family.
Chapter 13
The ride back to Peace Pointe went as smoothly as it could with a vehicle full of grandmas and a toddler. We had taken turns driving and sitting next to Lily. I had never really wanted kids, but I had to admit, she was adorable.
We perfectly retraced our route home, clear down to the bathroom and Cracker Barrel stops. In between each one, we got to know a little more about Sydnie and even a little bit about Stan.
“So how did you two meet?” Virginia asked.
Sydnie cringed. “I’m afraid it isn’t a very exciting story.”
“Oh, tell it anyway,” Greta urged.
“Well,” she started. “I dropped out of college because it just wasn’t my thing and I got a job with a local theater group. The pay was lousy—just tips—but we had so much fun. One day, we were performing some comedy in the park and this old guy kept staring at me and laughing. At the end, he was literally bent over he was laughing so hard! I went over to him to tell him how much it meant to me that he enjoyed the show so much. Turns out he was actually choking! I did the Heimlich maneuver and finally, he spit out his popcorn. He thanked me and said he had been choking like that for the longest time! I felt so bad!”
“Oh my goodness!” Virginia exclaimed. “He could’ve died!”
“I know, right?” Sydnie laughed. “It was the funniest thing! He was shaking pretty bad so I offered to buy him a coffee or something. We walked to the coffee shop across the street from the park and we just started talking. You know Stan, he’s super nice. I told him how I was struggling financially and he offered me his guest house. Well, I could barely pass that up! Soon he was taking me to dinners and buying me clothes. It’s not like he had anyone else to spend money on. He had been married before but his wife died years ago and she wasn’t able to have children. I guess we just both found what we needed in each other.”
Yeah, I thought. You needed a father and he needed a child.
Every once in a while, if you’re really fortunate, you’ll meet someone, and after you’ve talked to them for a little bit and you hear how genuine they are, you’ll think to yourself, “This is a really cool person. They are really going to make a difference in this world.” Sydnie was not one of those people.
It seemed like no matter how many times we asked her something, her answer always had to do with money…Stan’s money. As we listened to her, we started to regret bringing her back with us. I felt a tenseness in the air as one by one, the Grannies stopped talking to her and tried to act like they were dozing off. But that didn’t stop Sydnie from talking.
“Did you know that Stan went to a community college?” she asked us after several long, silent minutes. “Can you believe he made a fortune with just an associate’s degree? I guess that’s why I fell in love with him.”
Because he made a fortune? I wanted to say.
“If you loved him, why did you leave him?” Greta asked, her voice a little terse.
“People grow apart,” Sydnie said sadly. “I lived in his guest house for three months and then we were married. We lasted a year, though. After that, I started to feel like he was winding down his life and I was just starting mine. It was just a weird combination. So,” she said with a deep breath, “I packed up late one night and took off with his Cadillac and some cash. I’m not proud of it, but that’s what I did. A few weeks later, I found out I was pregnant.”
I thought we all wanted to ask her why she didn’t tell Stan about Lily, but none of us asked her because we just couldn’t take another one of her selfish answers.
It was late when we pulled up in front of the retirement community. Lily was sound asleep in her car seat, holding Greta’s hand. “I hate to let go,” she whispered to Sydnie. Greta was definitely the most grandma-ish one in the group. Virginia was a close second.
We piled out of the SUV, trying to be quiet so we wouldn’t wake Lily.
“You two can stay at my place tonight,” Greta offered. “Then we can take you to see Stan in the morning.”
Sydnie agreed and we helped carry her luggage to Greta’s apartment. Once she was settled in Greta’s guest room, we returned to the SUV to get our own luggage.
“What have we done?” Virginia asked, shaking her head on the way back to her vehicle.
“I don’t know,” Grandma Dean said with a sigh. “But I don’t like this one bit.”
* * *
I slept in the next morning, exhausted from our little trip. Grandma Dean came in around nine and asked me if I wanted to head to Stan’s apartment. She said Greta had just called her and said they were all on their way over there.
I declined. That was a reunion I didn’t want to be a part of.
I stayed in bed a little longer until I got a text from Les, asking if I wanted to meet him at the coffee shop downtown in an hour. I jumped at the chance to get breakfast.
I barely messed with my hair, just pulled it into a pony tail. I put on a thin layer of mascara and slid on some lip gloss—two things I never would’ve done had Grandma Dean not started to have an influence on me.
An hour later, I was sitting at a table, sipping a vanilla bean frappe. A huge cinnamon bun dripping with caramel sauce sat in front of me, waiting to be devoured. Somehow I had managed to beat Les there, but I was okay with that. I enjoyed the few quiet minutes when it was just me and my pastry.
As I stared at it, praying for the forgiveness of the gluttonous crime I was about to commit, Les sat at the table. He held a coffee in one hand, a hot apple tart in the other, and his notebook tucked under his arm.
“Sorry, I’m a little late,” he said, sitting down. “I had my car looked at this morning. I think it’s leaking gas. The appointment took a little longer than I thought.”
“
No problem,” I said through a mouthful of deliciousness.
Les laughed. “Is it that good?” he asked.
I rolled my eyes yes in delight.
Les cut into his apple tart. “I heard you went on a little trip.”
“How do you know about that?” I asked, surprised.
He shrugged. “Small town.”
Inwardly, I laughed. Most likely he had a poem in his notebook about how, from his spot in a tree, he saw me leave the house with a suitcase. That should probably have creeped me out, but for some reason, it didn’t.
“We went to this cute little town called Fairhope. You would love it!”
“I’ve been there!” he said excitedly. “My grandparents lived about twenty miles away in Mobile and we would go to Fairhope when we visited.”
I sighed. “I would love to live there. It was so charming.”
“It’s expensive,” he sighed. “At least the housing is. My parents thought about moving there a couple of years ago, or at least having a second house so they could be close to Mammie.”
“That’s what you call your grandma?” I asked.
“Yeah.” Les blushed. “Mammie and Pappie.”
“There’s nothing wrong with that. I think it’s cute!”
We sat in silence for a minute, enjoying our breakfast, when Les spoke up again. “So, I didn’t tell you this the other day because I didn’t want you to laugh, but I’m taking a couple classes at the local community college. One of them is a writing class.”
“Why would I laugh? I think that’s great!” I said, encouraging him. “Like poetry?”
“Yeah, it’s mostly been reading some famous poems and going over structure and things like that. But we’ve worked a little bit on our own poems. The instructor said he wanted to have a little poetry reading. I was wondering if you wanted to come. It’s nothing serious or anything, just something we’re doing in class. It’s next Wednesday at three.”
“I’d love to come!” I was really proud of Les. Not only was he going to read his poetry out loud, but he felt comfortable enough to invite someone to listen to it
“What other classes are you taking?” I asked.
The Root of All Evil Page 8
