Bethanne could tell that she wasn’t going to dissuade her. “Then you should do it,” she said mildly.
“I am,” Ruth insisted. “I’m leaving the first of June.”
“So soon?” Bethanne raised her eyebrows.
“Yes, the reunion’s on the seventeenth and that gives me plenty of time to see the sights. I’ve always wanted to visit Mount Rushmore and the Badlands. My grandparents originally settled in the Dakotas, you know.”
Bethanne didn’t want to discourage Ruth, but she did feel a twinge of anxiety about her traveling that distance by herself. She’d be an easy mark, especially alone.
Ruth fixed her with a stubborn glare. “Before you say anything, I want you to know I’ve rented a car since I’m planning to fly back, and I’ve already booked my flight from Florida to Seattle. So don’t even try to talk me out of this.”
Bethanne gave up the idea of arguing with her and instead patted the older woman on the arm.
“No one takes the time to travel by car anymore,” Ruth said plaintively. “Life is ‘rush here’ and ‘rush there.’ My children are grown, and I’m sorry to say they’re both a disappointment to me. I hardly ever see either Robin or Grant. I’m sixty-eight years old and—” Her voice cracked. “I am not old and I refuse to be treated like I’m too fragile to know my own mind.”
Bethanne reached across the table and clasped Ruth’s hand. She thought of Casey Goetz and the close relationship she had with Lydia’s mother. In a few years it might be difficult for Ruth to drive cross-country. It was either take this trip now or give up her long-held dream.
“I’ll go with you,” Bethanne said in a soft voice.
Ruth’s head shot up. “You?”
“I haven’t taken a vacation in years.” Aside from a few trips with the kids to visit relatives, her last real vacation had been with Grant. They’d gone to Italy to celebrate their tenth anniversary.
Ruth continued to stare at her, obviously at a loss for words.
“It would do me good to get away for a few weeks,” Bethanne said. “I have some decisions to make that I’d like to mull over. Getting away will give me a chance to do that.”
“You’re serious? You’d drive with me?”
“Of course.” Bethanne smiled at Ruth’s excitement.
“I want to see New Orleans!”
“I’d love that,” Bethanne said.
“And Branson, Missouri...”
“You, me and the Oak Ridge Boys,” Bethanne said, laughing now and feeling energized by her spur-of-the-moment decision.
“And Andy Williams,” Ruth moaned, crossing her hands over her heart.
“Fine, Andy Williams, it is.” Bethanne was gratified by Ruth’s reaction. “It might take me a couple of days to clear my desk,” she warned. Thankfully, Julia was more than capable of filling in for her.
“I don’t plan to leave until after Memorial Day,” Ruth said, eyes bright with unshed tears. “Oh, Bethanne, you don’t know how happy this makes me.”
“I’m happy, too,” she said, and she was. This spontaneous decision felt incredibly right. She needed time away to think about Grant’s recent overtures. She didn’t know if it was possible or even desirable for them to reconnect; after everything she’d been through, she could hardly imagine him in her life again. And yet... She couldn’t help wondering whether her feelings for Grant, the love that had survived the divorce, would be enough to sustain a second attempt at marriage. Could the woman she’d become find a place for him in the very different life she’d created?
“You’re sure about this?” Ruth pressed.
“Positive.”
Ruth studied her, frowning slightly. “You aren’t doing it out of pity, are you?”
“No.” Bethanne tried to hold back a smile.
“Well, I don’t care if it’s pity or not. I’m just grateful to have you along.”
And then she clapped her hands like a schoolgirl.
* * *
“Mom,” Annie cried the instant Bethanne walked into Parties’ Queen Ann Hill headquarters. The retail store was her very first location, and she’d quickly taken over the offices on the second floor. “Where have you been? Julia’s been waiting for half an hour, and the other managers are arriving in fifteen minutes!”
“Sorry, sorry...” Bethanne mumbled.
“You didn’t answer your cell.” Annie was pacing Bethanne’s office like a fretful cat.
“I was with Grandma Hamlin.”
Annie stopped pacing. “She’s okay, isn’t she?”
“Never better.” Bethanne went into the supply cabinet and grabbed a yellow pad. Although Julia was already in the conference room, she picked up the messages on her desk and shuffled through them. She paused when she saw Grant’s name.
“Dad phoned,” Annie said from behind her. “I talked to him.”
Bethanne turned to face her daughter. To her relief, Annie and Grant had mended fences in the past couple of years; their once-close relationship had reemerged. Father and daughter had always been so much alike, both of them charmers, both of them stubborn to the point of inflexibility. Their reconciliation had really begun when Tiffany left Grant. Annie certainly hadn’t shed any tears over the breakup of that marriage. In fact, she’d had difficulty hiding her joy.
“I feel like Dad’s himself again these days,” Annie said earnestly.
“I’m glad,” Bethanne responded, returning her attention to the stack of phone messages.
“He’s working really hard to make it up to Andrew and me.”
Bethanne met her daughter’s gaze squarely. “He’s your father, and you two are the most precious things on earth to him.” She doubted Grant understood how close he’d come to losing his children during the years he’d made Tiffany his priority.
“Are you going to call him back?” Annie asked.
The slip was at the bottom of her pile. “I’ll do it when I have time,” Bethanne said firmly. “Now, I can’t keep Julia waiting any longer.”
As they hurried down the hallway, Annie said breathlessly, “Vance called this afternoon.”
Vance was her daughter’s college boyfriend. They’d dated on and off for almost three years. Bethanne knew Annie was serious about him, but she felt they were both too immature to even think about marriage. Despite her age and accomplishments, Annie still seemed so young to Bethanne. Perhaps it was a result of the divorce, but Annie’s attachment to both her and Grant struck her as a bit excessive—seeking them out for advice and approval at every turn. Bethanne wondered if she’d been that dependent on her parents when she was Annie’s age. She didn’t think so. However, she hadn’t had to cope with the disintegration of her family or the anger and grief it caused.
“Vance calls or texts at least six times a day,” Bethanne said. That might be an exaggeration but they seemed to be in constant communication.
“He asked me to dinner at the Space Needle!” Annie was practically vibrating with excitement.
Bethanne arched an eyebrow. “Are you two celebrating a special anniversary?”
“Not that I remember. And trust me, if anyone would remember, it’s me.”
Bethanne agreed. Like her father, Annie had extraordinary recall when it came to dates, facts and figures; she’d always been a top student in math and history. Bethanne thought of the endless memory games Annie and Grant loved to play on long car trips, egging each other on to greater and greater feats of recall.
“Then what’s the occasion?”
Her daughter’s eyes were wide. “I’m pretty sure he’s going to ask me to marry him,” she whispered.
Bethanne did an admirable job of hiding her dismay. “Really?”
Annie nodded. “When I mentioned something last week about Andrew and Courtney’s wedding, he to
ld me he’s a big believer in marriage and family.”
“Family is important,” Bethanne said noncommittally.
“Yes, and we agree on practically everything—family, church, politics. Those are the important subjects, don’t you think?” Annie searched Bethanne’s face for confirmation.
“I do, but a single comment on the subject doesn’t mean Vance is ready to propose, Annie.” Bethanne’s voice was gentle, but inside she marveled at her daughter’s naiveté. She didn’t want Annie to set herself up for disappointment. A mother never outgrew her protective instincts, she realized.
“Oh, I know, but Nicole saw him at a jewelry store in the University District. It only makes sense that he was looking at engagement rings. Why else does a guy go to a jeweler?”
For any number of reasons, but Bethanne couldn’t bring herself to burst her daughter’s bubble. “When’s the hot date?”
“Friday night.”
“Fabulous. I hope everything works out.” Either way—engagement or not—she had concerns, but this wasn’t the time to discuss them.
“Thanks, Mom.” Annie just about skipped down the hall toward her own office.
“Annie,” Bethanne called out, stopping her. “I have a bit of news myself.”
Her daughter turned back, anxiety clouding her eyes.
“When I saw your grandma, she told me she’s planning to drive to Florida next week. I’ve decided to go with her.”
Annie’s mouth sagged open. “You and Grandma are driving to Florida?”
Bethanne laughed. “Don’t say it like that. We’re two mature women who can look after ourselves. Your grandmother’s wanted to make a road trip across the country nearly her entire adult life, and for one reason or another it’s always been put off. She’s determined to go—and I can’t let her go alone.”
“What about Aunt Robin?” As soon as the words were out, Annie shook her head. “Never mind. Aunt Robin wouldn’t take the time for that.”
Bethanne nodded. “It was a...sudden decision.”
“What about the business?” Annie nodded in the direction of the conference room, where the various store managers would soon be gathering.
“Julia can handle whatever comes up in the next few weeks,” Bethanne said calmly. “I’ll be accessible by phone and email, if she really needs me.”
Annie stared at Bethanne. “Wow, Mom, taking off on the spur of the moment—that isn’t like you.”
“True, but I’ve got a lot to think about right now, and this will give me a chance to weigh my options.”
“Does Dad know?”
“Not yet,” Bethanne said, waving as she hurried to the conference room. “I’m sure your grandmother will tell him when the time is right.”
The meeting with Julia was abbreviated due to the arrival of the managers. Afterward, Julia and Bethanne parted with a promise to catch up the following day. When she finally made it back to her office to return phone calls, Bethanne saved Grant’s for last. The commercial real estate market was still depressed across the country, but it had recently started to pick up in the Seattle area. As the broker in charge of one of his company’s most successful offices, Grant had significant responsibilities.
His assistant connected her immediately. “Bethanne,” he said, sounding grateful to hear from her.
“Hello, Grant. Annie told me you called.” She got right to the point; they were both busy people.
“Tell me, when did our little girl become such a dynamic young businesswoman?”
Bethanne smiled. “I believe she inherited her talent from you.”
“I don’t know about that,” Grant countered. “You’re the business powerhouse these days.”
Grant had always been skilled at making everyone feel special—like the most important person in the room—and it had served him well in his career. Now he was turning that charm on her, something he hadn’t done in years.
“I called about dinner on Friday. You never did say if you were available.”
She didn’t need a reminder; his invitation had been on her mind for the past three days.
“I thought we’d go to that little Mexican restaurant we used to like so much,” he went on, obviously—and correctly—interpreting her silence as hesitation.
“They’re still at the same location, can you believe it?” He laughed nervously. “What do you say? You and me, for old times’ sake?”
Bethanne closed her eyes, her knuckles white around the receiver. She was decidedly tired of that expression. “Not all our old times were that happy, Grant.”
“I know,” he was quick to admit. “But we do need to discuss Andrew’s wedding.”
“We can do that just as easily over the phone.”
“We could...” Grant conceded. “But I’d much rather do it over a margarita.” She heard him sigh. “You used to like yours on the rocks. Do you still prefer them that way?”
Bethanne couldn’t recall the last time she’d even had a margarita. Too many hours in the office and not nearly enough fun. “I suppose.”
“So, will you have dinner with me Friday night?” He wasn’t pleading, but she thought she detected a note of yearning in his voice.
She exhaled and, with her arm hugged tight around her middle, finally said, “All right.”
“I’ll pick you up—”
“I’ll meet you at the restaurant at seven,” she interjected, far more comfortable providing her own transportation.
“Seven,” he repeated, not bothering to hide his enthusiasm. “See you then.”
Three
Bethanne sat at her desk late Friday afternoon and reviewed the latest figures Julia had given her on the other five stores. She was fortunate that in a struggling economy, Parties continued to thrive. Julia had various suggestions she wanted Bethanne to consider, and in the past months Bethanne had come to rely on her more and more. If it wasn’t for her operations manager, she wouldn’t be able to take time off to travel with her mother-in-law.
In the years since the start-up of Parties, her business had experienced steady growth and, according to Julia, there was huge potential for the future as long as they were judicious about their finances and their expansion plans.
One of the benefits of her success was the knowledge that she could travel anyplace in the world she desired, something she’d long dreamed about. This was heady for Bethanne. She had good business instincts, as well as basic skills she’d learned watching her husband and his colleagues. Because her ideas were so innovative, she’d received more than her share of attention from the press. She kept copies of the articles written about her novel approach to parties.
Reaching for the folder, she leafed through it, scanning each news clipping and magazine article with a sense of pride and accomplishment. She paused at last year’s photograph of herself smiling at the camera, standing outside this building, which housed the original Parties. The photo was flattering. She was at her leanest, her shoulder-length brown hair turned up slightly at the ends. Not bad for forty-seven.
When she’d seen the picture, her thought had been that she looked happy. It was at that moment that she’d realized she was over Grant. Life did go on.
Soon after that photo was published with a profile of her in USA TODAY, Annie told her that Tiffany had left Grant and filed for divorce. A few days later, Grant had called to give Bethanne the news himself; it was the first time they’d spoken in months. He’d sounded depressed, and Bethanne had felt sympathetic. After all, she’d been there...
Grant. Her thoughts had turned to him often since his call earlier in the week. After years of forcing him from her mind, she found it uncomfortable to be entertaining memories of him now.
Bethanne checked her watch. If she was going to be on time to meet her ex-husband at Zapata’s
, she needed to leave the office now. Because it was the start of the Memorial Day weekend, she was caught in heavy traffic and arrived at the restaurant ten minutes late.
As she entered the dining room, the scent of fried tortilla chips and spicy salsa triggered a wave of nostalgia. When they were first married, this hole-in-the-wall restaurant had been their favorite. They could order a bean burrito, plus two tacos with rice and beans, and split the dinner for $5.50, including tip. If they had extra money, they bought a single margarita with two straws.
It had been important to them both that Bethanne stay home with the children until they were in school. Once Annie went into first grade, Bethanne had been prepared to finish her degree and rejoin the workforce, but Grant had asked her not to. She was his partner, his support—and he liked having her available to manage the day-to-day tasks that allowed him to focus on his career. Bethanne had agreed; by then he was doing well financially and he always let her know how much he appreciated her support.
Seeing her across the room, Grant stood and waved. The small restaurant was crowded. Almost every seat was taken and the waitstaff angled between tables, carrying trays of drinks with chips and salsa. Mariachi music blared from the speakers.
Bethanne made her way over to Grant, who’d remained standing. He immediately helped her remove her jacket. He’d always been attentive about those gentlemanly details. He would open a door for her or pull out her chair as a matter of course—but he didn’t hesitate to rip out her heart.
Stop.
She refused to let the old bitterness overtake her. She’d never been the vindictive type, and she’d worked hard to put the past behind her.
“I ordered you a margarita,” Grant said as he slid her chair under her. She felt his hand graze her shoulder, lingering just a second beyond casual.
The warm chips and salsa were already there. Bethanne’s stomach growled as she reached for one, wondering if the salsa was still as spicy as she remembered. One bite assured her it was.
“The menu’s almost unchanged after all these years,” Grant said as he sat down across from her. He held her look for a moment before opening his menu again.
A Turn in the Road Page 3
