After she’d showered and dressed, she grabbed the gift basket from the dresser and went downstairs to check on her mother, Milo racing ahead of her. She found Mother already up and seated at the kitchen table with her coffee mug, her leg propped on the chair opposite her.
“Good morning,” she said. It was tentative, more a question than a greeting.
Daphne set the basket on the table, then bent over and kissed her cheek. Her mother always smelled like Chantilly. “Happy Mother’s Day.” The words felt awkward and stiff.
“Oh, my. This is beautiful.” Mother leaned forward to inspect it. “Chocolates, dusting powder, bubble bath and, oh, I see the latest Vanessa Valentine novel. Daphne, you have such a gift for creativity. You know, you could...”
Daphne cut her off. “Start a gift basket business.”
“Well, you could.”
“There are any number of things I could do. But right now, I’d like to let the dust from the divorce settle, find out what it’s like to be on my own. I’ve never spent much time doing that.” And that could be part of the problem. She’d always been with a man, always felt she needed a man in order to be happy. What she really needed was to learn how to be happy, period.
Mother nodded. “You do have talents. You should explore them.”
And then become wildly successful. Anything less wouldn’t measure up. Daphne fed Milo, then sat down at the table. “I’ve been thinking.”
“Yes?”
There was an eagerness in that one-word prompt. Was her mother just waiting for her to say she was ready to move out? Probably. Her decision would come as a relief to both of them. “I think it’s time I got my own place. I’m going over to Mountain Meadows Real Estate to check out a couple of places this afternoon.”
To Daphne’s shock, Mother didn’t seem relieved at all. Instead, her face fell like a ruined soufflé. “I don’t understand. I thought you were happy here. If this is about last night...”
Daphne shook her head. “It’s about more than last night. It’s about how we work together. Or rather, don’t work together.” Her mother looked as if she wanted to cry. What was that about?
“Other than our misunderstanding yesterday, I thought we were getting along quite well.”
She couldn’t be serious. “Mother, we’ve done nothing but aggravate each other ever since I arrived.”
“That’s not true,” her mother insisted, opting for deliberate blindness. “Don’t move out, Daphne. Don’t leave, not like this.”
There it was again, that moment where her mother looked old, vulnerable. “I’m not leaving Icicle Falls.” Not yet, anyway. Although knowing she had a grandchild on the way made the idea of moving east very tempting.
“I was wrong not to believe you,” Mother said in a small voice. “I’ve been wrong about a lot of things.” Her gaze dropped to her hands, and she smoothed the skin on them, as if to smooth away the years. “I’ve done so many things wrong. I’m afraid I turned out to be like my mother, more than I want to admit.” She sighed deeply. “I was never good enough for her. She was a hard, selfish woman who cared more about what other people thought than she did her own daughter.” Mother lifted her gaze and Daphne saw tears glistening in her eyes. “I hope I’m not that woman. Daphne, I love you, and I’d like to think that’s why I’ve always wanted so much for you. But maybe there was some pride in there, too. Maybe I wanted you to become the most successful woman ever so I could show my mother she’d been wrong to disown us. Either way, I’m afraid I haven’t been a very good mother to you.” She shook her head. “What a sad thing to realize on Mother’s Day.”
Now Daphne felt tears flooding her own eyes. Yes, her mother had interfered in her life at every turn, given unrequested advice and often been irritated with her. But she’d always been there for Daphne, offering a shoulder to cry on, lending her money when she needed it, buying extravagant presents for both Marnie and her. She hadn’t been a perfect mother but she’d tried. And she’d cared.
“You have been a good mother,” Daphne insisted. “We’re definitely not the same, though. I can’t be a version of you. I’ll never accomplish as much or be as successful.”
“Or as fussy and nitpicky.”
Daphne smiled at that. “I hope not.”
“I have to admit that when you first came back I thought living together would be a terrible idea. You’re right—we are different, and those differences frustrate me sometimes. And, as you may have noticed, I like my independence. But I’m getting older and I could use some extra help around here.” She reached across the table and placed a hand on Daphne’s arm. “And I enjoy the company.”
“You do?” She had a funny way of showing it.
“Darling, I really am sorry about last night. Let’s start over. Could we do that?”
The truth was, Daphne didn’t want to leave. She might be fifty-three, but she still wanted her mother’s approval. She wanted to try again. If... “Mother, do you think you could be a little less critical?”
“Yes, Daphne. Please forgive me. It’s hard to accept your child for who she is when she’s not who you want her to be, especially when you see...”
“So much potential,” Daphne finished with her, and they both smiled.
“But you know,” Roberta continued, “I never measured up in my mother’s eyes, even though I always made the honor roll. She wanted me to marry the ‘right’ kind of man, increase her status. She wanted me to display nicely, like her Dresden figurines. I didn’t choose well, and she couldn’t forgive me for that because I ruined the facade.” Mother sighed. “We could have had a happy life together if she’d ever given us a chance, if she’d seen beyond herself. She didn’t, though. She never really saw my heart. I don’t want to be like that with you.”
Over the years there’d been the occasional mention of Daphne’s grandmother but no more than that. When she was small, her great-grandmother had come to see them a couple of times and sent presents at Christmas, and she hadn’t questioned the fact that no other family was part of their lives. But when Daphne got a little older she began to ask questions. Her mother had dodged them with excuses such as “Grandmother’s busy” or “Grandmother isn’t well enough to come and see us.” Daphne finally lost interest in the ghost grandma she never saw, and it wasn’t until she was fully grown that she learned her mother and grandmother didn’t get along. No more details were forthcoming. Hardly surprising, since she hadn’t learned about her bumsicle father, either, until she became engaged to Johnny, of whom her mother strongly disapproved. After the way her mother had dribbled out information over the years, her intimate confession this morning felt like a landslide of sharing.
And it explained a lot. “I wish you’d told me more of this over the years,” Daphne said.
“I should have. But honestly, Daphne, I don’t think I really made the connection between my behavior and hers until now. That doesn’t make me a very wise old woman, does it?”
Milo rubbed against Daphne’s legs and she picked him up and cuddled him next to her, considering what her mother had said. “I think wisdom comes with experience and with figuring things out. I’d like to believe I’m wiser now than I was a year ago.”
“I hope I’m wiser now than I was a day ago,” Roberta said.
“Wise or not, I love you.”
“Can you love me enough to stay?”
Words Daphne had never thought she’d hear, they poured like a healing balm over her wounded feelings. “It’s what I wanted all along,” she said softly. “You’ve always been there for me. I want to be there for you now.”
Daphne rarely saw her mother cry. Roberta Gilbert was too strong for tears.
But not today. They flowed in twin rivers down her cheeks. She picked up her napkin and touched it to her eyes. “Daphne, darling, you truly are a wonderful woman.”
>
Daphne gave her a wistful smile, and she, too, picked up a napkin and dabbed at her cheeks. “Even if I don’t always keep the kitchen as clean as you’d like,” she added in an attempt to lighten the moment.
“There’s more to life than cleaning, isn’t there?” Mother said, and it was all Daphne could do not to ask, “Who are you and what have you done with my mother?”
Later that morning as they sat in Zelda’s enjoying omelets, crepes, strawberries and champagne from the Mother’s Day buffet, Daphne revealed Marnie’s good news.
“A new baby in the family,” her mother said happily. “Oh, how much fun we’ll have spoiling her.”
“Or him.”
“Oh, dear. If it’s a boy I’ll have no idea what to do with him.”
Maybe that wouldn’t be a bad thing.
They were just finishing up when Hank Hawkins came in with his mother, a slight woman with salt-and-pepper hair and a stooped back. How had such a small woman produced such a large man?
The large man looked even better in a Sunday suit than he did in his work clothes. His jaw was freshly shaved and smooth and his dark hair slicked back. He cleaned up well.
Someone must have turned up the heat in the restaurant. Daphne took a long drink of orange juice in an effort to cool down.
He smiled at the sight of her and her mother and led his own mom in their direction. “Happy Mother’s Day, ladies,” he said, stopping at their table.
“Thank you, Hank. Nice to see you, Sal,” Mother said to the woman.
“Is this your lovely daughter I’ve been hearing so much about?” asked Sal.
Hank suddenly looked as if he was the one having a hot flash.
“This is my daughter, Daphne,” Mother said and introduced Sally Hawkins.
“Pleased to meet you,” Daphne said. She caught a whiff of Hank’s cologne, some kind of woodsy virile scent, and she knew she couldn’t blame the heat she was feeling now on misfiring hormones. Her hormones were just fine, thank you, and ready to hook up with some nice testosterone.
“How’s the breakfast?” he asked.
“Very good,” Daphne replied. The best breakfast she’d ever had with her mother. Today was a celebration of new understanding and, hopefully, a new beginning. She smiled across the table at Mother, who beamed back at her.
“It certainly looks delicious,” Sal remarked. “Aren’t we blessed to have wonderful children to take us out?”
“We certainly are,” Mother agreed.
“I guess we’ll see you around,” Hank said. The look he sent Daphne promised he wasn’t about to give up chasing her.
Maybe that was fine with her, after all. Maybe somewhere in the distant future her heart would heal and she’d dive once more into love’s choppy waters. “I’m sure you will.”
Hank and his mother went back to the reception area to check in with Charley Masters, who was busy seating people. Then, as she led them to their table, he winked at Daphne, turning her internal thermostat even higher.
“He really is a nice man,” her mother said. “Not that I’m encouraging you to start dating.” This was followed by a guilty expression. “Of course, I don’t want to tell you what to do.”
“Of course not,” Daphne murmured. Her mother would probably never change. She’d interfere in Daphne’s life and try to run the show as long as she drew breath. But here was one area she didn’t need to worry about. Daphne had finally learned her lesson about love. “I’m in no hurry to start dating. I’m doing fine on my own. And I think that things are only going to get better,” she added. Because from now on, she’d be making wiser choices, choices that were right for her.
Actually, she’d already started. Moving to Icicle Falls had been one of the smartest decisions she’d ever made.
Chapter Twenty-Three
Anne, Distracted Wife and Loving Mother
The family gathered at Anne’s house for Mother’s Day, and talk naturally turned to how the wedding plans were progressing.
“We still have so much to do,” Anne said as she passed around slices of chocolate cake. “Invitations need to go out.”
“I’m working on that,” Laney said vaguely.
“They should go pretty soon.” Her daughter shouldn’t be procrastinating, and she shouldn’t have to keep nagging.
“They will,” Laney said curtly.
“At least the save-the-date announcements went out, so people will have it on their calendars,” Kendra reminded Anne.
“Bring the invitations over here,” said Julia. “We can all help you and have the whole thing done in an evening.”
“Good idea,” Kendra said.
Laney didn’t say anything.
Anne went on with her list of unfinished business. “The bridesmaids still need to get their dresses. Laney, when are you and the girls going shopping?”
“Probably next week,” Laney said, digging into her cake.
She was more interested in the cake than she was in talking about her wedding, and Anne found that disturbing. Lately, Laney seemed rather cranky, too, which was also disturbing.
But hardly uncommon. Planning a wedding could be stressful, so the crankiness was understandable. The lack of enthusiasm, not so much. In fact, it was downright mystifying. When she was a tween and a teen she’d been fascinated by what her mother did for a living, wanting to see pictures and check out links to various sites right along with Anne. Now, when it counted, she wasn’t focusing on any of it.
“I want to get my flower-girl dress,” Coral, Kendra’s oldest, announced.
“Me, too,” her little sister, Amy, chimed in.
“Don’t worry,” Kendra told them. “You will.”
“And the bridesmaids’ gifts. Have you decided on them yet?” Anne had sent her a couple of different links to check out.
Laney heaved a long-suffering sigh. “Not yet.”
“Who’s going to be your photographer?” Julia asked.
“I don’t know yet, Grammy,” Laney said. “I still have time.”
“Not as much as you think,” Anne cautioned. “We really need to get going.” She hated to push, but honestly, they had a lot to do.
Laney made a face. “Jeez, Mom. Stop already.”
Stop? As if she was, somehow, being unreasonable in trying to get her daughter moving? “Laney,” Anne said sternly.
“Good cake,” Cam said, and everyone else at the table happily went along with the change of subject.
Anne sat and stewed. Happy Mother’s Day. Hmmph.
“I only want our daughter’s wedding to turn out well,” she said to Cam after everyone had left. It seemed she’d said that a lot over the past couple of months.
“Everything will get done,” he reassured her, leading her over to the couch.
“When?”
“Before the wedding,” he said, slipping an arm around her and pulling her close. “Stop worrying.”
“Easy for you to say,” she grumbled. “All you have to do is show up.”
“And, when it comes right down to it, that’s all you have to do, too. This is Laney’s wedding. She can plan it.”
“I know,” Anne said. “But the problem is, she’s not. She’s letting things slide. She needs help.”
“Maybe she doesn’t want help. Maybe she doesn’t care about some of those things.”
“Then she shouldn’t be having a wedding. She should just elope.” Wait a minute. What was she saying?
Cam grinned. “Yeah, I can picture you allowing that to happen. Seriously, Anne, let some of this go and make her do the heavy lifting.” He disappeared into the spare room that served as their office and then returned with his laptop. “Let’s do some planning of our own. How’s that sound?”
It sounde
d better than fretting over her daughter’s lack of motivation. “Sure.”
He opened the computer and they went online, comparing cruises. “This one with Holland America looks good,” he said.
At that moment Anne’s cell phone rang.
“Don’t answer it.”
“It’s Laney.” Of course she had to answer it.
Cam sighed and slumped against the sofa cushions.
“I’m going to make an event on Facebook instead of sending out all these invitations,” Laney told her.
“Sweetie, I think that would be tacky, and not everyone we know is on Facebook. Anyway, Grammy, Aunt Kendra and I are going to help you. Remember?” Since they’d paid for the invitations, it seemed silly not to use them. Cam picked up the remote and brought the TV to life. An action film roared onto the screen and Anne moved to the kitchen. “We’ll do it one night this week. Between all of us we can have it finished in no time.”
“I guess,” Laney said dubiously.
“It’ll be fun.” Anne tried to encourage her. “Meanwhile, check out the links I sent for your bridesmaids’ gifts.”
Now her phone was telling her she had another call. She glanced at caller ID. “That’s Aunt Kendra. I’ll talk to you later,” Anne said. As she switched from Laney to Kendra she could see her husband channel surfing, waiting patiently for her to return to planning their anniversary. “What’s up?”
“I was going to ask you that. Is Laney ticked at you? She seemed kind of grumpy at dinner today.”
“Pre-wedding stress,” Anne said. “You know how that goes. But she’s fine. I was talking to her when you called.”
“Okay. Just thought I’d ask.”
She was barely off the phone with Kendra when her mom checked in, also wondering about Laney.
By the time she wandered back into the living room, Cam was involved in a TV show. Or pretending to be. She could tell by the expression on his face that he was miffed. “Okay, now where were we?” she said in her cheeriest voice, sliding next to him.
“We were obsessing about our daughter’s wedding and ignoring our husband.”
A Wedding on Primrose Street (Life In Icicle Falls Book 7) Page 24
