A Weekend Getaway

by Karen Lenfestey

  Maybe if he’d known his daughter since birth, they’d be closer and he wouldn’t have felt the need to impress her with his success.

  Stan dropped his glasses on his paper-cluttered desk. “In good conscience, I don’t feel comfortable changing your will without some more evidence that this girl is related to you. Ivy has been your loyal wife for what—fifteen years?”

  Parker didn’t bother to correct the man’s math. “Loyal is the last thing that bitch has been. I don’t want her to get anything. She married me for my money and I was a fool to ever think otherwise.”

  Stan took a seat next to him. “Parker, I’ve known you a long time and I have to say, I’m noticing some personality changes in you lately. Tell me what’s going on. You call me late at night, you ask me to sue somebody you knew years ago, and now you want me to alter your will.”

  Parker hadn’t told Stan about the diagnosis, but maybe it was time. Stan might understand why he had to get his affairs in order, why his daughter meant everything, and why he wanted to hurt the people who’d hurt him. Facing one’s mortality clarified one’s priorities. People were either friends or enemies.

  Gathering his thoughts, Parker cracked his knuckles. He knew Stan was like a lion stalking prey and he wouldn’t let up until Parker confessed. “My doctor says I have Huntington’s disease.”

  Stan’s mouth opened, but then he closed it. He always regained his composure quickly. It was what Parker respected most about him. “Is that what took your father?”

  Parker nodded. “This is confidential, right?”

  “Of course.”

  “Because I haven’t told anyone at work. If word gets out, it could kill Mall Land stock.” He drew in a full breath. He didn’t even want to think about the business right now. “So of course I’m concerned about my will, now more than ever. But Ivy deserves to be cut out. I caught her in bed this weekend with some loser. He’s the piano player in her band, I think.” He’d seen the man only once at a performance, but Parker had noticed the way Ivy had stared at him in that stupid fedora. And Ivy often came home in the middle of the night after her shows, smelling of cigarette smoke and another man’s sweat. Why had Parker put up with her for so long?

  Stan cleared his throat. “Sorry, man.” He paused as if trying to show respect, though Parker could practically hear his bill for the visit go up every time the clock on the wall ticked. “Do you want me to file for divorce?”

  Divorce. The word landed hard on his chest. His mother had stayed with his dad despite his father’s growing temper, his losing his job, his need for someone to nurse him. She’d taken her vows seriously and he admired her for that. He came from a long line of marriages where one person got the short end of the stick. No, Parker wouldn’t be the first in his family to divorce.

  “There’s no need.” He would move into one of the guest rooms and channel money from their joint account into his individual one. Within weeks, he’d have all of the assets out of her grasp and she’d be none the wiser. Ivy probably thought his death would be like hitting the lottery. No doubt that’s why she hadn’t asked for a divorce herself. Damn her.

  Stan studied him for a moment, then dropped his gaze to his iPad. “Document everything she does, just in case you decide to file later.” He tapped his screen. “If it’s all right to change the subject, you might like to know that I heard from Bethany’s lawyer.”

  Parker surveyed his middle-aged attorney. Graying temples, beady eyes, a little paunch beneath his tailored navy suit. “She has a lawyer?”

  “Well, she won’t be much of a match for me in court. She works for legal aid.”

  “Oh, I bet that’s her mom. She was in pre-law when Beth and I were in college.”

  “She wants to know if you’re willing to drop the lawsuit. I told her absolutely not.”

  Parker took a deep breath. He didn’t need the money. He’d only wanted to hurt Beth the way she’d hurt him. Now he had the pain of knowing he had a daughter who didn’t like him. All because of Beth. “How long before we can get a court date?”

  “Probably a year. If we went through mediation, that could get scheduled a little sooner.”

  A year. Every day was precious now. Did he really want to spend any of those days locked in a courtroom? Would his mind even be as sharp a year from now?

  Again, Parker cracked his knuckles, something he hadn’t done much since college. He’d broken himself of the habit because he didn’t like to give his employees or opponents any insight into his stress level. But every time he thought about what Beth had cheated him out of, his blood boiled. He’d missed his only chance to be somebody’s dad.

  Beth and Ivy had done him wrong. “Schedule mediation and change the will. I want them both to suffer.”

  # # #

  With a plastic basket hooked over her elbow, Beth headed toward the back of the local pharmacy to the vitamin aisle. Even though Healthy Habits was strictly mail-order, this was the competition. Shelves from the floor up to eye-level displayed dark bottles with lots of writing on the labels. No pictures on the labels. No sweepstakes entries. No company was even trying to set themselves apart. Picking up a dark green plastic bottle, she studied the child-proof cap and shook her head. Boring.

  She selected bottles from several different companies and placed them into her basket. For research.

  On her way toward the exit, she passed a glass display case filled with cologne bottles. It triggered a memory. Sarah loved perfume and had tried to convince her in college that every woman should have a signature scent. Maybe Beth should give her a bottle as a thank you for all of her support. Past and present.

  She paused to search and couldn’t help wondering if Hannah had a special fragrance. If only Beth knew, she could send her a bottle.

  A fifty-something woman with blue eye shadow and a white lab coat stepped behind the counter. “May I help you find something?”

  A sea of scents overwhelmed Beth. Vanilla, pine, musk. “Do you have Clinique’s Happy Heart? That’s my friend’s favorite.”

  The woman searched through the decorative glass bottles. She shook her head. “I don’t see it. How about this?” She sprayed a squirt from a bottle that looked like a tiny crystal vase. A rose was etched on the glass in front of the amber liquid. “It’s new.”

  Beth inhaled and smiled. A light citrus mixed with floral notes. “That’s lovely. But perfume is such a personal thing. Just because I like it doesn’t mean she will.”

  The woman nodded. “I understand. What about for you?”

  Beth pondered that for a minute. She didn’t have a signature scent because she’d never found one she liked as well as this one. She raised her wrist to her nose one more time. Breathing deeply, she smiled. “I think that’s a great idea.”

  “I can ring up your other purchases if you like.”

  Beth placed the plain vitamin bottles on the glass counter next to the decorative perfume bottles. And she had an epiphany.

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  To: Bethany@yahoo.com

  From: Hannahbanana@gmail.com

  You’re a lifesaver. Mom agreed to the pantsuit instead of making me wear a frilly dress. Are you a tomboy like me?

  To: Hannahbanana@gmail.com

  From: Bethany@yahoo.com

  Yes, I am a tomboy. However, you are a million times prettier than I ever was.

  To: Bethany@yahoo.com

  From: Hannahbanana@gmail.com

  Would you send me a picture of yourself? What you looked like at my age and what you look like now?

  Beth stared at the screen. Photos were her nemesis. When you’re overweight, the last thing you needed was for the camera to add ten pounds. She took a deep breath. Her daughter was reaching out to her! So what if she’d see how homely Beth was. Beth had grown up with a beautiful mother and that hadn’t been easy. Always hearing: “Oh, you must take after your father, huh?”

  Making her way to her closet, she couldn’t stop her gaze from landing on the
box where she kept the adoption info. As always, guilt surged inside of her. Shaking away the emotion, she reached for a nearby shoebox labeled “pictures.” She sat down on the floor and dug through the jumble. A picture of her childhood pet rabbit named Fluffy. A photo of her father’s stone church with springtime flowers in bloom. Tons of embarrassing school photos where her weight puffed her cheeks in a way that caused kids to call her “Buffalo Bethany.” She tossed those aside until she found a snapshot of her opening a Christmas present at age sixteen, her body mostly covered with wrapping paper and a boxed set of Star Trek videos. After she scanned it into the computer, she took a photo of herself with her digital camera. She attached both pictures and sent them off. Then she waited for a reply.

  To: Bethany@yahoo.com

  From: Hannahbanana@gmail.com

  It’s hard to tell in the picture. Do you have brown eyes, too? Green and blue eyes run in the Taylor family and I always felt left out with my brooding brown eyes. I hoped you and I might look alike, but maybe biology isn’t as important as one might think. Parker and I share some features, but we barely have anything in common. Adoptive kids often feel curious, and I admit, I felt it a little bit, but now I know better. It’s nature versus nurture and obviously nurture is what matters. Please don’t take this the wrong way. I’m not trying to make you feel bad. I’m saying you did the right thing by giving me to my parents.

  To: Hannahbanana@gmail.com

  From: Bethany@yahoo.com

  When you were born, you had blue eyes like me, but I remember the nurse told me that your eyes could change color. Your brown eyes must be from Parker’s side of the family. I’m sorry things didn’t go the way you’d hoped with Parker. He never had any kids so he was probably awkward with you because of that.

  To: Bethany@yahoo.com

  From: Hannahbanana@gmail.com

  Whatever. Thanks, though, for telling me who my biological father is. It’s good to know that information. Maybe in a few years, I’ll want to try and reconnect with him. For now, it just feels weird.

  Beth’s chest tightened. Hannah assumed she could do everything on her own time schedule. She still didn’t know the truth.

  Well, that was Parker’s problem.

  Focusing on her breathing, she tried to convince herself. But her mind returned to those books on suicide that Ivy had found in his closet. The disease might not take his life for a decade but who knew how long before he took matters into his own hands? That would be a terrible loss for Hannah.

  One more deep breath. For courage.

  Beth dialed the long-distance phone number, hoping Hannah wouldn’t answer. If she was like most teenagers, she’d be chatting with her friends on her cell phone and wouldn’t bother to answer the land line.

  “Hello?” a friendly female voice answered.

  “Mrs. Taylor?” Her voice cracked.

  “Who is this?”

  Beth cleared her throat. “Bethany Morris.” She heard the woman gasp and Beth rushed to soothe her. “I don’t know if Hannah told you, but we’ve been e-mailing each other.”

  “What?” Her tone had changed. Angry. Defensive.

  Beth tightened her grip on the phone, desperate to find the right words. “You’ve raised a wonderful young lady. I don’t know how to say this, but there’s something I need to tell you.”

  “You’ve been communicating with my daughter behind my back?”

  “No, not exactly. I just read her blog and commented. Then she and I started writing back and forth.”

  “I don’t know what your game is, but I don’t appreciate your talking to Hannah without my knowledge.”

  Beth pinched the bridge of her nose. This conversation had gone off the rails. “I didn’t mean anything by it, but we did agree that you’d tell her about me.”

  “She knows about you. She’s known for a long time, but she never expressed any interest in you.” Bitterness accented each word.

  Beth’s shoulder muscles clenched. “I didn’t mean to do anything to upset you. Hannah has questions about her biological parents. That’s only normal.”

  “Don’t’ tell me what’s normal! I’ve been her mother for sixteen years!”

  Beth chewed on her lower lip. Mrs. Taylor had seemed so warm and even-tempered when they’d met all of those years ago. Now the woman scolded Beth as if she were a predator stalking Hannah on-line. “I’m sorry.”

  “You should be.”

  In the background she heard footsteps. It sounded like a refrigerator door closed with a thump. An adolescent girl’s voice said, “We’re out of Pepsi, Mom.”

  It had to have been Hannah.

  Beth’s stomach twisted. Mom. The girl said it so casually. The title Beth had thrown away. Now, she’d give anything to be called that.

  The woman’s voice lowered. “I’ve got to go.” Click.

  “But. . .” Beth listened to the cruel dial tone for a moment. Finally, she hung up the phone and rubbed her throbbing temples.

  As Beth drove to Healthy Habits the next morning in the cold November rain, the windshield wipers swished back and forth hypnotically, and she decided to pour herself into her career. Work was her best chance for accomplishing something that she could feel good about. Work had always been a respite from her inadequate personal life. And she needed a respite now more than ever.

  She hung her beige trench coat over the chair in her cubicle, tucked her I.U. umbrella under her desk and carried the pharmacy bag to Luke’s office. She rapped on his closed door. When he yelled, “Come in,” she smoothed her palm against the front of her slacks in a last-minute primp. She turned the knob and entered.

  The foggy sky outside his window made his office seem dim. He stood behind his desk, doing squats while checking e-mail. “I hope the rain clears up by the weekend. I’m running a 10K.”

  She took her usual seat and wondered what it was like to possess boundless energy. “At least it’s not snowing.” Not yet anyway.

  “True. So, what’s in the bag?” He continued to squat and stand, shrink and grow.

  Smiling in anticipation, she pulled out the faceted glass bottles. “I’ve figured out how to set our vitamins apart.” She lined the pink, blue and yellow decanters across his desk. “Vitamin bottles are plain and boring. Every single brand. Well, why not make them beautiful like perfume bottles?”

  He raised up into his full six foot and two inch, lanky frame and picked up the bottle with a rose etched on it. He squinted at it, causing his tiny mole to move. “My grandmother had a whole vanity covered with perfume bottles. I remember my grandfather accusing her of buying them not because she needed them, but because she liked the way they looked.” He turned his attention to another bottle with beveled edges.

  “My grandma did, too. She collected them. Even empty ones she found at estate sales.”

  He spritzed the bottle’s contents to the side, filling the air with a subtle floral scent. His nose scrunched in disapproval.

  Time to turn on her inner salesperson. “Women are our biggest customers. They care about aesthetics. They redecorate when they get bored, they buy clothes based on the latest fashion trends and they color their hair. Looks are important to them.” She decided not to add the fact that the brothers running the company didn’t grasp the female perspective very well.

  Worry lined his forehead. “Not all women are like that.”

  “No, of course not. But I think it’s safe to say, in general, that women are more likely to buy something they think is pretty than something that’s ugly.”

  “Even though Nature Made beat us to the punch with spray vitamins, we could combine that concept with a bottle nice enough to leave on display.”

  Giddiness danced through her body. “Exactly!” Her lips pulled into a grin.

  He sprayed a curvy bottle.

  The sweet, soothing aroma of vanilla tickled her nose. It made her long for homemade sugar cookies.

  “I’ve never seen anyone else do something with the bottle.�
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  “And we could do different colors. Vitamin D could be yellow like the sun, Vitamin C could be red like apples.”

  He handled each bottle, taking in its shape and overall appearance. “It’s perfect!”

  “You think so?”

  “I’ll pitch it at Thursday’s meeting.”

  For a moment, her air supply seemed cut. “Can I come? I’d like to be there. I could even do some research on the correlation between visual attractiveness and women’s purchasing behavior. There’s a reason everything from cars to laptops comes in different colors.” She reached to put the bottles back in her bag.

  He raised his hand. “Leave them here. As far as I’m concerned, you should definitely attend the pitch session. And bring the supporting data.”

  Outside the window, a beam of sunshine pushed its way through the clouds. Beth’s heart lifted as she made her way out of his office.

  She couldn’t wait to tell Drew the good news. She hustled down the hall toward the computer engineering department. His door was closed, so she knocked.

  No answer.

  She tried the handle. Locked.

  Hmm. That was odd. She bent over and noticed the light wasn’t on inside.

  Someone’s footfalls clicked behind her. “Looking for Drew?”

  Beth turned to see one of the IT guys with acne scars. “Do you know where he is?”

  He nodded. “He went home sick. The flu, I think.”

  “Oh, no.” Before she said anything more, the IT guy walked away. Social skills definitely were not a strong suit in this department.

  Worried about Drew, she found her way back to her cubicle. Things had been strained since he announced he might not ever want kids, but she couldn’t just shut off her feelings for him. She dialed home.

  He didn’t pick up. When the machine answered, she left a message. “Sorry to hear you’re not feeling well. Call me at work if you want me to bring home any medicine or chicken noodle soup.”