Happy Hour

by Michele Scott

  “Hang on. I’m going to get a coffee. I’ll be right back.”

  Maybe he wanted to discuss Shannon and the baby. Danielle hadn’t asked Shannon if she’d told her dad about the baby’s condition. It wasn’t something she cared to do, or felt it was her responsibility to do. Mark’s talk with her out under that willow tree had stirred up some good old common sense. As hard as it still was to simply let go and accept Shannon’s position, she was doing it a little at a time, day by day, and she’d noticed their relationship improving. Tonight they’d even planned to go out to dinner together and maybe see a movie if Shannon wasn’t too tired.

  Al sat back down, his large hands around the coffee cup—hands that held her own for many years. But there was no more love between them, no more hate, just nothing.

  He didn’t say anything, his eyes shifting around the Starbucks.

  “Al, you wanted to see me,” Danielle finally said. “What is it? You want to talk about Shannon and the pregnancy?”

  He nodded. “We probably should talk about that.”

  “Okay.”

  “What do you think?” he asked.

  “I think it doesn’t matter a whole terrible lot what I think. Shannon is an adult and she’s made a decision to have the baby,” Danielle replied.

  “Without a father, though.”

  “Without a father. Women do it all the time.” Danielle got the feeling that Shannon had not told him about the baby’s condition. Seemed it was as hard for her daughter to tell her parents as it was for Danielle to confide in her friends about it.

  “But what will she do? Do you know what her plans to finish school are, or how she is going to support this baby? I’m not going to support her and the baby because, as you said, she’s an adult now. She should have really thought about what she was doing when she got pregnant.”

  Al hadn’t changed under the magical powers of his younger bride. He was still uptight, critical and anal. “People don’t typically think when they’re in the throes of passion, now do they, Al?” She cocked her head to the side and smirked.

  He didn’t say anything.

  “Shannon has been raised with good values, and I trust she’s going to be fine.” Was she giving herself that speech, or her ex-husband? And was she trying to prove she was the adult here, or did she really believe what she said? She took another sip of peppermint tea and sat back, thinking for a second. She did believe it. She’d raised her daughters well and now it was their turn to test the waters of life on their own. All she could do was sit back in the lifeboat, and hope they would fair the waters that lie ahead. Danielle stared at her ex-husband who looked so completely uncomfortable shifting back and forth in his seat. “Is that it, Al? Is that what you needed to see me for? I am really busy with the festival details and my business, so I need to be getting back.”

  He reached for her hand and grabbed it as she started to stand. Surprised, she looked at him. “I want to help with the festival. I have some ideas.”

  She slowly sat back down. “Since when? Al, I’ve known you for twenty-five years and I don’t remember a time where you ever showed an interest in charity work, or festivals so I find it hard to believe you want to help with the preparations for this.” She stared hard at him.

  He reached for her hand again but she pulled away before he could grab it. “I messed up, Danielle. I really screwed up.” He shook his head and looked down.

  “What? What do you mean?”

  When he looked back up at her there were tears in his eyes. “I can’t do this. I can’t. Stacey and the babies.” He brought a hand to his forehead. “I made the biggest mistake I ever made by cheating on you and being with her. She’s making me miserable. You and me, we had such a great marriage, and we’ve had so many good times. We’ve raised two daughters together. We built a company. And I screwed it all up. We did have it all, didn’t we? I’m so sorry. Can you forgive me? Would you ever…?” He looked at her, his eyes pleading.

  Oh, how pitiful.

  Three and half years ago she might have said, “Come home and we’ll see a counselor.” But now? Danielle stood up and grabbed her purse. “I forgive you, Al. I did that a long time ago. Now go home to Stacey and your babies.”

  “But can’t we talk about this?” he asked as she stepped away.

  She turned back. “No. There is nothing to talk about. Go home and be a husband, and be a father. You lost that right with me. Don’t make the same mistake twice.”

  Danielle walked out of the Starbucks. She should’ve felt like a million bucks. She’d finally gotten what she’d wanted from Al: he was remorseful and close to begging her to take him back. But instead of feeling elated, Danielle felt sorry for Stacey, who now had to live with him.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE

  Jamie

  Jamie held Dorothy’s hand as they walked down the hall of Vineyard Escape. So far, so good. It was clean and bright, but not hospital-like. It did appear to be more of an apartment or condo complex except that there were only elderly people around, other than the staff, and a lot more wheelchairs.

  “And this is our restaurant.” Their host, Samuel—an older, obviously gay man— spread his arms wide and showed them a large, comfortable room filled with booths and a few tables. It did look like a restaurant but all the meals were included in the cost of living here. “Our residents can come in at any time of the day and we have a full waitstaff waiting to serve them. There are many wonderful selections on the menu.” Samuel snapped his fingers. “Theresa, Theresa.” A young blonde woman looked up from behind a hostess stand. “Hi. Could you please bring us a menu, doll?”

  “As you can see, these are not cafeteria style plates. We serve gourmet meals and even offer wine and beer for those residents who are allowed to imbibe. And there are special menus for those with strict dietary needs. But that isn’t the case with your mother, now is it?”

  “No.” Jamie perused the menu and it all sounded wonderful.

  “Also, whenever you or one of your other relatives would like to stop in for a meal, we make it easy for you by charging it either on your monthly statement, or giving you the option to pay at the time.”

  Jamie nodded again. This place was not going to come cheap. Quality never did. Dorothy looked approvingly at the restaurant but Jamie knew that convincing her brother-in-law was going to be tough.

  “Let me show you the apartments now,” Samuel said, “and then we’ll move on to the spa.”

  “Spa?” Jamie asked.

  “Of course. Don’t you think that after years of taking care of people, of working day in and day out, that a daily spa treatment should be in order? Your mother deserves that much.”

  “Yes, of course.” Shoot, Jamie wanted to move in.

  “Alrighty then.” They went down a short hall and Samuel unlocked the door to the apartment. It was quaint and nicely furnished and decorated. It held a good-sized kitchen, family room, a bedroom, and bathroom.

  “We don’t have stoves or ovens in the apartments. We can’t have anyone burning down the house. Hence the restaurant, or of course there is always room service. And each resident is assigned their own resident assistant and the R.A. makes sure their residents are eating and are happy.” Samuel flipped his hand.

  “Who is this for?” Dorothy asked, leaning into Jamie.

  “Maybe for you, Mom. Do you like it?”

  Dorothy’s face screwed up in confusion. “It is nice, but I like living with you and Nathan. That’s where Dean comes to visit me. And I really like that little girl who sits by me and watches TV with me all the time.”

  Jamie hugged her. “I know, Mom. Let’s look around some more, okay?”

  “I guess so,” she replied, sounding worried.

  Samuel escorted them to the spa. The place was like a resort complete with manicurists and hairdressers.

  “This is a nice place,” Dorothy said. “Am I getting my hair done here?”

  Samuel glanced at Jamie. “That’s a wonderful id
ea, Mrs. Evans. Let me see about an appointment.” Samuel walked over to the receptionist. They talked for a moment and Jamie saw the woman nodding. Samuel came back. “Lorraine can see you right now, as a matter of fact.” Samuel escorted Dorothy to the hairdresser’s chair and Dorothy looked happy as a Cheshire cat. Who knew such a simple pleasure like getting your hair done could bring so much joy?

  “I’ll show you the rest of the spa and the pool area, then we can go on back to my office where we can talk business.” He rubbed his hands together.

  The rest of the place was as impressive. The spa was done up Spanish style with arches and soft lighting. Classic guitar played on the speakers. There were a dozen treatment rooms offering everything from body wraps, massages to facials and acupuncture. Apparently you didn’t need to die to go to heaven, you could just move into The Vineyard Escape. This place made getting old look like fun.

  But heavenly fun came with a price. As Jamie sat opposite Samuel in his office listening to all of the benefits of living at The Vineyard Escape, her eyes kept going back to that monthly expense of seven thousand dollars that jumped off of the contract form.

  “Keep in mind that the price includes twenty-four hour nursing staff, her resident assistant, rent, two spa treatments a week, meals, and maid service.”

  “Uh huh,” Jamie said, taking it all in. “Samuel, I’ll be honest with you. I love this place and I would love to have my mother-in-law live here, but I don’t have that kind of money. I…”

  “Do you have any family members who could help you? We could allot her only one treatment a week, but we do feel it is crucial for the happiness of our residents to go to the spa at least weekly. They deserve to be happy in their latter years and that is what we provide.”

  “I appreciate that. I can talk to my brother-in-law and see, but I doubt he’ll be willing to help me out with this.”

  “He can come by and take a look at the facility. Why wouldn’t he want the best for his mother?”

  “I agree. Thank you.”

  “Here’s my card and please can call if you have any questions. It’s been a delight.”

  “Should I pick her up at the spa?”

  Samuel nodded. “I’ll escort you.”

  Samuel walked her back down to the spa. The hairdresser was dousing Dorothy’s new updo in hairspray. When she saw Jamie, she spun around in the chair. “Look, honey. Look over there.” Dorothy nodded her head toward a gentleman sitting two chairs down getting his haircut. “It’s Frank and he keeps smiling at me. I am beginning to tire of Dean.”

  Samuel looked at Jamie. “That’s Harry. Not Frank.”

  Jamie shook her head vehemently. “No. No it’s not. That is Frank Sinatra and we’ll take the apartment.”

  ***

  The contracts on the house had been signed and Jamie had thirty days to pack away a decade of memories, find a place to rent for herself and Maddie, and to get Dorothy settled into her new home.

  Tyler had been spending a lot of time with the two of them, and Maddie had basically fallen in love with him. Jamie was still in lust, and the jury was out as to whether or not she could, or would, fall in love with Tyler. He was a great guy, handsome, had a lot to offer, and the sex—well, no-brainer there. And she’d sort of gotten over feeling like she should be wearing a Scarlet Letter. The problem for her was still the age thing. Say they did get together—officially—for the long haul. She would age a lot faster than he would, and men never seemed to age the way women did. Why was that? A man could get all grey and be considered debonair, but on a woman it was just plain old, old. And then Tyler would find a new woman, someone hot and young. What a miserable thought. Maybe she should break it off with him before that happened, before they got any closer. But she didn’t want to give up riding, and she didn’t want Maddie to give up riding, and dammit, she really didn’t want to give up Tyler. But she didn’t know if she could fall in love with him, and Jamie wanted to fall in love.

  Tonight Tyler was taking them all to dinner, including Dorothy, who referred to him as John Wayne. He didn’t mind at all and actually enjoyed humoring her. But before any fun time could be had, Jamie needed to see her in-laws. They’d been ignoring her phone calls, her texts, her e-mails all pleading for help with Dorothy. And she’d had enough. So today she had dropped Maddie at the ranch, and was blazing her way toward the city where she planned to drop in on David and Susan. This time she wasn’t leaving without getting them to agree to pay for Dorothy’s care.

  When she pulled up in front of their two-story Marin County mansion, she almost turned around. A valet came up to her to park her car. Ah, a party at the Evans’s home! How nice. Guests were getting out of their cars dressed to the nines and Jamie had on blue jeans and a J. Crew t-shirt. “Ma’am, would you like me to park your car?” the valet asked again.

  She hesitated. “Yes. But close by. I won’t be long.” Screw it. She’d driven this far, and if these people could throw afternoon fetes that afforded caterers and valets, they could most certainly afford to help Dorothy.

  A burly man dressed in a tux and gripping a communications radio stopped her at the door. “Invitation?” He eyed her up and down.

  “I’m related to the Evanses.”

  “Do you have an invitation?” he asked again.

  “No, I don’t have an invitation. I’m here to see David and Susan Evans.”

  “This is an invitation only party. You’ll have to come back.”

  “I’m not coming back. I want to see David and Susan Evans right now.”

  Walkie-talkie tough guy radioed something and before long another hulk came on the scene. Jamie tried to stay rational. “I am David’s sister-in-law and I am here to see him about his mother. It is vitally important. Life or death.” She nodded for emphasis.

  Hulk One and Two looked at each other, whispered something, and then Two left.

  “Where’s he going?” Jamie asked.

  Number One crossed his arms and stared at her, or at least she assumed he was staring at her from behind his dark sunglasses. Invited guests heading into the house shot her curious glances, and Jamie did her best to flash them polite smiles.

  A minute later, Susan appeared dressed in a light, flowy, off-the-shoulder, floor length chiffon number, her blonde, highlighted hair done in a perfectly coiffed up-do, her beady green eyes trained on Jamie. “Jamie, we weren’t expecting you. We’re having a private gathering this afternoon for Senator Mast.”

  “Right. I won’t take up a lot of your time, Susan, but we need to talk about Dorothy.”

  “Oh.” She waved a hand at her. “I’ve found her a lovely place here in the city. They have on-staff doctors and nice rooms. It’s perfect and well within the budget. I planned to call you about it, but we’ve been busy. I’ll get to you this week.”

  “Interesting. You have a budget? You’re not getting back to me this week. Here’s the deal. I found Dorothy a place in Napa Valley that is superior, close by me—since I’ll actually take the time to visit her—where she can still enjoy freedom and be respected for the fine woman she is. I have told this to David and I’m now telling you. I do live on a budget and these days it’s getting tighter. You, on the other hand, can apparently spring for parties for corrupt politicians.” A few guests stopped, curious as to who the crazy lady in the jeans was. “You and David owe her. I have friends who are journalists for some very prestigious papers, including The Wall Street Journal, The New York Times, The Los Angeles Times, and The Chronicle.” This was all complete bullshit, but by the horrified expression on Susan’s face, Jamie knew she was buying it. “I’ve been thinking about doing an article with my friend from The Wall Street Journal on aging parents, and about the children who do and do not take care of them. I’d hate to name such high profile figures like you and David and I’m sure Senator Mast would be mortified to know that people like you who neglect their aging parents are some of his major contributors.”

  Susan took a step back, her face paling.
“I’ll be back in a moment,” she whispered.

  Ten minutes passed and Jamie started wondering if she was calling her bluff. But then David appeared and handed her a check and some documents.

  “What’s this?” Jamie asked.

  “That’s a hundred grand, and my mother’s life insurance policy. I am signing it over to you, along with power of attorney. It’s worth a million dollars. That should take care of her. Now go away, Jamie. We’ll be calling you to visit Maddie. We do expect to be seeing her more often in light of our generosity.”

  She walked away with a smile and muttered, “Over my dead body.” There was no way in hell Jamie was going to expose Maddie to those people ever again.

  “Forgive me, Nate,” she said as she got into her car.

  She looked toward the bay as a summer shower started to come down, and she laughed. David and Susan’s little soiree in the garden was getting drenched. Pity. She pulled out of the circular drive and spotted a full, bright rainbow. A sudden sense of peace came over her, and she wondered if it was Nate’s way of letting her know he approved.

  CHAPTER THIRTY

  Kat

  Kat smiled at the sight of her dad’s red VW Beetle in front of his house. When he’d made the decision to move out to Napa to be closer to Kat and his grandkids, she’d been overjoyed. Her dad badly needed a change. She’d begged him for years to sell the house she’d grown up in, the one where her mom had left him behind to sulk and fret.

  Dad’s home was small, over fifty years old, but quaint and set against a small wooded area. She went around to the side door off of his kitchen, knowing when she walked in that the familiar smells of coffee and must would hit her—a smell Kat liked because it meant new memories for her dad, and it actually felt more like coming home to her than had he still lived in the old house in Oakland.

  Kat shut the back door and Dad’s cat, Roy, slunk over and rubbed his orange body between her legs, looking up at her and mewing. “Hi, Roy.” She picked him up and scratched behind his ears. “Where’s Dad?” Usually when she entered her dad’s place, CNN blared from the television.