by Marina Adair
Until Darcy had become a mom, she’d never been enough for anyone in her life. Even the people who were supposed to love her unconditionally had found her coming up short. With Gage, she felt as if she exceeded his expectations.
“We might have only known each other for less than a year, but it feels right,” She let out a big breath. “With the media taking bets on how long we’ll last, and Margo putting so much pressure on this wedding being perfect, sometimes I think it would have been easier to elope.”
Darcy wanted to tell her to fly to Fiji, marry her man, and stay as far away from Margo as possible. Then again, she still hadn’t heard Stephanie say a single word about love. It was clear that she loved how Rhett made her feel, but she hoped there was more.
But this wasn’t her friend, it was her client. And she’d hired a planner not a therapist, so Darcy said, “This day is about you and Rhett. And I know how mothers-in-law can be.” She also knew firsthand how Margo could be. “I will do everything I can to make sure the day remains about celebrating you and Rhett.”
“Oh God.” Stephanie covered her mouth, a look of embarrassed horror taking over her delicate features. “Here I am going on and on, and I forgot that you went through all of this. I don’t know the whole story, but Rhett told me enough that I should be thanking you for even letting us get married here, not complaining about Margo.”
“Rhett was always wonderful, so I’m happy he wants to get married here.” If she left out how he’d never contacted her after the wedding, it was the truth. “And you shouldn’t have to miss out on the venue you want because of a situation you had no control over.”
“Which is why this wedding has to be perfect,” Stephanie said, and she sounded so close to tears, Darcy slid her another watermelon shooter. “I want to look back and have it be about us. Not about if one of the warming trays went out, or if the food didn’t reach expectations.”
“Yours and Rhett’s expectations are all that should matter, and if we stick with that, it will be all that you imagined.”
“Although I am hopeful, the follow through is yet to be seen.”
Darcy didn’t have to look up to see who had crashed their tasting. The censure and oversweet scent of Margo’s perfume was enough to have Darcy cringing—and Stephanie turning pale.
Bracing herself to look into the woman’s eyes who made her life a hell, Darcy turned around. And the first thing she noticed was how frail Margo looked. She’s always been a petite woman, but the sorrow she’d worn like a coat all those years had taken its toll. Instead of feeling angry, Darcy just felt sorry for the woman who had buried two men she loved.
“Margo,” she said, standing and offering her a seat. Margo was dressed in a flowered skirt and blouse, perfect for tea—or the mother of the groom. And if Stephanie didn’t ask her to leave, Darcy wasn’t going to. She might own Belle Mont, but this wasn’t her wedding. So it wasn’t her place. “I didn’t realize you were coming today.”
“And miss my daughter-in-law’s tasting?” Margo gave Stephanie a kiss on the cheek, then took her seat. She didn’t kiss Darcy. Didn’t even look her way. “As soon as I heard Rhett was in New York, I drove right on over. No bride should have to do a tasting alone.”
“Thank you, Margo,” Stephanie said, sending Darcy an apologetic look.
Darcy winked at Stephanie, to put her at ease, then picked up the empty glasses. “You’re right on time, Margo, we were just about to go over the options for hors d'oeuvres. If you ladies will give me a moment, I can see where the chef is at with the plating.”
“Actually, I need to use the powder room. Can you show me where it is?” Margo asked, and Darcy momentarily froze. She didn’t know how much the woman knew about Kylie, or how she felt about the information, only that Gage had told her she had a granddaughter.
“I can take you,” Stephanie offered, her eyes going between the two women.
Darcy nearly wept with relief.
The last thing she wanted was to be alone with that woman. Nothing good could come from it. Then again, Gage had said she’d softened, and he had hope. Darcy would have to take heart in that. If there was any chance for forgiveness and a fresh start, then, for Kylie’s sake, Darcy would even take the first step.
“That’s okay, Stephanie, I’ve got it.” Darcy put an arm out to usher Margo. “You finish up that last watermelon shooter and I’ll take Margo to the ladies’ room, then check on the hors d'oeuvres.”
“Thank you.” Margo stood.
Neither of them said a word as Darcy led her into the house, nor when they were in the empty hallway, so when they reached the bottom floor restroom, Darcy pushed her pride and feelings aside and said, “About Kylie—”
“Gage told me how much you have taken under consideration, and how generous you are being with our family,” Margo interrupted, and the weight that Darcy had been choking on slowly started to lighten. “He said that you have been more than accommodating for Rhett and Stephanie.”
Darcy blinked. “Rhett and Stephanie?”
“Yes, that is what we are here to talk about today, is it not?”
Unsure of what Margo wanted her to say, or even why she was there, Darcy decided to follow her lead. Gage had promised to handle his mother, promised that she’d changed, and maybe this was her way of proving to Darcy that she was willing to work in the confines of what was best for Kylie.
“I want them to have their dream wedding,” Darcy said. “And that means having their family be a part of it. I understand that.”
“Do you?” she asked, and suddenly Darcy didn’t feel so light anymore. “Then why would you shut us out of Kylie’s life all these years? You and I planned your entire wedding, and not one word about the pregnancy. That is not how family behaves.”
The sorrow in Margo’s face was heart shattering. Darcy didn’t know how she’d feel if she were in the older woman’s shoes. Losing Kylie would be like losing a part of herself, finding out that a piece of Kylie was still out there—and Darcy never knew?
A deep ache formed, just thinking about it.
The difference was, Darcy would have never lashed out at someone the way Margo had lashed out at her. And instead of regret in the older woman’s eyes, which should have been beneath some of that sorrow, there was residual anger.
And that had Darcy worried.
“You weren’t my family, Margo. You made that clear the night I came to you for advice,” she said, feeling every helpless emotion she’d felt that night. “As for knowing about Kylie, that was Kyle’s call to tell you or not. He chose to keep you in the dark, not me.”
Margo stepped back, her face pale as if the words had broken something loose deep inside, and she was torn between disbelief and heartache. Darcy could go into the dozen or so reasons Kyle had for not telling his mom. But since none of them would help in the healing process, and all of them were cruel, she remained silent.
Margo believing her didn’t change the truth. And hurting the woman wouldn’t change the past.
“But after the funeral,” Margo said, skating over Kyle’s actions. “And every day since, that was your decision. You had no right to deny me of her!”
The emotional force of her words had Margo holding onto the wall for balance. Her face was drawn and her hands shaking, but her eyes were hard. Resolved.
“I am her mother, and a damn good one, so I have every right,” Darcy said. “And I am only open to introducing her to you if we can find some common ground and move past whatever this is between us. Which Gage believes we can.”
“Gage has always been overly optimistic.”
“I believe there is hope,” Darcy said quietly, because, surprisingly enough, even though she’d had her share of run ins with the force that was Margo Easton, she did have hope.
Gage believed they could come through this. Darcy believed in Gage’s strength. Most importantly, she believed in his character.
“It was never my intention to hurt you or come between your famil
y. I just wanted to love Kyle, and then do what was right for Kylie.”
“Your kind of love nearly destroyed this family once, and I won’t let it happen again.” Margo was a few inches shorter than Darcy, but still managed to look down her nose at her. “Gage assured me that that won’t happen, but Gage has always had a soft spot for this damsel in distress act you do so well. I am no fool. I know he’s been spending time over here.”
Darcy’s face flooded with heat. She felt as if she were a girl again, being told she wasn’t good enough. But she wasn’t a girl, she was a twenty-eight-year-old woman, and Kylie’s mother. Regardless of what Margo thought, or what happened with Gage, Darcy knew what her family deserved—and she wasn’t willing to settle.
“Gage is getting to know Kylie. And we are getting to know each other again, outside of the past and his family.”
“My family is finally healing, moving on from the tragedy that struck, so you need to leave him alone.”
Darcy wanted to point out that they weren’t all hit by lightning. Kyle’s impulsive nature had caused the breakup, the accident, the devastation. And holding onto the anger wasn’t going to change that. But she thought of Gage.
And finally Kylie.
Fueling this hostility between them wouldn’t help anyone.
“All I want to do is move on too. We both deserve to find happiness again.” And knowing that with people like Margo, one had to take a stand and fight for their footing, she got up close and personal. “But right now this is about Rhett and Stephanie’s happiness. So while I won’t stand for you tossing around blame in my house, I won’t ban you from the wedding. Now, if you choose to be a part of Kylie’s life, that depends on how you choose to conduct yourself.”
❀❀❀
Gage had received three calls from Rhett over the past few hours. All of which he’d sent to voice mail. First, because he’d been in a series of meetings. And second, he was not about to be suckered back into dog sitting. He’d finally achieved a solid night’s sleep and was determined to go for the gold and get two.
So when he got a text saying, Call me, Asshole, he sent one back. It was a photo of him waving hi to Rhett—with his middle finger. But when Stephanie called, Gage knew something was up.
It took her the exact length from his office to his mom’s house to explain Margo had crashed the wedding tasting and, although Darcy hadn’t asked her to leave, there was a weird vibe.
And by weird vibe, he knew that his mom had somehow overstepped her bounds. So by the time he pulled into his childhood home, his imagination had come up with enough possibilities that he felt sick.
Leaving the flowers he’d picked up on the way out of work for his girls, he’d taken to thinking about them that way, he walked in and dropped his coat by the door. “Mom, you home?”
He didn’t have to go far to find her. Margo Easton, the strongest woman he knew, was sitting in the living room in her favorite reading chair. She was wearing her slippers, a Sunday dress, and her floral house robe. The same one she’d worn since he was a kid. Her hair was tucked back in a bun, she had a full face of makeup on, and she was clutching a photo album.
“Mom,” he said again.
Margo looked up and Gage’s temper vanished. It was hard to be pissed when your mom looked as if she’d been crying.
“I didn’t hear you come in.” With a shaky smile, she patted the arm of the chair. “Come and sit. I was just going through these old photo albums. Look at this one of your dad and me.”
Silently, she traced a shaky finger over a photograph, worn around the edges and faded. Gage sat on the edge of the chair and—holy hell—his lungs stopped working.
It was a shot of his parents doing a dramatic dip under the neon light that still hung above the front door at Stout. His dad was dressed to impress in a collared shirt and a skinny tie, and Margo. Wow, his mom looked like a woman in love.
She was warm and alive, her eyes lit with so much joy it was hard to reconcile that with the woman who sat next to him. He’d forgotten just how all-encompassing their love had been. They were a team, in everything they did, refusing to even spend a night apart in the twenty-nine years they’d been married.
One time, when they’d gone to visit his dad’s grave, like they did every Sunday morning, she’d admitted to him that the years without her Benjie felt like a long goodbye that had no end. It was no secret that Margo had fallen into a deep depression after his death, but until this moment, Gage hadn’t realized that she never fully recovered.
“When was that taken?”
“The night he opened his bar.” Margo clutched his hand, and when she spoke, her voice was so fragile it made swallowing difficult. “He’d worked so hard for that bar, scrimping to get the down payment. Grandpa Easton offered to give him a loan, but Benjie wouldn’t hear of it. He was determined to make it on his own. He was a man of his own making.” A nostalgic smile teased her lips. “He’s kind of like you in that way.”
“What did Grandpa say?”
Clark Easton made his fortune in the lumber industry back in the thirties, leaving behind a legacy for his family. All of his sons had followed in his footsteps, except one—Benjie. Benjie loved brewing and he loved beer, but most of all he loved talking to people.
But being an Easton, he didn’t open any ordinary brewery. Oh no, Benjamin Easton turned his dream into a money press, blending his two loves, and creating one of Portland’s premier brews. By the time Gage and Kyle came along, Stout had five different locations around the state, and sold their brand nationwide.
“A black sheep can always get more for their wool.”
Gage noticed an elegant box sitting on the end table. Its lock was broken, and the leather strap cracked, but the outside was in impeccable condition. “What’s that?”
“My love box.” She picked it up. “Did you know that your father wrote me a love letter every week when he was away at Stanford? Every week for six years, he never missed a one. Said his love grew so much every day that he’d explode if he didn’t tell me.”
“That’s Dad,” Gage said, thinking back to all of the times Benjie would pull him aside to tell him he loved him—just because. Benjie believed that love needed to be let out so it created more room to grow.
“He was a wordsmith, that’s for sure. It’s where Rhett gets his love of writing songs,” she said, slowly flipping through the envelopes, not really seeing any of them. “When Benjie came home from college he still wrote to me every week. Can you imagine?”
Yeah. Gage could. His dad was one of the greatest men he knew, and his capacity to love was astounding. His love got this family through a lot, and there were times Gage wondered how much better they all would have fared if he’d been there to help them through Kyle’s death.
“Getting the bar up and running, raising six kids, even through cancer,” she said, her voice sounding far away. “He’d sign them, Eternally Yours, no name. Just Eternally Yours, then put a stamp on them and mail them, even though we lived in the same house.” She put a hand to her mouth and shook her head. “Isn’t that ridiculous?”
“No, that’s commitment.”
His mother looked up, her eyes soft and lost. So damn lost Gage hunched down on the balls of his feet and took her hands. “What’s going on, Mom?”
“After he passed, I still got notes. For about a year. He’d written them ahead, knowing he wasn’t going to beat the cancer.” She pulled a letter out of the back of the box. It had been read and reread so many times it was as thin as tissue paper. “This was his last one, he told me in it that it was his last one. He’d written it while watching me beside him in the hospital. I didn’t leave the house for a week when I got it. I couldn’t. Walking outside, looking at everyone living their lives, knowing that mine had ended was too much.”
“Oh, Mom.”
“But then that Friday, the postman came, and I went out to check, to see if maybe he’d been wrong and was able to write one more.” She smiled. “An
d there was one.”
“He wrote another one?”
“No.” She took a moment to swallow the emotion. “It was from Kyle. A little love note for me, telling me how much Dad loved me. And every week, on Friday just like your dad, a note from Kyle would arrive. I don’t know if Benjie asked him to, or if he did it on his own. But those notes made your dad seem not so far away. But then Kyle—”
She broke off and held the letter to her chest. And Gage had a hard time holding everything in his chest together. Because she’d lost her son and her husband in the same accident.
“Kyle died and the letters stopped,” he guessed.
She looked at the album one last time, then her eyes filled with tears. “No. He proposed to Darcy, then the letters stopped.”
Ah shit. “Please don’t put that on Darcy,” Gage begged, because he knew, in his gut, that she wasn’t the problem. A year or so before his accident, Kyle had begun to grow distant. Skipping bar night, missing family dinners, and it was Darcy who encouraged him to make time for his family. “That’s on Kyle. He started spending more time away from everyone, even me.”
Mother fucker.
Gage knew exactly why Kyle had started acting weird around family—because he’d been up to no good. Even as a kid, whenever Kyle got a wild hair up his ass, he’d start acting weird. Keeping secrets, spending time away from home, coming home late and smelling like trouble. It was as if he didn’t want to disappoint his family, but wasn’t willing to toe the line.
So he’d kept the two worlds separate.
“I blew it,” she whispered. “I couldn’t take not being able to see her, see what my granddaughter looked like, and I ruined everything. I thought if we met, the girl would want to come visit, and I blew it.”
He pulled her into his arms, suddenly aware of how fragile she felt. How small she’d become. “Whatever happened, I can fix this.”
“She won’t let me see Kylie now, I know it,” she said into his chest. “She took Kyle away from me, and then Kyle’s daughter.” She looked up and wiped angrily at her tears. “What kind of woman keeps a grandchild away from her grandmother?”
