by Linda Apple
“Just send your servant to fetch me.” Geez.
Sunlight glinted off the blue-white yard. In a few hours, the magic that had made everything seem fresh and new would melt into ugly muddy puddles. Somewhere in this image was a story. He took his phone and shot a few pictures, wishing he’d brought his camera.
“Hi, Dad.” Glen worked at finishing up a miniature snowman on the patio table.
“Hey, son. Building a snowman?”
“Yeah, I had to get out of there. Grandmother is such a downer.”
“Yes, I’m very aware. She’s been like that for as long as I can remember.”
“She sure hates your Avalee.”
Needle pricks stung Ty’s neck. Stay calm. Be in control. “What did she say?”
“That Marc was so upset when she broke up with him that he sped home, and because he was crying so hard he ran off the road into the only tree along the highway.”
Oh, if Glen only knew the truth. “Do you believe that?”
“I don’t know. Should I?”
“No.” Now wasn’t the time to resurrect the family skeleton. “Nothing she said is the truth. Maybe I’ll tell you one day.”
“Okay. That’s cool.”
Wasn’t that just like Glen? He was a pool of water. Reflective and refreshing. And when someone caused ripples on the surface, he remained calm down deep.
Skye stuck her head out the door. “Come eat.”
Ty turned and headed toward the house when a barrage of snowballs beat against his back.
“Hey.” In one swoop, he scooped up snow, formed a ball and nailed Glen in the chest. His son shot one off Ty’s shoulder. There was nothing to do but…Ty charged Glen and tackled him in the snow. They rolled and wrestled while laughing with deep, cleansing, guffaws.
“Boys, get up from there.” Ty’s mother stood at the door with her hand on her chest. “Your clothes will be soaked and you will ruin Doris’ floor.”
Her Royal Highness had burst his and Glen’s magical moment. But he wouldn’t let her ruin his day. He stood and helped Glen to his feet. They brushed snow off their clothes, wrapped their arms around each other’s shoulders, and tromped inside. No, she couldn’t ruin his day now.
****
Shortly after a brunch of Clams Casino, Eggs Benedict, cheese strata, and fruit tarts, Ty made his excuses and left. If he had to listen to another word from his mother about the importance of a high-paying profession, obviously aimed at Glen who had chosen the same path in the arts as he had done, or his father’s political rants, he would have exploded. He wished he could go straight to Avalee’s and drink coffee in Miss Cladie’s kitchen while sitting at her little table beside the wall decorated with smiling plaster of Paris fruits. Maybe enjoy the simplicity of toasted pound cake. There he could relax, laugh, and feel at home. However, the plan was to meet the kids at his place within the hour. He had just enough time to put clean sheets on the guest bed and the futon.
While he worked, he wondered how to approach Skye about the tales his mother had told her. Should he tell her what really happened? Or should he trust her journalistic instincts to be able to ferret out the truth? He decided to trust her instincts. Maybe she’d recognize what he already suspected, that his mother had an obsession. Almost like a mental illness. That thought brought Ty up short. Did his mother have a mental illness? Or was it depression? Could depression last that long? Perhaps he should try—once again—to be more patient, more understanding. A resolution, he knew, that would most likely disappear like cotton candy in the rain as soon as Skye arrived spouting off all his mother had said.
When Skye and Glen sauntered through the door, Glen plopped in a chair. “Wow, am I glad that’s over.”
Skye lowered one eyebrow and squinted her eyes. “You sure didn’t mind the thousand dollar check she handed you.”
He stretched. “You’re right on that score. Small price to pay.”
“Hey Dad,” Skye scooted onto a barstool. “I saw that picture you made for Grandmother. That was cool how you added Uncle Marc. She actually cries when she looks at it.”
“Yeah, I thought it might help her somewhat. But I may have made things worse. She hasn’t brought those albums out in years.”
Skye propped her elbow on the bar and rested her chin on her hand. “You know as well as me why she did that. She knows we are going to meet Avalee.”
The moment of truth had arrived earlier than expected. “And?”
“And she is a bitter woman. I feel sorry for her.”
“You believe her?”
“Some of it.” Skye dropped her hand and leaned forward. “I’ve thought a lot about this since you told us about your engagement. So, what if everything Grandmother said was true? It doesn’t mean it was Avalee’s fault. Uncle Mark made poor choices. People live and die by them all the time. In his case, well,” she held her palms up, “he died.” Shrugging she added, “If I broke up with Duff and he drove like a bat out of hell and hit a tree, I’d hate to be blamed for it.”
Ty was glad he trusted her instincts. One day he would tell her the truth. “Well, are you ready to go to the Prestons’?”
“Will there be food?” Glen stood. “I hear Mrs. Preston is a great cook.”
Skye rolled her eyes. “You’ve already eaten, you Neanderthal.”
“I didn’t eat. I just pushed that crap around my plate.”
“Oh.” She popped her brother on the shoulder. “I guess you only eat food served by a certain cute waitress?”
Glen shrugged. “I only eat real food. Not some la-di-da food eaten with special forks while we stick our pinkies out.”
“Believe me,” Ty shrugged on his coat, “you will get real food at Miss Cladie’s, and lots of it.”
“Great.” He strode to the door. “I’m in.”
Skye tied a scarf around her neck. “Wonder if Avalee has talked to Nathan Wolfe lately?”
“Do me a favor, Skye.”
“What, Dad?”
“Get to know her a little before you start plying her with questions about Wolfe.”
“For heaven’s sake, Dad. You raised me with better manners than that.”
“Yeah, yeah. Get in the truck.” He knew all about her manners. Manners that were quickly incinerated by her enthusiastic fire personality. Ty pulled his phone from his pocket and texted Avalee.
—Ready or not, here we come.—
Chapter Six
Love made me young at heart.
~Jema Presley
Jema couldn’t help it. She just had to try on her wedding gown one more time. After slipping it on, she twisted this way and that while viewing herself in the full-length mirror. The dress she chose was nothing near as flashy as Molly Kate’s figure-hugging dress with the thigh-high slit. Jema wished she were more like Molly Kate, who had a good sixty pounds on her, but was so comfortable in her own skin she thought nothing of the crimson, sequined, strapless dress that showed her every curve and bump. Still, the dress Jema chose suited her perfectly.
The stunning off-the-shoulder silver sheath dress shimmered under the overlay of sheer silver chiffon. The fitted bodice dazzled with crystal-encrusted appliqués giving the gown a perfect touch of elegance. She swayed back and forth watching the hem billow at her feet like a crystal cloud, reminding her of the gowns Ginger Rogers wore while dancing with Fred Astaire.
She stepped over to the dresser and lifted the diamond and pearl necklace Levi had given her for a wedding present and held it against her neck. Glancing down at the matching earrings, she smiled. She never told him she loved pearls and crystals. And yet, he somehow knew, only instead of crystals he showered her with diamonds.
Jema returned to the mirror and began swaying once more while humming “Young at Heart” then singing, “Fairy tales have come true, they have happened to me now I’m young at heart.”
Truer words had never been sung, at least for her. Even at fifty-seven she was living a fairy tale. Who would have thought her mysteri
ous, homeless friend was looking for love for all the right reasons, hoping to find someone who didn’t love him for the billion reasons he had in the bank. They both found treasure of the richest kind, which had nothing to do with money. Even so, money was a wonderful bonus. Ever since she watched Roman Holiday, she’d dreamed of going to Italy. Now, Levi planned on buying her a villa there. What could she say? Fairy tales.
A knock at her door made her jump. Levi? He couldn’t see her in her wedding dress. Then Avalee called, “Anybody home? I hope so because the door is open.”
Relieved, Jema answered, “I’m in the bedroom.”
Avalee sashayed in with a bottle of wine and two glasses, but stopped short when she saw Jema in her dress. “Oh my word, Jema, that is one of the most beautiful dresses I’ve ever seen.”
Jema twirled making the hem of her dress flow and dance around her ankles. “It is, isn’t it? When I saw this one, I knew it was the right dress for me.”
“You look like a princess.” A troubled look shadowed Avalee’s eyes.
Jema noticed and stood still. “Ava? Honey? What’s wrong?”
Avalee held up the bottle. “I know it is only noon, but I need to talk and relax before this afternoon.”
“Never too early for wine. Let me get this off, and I’ll meet you in the kitchen. Pull out some crackers and cheese and we will call it lunch.”
“Sounds good.”
Everything was ready when Jema strolled into the room. Avalee sat at the small table nestled in the kitchen’s bay window sipping wine and watching something outside. Jema’s wine was poured and a cheese platter ready. She sat and propped her elbows on the polished oak. “Spill.”
Avalee turned her attention from whatever she found so interesting beyond the window to Jema. “I probably shouldn’t have come. I hate to be a downer on your special week, but I just had to talk to somebody with a level head.”
“Then you are at the right place. What’s up?”
“I’m meeting Ty’s kids today. Even though he says they are happy about us, I get this bad feeling. Maybe Emma has infiltrated their minds. She has the power. And if our meeting is anything like when we were at his parents….” Avalee drained her glass. “Well, I don’t know if I can take it.” Tears filled her eyes, and she fingered them away.
“Bad scene at his folks, I take it?”
“Beyond bad. It’s as if I’m a curse on the Jacksons. What do I do if his kids feel the same about me as his parents? I would be the reason for Ty’s complete alienation from his entire family. How could I do that to him?” She swiped more tears as she rambled on in a breaking voice. “How can I marry him under those conditions?”
Jema didn’t answer right away, but weighed her words as she refilled Avalee’s glass. “Do you love him?”
“Yes, of course. That’s the problem. He has had enough things happen in his life to hold him back. I don’t want to be one of them.”
“Can you imagine your life without him?”
Avalee turned her attention back to the window. After a sip of wine she nodded. “Yes. I can. And it would be awful.” She laid her head back and ran her hands through her hair, then huffed a sigh. “Oh, I don’t know, Jem. I’ve been like a silly teenager with all this wedding stuff. I’m buying bride’s magazines, planning flowers and the ceremony. For heaven’s sake, I’m fifty-six, not twenty-six. I feel so foolish and selfish right now.”
Jema hurt for her. Here she was getting married for the second time, and Molly Kate had just married for the second time. Avalee deserved a magnificent, over-the-moon wedding at the very least. “I get what you are saying about Ty’s family. But you aren’t giving him much credit, are you?”
Avalee frowned and tipped her head. “What do you mean?”
“He knows what he wants, and he is aware of the cost. Obviously, he has made his choice. Sugar, you are simply borrowing trouble.” Jema tilted her glass on her lips. “I have no doubts his children will see in you what he sees in you—a beautiful woman with a loving soul.”
Avalee reached across the table and took her friend’s hand. “Jema, I’m so glad you are in my life. You are like the sister I never had.”
“I’m the one who is glad. I knew you were special that first day you came into the Piggly Wiggly to buy something for your headache, and you told me you were Cladie Mae’s daughter. I loved you immediately, because, after all, we kinda share a mother. She’s been that for me for years since my own mother passed.”
Avalee smiled at Jema over the rim of her goblet. “Yes, we do.” She set her glass down and rested her arms on the table. “Enough about me. Let’s talk about you. You say your girls won’t be coming to the wedding?”
“No, they will still be in Italy with their sorority sister’s family and by the time we arrive they will be flying back to school.”
“That’s a shame. I know they would have liked to be a part, and I’m sure they are curious about Levi.”
Jema ran her finger around the rim of her glass. “Actually, they have no idea who he really is and we aren’t saying anything for now.”
“Really?”
“No. Of course, I know we won’t always be able to keep his identity a secret.”
“When he buys you a villa, won’t that clue them in their stepfather is loaded?”
Jema swirled her wine. “Yes, they will know he has money. Just not how much.”
“I get that.” A text message chimed on Avalee’s phone. She glanced at it and said, “They are on their way. I’d better get home.” She rose and picked up the glasses and cheese plate, carried them to the counter, and then headed toward the door. “Thanks for letting me bend your ear. I’m full of liquid courage, and now I’m ready to face the lions.”
Jema stood and followed her to the door, then gathered Avalee into a tight hug. “Just remember, Ty is the lion tamer. Besides, they will love you. I just know it.”
Ava put her hand on the knob. “And if they don’t, can I run away to Italy with you?”
“Your room is ready.” Jema closed the door and walked to the window to watch Avalee hurry across the street. She put her hand on the glass pane and spoke in a low voice. “And I’m not kidding. I’ll always have your back.”
Chapter Seven
Sometimes families are created, not born.
~Avalee Preston
I bent over the couch to straighten the pillows for the sixth time while mom polished the coffee table—again. Our nerves were jitterbugging and we had to do something to break up the party.
“Well, Momma, you are about to meet your future grandchildren. How do you feel about that?”
“To tell the truth, I’d always thought they’d come one at a time and wrapped in a pink or blue blanket.” She took my hands and angled her head peering up at me. “Sugar, now don’t you worry about those kids. They are going to love you, if they have a lick of sense.”
Dread plundered my brain. “I can’t help it. There is no telling what Ty’s mother has filled their minds with.”
“Oh pshaw. If Tyler’s children believe Emma Jackson’s smoke, then they don’t have the brains God gave a goose.”
From the dining room, I saw a flash of Ty’s truck. “Oh Lord. They’re here. Showtime.”
“I’ll get the coffee and hot chocolate on.”
Bless that little mother of mine. She worked her magic through food. Today we needed nothing short of Divine intervention. Footfalls sounded on the porch. I drew in a breath. The bell rang. I let it out and stepped to the door, forced a smile, and swung it open. Two beautiful adults stood beside Ty. I don’t know what I had expected. Kids in knickers? Ty stepped inside and pecked my cheek. “Hi, Babe.”
“Hi.” I smiled at his kids. Y’all come in.” A faint whiff of men’s cologne reached my nose as Glen passed by. I couldn’t identify it. However, I recognized Skye’s fragrance when she handed me her coat. It was the same as I wore, Chanel’s Chance Eau Fraiche. Good sign?
Ty began with the intro
ductions. “Avalee,” he gestured toward his son. “I’d like you to meet Glen.” I looked for Ty in the young man’s gentle face. He had the dimples and the brown eyes, but not his thick eyelashes or dreamy look. Glen’s were kind and playful. He was taller than Ty, long and lanky. He had tied his dark hair in a ponytail at the nape of his neck, but had trouble with his bangs which kept falling over his brow. He tossed his head to move them as he stuck out his hand. “Pleased to meet you, ma’am.”
Ma’am. Bless him for his manners, but they sure did make me feel old. I rested my palm in his. “It’s good to finally meet you.”
Ty slipped his arm around his daughter. “And this is Skye.”
I don’t know who was checking out who the hardest. She was a lovely girl. Shorter than me, around five-four, I guessed. Her long brown hair framed her heart-shaped face and her eyes—oh, those eyes—were a luminous green. Mesmerizing and penetrating. She had a great sense of style. Skinny jeans, black boots, a white tee under a cropped black leather jacket and a patterned scarf. In a straightforward business manner, she shot out a hand. “Pleased to meet you, Avalee. I’ve heard a lot about you.”
Well, isn’t that just great? I took her hand, not sure if she’d shake it or flip me on my back. “Likewise, Skye.” My plastered smile grew a little stiffer, but I trudged forward trying to keep my voice upbeat.
“I’ll bet you all are freezing. Momma has coffee and hot chocolate to thaw you out.”
Ty rubbed his hands together. “Sounds great.”
“Why don’t you take them in the family room, and I’ll help Mom.”
He led the way, and I hurried to the kitchen and found Mom loading a cart with chocolate chip cookies, two carafes—one of coffee the other hot chocolate—and all the fixings. She glanced up. “Well?”
“Introductions went okay, I think.”
Mom put her hand on the cart’s handle. “Now it is my turn. Let’s go.” She charged into the room where they sat and called out, “Well, here you two are at last.” All three stood up. Ty spoke first. “Hi, Momma Cladie. These are my kids, Skye and Glen. Kids, this is Miss Cladie.”
