Maia said, “I’d better get going, too.” She pulled on her jacket. “They’re my ride.” She gave Frannie a quick hug, told her brother to stay out of trouble, and then was gone.
Suddenly, it was only the two of them.
Brian asked, “Did we finish the conversation we started on the porch?”
His blue eyes were warmer than they had any right to be. She backed around to the far side of the counter.
“I think, yes, for now we’re done. It’s been a busy day.”
He sat on the stool. “What was that about a swim?”
She shook her head. “Nothing big. I was looking out at the ocean, my feet got stuck in the sand and when I tried to back out, I stumbled.”
“I see.” He tapped his fingers on the counter top. “You probably don’t know, but Juli’s first husband died…in the ocean. It was pretty tough for everyone.” He shrugged. “For a moment, it threw me.”
“I had no idea.”
“You couldn’t. Besides, it’s history. People have to put the past where it belongs and get over things.”
“Easier said than done.”
“Maybe, if you let it be difficult.”
“And you don’t?”
“No. You’re talking about Diane? I’m definitely over her. Unfortunately, I have to deal with her because of Megan.”
Actually, she’d been thinking about his grudge against Maia. His response about Diane surprised her. She let it drop.
“What a day. First, breakfast with Juli. Then you walk in. Then I fall in the ocean. Joel, Maia and Luke show up for an impromptu lunch. And then you walk in, yet again.”
“With the food.”
“Yes, that’s an important detail. But then you torture me on the porch because you want to kiss me.”
He smiled and moved as if getting up from the stool. “Is that what I did?”
“Seemed like it to me.”
“And now what?”
She let his question hang there. She had no answer. He reached across the counter and took her hand. He stroked her fingers with his own and she might’ve had an answer soon, but a knock sounded on the side door.
“Someone forgot something?” She cast a quick look around as Brian reached for the door.
A woman’s voice said, “Hello?”
Brian stepped back and in walked Laurel.
She was perfect from her freshly styled blond hair and fair, unmarked skin to the sweater and jacket and the slacks that fit her with a deft combination of shape and drape. She held her clutch purse delicately, her fingers poised to show her manicure and the hands that would never be allowed to wear age spots. She strode in and then paused, as if hesitant. Softly, she said, “I hope I’m not interrupting?”
As Frannie struggled to find words, Laurel turned to Brian.
“I’m Laurel Denman. Frannie’s mom.”
She said it with the right timing, and with a tiny hitch in her voice to betray her uncertainty and hurt—the hurt inflicted by her heartless daughter.
Brian accepted her hand. “Pleased to meet you, Mrs. Denman. I’m Brian Donovan.”
“Are you a friend of Frannie’s?”
He sort of shrugged, but it was more like he was trying to shake something off of his back. Laurel grabbed his hand, locking it between her much smaller, softer hands. He cast a quick look at Frannie.
“Yes, ma’am,” he said.
“There are so few friends of hers that I know. Frannie doesn’t bring them home.” She patted his hand and then released him.
He stepped back and turned toward Frannie.
She tried to keep her face blank. Did she want him out of this? No witnesses for a scene that would surely not show her at her best? Or did she want him here as a bulwark to keep either of them from going too far?
Neither. Never mind Brian, she wanted Laurel out. OUT. Any way in which she had to make it happen was fine with her.
“Call me later, okay, Brian?”
Chapter Twenty
“Call me later,” she’d said. Her blue eyes had gone as dark as midnight. It gave him chills.
He thought Fran was a hider, an avoider, and maybe she was, but she was also… He couldn’t think of the right word. Dangerous?
One thing he knew, he wouldn’t want to be surprised by her somewhere, anywhere, with that look on her face. He knew it was due to Laurel’s unannounced visit. He almost felt sorry for Mrs. Denman.
It kind of hit home, too. Was that what he’d been doing to Maia? Punishing her with his attitude?
Call me later, she’d said. The words echoed in his mind.
Mrs. Denman looked every inch a lady. Spoke that way, too. She probably had good cause to worry about Fran. And heaven knew, most any adoptive mother would worry about her daughter chasing down her ‘roots’. So, given that he didn’t know what the heck was going on, he knew enough to recognize there were big problems between mother and daughter. He was more than happy to scoot. Contrary to his earlier assumptions, it was obvious Fran could defend herself fine.
He could get on with his day.
But he sat in the van, letting it idle and tapping on the steering wheel. That shiny Lexus must belong to Mrs. Denman.
He could see why the two women didn’t get along. One was so smooth she was scary, the other was erratic and scary in her own right, but they were both type A’s. He really hadn’t seen it in Fran before. Like opposing magnets, right? Or had he mixed up the allusion? It didn’t matter. Matter. That was it. Matter and anti-matter. Not good to be nearby when they mixed.
Maia would be back at the gallery by now. He checked his watch. It would still be open.
He backed out and onto the street and headed for the bridges to Beaufort.
****
Maia was at the counter speaking with her assistant. She looked up when the bell jingled.
“Hi!” Maia walked away from her sales assistant, Brendan, and came over to him.
“What’s up? Oh, and by the way, thanks for bringing lunch over. It was fun, wasn’t it?”
She walked straight up to him with a smile and put her hands on his arms. He looked away. He resisted the impulse to ruffle her hair. They were grown. She wouldn’t thank him for messing up that mop. Suddenly, he put his arms around her and hugged her.
“Brian? Was that daddy’s grizzly bear hug?”
Shoot. He hadn’t thought of that. He let her go. Daddy’s grizzly bear hug. When they were kids, Dad’s grizzly bear hug was a consolation when things went badly—when stuff was falling apart in a big way.
“Brian, you’re not sick or anything, are you?” She put her hands on his cheeks. “Look at me. Let me see your eyes.”
“I’m fine, sis. Fine. I owe you an apology. I’m not good at giving them.”
She smiled and her dimples deepened to hold all things good and worthwhile.
“You don’t owe me anything, but don’t be angry with me any longer.”
He nodded. “I’m sorry. Diane, and everything that happened after her, isn’t your fault. I’m sorry I took it out on you.”
“I understand. I really do.”
He nodded. “Good, then.”
“Come step outside with me.” She held his arms and tugged gently.
He’d forgotten about Brendan. The kid was standing there, his mouth hanging open.
“After you.” He held the door.
The sun was bright on the sidewalk. It felt good on his face. Cleansing, somehow.
They stopped where the last step met the sidewalk. Maia leaned against one iron rail; Brian leaned against the other. The toes of their shoes almost touched.
“I thought you’d still be with Frannie.” She shook her head in dismay. “Oh, I’m sorry, here I go again.”
“You’re my sister. You can ask, but don’t pry.”
“Got it. I think. I hope. That’s a tricky boundary.”
“You know the difference.” He dropped the subject. Time to move on. “I was still there, might still be ther
e, but she has a visitor.”
“Joel?”
“No, not Joel.”
Maia shrugged and tried to sound offhand, “Oh, well. None of my business, anyway.”
“She has no romantic interest in him.”
“You asked her?” Maia’s eyes grew round. “Come on, Brian. You didn’t, did you? What did you say? You didn’t tell her that I, that I.…”
“I don’t remember what I said. I asked her and she told me.”
She fanned her face with her hand. “I don’t know what came over me.” She took a deep breath. “So, then, who came? I see it’s on your mind.”
“Laurel Denman.”
“Laurel…. You mean the wicked stepmother?”
“Maia. Not nice. And not true. At least, she doesn’t look wicked. She’s pretty fine looking, in fact, and she spoke nice.”
“Nicely.”
“Nicely.”
“So she has good manners. How did Frannie respond?”
“She said I should call her later.”
“Really? Well, then.” She rubbed her arms and shivered. “What’s the trouble?”
“She looked scary.”
“Scared? Of what?”
“Not scared, but scary. I’ve seen her in all sorts of moods. Sometimes it hard to tell who the real Fran is, but I’ve never seen her like that.”
“Oh. I see. I wouldn’t worry. They’ve got a lot of history between them and Frannie has unresolved issues about their relationship from what she’s told me.”
Was she trying to soothe him? She was using that big sister voice. But she wasn’t the big sister. He was older than her by two years. Old soul? Is that what they called it? Someone had once said to him that Maia was an old soul.
He said, “You’re cold. You should get back inside.”
“I’m fine. I’ll go in in a minute.”
He took off his jacket and put it around her shoulders. “What about you?”
“Me?” Maia asked as she pulled the jacket more tightly about her. “What about me?”
“Joel. Anyone with eyes can see you like him. A lot.”
“I do. He’s very polite and thoughtful.”
“You like his manners.”
“Sure. And he’s smart and likes art. You should hear him go on about the gallery and things he’d like to do.”
“No, thank you. I’ll leave that to you. I hope you let him know.”
“Know what?”
“That you like him.”
She blushed.
“You have to tell him. If you think a guy is going to just know how you feel about him, then you aren’t as smart as I thought you were. You always have advice for everyone. Take some of your own.”
“Brian. Oh, Brian.” Her dark eyes looked almost panicked. “He’s nice, but I barely know him. I’m tired of—”
“Of what? Being hurt? Being alone? Does it matter? Unless you’ve decided it’s safer to be alone and sad than to risk being hurt.” He shrugged. “Your choice. But you should treat yourself at least as well as you treat others. You deserve it, sis.”
“You take my breath away, Brian. That’s a lot of thinking going on in your hard head.”
He laughed. “And it’s giving me a headache. Think I’ll go home and take a nap. Or maybe change the oil in Will’s van.”
Maia shook her head. “You came all the way over here to tell me you were sorry?”
He gave her a one-armed hug. “See ya.”
“See you around, Brian.” She stepped forward. “Wait.”
“What?”
“Mom and Dad want to get together for their anniversary. Interested?”
“Sure. Let me know when and where. I’d rather not wear a suit. I don’t think it even fits me anymore.”
“I’ll call you.” She handed his jacket back to him.
Call me later, Fran had said. “Yeah, I’ll talk to you later.”
Chapter Twenty-One
“Why are you here?”
Laurel looked at the door, which was still in the act of closing as Brian exited. “I’m here to see you.” She smiled.
Her pleasant expression looked planted, artificial, calculated.
“You’re back from Savannah.”
“I am. Obviously.”
“Good trip?”
Laurel opened her arms. “What about a hug? Maybe an ‘I love you’ or ‘I miss you’? I exist, sweetheart. You can’t erase me from your life.”
Frannie put her hands on the counter. “Erase. An interesting word and it suggests a lot. I was at the house a few days ago.”
“Were you? All’s well there, I hope. I’m heading there from here.” Her eyebrows raised and her lips formed an ‘Oh,’ and then she grinned. “Does that mean you saw my surprise for you?”
“Surprise? You mean the new furnishings in the TV room?”
“Isn’t it gorgeous? I hired a local decorator to handle it. There’s all sorts of goodies for the sound and such. I don’t even know what to call them. All the electronics are hidden and, well, it’s so excellent, isn’t it? I even…what do you call it? I put a ‘rush’ on it, so I could surprise you with the finished product.” She was gushing like a teenager.
“I had a lot of memories invested in the old furniture.” Frannie crossed her arms. “We had an agreement that the TV room was hands off.”
“Did we? I don’t recall that. You’re the one who always says we have to live our lives and we can’t do that if we cling to the past. I want you to be happy, not nursing grudges and feeling cheated by life.”
Laurel moved past Will’s old chair, one hand above the head rest, not coming into contact with it. She turned gracefully and sat on the sofa.
“Tell me about Brian. Is that his name? Has Joel come by?” Laurel tilted her head to the side and smiled again. “He was so excited about seeing you down here.” Laurel shoved the plastic bag of papers from the van to the far side, and set her purse on the table.
Laurel, as usual, was trying to force her own reality on everyone around her.
“You are staring at me like I might bite. Can’t we please have a civil conversation? Is that asking so much?”
Still standing by the counter, Frannie said, “I asked you not to come here.”
“I had to. You know that. You’ve been down here too long, and now that I’ve met your friend, Brian… What was his last name?”
“Leave him out of this. I didn’t invite you here and I won’t discuss him with you.”
Laurel stood. She moved back to the counter and slid her hands across the Formica palms up, toward Frannie.
“Sweetheart, don’t you see? How this is like last time? How it happened before?” She closed her eyes as if uttering a short prayer. “Please tell me you can see it. You must know I’m right.”
“Stop it. Stop bringing that up. That was long ago and it was different. Not like this. I’m taking care of my uncle’s house. I’ve made friends. I’m happier than I’ve been in a long time.” Suddenly, almost shocked, she realized it was true.
“It’s no shame to need help, Frannie. Some people aren’t meant to live independently. Stress has a negative effect on you. You can’t help it. It’s not your fault.”
“Oh, I see. It’s my heritage, is that right? Unhappiness and instability are in my genes?”
“Don’t be sharp with me. Can’t you see I’m trying to spare you another breakdown? This man, Brian? He looks rough to me. He’s going to be another ‘what’s-his-name’. I won’t say the name of that mistake aloud ever again.”
“Stop it, Laurel.”
“Mother. You used to call me mother. You needed me when it all fell apart, and I was the one who came to your rescue. I took you back home to comfort and safety.” She pressed her hands to her chest. “Please remember how it was when you left before? You were spending all of your time with strangers.”
“You mean my friends?”
“They filled your head with ideas. They didn’t know, didn’t care, what
was good for you. I do, Frannie, I do. Me.” Her face changed from troubled to tortured. “I’m the only woman who has ever been a mother to you.”
“Save the histrionics.”
The faint lines deepened, hardened around Laurel’s eyes.
“Well, if anyone knows what histrionics are, it’s you. You’re the expert, Frannie dear. So. Fine. When this one disappoints you, and he will, I’ll be waiting to help you pick up the pieces. And when you start hearing the noises in the night and can’t sleep, and start falling apart, call me and I’ll come running. Because, no matter what you say, I’m your mother.”
At some point, Frannie put her hands over her ears. She could shut out some of Laurel’s voice, but nothing could stop her heart from being torn in two. Her will was softening. She wasn’t a fighter. How could she be so cruel to Laurel? She wasn’t a cruel person. But she had to do it. From somewhere deep inside, she dredged up the words. They sounded breathless as she pushed them out. “I want you to move out of the house.”
No one breathed. Neither of them, not even the world.
“I appreciate that you raised me. I appreciate that you even did the best you could. Let’s leave it at that. Don’t push me further.”
“You appreciate? Like that means anything? I gave up my life for you.”
“You turned her away.”
“Who?”
“Frances. She came to the house asking to see father. Admit it—you lied to her—turned her away. Soon after, she was dead. She’s buried in an unmarked grave.”
“Is it so wrong that I wanted to protect my family?”
“From what? She and Dad were divorced. She wasn’t looking to move back in, was she?”
“Sarcasm will get you nowhere.”
“I believed you were trying to be honest with me before. Were you?”
“Yes, I was.”
“Yet you told Joel I was interested in him.”
She pursed her lips. “I might have. Sometimes a man needs encouragement. You know I like Joel.”
“You think he’s easy to push around. I’m not so sure he is. There’s more to him than you recognize. Why should it matter to you anyway? What was it you said? That he wouldn’t interfere with how I spent my money? Most of what I spend, I spend on…” It all froze for a moment, then became startlingly clear. She continued, “I spend it on house expenses and to pay the bills you run up.” Truth came too close. It swerved by like an out of control car and her stomach lurched. She felt dizzy.
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