Triple Love Score

by Brandi Megan Granett

  Miranda looked down. A short girl about six or seven with a chin-length brown bob sat on the chair, a bottle of Coke balanced between her knees. Her eyes were the most stunning shade of green. “Who are you?” the little girl asked.

  “Hello,” Miranda said. “I’m Miranda. I live here. Well,used to. My parents live here.”

  “I’m Lynn. They said you were coming soon.”

  The screen changed to a scene where a polar bar is beaten back by a walrus. Lynn and Miranda turned in unison to stare at the screen. When the polar bear finally stalked off, leaving the walrus pups unharmed, they turned back to each other. “Is my dad around?” Miranda asked.

  “Yeah, he’s outside with my dad. Golf.”

  “Oh, golf. Your dad likes golf, too?”

  “Just started. Right now he says he is trying to find his Zen with the clubs and just enjoys the walk. I think that means he sucks.”

  Miranda smiled at this girl, liking her spark. “I just can’t get the hang of it. Does your mom golf, too?”

  “I don’t know.”

  “She hasn’t tried yet?”

  “No, I don’t know. I don’t know her that well. She isn’t around.”

  “Oh,” Miranda said, the sting of her own childhood hitting her. “I can understand that. My mom passed away when I was twelve.” She regretted saying this immediately. But before she could take it back, the girl spoke.

  “I’m sorry,” Lynn said. “That’s really bad. My mom isn’t dead, though. Almost though I think, but I’m not supposed to know that.”

  “Oh, oh—” Miranda said. She remembered the limbo of her mother’s illness and how hard they tried to hide it at first; her heart ached for this cute button of a girl.

  “No, it’s okay. I just don’t know how you say it. It’s not like I don’t know who she is. It’s more like she doesn’t know who I am. She doesn’t come around. It’s just me and my dad.”

  “Oh,” Miranda said, desperately wanting some other adult to stop this conversation. “Does your dad work with my dad?”

  “I don’t think so. He said Grandma and Grandpa Cramer wanted us to come here. Something about family friends from way back.”

  “Cramers? Your grandparents are the Cramers?”

  “Yup, me, too. Lynn Louise Cramer.”

  “Louise was my mother’s name. Your grandmother was my mom’s best friend.”

  “Oh,” Lynn said, shooting a glance toward the door. Miranda could tell that now Lynn clearly wanted someone to jump in on this conversation, too.

  They both heard the back door close and the stamping of feet to warm up.

  Stanton’s voice boomed out. “I’m just going upstairs to check on Avery and see when Miranda is due.”

  “Sure, sure,” the other man said. “I’ll go watch more nature with Lynn.”

  The light from the rest of the house framed him as he entered the darkened den.

  “Scott,” she said, pulling herself up straighter.

  “Hey,” he said. “They said you would be here later.”

  “It’s been a long time,” she said. She made a sweeping gesture with her hands to encompass the whole of the room. Lynn didn’t notice; she turned back to her video. Butterflies migrated and filled the screen. A soft music to echo what their wings would sound like filled the room.

  Miranda hopped up the two stairs to exit the den, but Scott still stood in the doorway. She moved to the left to get past him, just as he moved to his right. They collided. She could smell his cologne, still Old Spice of all things. Neither moved for a very long minute.

  “Ah,” he gasped. “I can explain.”

  “Explain, really? I don’t think that is even possible,” she said, ducking under his arm.

  Grabbing her bag from the hallway, she took the stairs to the second floor two at a time and quickly shut the door to her room behind her.

  She barely thought Scott would actually show up, and she never expected he would show up early. With a kid. His kid. A kid who didn’t have a mother. Or did. But didn’t. Miranda shook her head to clear her thoughts. She had wanted him to call her for so long only to find out that he was off starting a family of his own and cutting them all out. Cutting her out. In what universe was that even possible? And what on earth was she supposed to say now? She thought about all her childish fantasies. She cringed, remembering all the times she had imagined him coming back after that night and kissing her again and how many nights she had stayed in, hoping that it would be the night he finally returned her calls. She burned now with both embarrassment and rage. She could have accepted him walking away from his parents, from the Wall Street job, and the life they had always planned for him. It made sense; people rejected their parents’ values and joined communes or the Peace Corp. But to run off and start a family? Why did any of them need to be cut out of that part of his life? It didn’t make sense. This required answers, but she didn’t want them from him; she didn’t want anything else from him ever again if she could help it.

  She found Avery in the kitchen reading the housekeeper’s directions for how to reheat the Thanksgiving dinner that lay spread about the kitchen covered in foil.

  A stray blonde hair fell from Avery’s bun at the nape of her neck. Miranda reached over and tucked it back behind her stepmother’s ear.

  Avery leaned over and kissed Miranda’s cheek. “I’m glad you came. Did you meet Lynn? Isn’t she just divine? Quite the surprise, but a lovely one!”

  “You’re taking this very well.”

  “How else can you take it? Look at that girl! Don’t tell me she doesn’t make you melt.”

  “Sure, she’s a cute kid. But what on earth is going on here?”

  “Dear, it’s Thanksgiving, you know that. We’re celebrating like we always do.”

  “No, it’s like we used to, only plus one. I thought Bunny and Linden didn’t know anyone named Scott. I used to think I did, but I was told not to ask about him anymore.”d

  “It was a very hard time for everyone. You can understand that.”

  “No, Avery, I can’t. All you said was some trouble with a girl. And I’m sorry, but that little girl doesn’t look like trouble. You just said so yourself.”

  Avery sighed. “Please don’t be difficult. I have a hard enough time keeping up with Bunny’s mood swings through all this. Something changed, and they patched it all up; it’s not polite to probe. Bunny asked me to invite them. And I’m glad she did. I missed him, too.”

  “Seriously? We are just going to pretend the last six years didn’t happen.”

  Avery put down the directions and looked up at Miranda. “Surely, you can’t hold a grudge? There’s obviously more to this story than we know.”

  “I can. He was my best friend.”

  “He still can be. Sometimes you have to forgive.”

  “Was he married?”

  “I don’t think so. Bunny and Linden don’t really talk about it. You’ve witnessed that first hand; it’s no different for me, either.”

  Stanton’s booming voice filtered in from the foyer.

  “Avery,” he called.

  “In the kitchen,” Avery called back.

  “Avery, I sure did witness it, but that didn’t make it any easier. How can he just show up like nothing happened?” “I thought you emailed her about this,” Stanton said.

  “I told her he was coming.”

  “Miranda, dear, you knew he would be here. Why the fuss?”

  Before Miranda could roar back, “why the fuss,” a crashing sound came from the den. Avery rushed to the hall. “Is everyone and everything okay?” she asked.

  “It’s okay,” Scott called out. “We’re playing Jenga. Come play, too.”

  Avery returned to the kitchen. “That is not my cup of tea. Speaking of which, Stanton, would you like one? Miranda?”

  “I believe I will, dear, and I will stay in the kitchen. Miranda, you go play with them. I can’t fathom any game that makes a sound loud enough that I can hear it.”r />
  Miranda looked at them. “Are you serious?”

  “Come on, Randa Panda,” Scott called out from the family room. “It’s only a game.”

  Randa Panda. She thought it wouldn’t still feel like this. Like a helium balloon in the place of her stomach, lifting her feet off the ground. She wanted to be angry. Gnashing teeth and sharp words. Or even better, calculated silence and pointed stares. Instead, she felt sixteen again.

  “Miranda, I understand you might have feelings about this,” Stanton said. “But we should set those aside to enjoy the holiday. This isn’t open for discussion. Please be a good host.”

  Lynn and Scott sat side by side on the floor beside the leather ottoman under the giant television screen. Instead of scenes of butterflies or battling polar bears, college football players ran back and forth. They balanced the Jenga tiles on the teak serving tray that turned the ottoman into a coffee table of sorts. With all the lights on, the den gelled seamlessly with the warm butters and creams of the rest of the house. It was like being inside a carton of caramel swirl ice cream. And Scott and Lynn only completed the tableau.

  Lynn leaned over and pulled out a particularly difficult piece from the side near the bottom of the tower. It wobbled slightly but did not fall.

  “Whoa, I don’t want to go next,” Scott said. “Randa, you do it.”

  “Randa Panda, go on,” Lynn said.

  He didn’t deserve to call her Randa Panda any more, and it certainly wasn’t right to use Lynn to smooth things over.

  Then Lynn erupted in a fit of giggles. She burrowed her head against Scott’s chest to stifle them.

  “What’s so funny?” Scott asked her.

  “Miranda doesn’t look like a panda at all,” Lynn finally announced after catching her breath. “But I like the way it rhymes. Like a poem.”

  Miranda felt some of the melting Avery mentioned. “Okay, I’ll play,” Miranda said. She took a deep breath but didn’t move right away.

  “Come on, then,” Scott said. He locked eyes with her and then turned away.

  She took a seat on the opposite side of the ottoman, placing herself in front of Lynn. “So, Lynn, what happens when the tower falls? Do you have anything riding on this game?”

  “Riding?” Lynn asked.

  “Any wagers or bets.” Miranda said.

  “Oh, like Daddy and the Gators. He has big money on them tomorrow.”

  “Oh, sugar, you aren’t supposed to mention that,” Scott said.

  “Mention what?” Miranda asked.

  “Daddy’s gambling problem,” Lynn said in a serious voice before breaking out into more laughter.

  “I guess some things never change. Has he told you about the marshmallow eating bet?” Miranda reached over and pulled out the block opposite the one Lynn just took. The tower now hinged on a single brick, but it did not fall.

  “Marshmallow bet?” Lynn asked.

  “Yup, your dad wagered my cousin that he could put more marshmallows in his mouth at one time without swallowing them.”

  “But how do you know if he didn’t swallow them?”

  “Count them! I counted them going in and then again as he spit them out.”

  Scott surveyed the Jenga tower very carefully. His hand hovered over piece after piece, backing away from each choice after a few moments.

  “You did that?”

  “Gross, huh?”

  “No, cool! Do you think Mrs. Avery has any marshmallows?”

  Scott finally settled on a piece. The tower gave way before he could get the block free. Blocks flew everywhere.

  “Loser buys the marshmallows,” Lynn and Miranda said at the same time.

  “Jinx,” Lynn said to Miranda.

  “Jinx?”

  “Yup, you owe me a Coke. Only I already had a Coke today, and Daddy says only one soda once in a blue moon.”

  “Blue moon, eh? I think our first meeting deserves some celebration. Maybe I can get him to bend a little?”

  “That was quick,” Scott said. “I knew you would side with Randa Panda, sugar, I just didn’t think it would take all of ten minutes. Girls always stick together, eh?”

  “It’s not like boys stick around.”

  “Touché,” he said in a whisper. “Who is coming to the store with me to get marshmallows?”

  Lynn sprang to her feet. “Shotgun,” she said. She quickly added, “But not really, I’m too short. It’s back seat city until I break four feet nine inches, if I break four feet nine inches!”

  “I don’t know,” Miranda said. “Your dad’s pretty tall. You might make it.”

  Lynn shook her head. “My ma was really short, though, four eleven. Right, Daddy?”

  Scott winced a little. “Yup, sugar. Four eleven. Are we getting these marshmallows or what?”

  Lynn galloped toward the door of the den. Miranda watched her, hanging back. “I’ll just wait here,” she said. “I don’t think I’m ready for this. There’s a lot I don’t understand.”

  “I told you I could explain,” Scott said, looking down.

  “I want to believe that, Scott, but I can’t even imagine a reason that it would be better for you to stop talking to me, to all of us, especially a reason that included Lynn. Why wouldn’t you have wanted her to be a part of our family?”

  Lynn bounced back in with her puffy winter coat zipped all the way up. She bounced around Scott’s feet, making a circle around him.

  “It wasn’t my choice,” Scott said. “But give me a chance. Later?” He shifted his eyes toward Lynn.

  “Daddy, are we going? Are we going? Are we going?” Lynn began to chant.

  Miranda nodded to Scott.

  Miranda found Avery and her Dad watching television in Avery’s den, a room decorated to look like a Victorian tea parlor. Several tea sets littered the room on strategically placed antique tables. Their last housekeeper took one look at this room and asked for a raise. But in the middle of the room sat an oversized chair. Avery curled up next to Stanton, her legs in his lap. Tiger Woods and his caddy filled the television screen.

  “So,” Avery said. She shifted in the chair to be more upright.

  Miranda knew it was coming. The cross examination.

  “You honestly had no idea about Lynn?”

  “None.”

  “You mean to tell me in this time of instant communication, all this social media and what have you, you and Scott never once even emailed?” Avery asked.

  Stanton picked up the remote and muted the television.

  “I tried. He wouldn’t write me back. And you both made it clear that this subject was not to be broached. In this day and age of tolerance, did Bunny and Linden really disown their son for having a baby out of wedlock? Did I lose my best friend because of some Puritan ideal?”

  Her father chortled. “Well, that’s putting it square on the nose.”

  “Yeah, but why did we have to spend the last six years pretending Scott never existed?” Miranda asked. “What happened?”

  “I don’t really have the full story, but it wasn’t just Lynn. It was something about the mother and drugs. They didn’t want the woman using his trust fund for drugs, so they cut it off. Then Scott blew up and vowed to never speak to them again,” Stanton said. “Ugly, ugly, ugly, but somehow some common sense finally sunk in on both sides.”

  “I still don’t understand how we got disowned in the process, too.”

  “Drugs do terrible things to a person, and I couldn’t be sure Scott wasn’t using, too,” Stanton said. “I thought that it might be for the best.”

  “What do you mean you thought it might be for the best? What did you do, Daddy?”

  “I always knew that boy had eyes for you. I teased him constantly. I warned him to keep his distance until you were of legal age. But I am not daft. I saw the way you always followed after each other. I knew it would happen sooner or later. But when this unpleasantness happened, I asked Linden to deal with it. I couldn’t have you caught up in that mess, t
oo.”

  Avery stood up and joined Miranda staring at Stanton in disbelief. “Stanton, you never told me this. You told him not to talk to her? How could you?” Avery asked.

  “You couldn’t trust me? You went behind my back and arranged things?” Miranda asked.

  “He was spiraling out of control. I did not want you to lose out,” Stanton said.

  Scott entered the room with Lynn up on his shoulders. She held the bag of marshmallows up high. “Who is losing? Tiger Woods again?” Scott asked.

  “Just a case,” Stanton said. “You remember, sometimes you find yourself on the wrong side of the jury.”

  “It’s been a long time since I was in that position,” Scott said. “Can’t say I miss it much.”

  “Well, I for one must go back to it right now,” Avery said.

  Stanton’s phone rang as if on cue; he waved as he followed Avery out of the room.

  Miranda and Scott stood there staring at each other. After what she had just heard, she had no idea what to say. Her father made him leave her alone. And Scott let them do that. Part of her wanted to grab her things and leave the house. She couldn’t imagine staying here with any of them. She eyed the door just behind him.

  “Don’t leave,” Scott said. “I don’t know what they told you, but don’t leave.”

  Lynn said, “Miranda, don’t leave! We have the booty!”

  “Booty? Are you a pirate?” Miranda asked, trying to change the subject.

  “They celebrated ‘International Talk like a Pirate Day’ at school. What can you do?” Scott said.

  “But Daddy, it was your idea! You told Mrs. Jean all about it.”

  “Oh, what can you do, eh?” Miranda said.

  “Aye, Captain, but I come only for hospitality and merriment. No plundering or pillaging in sight save this bag of marshmallows,” Scott said.

  “Arg!” Miranda said, deciding to play along. She crooked her finger at Lynn. “And you wee lass, you come to plunder the kitchen of turkey on the morrow?”

  “Urgh, captain, no siree, I come for thee sweet potatoes. The candied sweet potatoes.”

  “Good choice, good choice.”

  Lynn slid off Scott’s shoulder. “Shall we do the marshmallows now?”