“Does he still love us?” Abby asked.
“Yes.” Liz pulled her close, then held out her free arm to Melissa. “He does. Right now he’s dealing with a lot.” What had he said? That he was a busy man? She didn’t understand how he could ignore his children, but this wasn’t about him. It was about making the girls feel better.
“Can we go see him?” Melissa asked, then cleared her throat. “I want to go see him.”
“I’ll take you,” Liz said hesitantly. “But you have to be prepared. Your dad is in prison. It’s not like the movies. It’s a lot less clean and it’s a little intimidating.” There was also a smell, but some details were better left blurry. They would find out soon enough. “I’m not saying that to change your mind, but to warn you what it’s going to be like.”
“I want to see him,” Melissa repeated. “Abby, if you’re scared, you don’t have to come.”
“I want to see Dad, too,” she whispered.
Liz hugged them both. “Then we’ll go.”
She glanced at Tyler, who was watching her wide-eyed. Theirs had always been a quiet life, she thought. With routines and predictability. Sure, she’d pulled him out of school once or twice a year for a fun day in the city, but that had been a good kind of surprise. Not every unexpected event fell into that category.
Reality came in all shapes and sizes. In the end, he had two parents who cared about him, even if they couldn’t care about each other. She would die for her child. While Ethan might not be there yet, he was determined to be a part of Tyler’s life, which was an excellent start.
As for her nieces, they would have to take things slow. Seeing Roy would make his prison sentence real. Whether or not it made leaving harder or easier, she couldn’t say. But however things turned out, they would find their way to becoming a family.
In the kitchen, the timer dinged.
“We have cookies,” she announced, releasing the girls. “I’m going to need some help sampling. Any volunteers?”
All three of them yelled out they were willing and together they walked into the kitchen.
ETHAN WANTED TO IGNORE his mother’s voice-mail request that he stop by on his way home that evening, but knew it wasn’t a good idea. Denise didn’t make many demands of her children, so when she asked for something, they mostly paid attention.
He had a feeling he knew the topic she would want to discuss. He would rather chew glass than talk about his relationship with Liz, but he didn’t see how he could avoid it. Sometimes having close relationships was a giant pain in the ass. If he and his mother were estranged, he could cheerfully ignore her. But they weren’t, and the affection between them demanded he be forthcoming.
He parked in front of the house and walked to the front door.
“It’s me,” he called.
“I’m in the kitchen.”
He moved to the rear of the house, then stepped into the bright, open kitchen. His mother stood at the counter, pouring sun tea into tall glasses filled with ice. She wore cropped pants and a pink T-shirt, was barefoot and had a country station playing on the radio.
Everything about this was familiar, he thought as he took his usual seat at the large table in the center of the room.
“How’s it going?” he asked.
“Good. Great.” She approached him with the glass and set it in front of him. “I met someone. His name is Roger. He owns a shipping company. We’re going to Las Vegas together on Friday.”
He stared at her, the words sinking into his consciousness. “What?”
Her dark eyes were alive with excitement. “It’s wonderful. To think I could fall in love again, and at my age. The sex…well, I won’t get into that, but trust me. It rocks my world.”
He could have choked. As it was, he could barely speak. “You met a guy? Just like that and you’re running off?”
“Of course not,” she snapped and cuffed him on the back of his head. “That would be stupid and irresponsible. I’m a firm believer there should only be one idiot in the family at a time and right now that’s you.”
His mind reeled with the shift, as he struggled to figure out what she was saying. She collected her glass and sat across from him.
“There’s no Roger?” he asked, wanting confirmation.
“There’s no Roger. Just my son, who is doing his damnedest to screw up. You must get that from your father.”
The world seemed to steady itself. He drew in a breath. “You heard about the injunction.”
“Yes, and if I was closer, I’d hit you again. Talk about stupid. Are you trying to drive Liz away?”
He rubbed the back of his head, doing his best not to wince when he passed over the place where she’d hit him. “I thought you didn’t like her.”
“I’m ambivalent. I’m angry about the time we’ve lost with Tyler, but I can see her side of things. She didn’t have it easy when she was growing up. As the mother of three daughters, I ache for her. Where was her mother? Talk about a difficult situation. Which you’ve made worse. What were you thinking?”
“That I didn’t want her to run. She’s leaving. She told me flat out that she was fixing up the house, then going back to San Francisco. I couldn’t lose him again.”
Denise frowned. “I don’t understand. Why would Liz allow you to see Tyler, why would she be so cooperative, then threaten to take her son away?”
Ethan shifted in his seat. “She didn’t say she was taking him away, exactly. She said that we would work something out. Custody. Visitation. Whatever.”
His mother stared at him, disbelief widening her eyes. “You’re telling me that Liz was willing to come up with a plan, and you served her with an injunction? To what end?”
“What if she disappeared? I’d have no way to find her. No way to see Tyler.”
“Is there anything about her past behavior that would make you think even for a second that she would disappear? She’s been perfectly up-front with you. Okay, not the first few years, and I’m still angry and hurt about that. But we’ll put that aside for now.”
She picked up her iced tea, then set it down. “Since she’s been back, she’s been cooperative, hasn’t she? She really did try to tell you about Tyler five years ago. You have written proof of it. What more did you need?”
Control, he thought, knowing he couldn’t explain that to his mother. She wouldn’t understand and if she did, she wouldn’t approve.
“We’ll work it out,” he said instead.
“In front of a judge? That will be friendly and pleasant.” Denise shook her head. “I don’t get it. What did you hope to accomplish by acting like that? Getting her attention?”
His head snapped up. “I’m not looking for Liz’s attention.”
“Aren’t you?” She seemed to consider the idea. “You were in love with her once, weren’t you?”
“I was a kid. We both were.”
“I was nineteen when I met your father. Being young doesn’t make the love any less real.”
“Fine. I loved her.” He’d loved her but he’d been too much of a jerk to admit it. To stand up to the town and his friends. To admit his feelings out loud.
It wasn’t behavior he’d been proud of. Looking back, with the wisdom of hindsight, he knew he hadn’t been ready for Liz. Hadn’t deserved her.
He’d been blessed with a happy, normal childhood. He hadn’t realized that little had been asked of him, so he hadn’t had to prove himself. On the surface, he’d seemed like one of the good guys, but underneath, he’d been immature and selfish.
It had taken the accident that had ended his racing career to start the process of maturing him. But even that hadn’t been enough. Because he’d come home to sulk, to complain. It was only after the death of his father, when he’d been forced to take over the family business, that he’d finally started to grow up.
“I wasn’t ready,” he said slowly. “Not to be what Liz needed. If I’d known she was pregnant, I would have done the right thing and married her. Bu
t I don’t think we would have made it.”
“You might have surprised yourself.”
“You’re my mom. You have to believe the best of me.” Even when it wasn’t true.
She and Nevada were right, he thought. Serving Liz had accomplished nothing but alienating her. Maybe he had wanted to get her attention. If so, he’d picked a lousy way to do it.
“She needs someone on her side,” Denise told him. “You have your family and the town.”
“Not everyone in town,” he assured, remembering the old lady who’d gone after him with her purse.
“You’re still coming out ahead. If we’re not careful, Liz will feel overwhelmed and take off. Honestly, I’m not sure I would blame her for that.” His mother paused, then scrunched her face. “I could have been a lot more supportive and understanding. I should have been. I want to know my grandson, and Liz is the key to making that happen.”
He thought about pointing out that if push came to shove, they could go to court. Force Liz to let Tyler spend time with the family. But in the end, no one would win. Certainly not Tyler. And as Liz had pointed out several times, the kid was the most important part of the equation.
“I can’t take the injunction back,” he said, not completely sure he would if he could. Although he still wasn’t sure why. His mother was right—he was trying to prove something.
“You may not be able to take it back, but I can make an effort, and I’m going to. Liz has been in this by herself for too long. I’m still angry about missing the first eleven years of Tyler’s life, but if I don’t let that go, my emotions will affect everything else. And not in a good way. Besides, Rayanne is to blame for the last five years. This is so complicated.” She looked at him. “I suppose you’re going to be an idiot for a while longer.”
“Apparently.”
She surprised him by smiling. “Sometimes you remind me so much of your father. He was an idiot, too.”
“And you still loved him.”
Her smile broadened. “Yes, but Liz might not be as smart as me.”
CHAPTER TWELVE
LIZ HAD NEVER BEEN TO A CITY event-planning meeting before. When Pia had called to invite her, she thought the afternoon might be interesting. Her stay in Fool’s Gold was temporary but she might as well get a feel for the good as well as the bad. If nothing else, she may be able to put the experience in a book.
A little before two, she walked to the City Hall building and found her way to the meeting room. When she opened the door, she was surprised to find herself in a good-size open space, with about three dozen chairs facing a long table and a podium. Most of the chairs were full, and three women chatted by the head table. Montana and Pia were among them and smiled at her.
Liz smiled back, then went to find an empty seat.
Her choices were limited. There was one next to a young mother with a baby. Liz didn’t recognize her, so they hadn’t gone to school together. Odds were the woman wouldn’t care about Liz or her past. There were several older women sitting together, but after the recent comments on her character by strangers, she wasn’t sure she wanted to risk the wrath of a potential mob.
Unable to find a place that felt safe, she settled for a seat in the back corner. With any luck, she would be ignored.
A woman in the row in front of her turned to face her. “Hi,” she said. “I’m Marti and I just love your books.”
“Thanks.”
“Your main character is wonderful. She feels so real. And thank God you’re not putting too much gore in your books. I know violence is part of the genre, but some authors go too far.”
“I enjoy writing my stories,” Liz acknowledged, knowing a neutral response was usually best. The truth was she always liked hearing her readers opinions, even when she didn’t agree with them. Readers probably thought she ignored what they said, but that wasn’t true. Liz had made not a few changes in story lines based on reader input.
“I love reading them,” Marti repeated, before smiling and facing front.
Pia moved to the podium and called the meeting to order.
“We’re planning the book festival,” she began. “Thank you all for coming out this afternoon. This is going to be our biggest and best program ever, which means lots of opportunity for volunteering. We’ll get to that later. First, let me go over the program.”
A screen rolled down behind her. She pushed a few buttons on her laptop and a big poster appeared. It was bright and inviting, giving the dates of the Fool’s Gold annual book festival. The border was filled with pictures of both authors and books. Liz was relieved to see that she was just one of the many on this poster. The one Montana had shown her a few days before had featured her prominently. Not something to endear her to the other local authors.
“We’re going to set up in the park,” Pia continued. “Given that we have a few better-known authors this year, we’re expecting a larger crowd than usual.”
“That’s right,” someone in the front called. “There’s that mystery writer everyone’s been talking about. What’s her name?”
A ripple of laughter flowed through the room. Liz chuckled. “I can’t remember,” she said loudly. “But I’ve heard she has an attitude, so watch out.”
An older woman stood up and waved at Liz. “I have a new quilting book out this year. Chances are my fans are going to be flooding the park. Just so you’re prepared.”
“I look forward to meeting them,” Liz told her.
Pia looked at Liz with a teasing expression. “I think our local New York Times bestselling author can handle the competition.”
Pia went through the list of authors. As promised, most of them were local, self-published and their books dealt with unusual or dying crafts. Using sticks for art and furniture. Making meals from what one can find on the forest floor. There was mention of an author who wrote about the Indian legends. The book sounded interesting, but when Liz asked Marti about the author, the other woman told her no one ever saw him in town. He lived in the mountains and kept to himself.
“There are tons of rumors,” Marti admitted. “Seeing him is like seeing Bigfoot. I’ve heard everything from him being one-hundred-and-eight, English and a former explorer to him being young, gorgeous and really rich.” She lowered her voice. “Personally I like the second story best.”
Liz thought the old British explorer sounded more intriguing. She would have to look up the mysterious author at the signing.
Despite everything going on, she found herself looking forward to the event. Her usual signings were in big stores or at industry events. Very organized and predictable, with crowd control and readers kept at a respectful distance. This sounded more fun. She liked the idea of being part of a writing community. There were days when figuring out a new way to serve chicken for Tyler seemed impossible. Feeding someone what could be found on a forest floor was impressive.
Pia went through the rest of the programs, the various opportunities for volunteering, then opened the meeting for questions.
Two people wanted to know about taking sign-up sheets around town. The only man at the meeting pointed out that just because there were more women than men in town didn’t mean it was right to take over all the men’s restrooms every time there was a festival. Men had needs, too. Pia promised to look into the problem.
“Anything else?” she asked.
The young mother with the baby rose slowly. “I’m sure a lot of you aren’t going to agree with me, but I have to say, I’m just sick about having that woman here.” She pointed at Liz. “What she did to Ethan is shameful. Keeping his little boy from him all those years. It’s worse because of him losing Rayanne and their baby.” The woman’s eyes filled with tears. “Rayanne was a sweet girl and now people are saying terrible things about her.” She glared at Liz. “I don’t believe any of them.”
The room went silent as everyone turned to stare at Liz. Her warm fuzzies about the signing, the town and ever thinking it was smart to come back, disappeared.
She sat in her seat, embarrassed, angry and determined not to blush. Speaking any words seemed impossible, let alone the right ones. What was she supposed to say?
“Let’s stay on topic, everyone,” Pia reminded from the front of the room. “We’re here to talk about the book festival.” She glanced at the young mother. “Melody, I know Rayanne was your friend, but this isn’t the time or the place to have this conversation. Can we please finish up here.”
Both her voice and her gaze were sympathetic. Liz appreciated the support, although she still felt sick to her stomach. Then the woman next to Marti rose.
“Melody, you need to get your head out of your butt. Liz didn’t do anything wrong. She was a kid, dealing with a lot of crap.” The older woman cleared her throat, then faced Liz. “I knew your mother and I had a bad feeling about what was going on at your house every night. I knew she drank and I knew there were men in and out of that place. A lot of us knew and we didn’t do anything to protect you. We should have. You were just a little girl.”
The woman drew in a breath. “I’m sorry for my part in that. I’ve given money to the scholarship and I’ve acted differently since then. But that doesn’t make up for me turning away when you were growing up.”
Several other women nodded. Melody looked furious.
“That doesn’t excuse what she did to Ethan.”
“Maybe if you spent more time looking after your own family, you wouldn’t have time to worry about something that happened all those years ago,” the older woman snapped. “After all, your husband spends plenty of nights up at the lodge, flirting with a certain cocktail waitress.”
Several people gasped. Melody went red. Pia grabbed the microphone.
“People, please. This is getting out of hand. Obviously we need to finish this another time. We—”
The door by the front of the room opened. An older woman walked in. It took Liz a moment to recognize the mayor. Marsha Tilson looked pale and it was obvious something bad had happened.
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