by Meredith, MK
Now at least, a soft reminder in the background, like windchimes on the breeze, rather than an unceasing, clamoring loss. And every time she missed her da. But with him, the pain ran deep. He was alive. He was there.
He told her to never come home.
Inspecting the shine of her patent leather, high-heeled Mary Jane’s, she gained strength from the powerful red that matched her silk, off-the-shoulder blouse, and instead of cowering like she wanted to, or hitting Jamie like she yearned to, she tilted her head to take in the property straight on.
She’d hit Jamie later.
The home was reminiscent of a French chateau in a towering, crescent shape that mimicked the coastline of the North Cove, about a mile up the coast from where Larkin lived. From the first time she’d ever laid eyes on his home, she’d never seen anything so grand in her life and never expected to again.
“It’s called dinner. We’ve been so busy confirming all the last-minute details for the gala that I thought a home-cooked meal would give us a chance to catch a breath. Besides, my mother missed you and asked me to bring you by.”
She scoffed. “Your ma does not miss me, and you know it.”
Jamie looked at her as if she were crazy, and opened his mouth to speak, but the front door was yanked open and a small squeal came from inside.
“Blayne!” Margaret Astor gripped her hands together, taking in the vision of Blayne as if Christmas had come early.
A rush of nostalgia filled her at the sight of Jamie’s mother, when happily ever after had seemed like a reality instead of the hard, cold joke she knew it to be. Mrs. Astor hadn’t changed a bit over the last decade. Still as elegant as ever, though at the moment, not quite as poised as she usually presented herself.
Warm, small hands grabbed Blayne and drew her in for a fierce hug. She didn’t remember his mother being quite so strong, but the wind nearly got knocked out of her in the embrace.
She almost made the mistake of melting into those motherly arms but stopped herself just in time. “Hello, Mrs. Astor. It’s been awhile.” Awkward didn’t begin to describe her feelings as she disengaged from the warm welcome.
Her da had been like that.
Every friend she and her siblings had dragged home like stray puppies off the street were given a place at the table and more attention than they ever expected…or probably wanted.
He’d tell great stories of deep sea fishing with his father back in the old days and jokes that left the kids laughing, but what was more, he’d ask questions, and when the kids answered, he’d listened.
Leaning in, those deep blue eyes focused as if nothing else in the world mattered. “What happened next?” he’d say.
That was always his question. He wanted to hear more. And in that moment, each kid felt as if nothing else in the world mattered but them and their story.
What happened next.
Well, that was the question, wasn’t it?
Visiting the Astor home with its photographic history of belonging displayed along the hallways only reminded her of how painfully apparent it was that she didn’t—at his house, in Cape Van Buren, or in the States at all. This evening would simply prove it and allow her to move on. Maybe the visit was exactly what she needed.
Margaret led her through the large foyer toward the back of the house. “Far too long.” She tossed an accusing glare at her son. “You know I wanted to kill Jay for leaving you like he did.”
Blayne tripped on her own two feet.
“Mother.” Jamie grimaced.
Margaret steadied her. “Are you okay, my dear?” She continued to lead them toward Blayne’s favorite room in the beautiful house.
His mother hadn’t agreed?
It was as if she’d been knocked in the head during a roller derby match and had woken up in an alternate reality.
They entered a round sitting room with pillars along the walls that flanked floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking the Atlantic Ocean. It had gold drapes and marble floors, and the view of the moonlit, white-capped waves rolling in from the ocean was the most breathtaking ever.
Well almost.
The lighthouse view gave this one a run for its money, especially with Jamie wrapped around her.
She blinked, trying to make sense of everything that didn’t. But she wasn’t sure how to handle the swirling in her chest that invited her stomach in to join the dance. What did Mrs. Astor mean she wanted to kill Jamie? Surely, she’d had a huge sigh of relief that their only son hadn’t married at eighteen, and to a poor Irish girl who abandoned her family at that.
Abandoned.
Damn it.
Peeking at Jamie, she followed the line of his profile while he poured them wine from a beautiful teardrop decanter that had been the center display on a silver terrace bar cart. His jaw clenched rhythmically, and his shoulders seemed tenser than usual. She didn’t even bother to suppress the grin that strained her cheeks.
He deserved any discomfort that came from this little impromptu visit.
“Thank you, darling. Don’t forget Father.” Jamie’s mother took the offered glass of wine then dipped her chin toward the arched opening into the library as Astor Senior joined them.
“Blayne.” He embraced her smelling of old money and worldly experience before she could decide how to greet him.
He’d dropped a few pounds over the years, probably from his surgery. From what Jamie had told her, the doctors had been on him to start slowing down and thinking of his heart.
“You are looking quite fit, Mr. Astor.”
He patted his chest, smiling at his wife. “It was either do what the doctors say or get on the wrong side of Margaret.” Leaning in, he gave her a wink. “No one wants to do that.”
Margaret laughed, swatting her husband on the arm. “James, please. I’m the easiest-going woman you know. Which is the only reason you’re still married. Who else would put up with you?”
They teased in that good-natured way that was full of love and admiration and wrapped her in a blanket of warm emotion. Her parents had been the same way once upon a time.
Mr. Astor kissed her cheek. “That is the truth.”
Blayne didn’t know everything that may have transpired over the years, but the two of them continued to thrive in their relationship. She went a tad green. A connection like that was rarely seen off the movie screen or pages of a book.
Jamie handed her a glass of wine, whispering under his breath, “She had to be easygoing. He was always gone.” It sounded like an accusation but Blayne couldn’t quite pin down his meaning.
“Obviously, they are still madly in love. It’s nice to see.”
He dipped his chin. “My dad’s lucky she didn’t walk out years ago.”
She shook her head, peering closely at his face. “What are you talking about? They’ve always seemed to have a wonderful relationship. Your home life was pretty idyllic, if I remember all your stories correctly.”
“And it was. But everything comes at a price.” He stepped close behind her, holding her hips as his parents continued their verbal play. The sensation of his fingers pressing into her flesh sent tingles spreading over her that had no business in his parents’ company.
She discreetly shoved his hands away. “Don’t you dare,” she hissed.
“What was that, my dear?” Mrs. Astor asked.
“Oh, I said, I’d love a little air.” She hiccupped, which was quickly joined by a quiet rolling laugh from Jamie.
Margaret opened one of three sets of large French doors. “What a great idea. Jay, open the others, please.”
A light, breeze floated in with the rumble of waves and a call or two from the seagulls.
Blayne stepped to the door’s threshold. “I’ve always loved this room. This view.”
Margaret joined her. “You could have visited any time,” she said softly.
The offer was sweet but unrealistic. Eighteen-year-olds did not keep in touch with their ex’s families. That had crazy ex-girlfriend w
ritten all over it, but the thought was kind all the same.
And unexpected.
Nothing about this visit, their warm welcome, or the feelings stirred up by being in the Astor home was what she’d been ready for, walking through the front door.
Her brain tried to sort out her feelings from the facts—or at least what she’d thought they were. But instead of dropping into place and clearing up, it all got fuzzier.
“Tell me more about the gala,” his mother murmured. “I’d love to help in any way I can. I know a lot of people.”
Just the mention of it pushed Blayne’s mind to start racing with possibility. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d been so excited about something outside of when she’d opened Eclectic Finds. “I have a lot of it planned already, but there might be something you can assist me with.”
Jamie cocked his head. “I didn’t realize we were that far along?”
She shrugged. “I’ve had a vision of what Larkin wanted from the beginning, so I’ve been working on it as we went. Seemed smarter than trying to plan it all at once.”
His eyes narrowed at the jab.
Mrs. Astor smiled. “I wish I could see your plans. I know your mother is smiling down, proud as any parent ever could be.”
The words settled like the gentle sweep of a mother’s fingertips along her brow, and she blinked rapidly to hold it together. She’d always hoped her mother would be proud of her but gave up after following Jamie to the States. No mother would be proud of that.
She smiled tremulously. “I hope so.”
“Hope? I don’t understand that at all. It’s a fact,” Mrs. Astor declared. “I know, I’m a mother, and I’m proud of you.”
With a small shake of her head, Blayne argued. “I don’t think my mother would be very happy with all of the decisions I’ve made. But you are sweet.”
Margaret clasped Blayne’s hand between her own. “No, you are. And a mother doesn’t have to like every decision her children make, it isn’t her life to live, but theirs. When they find themselves and embark on the path that was meant for them, there is no way but to be proud. Hear me when I tell you…she’s proud of her beautiful daughter.”
An image of her mother clapping for her from the audience of the myriad school events of her youth overwhelmed her in a wave of homesickness.
“Mom.” Jamie’s voice broke through, saving her from an embarrassing display of pent-up tears. She blinked rapidly to clear her vision and sniffed.
Margaret gave a determined nod. “Now about that gala…”
Blayne sipped her wine to settle her emotions, allowing for the possibility that Jamie’s mother might be right. Getting caught up in the excitement of it all, she lifted her phone. “I can show you.”
“I didn’t know about any plans,” Jamie accused with a look that promised he had ideas of how she could make up for it later. Or maybe it was a trick of the light and her own twisted wanting playing with her libido.
She spared him a brief glance as his mother clapped in anticipation.
Mr. Astor poured more wine and settled into one of the tufted, high-back chairs. “Sit with me, son. They might be awhile.”
Margaret sat on a cushioned wrought iron chair at the table and gestured to another. “I’d love to see.”
Blayne opened her files. Globe-lit canopies, ocean rock fire pits, and torches for lighting, red and white wine and champagne wishing-well fountains in honor of Archer. Silent auction items from the most exclusive establishments in the community with the proceeds going directly into the Archer Sinclair Scholarship Fund.
Food catered by Delizioso, coffee from the Flat Iron Coffeehouse, and Cupcakes from the North Cove Confectionery. The only thing she still hadn’t nailed down yet was the entertainment.
“I have a few bands pre-booked, but they don’t seem quite right. This isn’t just a celebration, this is a birth of something bigger than any one of us and will serve all of us.”
Margaret squeezed her hand. “Yes. It is so lovely that you see that.”
She smiled at Jamie’s mom and some of the fuzziness cleared. This woman not only seemed genuinely happy to have her in her home, but she seemed excited to share in the details for the gala, and a timid flare of happiness warmed Blayne from the inside out.
Jamie had always made caveats and explanations for the way his family lived, for his mother’s role in it all, his father’s expectations. So often, Blayne had assumed he was trying to manage her expectations on ever being accepted in the family.
She glanced at the man who held her heart, the man she used to dream about calling her own so many years ago, and possibility fluttered. A feeling she’d never believed she’d feel again.
In less than a week, she’d be on a plane to Ireland. All her yearning for home, for her da, came crashing down to remind her why she had to leave Cape Van Buren.
But the encouraging motherly hand covering hers and the gray-eyed gaze of her one true love studying her from across the room reminded her of why she so desperately wanted to stay.
* * *
Jay sipped his wine as he half-listened to his father retell the ins and outs of his most recent doctor’s appointment for the hundredth time. It wasn’t that Jay didn’t want to know, but at this point, he could recap each and every detail right down to the socks the old man had worn that day.
Blayne and his mother were elbows deep in gala details. From what he could tell, the event was practically ready to go, and after seeing what she’d put together, it would, without a doubt, be the most glamorous event Cape Van Buren had ever seen.
“She’s quite something,” his father said.
Competent, professional, savvy, and fierce. There was nothing to do but agree. “I don’t deserve her.”
“No, you don’t.”
Jay jerked his head toward his father.
“But I hope you get her anyway.” His father’s tone was sincere, which was both an insult and encouraging. “You should never have left her like you did.”
Jay agreed, but try telling that to his eighteen-year-old self. “I was an ass and an idiot. My ambition called. Duty called. My family, our business, has always come first. Always trying so hard to prove that I deserved to be a part of it. All I ended up proving was that I didn’t deserve the greatest thing I ever had.”
His father studied him over the rim of his wine glass, then took a sip. “You had to make your mistakes to really see what you wanted. We always encouraged you to return to her.”
Jay shot his dad an incredulous look. “Look at her. I couldn’t until I proved I was worthy.”
His father’s sigh came from the deep recesses of his chest. “Jay, someday you’re going to have to let go of the guilt of privilege you’ve wrapped yourself in.” He raised his glass toward the women.
“Keep giving, like you are with the center. Like you did in Haiti after the earthquake, or New Orleans after Katrina. From a young age, you’ve always jumped in. But someday, you’re going to have to stop punishing yourself for being an Astor…for leaving her.”
“Family comes first,” Jay said.
“You’re right, your mother and I have always preached family-first, but that’s always included those we were bringing into the fold.”
“But that was part of the problem. I realized I couldn’t do that to Blayne.”
His father’s brows furrowed. “Do what?”
Jay shook his head. There was no way to explain his feelings to his father without hurting the man, and that was not his intention. He just didn’t think his father ever really considered how hard his being gone all the time had been on his wife.
James Alexander Wilmington Astor II was a great father and a loving—though absent—husband who had worked his whole life to give his family every opportunity to thrive in this community and around the world. Jay saw that. He just hadn’t always agreed.
“It’s nothing. We travel a lot for our business—”
“You are full of excuses, so
n. She’s from Ireland. Europeans travel all the time. What are you really afraid of?”
Jay scrubbed his fingers through his scruff. Stepping into his father’s shoes after proving his abilities was what he’d been working for in order to return to Blayne. But he still feared he wasn’t enough, of not being worthy of a woman like her, of his selfish streak hurting her again.
Of never being worthy of her, no matter what he did. He finished his drink, welcoming the burn.
“Look, never mind. I was eighteen. There’s no explaining the rationale of a kid.”
His father slapped him on the back with a chuckle. “Now that I get. Do you remember when you were determined to graduate at the top of your class, you got it in your head to paint your room black, including your ceiling?”
Jay nodded.
“You thought that blocking out the world would allow you to be more successful, let you focus. You had your mother put up black-out drapes. We were worried you’d suffer from vitamin D deficiency, but a week with no sun, and you were taking down the drapes and repainting the room yourself since we refused to fix it for you.”
Jay remembered all too well. “If you remember, I left the walls black.”
“Fair enough, but my point is…you sought the light. You’ve always had this funny idea that you had to suffer to deserve your success. But you still graduated in the top what, three percent of your class? Even with the distractions of life and the responsibilities of our family? I’ve always thought you were doing the same thing when you left Blayne.”
Jay stared at his dad. He’d never thought of it that way before. There was truth in his words that Jay couldn’t quite explain. He’d always felt as if he had too much compared to his friends, to the world. And he still wanted more. That’s what bothered him the most.
But it wouldn’t have changed the fact that Blayne would have had to spend a lot of time alone while the Astor men ran the business. It was just way too archaic of a lifestyle to expect a woman like her to thrive in. At least, that’s what he told himself when he was too much of a coward to run to her right away and beg her forgiveness.
