Susan looked surprised. “Don't you know? Cecily, you were a hit! You didn't read the reviews? The audience was packed with theater critics and entertainment reporters that night, all here for an exclusive on Bailey and Phinn. Instead, all they could talk about at the end of the night was you. Your performance blew them away!”
Cecily reached her hand out to steady herself against the wall, her brain spinning with this unexpected news. Finally, she looked at Susan and grinned.
“Really? You're not joking?” Her words ended in a laugh.
“Not at all! I'm surprised Rorie didn't tell you.”
The mention of Rorie's name sobered her, and she saw Susan's expression change to one of concern.
“Oh, no. What happened?”
Cecily's shoulders slumped. “She left. It's over.” Cecily blinked back the tears that stung her eyes. “She didn't even say goodbye.”
Susan's brow furrowed. “Well, I know she had to get back for the new show. You're sure she hasn't tried to call, or—?”
“No,” Cecily said, her fingers brushing the cold metal of the watch on her wrist. She'd worn it every day since Rorie left, as a reminder. “She made it fairly clear she didn't want to talk to me again.”
Susan shook her head. “I'm so sorry. I've known Rorie for several years, and if it makes you feel better, this isn't the first time she's run from a relationship.”
Cecily gave a mirthless laugh. “It does not make me feel better, I'm afraid.”
“No, I guess not. She's afraid of being abandoned, and at the first sign of trouble sometimes she leaves, before the other person has a chance. I think it's because of her mother leaving when she was young.”
Cecily nodded. “Among other things.” Guilt squeezed her heart, the ache a reminder that she bore plenty of blame for how things had turned out.
“Maybe you should reach out to her?”
Cecily sighed. “I think it's too late for that.”
Susan nodded. “I really am sorry. If I hear from her … oh, that reminds me. Speaking of hearing from people, I got a call yesterday from an old friend. He was in the audience for your performance. He's casting some sort of children's television program and wanted to talk to you.”
“Me? I don't know, Susan. I don't think I'd be any more comfortable in front of a camera than I was on stage.”
“This could be perfect, then. It's an animated show, so it would just be your voice. No costumes, no audience. Just a sound studio. So, can I give you his number?”
Cecily smiled, some of her earlier cheer returning. “Sure. It can't hurt, right?”
Susan grinned. “Right! Come into my office for a minute and I'll write it down for you.”
Cecily stepped into the office, watching as Susan pulled out her chair and sat down at the desk. An image of herself sitting in that chair, Rorie's hands on her, kissing her in the darkness, sent the blood rushing to her cheeks, even as a stab of regret pierced her heart. The changes she needed to make in her life seemed so obvious now. Why hadn't she seen it when Rorie was here, when there was still time? And what wouldn't she give for another chance.
“Here, this is his number,” Susan said, handing her a slip of paper.
“Area code 562—where is that?”
“Somewhere in the LA area. Not exactly sure where.”
“Los Angeles?” Cecily's brain spun again at this new revelation. Could this be the chance she'd hoped for to win Rorie back? Was there even reason to hope?
“Which is why I also put her address and phone number on the back of that slip,” Susan added. “Just in case.”
Cecily's mouth curved into a smile even as she felt a tear roll down her cheek. That pretty much summed it up. She felt like she was on a roller coaster, traveling at breakneck speed from hope to despair and back again. She hadn't been this close to true happiness in eighteen years, nor so close to complete ruin. It terrified her, and enough insecurity lingered that she wasn't convinced she was up to seeing this all through. But she was determined to try.
Chapter 28
Cecily paced nervously in the dining room, feeling out of sorts. Banging and clinking noises came from the kitchen where the caterer was preparing their Thanksgiving meal. It had been made abundantly clear that her assistance was not needed in there, and from the looks of it, she wasn't needed in the dining room, either. The staff she'd hired had transformed the table in record time from an ordinary eating space to something out of a magazine. It was more than fit to host the two dozen guests who would be arriving later that afternoon. She should have been relieved that everything was going smoothly, but in truth it might have been better to have more to do.
She heard the clinking of ice in a glass coming from the living room and went to check it out. Chet was resting against the bar, sipping Scotch and looking forlorn. It was the first time she'd seen him since their talk the other night, and she smiled knowing that what she had to say was sure to brighten his mood. She leaned against the bar and poured herself a drink, musing as she did that it was the second time in a week that she'd done so. In their eighteen years together, that might be a record for social interaction between them when they weren't just putting on a show for someone else.
“Chet,” she began, tightening her stomach muscles to ease the sudden flutter of nerves. She knew what she was about to say was the right thing, but she couldn't help feeling a little bit afraid. “What would you say if I asked you for a divorce?”
Chet put down his drink and stared at her. “You? Asking for a divorce, in an election year? I'd say you'd been abducted and replaced by an alien.”
Cecily squared her shoulders. “I'm serious. Besides, the election's over and Daddy won reelection by a landslide. We've got six years for voters to forget our little scandal.” She sighed. “Look, I'm trying to do the right thing here, finally, so maybe you could help me out?”
Chet cocked his head, his expression softening slightly. “You really mean it? Well, I won't pretend I'm not shocked, or that I didn't wish you'd decided this before Angie walked out on me, but—”“—About Angie. I think if you gave her a call this evening, say around seven o'clock, you might be pleasantly surprised.”
Chet's brow furrowed suspiciously. “What have you been up to?”
“Trying to fix some of the messes I've made. I'm forty years old, Chet. Maybe it's time I started acting like an adult.”
“You talked to Angie?” he asked in disbelief.
“Well, email. I explained some things. And apologized. She'd like to hear from you.”
“You did that for me?” He looked like he couldn't quite wrap his head around the idea. “Why?”
Cecily took a deep breath. “You're not a bad guy, Chet. We have a terrible marriage, but that's no more your fault than mine. Actually, neither one of us is to blame. We both just belonged with someone else.”
Chet narrowed his eyes. “So, you met someone. That's why the sudden change of heart.”
“No. Well, sort of … you know what? That's a story for another day. Bottom line, I don't hate you. I'm not trying to punish you for the rest of your life because you got me pregnant in college. I mean, hell, Chet. Look at Tyler. How could I punish you for that?”
“That's the one good thing that came out of this.”
“Yeah. And you're a good dad.” Cecily paused. “Which brings me to the other thing I wanted to discuss.”
“There's more?” A nervous look crossed Chet's face.
Cecily laughed. “Yes. There's more. Our son doesn't want to go to Yale, Chet. He doesn't want to be a lawyer, or run for the senate, or be the future Attorney General, or any of those things we've all assumed he would do. He wants to go to film school.”
Chet let out a sigh. “Film school? That’s just a phase. It's not practical.”
Cecily shook her head. “I don't think it is a phase, and apparently he has real potential. Even if it's not the most practical career choice, does it really matter? It's not like we don't have the resource
s to support him while he gives it a try, at least, right?”
“But our parents—”
“—We're the parents, Chet. It's taken me way too long, but I'm finally beginning to see. We've let our parents, yours and mine, control us. It's time we did the right thing for this family.”
“By getting divorced and sending our son across the country to study movies …”
Cecily laughed. “It's a little unconventional, I'll admit.”
“And what about you? What do you do in all this?”
Cecily swallowed back the sadness she felt, because this plan didn't have much in it for her. Not without Rorie. But there was at least one bright spot, and she would focus on that. “There's an opportunity for me, in LA. Maybe. It's not a sure thing, but I talked to someone last night who saw me in the show last week, and they want me to come in and read for a part. I thought I might take Tyler with me over Christmas break and give him a chance to visit the schools he's interested in.”
“Wow. This actually is starting to sound real.” Chet smiled. “It's crazy, but I think you might've come up with the perfect plan. So, do we tell our parents about all this tonight? They'll be here in about an hour.”
Cecily laughed. “You know, we've managed with this charade for eighteen years. I'm okay with going a little longer and not spoiling Thanksgiving dinner. I don't suppose it would be the adult thing to do if we just sent an email once they're all back home?”
“Probably not. I guess I'd better go change for dinner.” Chet set his drink down and turned to go. “Oh, hey, Cecily?” He rummaged in his pocket with one hand. “I think this is yours.”
Cecily looked down at his outstretched hand and felt tears well up in her eyes at what she saw there. Rorie's sock. “Where did you find that?” she asked as she took it from his hand with trembling fingers.
“Behind the bottle of Scotch.”
Huh. At least the mystery of where that last sock had landed was finally solved. Cecily climbed the stairs, clutching the sock, wanting to laugh and cry.
Cecily looked up from her plate, her eyes sweeping around the table to take in the guests surrounding her table. It was a full house. Tyler and Chet were there, of course, and her parents, and her in-laws. Her brother and his wife had managed at the last minute to fly up from DC where her brother, a newly-elected congressman, had been house hunting. Several of Chet's cousins had joined them, and a dozen politicians and business owners who were friends of her father-in-law. In some ways it was a powder keg of differing political and religious ideas just waiting to explode. On the other hand, the caterers had outdone themselves on dinner, and so far her guests were more interested in eating than in engaging in the Thanksgiving tradition of discussing taboo subjects over the table.
“So, Tyler,” Cecily's brother, Dan, spoke from the opposite end of the table. “Have you gotten your acceptance letter to Yale yet?”
Spoken too soon. Tyler fidgeted in his chair, and Cecily groaned inwardly at the sudden awkwardness. Her brother had a talent for stumbling into just the wrong thing to say, which, she reflected, could be a real problem in his line of work. They weren't very close. Her brother had stayed in Louisiana after she'd married Chet and moved away, and she didn't see him often. Mostly they kept in touch on social media. Or by talking to their mother, according to whom her brother could do no wrong. It struck her now how inept her older brother was as a politician. Had he really wanted to do that, or had he been railroaded into what Mother wanted, just like her?
“Actually, Dan, Tyler's looking into all his options. In fact, his mother's planning to take him out to California next month to look at some schools there.”
At the sound of Chet's voice, Cecily's head swiveled in shock to look at him. This was a topic she hadn't expected to discuss tonight. She heard surprised murmuring from some of their guests, and felt a nervous twinge in her gut, but as soon as she saw the look on her son's face, she no longer cared. Tyler was beaming from ear to ear. He raised his eyebrows in an exaggerated way, as if to ask if it were really true, and Cecily grinned in response.
She was still basking in the happy glow of that moment when she heard her mother's voice.
“Jackie,” her mother said, turning to her mother-in-law, “do you see any possibility for a religious freedom law to gain traction in Connecticut?”
“How do you mean?”
“Oh, you know, the bills that make it so bakers who don't want to bake a gay wedding cake can say no because of their religion. They're hugely popular with the conservative voters in our area, and I thought George might sponsor legislation on the national level next session. It would boost his numbers in the polls.”
Cecily felt her temperature climb, both at her mother's words and at the almost offhanded way in which she said them. Her hands clenched around the fork and knife they held. She sucked in a deep breath. “Mother? Can we not talk about this subject at the dinner table, please?” she said, masking her anger as best she could, which wasn't as successfully as she'd hoped.
Her mother laughed. “Why? It's just a question. It's not like it affects anyone here, either way.”
Cecily's jaw dropped and her eyes narrowed. “And that's supposed to make it okay? You want Daddy to support a law that could make it okay for millions of people to be discriminated against because it would make his poll numbers go up in a couple districts back home?”
“Careful, Cecily,” her mother said in a warning tone. “You're starting to sound like a liberal Yankee. You've never taken an interest in politics before, I don't know why you want to start now when it doesn't even concern you.”
Cecily's hands were shaking too violently to hold the silverware any longer. She set them down, clattering, on the table and stood in her place. “Of course it concerns me. It should concern everyone when stupid laws are proposed just so politicians can raise more money for re-election.” Her volume escalated as she spoke. “And I would still be concerned about it, even if I weren't a lesbian!”
It was as if a wave of cold water washed over her from head to toe as her words echoed around the now silent dinner table. She looked around the room, wide-eyed, as forty-six eyes stared back at her. Forty-four of them were set in faces filled with shock. The two belonging to Tyler sparkled along with the broad grin on his face. He gave her a little thumbs up. Like magic, just enough power returned to her frozen limbs to propel her out of the dining room, through the kitchen, and into her sitting room, where she shut the door and collapsed on the couch, shaking.
All around the country, families were struggling through the strain of Thanksgiving table conversation, but Cecily was fairly certain they'd set a new standard of awkwardness around the Parker table today.
She remained on the couch, curled up beneath her favorite knitted throw, staring at the wall for quite a long time. Long enough for hurried apologies to be made on her behalf, and for guests to show themselves to the door, not bothering to wait for dessert. In her state of emotional detachment, she felt a pang of guilt about the dessert. The caterer had made an excellent pumpkin pie and it seemed a shame for it to go to waste. The fact that she had just announced to a room full of family and friends—for the very first time at the age of forty years old—that she was a lesbian, and moments later was contemplating pumpkin pie, did register with her as odd. She suspected she might not be quite as okay with the way things had transpired once the numbness of shock wore off.
She heard the closing of car doors, the roar of engines as her guests left. Then finally a tapping at the sitting room door. She felt a jolt in her chest, like her heart trying to make a run for it before whoever was outside the door could come in. The door cracked open a little, then widened, and her father's face appeared.
“Pumpkin?” he said softly.
Cecily answered with a loud, wet sniffle and a ragged sigh.
He opened the door completely and entered, shutting it closed behind him, and took a seat on the ottoman. “What you said, just now,” he said gently.
“Is that true?”
Cecily nodded, avoiding looking in his eyes. “Yes, Daddy. Not something you make up.”
“No,” he said with a low chuckle. “Guess not. How long have you known?”
“Known? Since college, I guess. Admitted it? Well, let's see …” She glanced down at her wrist, and felt her heart lurch again at the sight of the silver watch. Whatever else she was going to say was lost in the sobbing wail that escaped her throat.
“Do you hate me, Daddy?” she managed to say a while later when she'd calmed down enough to speak.
“Of course I don't hate you, Pumpkin,” he replied. He'd moved to sit beside her on the couch, his arms wrapped tightly around her shoulders. “How could you think that?”
“I don’t know.” she said with a shrug. “And mother?” she asked, finally looking directly in his face.
She saw a flicker of something there behind his eyes, that had lain dormant for years. Resolve, perhaps. Whatever it was, Mother wouldn't like it one bit, but Cecily suspected she may be about to meet her match.
“You just leave your mother to me.”
Chapter 29
It was sunny and sixty-five degrees when their plane touched down in Los Angeles, just as everyone promised it would be. It still took Cecily by surprise. Winter had arrived with a vengeance in Connecticut the week after Thanksgiving, and by the time she and Tyler drove to the airport the day after Christmas, there were already a few inches of snow on the ground. Walking down a palm-tree-lined sidewalk near the beach, wearing short sleeves and a pair of shorts, Cecily snickered at the natives all bundled up like Eskimos. Apparently, they thought this was cold.
There had been so many changes between Thanksgiving and Christmas, it was hard to believe that only a month had passed. Chet had reconciled with Angie, and moved his things to his firm's apartment in the city until he and Cecily could finalize their divorce. He said it looked better that way to voters, and he hadn't given up his plans to run for Attorney General in the next election. Cecily continued to live in the house in Darien, at least for now. There was no rush to make a change, though the more she saw of southern California's tree-lined streets, where every house seemed to have rose bushes near the front door that bloomed in the dead of winter, the more she could picture herself here. It surprised her how right it felt.
Love's Encore Series (Books One and Two) Page 22
