The Real Thing

by Linda Rettstatt

  But there was no turning back now. He wasn’t the one who had changed. He wasn’t the one trying to make her into someone else. He started the SUV, gunned the engine and squealed the tires as he backed out of the drive. Unreal.

  Mitch took the long way around the city to get back to his brother’s house. The last thing he wanted to do was camp out in his brother’s family room. He’d been there when the kids were playing Wii games. The sound was deafening. That room belonged to Bryan and Bradley, his brother’s fourteen-year-old twin sons. God only knew what had gone on down there or what might be growing in the carpet.

  Steph was in the family room, vacuuming the fold out mattress. She turned off the vacuum. “I’m sorry. The kids manage to get popcorn everywhere. I hope this will be comfortable for you.”

  “Thanks. It’ll be fine.”

  “Mitch….” Her eyes shifted to the shoes in his hand. “You know you’re welcome here as long as you want to stay. But you and Jane need to try to work this out.”

  He dropped the shoes and then dropped himself into one of the two armchairs. “I’m not sure it’s workable.” When she opened her mouth to respond, he held up a hand. “I need some time, okay? I’ll do my best to stay out of the way.”

  She shook her head. “You’re not in the way. You’re family. It just…it scares me, you know. If this can happen to you and Jane, it could happen to—to anyone.” She unplugged the vacuum and coiled the cord. “Dinner’s at six. We usually order pizza or Chinese on Saturday. You have a preference?”

  “No, whatever.”

  “Chinese, then. The menu’s on the fridge. Just jot down your choice on the notepad and I’ll call it in around 5:30.” She parked the vacuum cleaner in the corner and started for the stairs. “Jane and I are best friends, but that doesn’t mean I take sides. I want you to know that. I mean, I won’t assume you’re the bad guy here.”

  “Thanks. I appreciate that. I do love her. I just can’t live with her right now.”

  “I understand.” She went up the stairs.

  Mitch sat and stared at the black sixty inch TV mounted on the wall. Did Steph understand? He doubted it. Even he didn’t understand. Something had simply propelled him into action. And, now, there was no turning back. If he backed down now, he’d be Mr. DuMonde for the rest of his life.

  Chapter Four

  Jane stared at the same two paragraphs on the computer screen. The same paragraphs she had written and rewritten for the past six hours. After the first two hours, she scrolled back and re-read the chapters she had previously written. They were good—classic Janelle DuMonde. But these paragraphs? They were crap. She just couldn’t get it together.

  Never mind that every creak, every car door slam, every sound made her jump to attention. Not that she was frightened. She immediately assumed Mitch had thought things through and come home. So she would wait for a door to open, feet on the stairs. Nothing. She’d picked up the phone to call Steph at least six times. But she didn’t want to put her sister-in-law and best friend in the middle.

  She sat back in her chair and sighed. Her cell phone played Lady Gaga’s The Edge of Glory and she startled. “Mitch?”

  “No. It’s Charlotte.”

  Her mother-in-law was not the person she most wanted to talk with right now. “Oh, Charlotte. Uh…Mitch isn’t here.”

  “That’s okay. I’m just calling to remind you both of my mother’s ninetieth birthday party tomorrow at three.”

  Jane closed her eyes. “I’m not sure I can make it, Charlotte, but I’ll remind Mitch.”

  “Oh, no. Mother’s looking forward to both of you and Robbie coming. Dave, Stephanie and the boys will be there. It’s not every day a woman reaches ninety. I have my father’s genes, so I doubt I’ll live that long.”

  One can only hope. Jane silently admonished herself for that thought. She loved Mitch’s grandmother, Louise. His mother was another story. Charlotte wasn’t kidding when she said she’d gotten her father’s genes. The mother and daughter couldn’t be less alike. Charlotte was self-centered, opinionated, and demanding. Grandma Louise was kind, generous, attentive, and had the greatest laugh. Her mind was sharp, though rheumatoid arthritis had claimed her mobility and forced her into a long-term care facility—Montrose Manor.

  “Jane?”

  “Uh, yes. Maybe you should give Mitch a call on his cell phone. I have to go.” She pressed the little red phone symbol and ended the call.

  Charlotte had never considered Jane ‘suitable’ for her son, so she’d probably dance a jig when Mitch told her he’d moved out. Jane wandered to the kitchen, realizing she’d missed both lunch and dinner. She didn’t have much of an appetite. When she opened the fridge, the first thing she saw was the six-pack of Budweiser she’d picked up earlier in the week for Mitch. She stared at the four remaining bottles as if expecting them to do something.

  She pulled one bottle from the cardboard carrier and slid a slice of cold pizza from a covered plate, then sat at the table. When she tried to twist the cap off the beer without success, tears stung her eyes. Mitch always opened her beer for her, teasing that he didn’t want her to break a nail.

  Shoving the drink and the slice of pizza away, she crossed her arms on the table, bent her head and cried. Janelle DuMonde had a professional problem to overcome—writer’s block. Jane Devereaux’s problem was very personal. Her life was falling apart.

  That’s when the idea struck her—write what you know—write what’s happening. She raced to the den, closed the file on the computer and started over. Natalie is a business executive used to giving orders. Jackson, now her husband, works in finance. Lately Nat has had to take charge since Jack has been disengaged. Jack sees her behavior as demeaning. It had been fun at first with her ordering him around in bed. But the fun was beginning to fade and Jackson’s pride was beginning to show. Nat could not understand Jack’s complaints. He should be used to strong women by now, having grown up with such an overbearing mother.

  Jane grinned at the last line. How had she missed this all these years? A great story lay right there in her midst. She usually liked to have a working title to keep herself on track, but that would come later. She worked for hours on a synopsis of the story. She had everything figured out—except the ending. That would remain to be seen. But there was time.

  She stretched, then stood and headed to the kitchen to brew a pot of coffee. It was going to be a long night. Caffeine and adrenaline would keep her going, though.

  The sun rose and light streamed through the windows. Her hair hung loosely around her face. She blew a strand out of her right eye and sat back. She’d written the first three chapters. She resisted the temptation to go back now and revise, needing to keep moving forward. She also needed a nap and a shower.

  A door slammed and before she could turn around, Rob called from the kitchen. “Mom?”

  “In my office.” What time was it? She peered at the tiny clock at the corner of her computer screen. 2:00 p.m. already?

  Rob stood in the open doorway. “I’ll be ready in fifteen minutes.”

  “Ready?”

  “I had a message from Dad to be ready to leave at two-thirty for Grandma Louise’s birthday party.” He narrowed his eyes. “Are you going like that?”

  Jane looked down at herself. “No. I mean, I’m not going. Is your Dad picking you up?”

  Rob frowned. “Isn’t he here?”

  “He…uh…. No. He had to go to Uncle Dave’s. Call and make sure he remembers to pick you up here.”

  “Why aren’t you going?”

  “I can’t. I’m on a deadline. Call your Dad before he leaves.”

  Rob pushed off from the doorframe, slipping his cell phone out of the deep pocket of his baggy jeans. The shower sounded upstairs a few minutes later.

  She was in the kitchen making more coffee when her son returned in clothes that fit and with his longish hair still damp and neatly combed. “Dad left early to help Gram. He says I should come with you, that
Gram said you were going.”

  “But I….”

  “We’re gonna be late and you know how upset Gram gets if someone is late.”

  Oh, she knew. Charlotte almost had a stroke when Jane was late and that resulted in a quickly planned wedding.

  “Give me five minutes and I’ll take you.” She hurried upstairs to brush her teeth and repair her hair. She didn’t have time to change out of Janelle’s outfit, but she was only driving the car.

  They were less than a mile from the facility when Rob asked, “Does Dad have the gift?”

  A gift. Crap, she’d forgotten to get Louise a gift. She put on her turn signal and pulled into the parking lot of the Shop-n-Save. “I’ll be right back.” She grabbed up her purse and hustled into the store. “Do you have fresh flowers?” she asked the first cashier.

  “Over by the produce.”

  The selection was appalling. Drooping little bouquets jammed into buckets of water and wrapped in clear plastic. They screamed cheap, last minute gift. She picked up three bouquets that she could put together and then went in search of greeting cards. She paid and hurried back to the car, thrusting the drooping flowers toward Rob. “Take these out of the plastic and remove the rubber bands, then put them together into one bouquet.” Pulling a pen from her purse, she hastily signed the card. “Sign this card. Be careful not to get water all over it.”

  He stared at the flowers and then at Jane. “This is it? Mom, she’s ninety.”

  “We’ll get her something else later. Here....” She snatched the card back and wrote—the gift I ordered did not yet arrive. Gives us a reason for another celebration when it does.

  “What did you order?” Rob asked.

  “Just sign the card.” She turned the car around and pulled from the parking lot, squeaking through a red light.

  A siren whooped and blue lights flashed behind her. “Oh, no.”

  “That light was red, Mom.”

  “Do not say a word.” She pulled over and lowered the window.

  The police officer peered over his sunglasses. “In a hurry?”

  “Actually, yes. It’s my grandmother’s ninetieth birthday and we’re late for the party.”

  “Ninety, huh? That’s really something.”

  “Yes, so you understand why I’m in a rush.”

  “Sure. May I see your license and registration?”

  “Is this really necessary? Look, I promise to slow down and be more careful.”

  “Good. I like to hear that. License and registration, please.”

  Realizing she was wasting more time arguing the point, Jane pulled her license from her purse and removed the registration from the glove box, handing them to the officer.

  He stared and his brow furrowed. “Devereaux?”

  “Yes.”

  “Why is that name familiar? Oh, what’s your husband’s first name?”

  “Mitch. Mitchell.”

  The officer smiled. “Oh, yeah. I met him last night. Right there in the parking lot, as a matter of fact.”

  “Mitch was here?”

  “Yep, sleeping in his truck. You two make up yet?”

  She felt Rob’s eyes on her and the heat that crept up her neck and into her face. “I hardly think that’s your concern.”

  “That would be a no,” he said in a low voice as he wrote out the ticket. He tore the citation off his pad and handed it to her along with her license and registration card. “You be more careful now, Mrs. Devereaux.”

  “I will.”

  She shoved everything into her purse and waited until he had returned to his car before putting on her signal and easing back onto the road.

  “Mom? What was he talking about? Why would Dad sleep in the parking lot? You two never fight.” He paused then added, “Do you?”

  “Your father and I didn’t fight. We just had a misunderstanding.” She was relieved to pull up in front of the Manor. “Give Grandma Louise a kiss for me and tell her I’ll visit her this week.”

  “You should just come in and wish her Happy Birthday yourself.”

  “Rob, please….”

  He got out of the car and she reminded him of the flowers. He had already gone through the front doors when she noticed the card laying on the seat. She got out, rushed inside and came face-to-face with her mother-in-law.

  “Jane, you came after all.”

  “No, I didn’t. I mean, I can’t stay.”

  But Charlotte grabbed her arm and held on. “Of course you can. Mother has already asked for you. She was upset when Mitch told her you wouldn’t be here.”

  Jane stopped and Charlotte tugged on her arm. “What’s wrong?”

  “I have to move the car. I’ll be right back.” She parked and checked her hair in the rearview mirror. She would go back in there, sing Happy Birthday, kiss Grandma Louise and explain that her gift would arrive soon. Then she’d make a hasty retreat and figure out what that gift could be. She could do this. Janelle DuMonde had been in much less comfortable circumstances and managed.

  She fumbled in her purse in search of a lipstick. Without success. She looked tired, like someone who hadn’t slept. Well, she hadn’t. She had worked all night. But would Mitch take one look at her and assume he’d been the reason she hadn’t been able to sleep? She did not want to give him that satisfaction.

  Straightening her skirt, she headed back inside the Manor and toward the small dining room residents could reserve for family events.

  Chapter Five

  Jane entered the dining room and searched for her sister-in-law. She needed moral support. She found Dave and asked, “Where’s Stephanie? Ladies Room?”

  “Nah, she didn’t come. She had a….” He made finger quotes. “…headache.”

  “You’re kidding.” Why hadn’t she thought of a finger-quote headache?

  “Nope. Played it to the hilt. Even called Grandma Louise earlier to beg off and promised to bring lunch in for the two of them one day this week.”

  “Great.” She turned and made eye contact with Louise whose lined face opened into a smile.

  Louise waved a gnarled hand to motion her over.

  “Hi, Louise. Happy Birthday!” She bent down and kissed one soft cheek.

  “You got all dressed up for me. I like your hair up like that.”

  “Oh, yes. Thank you. Look, I ordered something special for you, but it didn’t arrive yet. So, Rob has your flowers and I’ll bring your real gift by later this week. Okay?”

  “You’re here. That’s all the gift I need, Jane.”

  Louise’s smile broadened. Jane followed her gaze.

  Mitch stood over them holding a wrapped box. “Happy Birthday, Grandma.”

  “Mitchell, my handsome grandson. What’s in the box?”

  “Your gift. Jane picked it out.”

  Louise looked from Mitch to Jane. “I thought you said….”

  “Oh, thank heavens you picked it up. At the Post Office.”

  Mitch furrowed his eyebrows. “At the—huh?”

  “Thank you both. You can put it over on the table with the other gifts. I’ll open them all later.” Her smile brightened as she looked back at Jane. “I just finished reading your last book. I loved it. I was going to loan it to Angela Martinelli, but I was afraid those love scenes would mess with her pacemaker.”

  “We wouldn’t want that, would we?” Jane said with a laugh.

  “Okay, everyone. May I have your attention? Time to gather at the table.” Charlotte clapped her hands and waved. Mitch steered the wheelchair, delivering his grandmother to the head of the table.

  Two of the Manor’s kitchen staff carried out a sheet cake the size of a small dining table and covered with flickering candles. Louise beamed and reached for Mitch’s hand, then called to Dave. “I need my grandsons to help me here.”

  The two men bent on either side of the old woman and, when the singing ended, helped blow out all the candles. Charlotte stood beside Jane. “I still see them as the little boys they were. S
ome day you’ll understand when Robbie grows up and marries.”

  Rob, who stood on the other side of his grandmother, said, “I’m not ever getting married.”

  Charlotte smiled. “Oh, you say that now. But some girl will catch your eye and steal your heart.”

  “Why get married? So I can end up sleeping in a parking lot?” He glared at Jane.

  “What on earth is he talking about?” Charlotte asked.

  Jane once again felt heat flare in her face. “I have no idea. You know teenagers.”

  Dave approached. “Ladies, why don’t you both sit down and eat with Grandma? They’re pouring coffee and there’s champagne for a toast.”

  Jane cast a furtive glance toward the door. “I, uh, can’t stay. I’ll just say goodbye to Louise.”

  “You can sit down and eat a piece of birthday cake,” Charlotte insisted. “Who knows how much longer Mother will be with us,” she hissed.

  The next thing Jane knew, she was being shoved into a chair to Louise’s right and a slice of cake placed in front of her.

  “Mitch, here, sit next to Jane.” Charlotte was in commander mode.

  Mitch hesitated and then slid into the chair, edging as far away from Jane as he could.

  Rob sat on the opposite side of the table with his cousins, frowning at his parents. Mitch clearly had not spoken with Rob to explain anything. As usual, he left it to Jane to handle.

  Mitch, who was left handed, picked up his coffee, his elbow bumping Jane. “Sorry.”

  “You should be,” she hissed.

  “Don’t think this is all my fault,” he growled back through clenched teeth.

  “I’m not the one who left.” The words came out louder than she’d intended.

  Charlotte cleared her throat and stared at them from across the table. “I’d like to propose a toast. Mother, we celebrate ninety wonderful years of life and your legacy gathered here to say thank you and Happy Birthday.” She lifted her glass and the others followed suit.

  Louise nodded. “Thank you all. There were times I thought I’d never see ninety. Still can’t believe I’m this old. But then I look at all of you….” She paused and everyone laughed. “I look at all of you and see that my life has been blessed. I’m a wealthy woman. So here’s to you, too.” She lifted her glass and sipped the champagne. “Now, let’s have cake!”