The Comfort of Secrets

by Christine Nolfi

  “She’s not going.”

  “She told you directly?”

  “On the way back to the inn. Asked me to find you, and explain.”

  Dismay sank Cat against the counter. The repercussions were too severe to contemplate. Cancelling at the last minute, as her parents put the final touches on dinner. Entering a new ice age with her mother, compliments of the reclusive Julia.

  “I tried to play cheerleader, to talk Julia into going. I told her she’d have a nice time meeting your parents. She won’t budge.” In spite of Ruth’s uncommonly brusque nature, the crispy green mountain softened her features with wonder. “Hardest part about living on a fixed income? There’s never enough freshness in your diet. If I never see another box of cheapo macaroni and cheese, it’ll be too soon.”

  Her spirits plummeting, Cat handed over three more bags. “What am I supposed to do? No one cancels an hour before dinner.” Absently she regarded Ruth, scrabbling to stack the bags neatly in her arms. She tossed a fifth bag on top. “After this insult, my mother won’t calm down until Christmas. I’ll never hear the end of it.”

  “Silvia’s got her share of good points, but she doesn’t take kindly to anyone turning up their nose at her dinner invitations two days in a row. I’m sorry, Cat. You’re screwed.” Eyeing her hoard of lettuce, Ruth grinned like a pirate. “My work here is done. Good luck.” She left.

  Linnie came around the counter. “What did we miss?”

  Jada took a long look at Cat, then grimly opened a cupboard. She took down the bottle of Jack. “Julia’s not going?” She poured two generous fingers.

  Cat downed the booze. “She asked Ruth to find me, send her regrets.”

  “I saw Ruth in the south wing this morning knocking on Julia’s door.”

  “They walked around the north side of the lake together. They just got back.”

  “Well, that’s something. At least Julia’s made a friend.”

  The well-meaning remark melted the last of her composure. “Gosh, I’m so happy,” she snapped. “Julia’s got a new friend, and I have to call my mother to cancel. Why don’t you make the call? I’ll spring for the hearing aid. You’ll need one after she does a number on your eardrums by screaming.”

  Linnie swiped the bottle from Jada. She clattered it against Cat’s glass while pouring. “Calm down.” She held the glass to Cat’s lips. “You aren’t cancelling—you’re showing up with one fewer guest than anticipated. Go with Ryan. He’s only met your mother briefly.”

  “You mean last Saturday, when the other Sirens spotted us coming out of the forest? She hardly looked at Ryan. If we put him in a police lineup, she’d never pick him out.”

  “They didn’t get acquainted?”

  Cat shot an incredulous look. “Sure, Linnie. My mother communed with Ryan beneath the trees while they shared their deepest secrets. Then she passed him off to the other Sirens because men love to bare their souls to a bunch of nosy women.”

  “Geez, you’re snippy.”

  “With good reason. She dragged me off for a private confab on the beach. You know, to accuse me of making whoopee in Freddie’s tree house.”

  A droll grin took Jada’s mouth hostage. “You messed around in the tree house? Ryan’s a big guy. Was there room to maneuver?”

  “We made do.” Cat threw back the drink. Firewater burnt a trail down her esophagus, and she flinched. “Don’t ask for juicy details—we were only kissing.” She wagged the empty glass. Linnie slapped her hand away. Probably a smart move, since the liquor was making her woozy. “If I’d known Mami would accuse me of going too fast, I would’ve thrown my reservations out the window and seduced Ryan. Why pay the fine without enjoying the crime? Now I’m jonesing for his bod all the time.”

  Linnie released a dreamy breath. “Life’s full of missed opportunities.”

  “And tonight’s one of them. I’m not submitting him to dinner at the Mendoza homestead. Mami’s so peeved, she’ll leave an extra place setting on the table just to make him uncomfortable.”

  “Pretend it’s Passover, and you’re waiting for Elijah.”

  “Linnie, you’re a laugh a minute. After you deal with all the romaine, send your resume to Saturday Night Live.”

  “Oh, come on. I’m trying to cheer you up—and convince you not to cancel.”

  “Forget it. I’m not taking him over.”

  Linnie angled sideways to look past her. “What say you, brave soldier? Have the courage to dine with your girlfriend’s parents?”

  Prickly embarrassment froze Cat in place. Heavy footsteps approached. Queasy, she wondered if Ryan had overheard the comment about his bod.

  “We’re accepting the invitation.” Assessing the mortification rendering her mute, he grinned seductively. “You’re jonesing for my bod?”

  Surrendering the last of her dignity, she covered her face with her hands.

  From behind her fingers, she heard Linnie say, “Don’t hold it against her. Men get a bad rap for thinking below the waist. Women have their moments too.”

  “Good to know.” The pleasure saturating his voice was one hundred proof.

  Cat required no further incentive to snatch the bottle and race past the grinning kitchen staff. All righty then. If he insisted on going, she’d muddle through inebriated. Toss a packet of breath mints in her purse to conceal the evidence, and she was golden.

  She was twirling the cap off the bottle when Ryan jogged up.

  For an awkward moment they tussled over the bottle. Since they’d reached the embarrassingly public space of the lobby, she let him win. He handed off the prize to a befuddled Mr. Uchida at the front desk.

  Picking up speed, she darted toward the stairwell. She reached the top before Ryan caught up with her.

  “If you don’t want to go over to your parents’, we’ll stay in.”

  “You want to go? We’ll go. There’s a slim chance we’ll muddle through, but only because my mother’s friend is joining us. Thank your lucky stars Frances is willing to attend. No one else can tame the volcano when Mami’s out of control—not even my father.”

  “I would like to meet your father, and get a do over with your mother. Doubtful she came away with a great first impression.”

  “You catch on fast.”

  He reached for her to slow her down. She kept moving.

  He hurried to catch up. “You’re probably tired of the constant apologies.”

  “About your mother? I get it. She’s not ready for the social circuit.”

  “Not during this visit, apparently.” Ryan matched her stride. “Want to wrap up dinner fast, maybe come back here? I’ve been jonesing for your bod too.”

  Whether he meant the comment in a serious vein or was nabbing a page from Linnie’s comedy playbook, she couldn’t decide. A quick glance at his smoldering features solved the puzzle.

  He meant every word.

  Bad timing, though. Her embarrassment retreating, she pulled him to a stop.

  “Don’t you get it? My parents understand we’re doing more than sharing a few casual dates. They’re looking forward to getting to know you and your mother. It’s what parents do, Ryan. They’re rolling out the welcome mat in case we all become one big happy family. I’m not comfortable telling them why Julia won’t come for dinner, or why she’s been holed up in her suite since arriving at the Wayfair on Sunday.”

  The heated explanation curved his shoulders. “What have you told them?”

  “About your past? Nothing.”

  “Which means they think my mother’s rude.”

  “I explained she’s extremely bashful.” Hating the look of defeat in his eyes, she pressed her palm to his cheek with gentle reassurance. “I told you how I’ve spent most of my life dreaming about finding the right man, and reveling in all those white-wedding fantasies. Until I met you, I didn’t fully understand. The superficial stuff? It’s not the big draw.”

  “What is?”

  “All the joys that come after. Our famili
es growing close. Building a life together with their love surrounding us. How does any of that begin—how do we begin—if we can’t encourage your mother to take the first step?”

  “Cat, she’ll come around.”

  An unconvincing reply, and tears welled at the back of her eyes. “When?” she asked, grappling to keep her emotions in check. “After she explains her familiarity with the Wayfair? We both watched her walk to the south wing like she’d memorized the route. Or will she become more outgoing after she explains how she learned to make Siren tokens?”

  Regret shuttled across Ryan’s face. He seemed prepared to give another apology she didn’t want.

  “Ryan, I’m not upset with you.” She brushed a kiss across his lips, needing to repair the damage from her outburst. The heaviness in her chest increased. “There are all these holes in your past, things Julia has kept from you—it isn’t fair. What George Hunt put her through doesn’t give her the right to keep the past hidden. It’s your past too.” She paused to steady her voice. “Listen, I get that she’s scared of your father. That doesn’t give her the right to cut you off from your family. Nothing does.”

  A stubborn little light crossed through his eyes. “She has her reasons.”

  “No, she doesn’t.” A bitter laugh escaped Cat’s throat. “Julia is buried beneath so many secrets, can you honestly say you know her at all?”

  Chapter 19

  Frances tugged the comforter, and the lap blanket heaped on top, all the way to her chin. The movement sent another dress sliding to the floor. Teeth chattering, she listened to the back door slam.

  “Where are you, and what’s the emergency? Damn it, Frances—I’ve got a chicken coming out of the oven soon!”

  Impatient strides reached the stairwell. Frances pulled herself up against the headboard. Another dress slithered off the comforter as she tucked the lap blanket around her chilled shoulders.

  “I’m in my bedroom.”

  Silvia came through the doorway. “Are you dying?” Her temper vanished.

  “I hope not.”

  “You look like death.” She came around the bed. “Let me check your eyes. Are you having a stroke?” Pivoting, she peered toward the master bath. “I’ll fetch the baby aspirin. You might need several.”

  “I’m not having a stroke.” Frances hugged her frozen hands beneath her armpits. “The situation is more dire.”

  “What’s worse than a stroke?”

  “George was here.” She clenched her teeth to slow the chattering. “If you’re curious, he’s still driving the Mustang with the hopped-up engine.”

  The fury returned to Silvia’s face. “He was here? No.”

  “Yes.”

  “Did you call the police?”

  “After he barged inside? There really wasn’t time.” Rubbing her jaw, Frances halted the fearsome clacking of her molars. “He left twenty minutes ago.”

  “You let him in the house? For the love of all that is holy, why?” Silvia gripped her skull, which was tightly layered in curlers. Apparently she had been dressing for dinner when the SOS came in. “We’re not going through this again. How many times have you bailed him out? He’s been playing on your misguided, softhearted impulses for years. Enough!”

  The tirade sent a shudder down Frances’s spine. “Stop shouting, and listen. He’s seen her.”

  Silvia’s mouth twitched. She pressed her lips together.

  “Last week, in Cincinnati,” Frances said, “quite by accident. She came into the garage where he works.”

  “No.”

  “She brought her car in for an oil change.”

  “You believe him? Please.”

  “Not at first, but the way he described her, and their curt exchange . . . she paid for the service and stormed off. She called the garage two days later, and agreed to meet for coffee.” Inwardly Frances cringed. The story did sound far fetched. But she rushed on, adding, “They aren’t getting back together, not after all this time. She only agreed to see him because Ryan misses his father.”

  Her expression darkening, Silvia perched on the edge of the bed. “Frances.” She pressed her hand onto the mountain of covers, glanced worriedly at the trembling coming from beneath. “Look at this logically. It’s unlikely Ryan Hunt remembers his father, let alone misses him. As for your sister, you last talked to her in your fifties. That awful call from Salt Lake, when she told you goodbye? If she left Utah at some point, she’s back in California. Not San Francisco—she’d never risk bumping into George on their old stomping grounds.”

  “She may have come home.”

  “She hated Ohio. It’s ironic how George is the one who’s been coming and going from here for longer than I care to remember. She’s in LA, or San Diego. Somewhere near the ocean.”

  “She loved the ocean,” Frances quietly agreed. The sad reality didn’t extinguish the hope clinging to her. Hope was a treacherous emotion, the way it made your heart vulnerable to more despair, and scarring disappointment. “He was so believable, the way he described her walking into the garage. People do come back to their roots. It’s not uncommon.”

  The curlers bobbing on her head, Silvia crawled in beneath the comforter. No doubt they looked ridiculous, two women roosting beneath the blankets on a clear autumn day. The afternoon light flickered across the dresses crumpled on the floor.

  “We’re not doing this again.” Silvia cradled her close. “Remember the trip to Hilton Head with Archie and Marco when you were in one of your worst phases? It was only a few years after they disappeared.”

  “Of course I remember.” She meant the poor woman playing with her son in the surf at the resort where they had stayed.

  “Frances, you prowled around that woman and her son for nearly an hour. You followed them into the hotel, bellowed for them to stop. You scared her half to death. I’m sure she thought you were a stalker, not a heartbroken woman convinced some stranger was kidnapping her lost nephew. And what about the weekend in Columbus? Remember jumping into the elevator to get a better look at that woman? You pounced on her. Pounced. She thought you were a lunatic. I thought you’d completely lost your mind.”

  Softening the harshness of the unvarnished facts, her stalwart comrade brushed the thinning hair from Frances’s brow.

  When she’d finished smoothing every hair into place, Silvia couched her words in tenderness. “They’re gone, dearest heart. They aren’t coming back.”

  “Ever?”

  “Not ever.”

  “How do I bury my hope? Every time I do, George reappears to exhume it.”

  “We’ll see about that.” Fire licked through the comment. “Now, promise I won’t lose you again to this madness.”

  “You won’t.”

  Throwing off the covers, Silvia rose. “How did you leave it with George?” she asked.

  “I told him I wasn’t sure I believed his story.”

  “He wants money for her address?” An awkward silence, and Silvia crossed her arms. “When’s he coming back?”

  “He didn’t say. Later this week, I suppose. He’ll give me time to decide.”

  A curler at her nape came loose, and Silvia yanked it out. “Don’t answer the door unless you’re sure who is on the other side.” From the floor she picked up a rumpled dress, held it out. “Want help dressing, or should I call Penelope? If you’re not joining us tonight, I don’t want you alone.”

  The questions festered between them after they finished dressing for dinner and left the inn. On the short drive to her parents’ house, Ryan caressed her thigh through the thin material of the dress she’d chosen in defiance of her dismal mood, a boldly patterned silk. Tension wove through Cat as the BMW turned into the driveway. Ryan, more relaxed by yards, threw the car into park and came around the hood.

  Opening her door, he caught her wrist before she could sweep past. “Want to check the odds before we go in?” he asked.

  Ducking his head into the backseat, he produced the Magic 8 Ball she kept i
n her office. Gratitude tightened her throat. Despite the harsh questions she’d posed this afternoon, he seemed determined to brighten her mood.

  “You snuck into my office while I dressed?”

  “You’ll feel better if you check the odds.” The mischief faded from his mouth. “I am sorry about my mother skipping out on us.”

  “It’s not your fault. I’m the one who should apologize for giving you a hard time. No reason to blame the Jack Daniel’s. I get too emotional at the worst moments. Don’t hold it against me.”

  “Not a chance.” Lightly he kissed her forehead. “Did the coffee help?”

  Jada had appeared with a steaming cup while Cat dressed. An unnecessary precaution—anticipating tonight’s dinner was sobering enough. “A little.” On a deserved twinge of guilt, she asked, “Did you check in on your mother before we left?”

  “Right after I went downstairs and grabbed your Magic 8 Ball. She’s fine, enjoyed the stroll with Ruth, and is now planning to read until bedtime. She sends her apologies, and hopes you aren’t too disappointed by her behavior. Those were her words, by the way.”

  “I’ll bring her breakfast tomorrow. I don’t want to leave the impression I’m upset.” Her attention strayed to the house. If they stood outside much longer, her parents would spot them.

  “Cat, hold on.” Ryan stepped back, as though coming to a decision. Then he plunged forward quickly. “What you said this afternoon about everything you want—your dreams aren’t far fetched. You deserve every one of them. Why wouldn’t you want a mother-in-law who’s approachable? I want the same things, including a good relationship with your parents. I’ve never had much in the way of family, not like you have. I want to make you happy—and our kids, whenever we decide to have them. No child of ours will grow up without the love of an extended family.”

  “Our kids?” Angling her neck, she regarded him teasingly. “Moving awfully fast, aren’t you?”

  He met her eyes with breathtaking confidence. “I’m speaking hypothetically.” He rocked back on his heels. “Essentially.”

  She laughed. “Now you’re scaring me.”

  “Definitely not my intention.” He dropped the Magic 8 Ball into her hands. “Go on. Check our chances for tonight. We’re not going inside until you do.”