by Terri DuLong
I laughed. “Yeah, you’re probably right. I don’t know. I just felt when I came here it would be temporary.”
“Well, living here seems to be working out quite well for you.” She walked to the window overlooking the back garden. “Oh, is that the yarn shop?”
“Yeah. Mavis Anne invited us for dinner tomorrow evening. I told her I’d check with you and let her know. We can go over there later before they close at five.”
“That’s sure convenient for you with your tea shop deliveries. Well, I’m going to get unpacked.”
“Okay. I’ll be in the kitchen. Wine?”
“Absolutely.”
“Just come down the stairs and straight through the house to the back where the kitchen is.”
I had poured two glasses of white wine, sliced some Muenster cheese, and was arranging crackers on a platter when Petra walked in carrying Lotte.
“Isabelle, this house is a treasure. I honestly don’t know how you could leave it. It has such charm and character. Thanks,” she said when I passed her a wineglass.
“Here’s to us and friendship.” I touched the rim of her glass and took a sip. “Yeah, I know. I’ve grown quite comfortable here.”
“Do you feel out of place? Like it’s not really yours? Is that why you want to leave?”
I shook my head. “No. Quite the opposite, actually. It’s just that the original plan was to come here, stay a short time, and move on to . . . well, I’m not really sure to what.”
Her gaze took in the kitchen. “I think you’d be nuts to leave. Besides, original plans are always subject to change.”
“Well, I’m not planning to do that next week,” I said, and laughed. “Come on. Let’s sit on the patio. Haley will be home from school shortly. She was so excited about you coming.”
We sat down on the patio chairs with Petra letting Lotte sit in her lap.
“Beautiful garden area. Is that the fishpond?” she asked.
“Yes. I’ll show you later when we go over to the yarn shop. So you had a good drive down here?”
“I did. Wednesday midday traffic is pretty light, so I made it in ninety minutes. Okay. Now when do I get to meet Chadwick Price?”
I laughed and shook my head. “You’re incorrigible. Maybe I don’t want you to meet him,” I teased.
“Right. Like that’s going to happen. You know I have to give my approval,” she teased back.
“I did speak to Chadwick, and you’ll meet him Friday evening. He insisted on taking the three of us to dinner.”
Petra nodded. “Nice. I take it Haley likes him.”
“Yeah. She seems to. He also seems to like her.”
“And what about you?”
“Me?”
“How much do you like him? Is he a good lover?”
I could feel heat radiating up my neck and gulped a sip of wine. “Of course I like him. Yes.”
“And?”
“And I have no idea if he’s a good lover or not.”
“God, Isabelle. You’re not in high school. You haven’t slept with him yet?”
“No.”
“Why not?”
I looked up to see Haley walk through the French doors.
“Petra. You’re here. Oh, and Lotte,” she said, coming to give Petra a hug and scoop the dog into her arms.
“I swear you’ve grown a couple more inches in the two months since I’ve seen you,” Petra said, holding my daughter at arm’s length. “And even more beautiful.”
“Thanks,” Haley said. “I’m so glad you came.” She snuggled her face into the dog’s head. “Do you think I could take Lotte for a walk?”
“That would be great. She was cooped up in the car for almost two hours. I left her leash at the bottom of the staircase on the bannister.”
“Okay. I won’t be gone longer than an hour. I’m going to take her into the yarn shop first so Mavis Anne and Yarrow can meet her.”
I saw Petra smile as Haley went into the house cuddling the dog. “She has an extended family living here, doesn’t she? With Mavis Anne and Yarrow. That’s good for her.”
“I know. Yeah, it really is good for her, and they adore Haley.”
“So what ever happened to your promise to get Haley her own dog when you moved here?”
“Hmm, yeah. We just recently had that discussion again. I had told her when we got our own place, but with no plans to make that happen . . .”
“Oh, Isabelle, don’t be such a twit. Get your daughter a damn dog. You know she’d love that. And by the way . . . why on earth haven’t you slept with Chadwick yet? Sometimes you really annoy the hell outta me.”
I wasn’t sure whether to laugh or be annoyed myself. But that was Petra—telling it like it is.
“Well, gee, maybe because he hasn’t asked to sleep with me. And well . . . I don’t know.”
“What’s wrong?”
Petra had always been famous for breaking through the fluff and getting to the core of a problem.
I let out a deep sigh and then took a sip of wine. “Well,” I said, fingering the wineglass, “there hasn’t been anybody since Roger.” I took another sip of wine. “And even with him . . . it was never something out of an X-rated movie. I guess I feel . . .”
“Inadequate? You’ve lost your self-esteem. Does Chadwick turn you on?”
I recalled his kisses and the passion just under the surface. “He does.”
“And no doubt you turn him on in the same way. You just have to be reminded how to be flirty. Seductive. You need to regain that confidence you once had. To feel like a woman desired. And I have just the right fix for that.”
“You do?”
“Yup. You must have a Victoria’s Secret around here. Girlfriend, tomorrow we’re going shopping. And Isabelle is going to get her mojo back.”
Chapter 26
I sipped my coffee the next morning waiting for Petra to get out of the shower and join me. Maybe she was right. Maybe I did need to ramp up my sex appeal.
“Okay,” she said, breezing into the kitchen. “I need my coffee and we’ll be ready to roll. That was so nice of Mavis Anne to offer to keep Lotte while we go shopping.”
“She loves dogs. And she’ll spoil her rotten.”
“I wouldn’t have it any other way,” she said while filling her mug. “So if she loves dogs so much, then she certainly wouldn’t mind Haley having a dog living here.”
“No, probably not.” I didn’t feel like having the dog discussion again. Not when my mind was on matters between the sheets. “Are you sure you don’t want any breakfast?”
“Nah. Coffee is fine and we’ll have an early lunch after our shopping.”
* * *
We brought Lotte to the yarn shop to stay with Mavis Anne and headed down A1A so I could show Petra various sights along the ocean. When we got to Daytona Beach, I turned onto International Speedway Boulevard and headed to the Volusia Mall.
Walking into Victoria’s Secret with Petra, I began having doubts about this shopping spree. Scantily glad manikins displayed items I thought more suited for a pole dancer than a forty-five-year-old female attempting to look sexy.
“Are you sure about this?” I whispered as she headed to a display of panties.
“Absolutely,” she assured me.
A perky young blonde approached us. “Something I can help you with?” she asked.
Petra waved her away. “Nope. We’re fine. Thanks.”
After a few minutes of browsing, Petra held a tiny bit of silk in the air. “These,” she said. “You have to get a couple pairs of these.”
Was she serious? I doubted that the v-shaped material held together with strings on the sides would even cover my crotch.
“Oh, Petra! Really?” I wasn’t sure if I was more embarrassed about the blush I felt heating my face or the fact she was waving the item in the air.
“Isabelle Wainwright. Don’t be such a prude. Half the women in America wear these. The days of bloomers are long gone.”
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I wasn’t a prude, and as I fingered the material, I had to admit that they even had a sexy feel to them.
“If you’re sure,” I said doubtfully.
“Here’s your size. We’ll get a pair in black, red, and beige. Okay. On to bras.”
By the time we left the shop with me clutching the tote bag, and my credit card feeling some serious damage, I wondered if I’d really be brave enough to wear the stuff I’d purchased. And if I did, I couldn’t help but wonder what Chadwick might think of it. Should he get the chance to see it.
After shopping, I headed south on A1A to Ponce Inlet and decided to take Petra to lunch at the North Turn. With a NASCAR-themed bar and grill and beachfront deck, the location was well known for its Daytona Beach racing history.
Petra looked at the framed photos and information lining the walls when we walked in.
“This is really cool,” she said.
I nodded. “Yeah. The races ran right outside there on the beach until 1958 when they opened the speedway on International Speedway Boulevard. Come on, let’s get a table outside.”
She followed me out to the covered deck area and we found a table overlooking the ocean.
After we gave our wine and food order to the waitress, we both sat there in silence soaking in the sight of the sun on the ocean and the waves crashing on the shore.
“Beautiful,” she said. “I’m not that far from the ocean in Jacksonville, but I never seem to get to the beach often enough. Working from home can have its downfalls.”
I nodded. “Yeah, I would think it could tend to become a bit isolated. But the good thing is you can live anywhere. Move down here,” I said before I realized what I was saying. Petra had always made it clear she loved her house, her area, her life.
“Hmm,” was all she said as the waitress approached and placed our wine in front of us.
“Hmm?” I repeated. “Are you saying you’d actually consider that?”
She touched her glass to mine. “Here’s to the unknown future,” she said. “We never know where life will lead us.”
My cell phone rang; the caller ID listed my mother’s name. “Shit,” I said. “My mother. Guess I should take the call.”
Petra gave me a thumbs-up as I said hello.
“Isabelle. How are you?”
“Good. And you?”
“Fine. Really doing well. Has Petra arrived?”
“Yes. Yesterday. Actually, we’re out having lunch together.” No way was I going to tell my mother about my shopping spree.
“That’s great. Be sure to tell her I said hi. But the reason I’m calling. . . well . . . I wondered if you, Petra, and Haley would like to come to dinner tomorrow evening.” When I remained silent, she said, “That is, if you’re not busy.”
It was obvious that she was using Petra to lure me back into her good graces. Tomorrow evening was definitely out. Plans with Chadwick trumped my mother.
“No. I’m afraid not. I’ve already made previous plans for tonight and tomorrow night.”
There was a slight pause before she said, “Yes, of course. I probably should have called sooner. How about Saturday evening? Would that work for you?”
Was she groveling? “Ah . . . I’m not quite sure. Let me get back to you. I’ll give you a call tomorrow.”
“That would be great, Isabelle. Enjoy your lunch.”
The call had been disconnected and I looked at Petra.
“Your mother?” she asked.
“Yup. Wants us to come to dinner Saturday evening.”
“I’d love to see her new house. What’s it like?”
“I have no idea.”
“Isabelle! You haven’t been over there yet?”
Despite animosity toward my mother, a twinge of shame came over me. “No. I haven’t. Haley has been helping her and keeping her company. There’s been no reason for me to go there. Besides, she never invited me.”
Petra took a sip of wine. “She has now.”
“Yeah. All right. Okay. But she’s only extending the invite because you’re here. It’s more about you than me.”
Petra blew out a puff of air and shook her head. “This is one of those times that you can be such a bitch. For once, cut her some slack. She’s reaching out to you, Isabelle. I have no doubt she probably thought you’d be more inclined to go with me here visiting.”
“Okay. Enough. We’ll go to her damn house Saturday evening,” I muttered through clenched teeth, and was grateful to see the waitress coming with our food.
* * *
The dinner at Mavis Anne’s had been a good time. Petra adored both David and Clive and the conversation had been nonstop with a lot of laughter and storytelling.
When we came back to Koi House, we both got in our jammies. I brewed a pot of herbal tea and we curled up on the sofa.
“You know you’re quite fortunate, don’t you?” Petra asked. “First that Chloe invited you to visit here and then that Mavis Anne insisted you stay. You’re surrounded by a lot of love, Isabelle. I hope you know that.”
Then why did I always feel a void?
I let out a sigh. “Yeah. I have been fortunate. Most of the time.”
She took a sip from her mug. “You know, when we were younger I used to feel bad for you. Your mother just took off and you hardly ever heard from her. But your father more than made up for it. And you and I always balanced each other, because I never even knew my father.”
I recalled how Petra’s mom had raised her daughter alone, refusing to give enough information for Petra to find him. But unlike me, she had adjusted to growing up with only one parent.
“But your mother is back in your life now. Yes, thirty years later. But it’s never too late, Isabelle. At least for you it isn’t. It’s doubtful that I’ll ever find my father.”
“What? You’ve been looking for him?”
She took another sip of tea. “I haven’t wanted to say anything because. . . well . . . there really isn’t much to say. But when my mother died three years ago, I had to go through all of her things.” She paused while shifting her position on the sofa. “And I found some papers. And an old black-and-white photograph. It was my mother with a fellow her age. Taken on a beach and she was holding a baby. I assume it was me. Of course I don’t know for certain, but I have a feeling that the fellow could be my father. He has his arm around her and they look romantically involved.”
I reached over to grab her arm. “My God, Petra. I had no idea. So was this man your father? Where was the photo taken? Do you think he’s still alive?”
“I have no idea. My mother always told me that my father had died and she didn’t want to talk about it. I certainly couldn’t force her.”
“Yeah, I remember how stubborn and set in her ways she could be. So are you searching for him now?”
“With so little info, there isn’t a whole lot to search. But yeah, I’ve been doing lots of Google searches and I even joined Ancestry.com. Because I finally do have a name for my father. My mother wouldn’t even give me that, but it was written on the back of the photo.”
“What is it? What’s his name?”
“Peter. Peter Maxwell.”
“Wow,” I said, completely surprised by all of this. “Oh, my God! She named you the feminine version of his name! Why didn’t you tell me before? We share everything.”
“Yeah, I know, and I did think about it. But I don’t know . . . seems silly, I guess, but I thought if I actually verbalized any of this it would fall apart and I’d never get anywhere. Not that I’ve had one bit of success trying to find him.”
I clasped her hand and gave it a squeeze. “I know how determined you can be, Petra. You’ve always been my rock. You’re strong and I know you won’t give up.”
She nodded and squeezed my hand back. “I probably won’t. But Isabelle . . . your mother? She’s right here. Just waiting for you to love her.”
Chapter 27
After lunch Petra and I went to spend some time at the yarn
shop. She hadn’t touched knitting needles in years, but I could tell she was enjoying browsing and touching all the various yarns.
“I can’t believe how much the yarn industry has changed since I was a teenager,” she said, fingering a skein of soft cotton.
Fay looked up from the socks she was working on. “Well, find yourself a pattern and choose some yarn. It’s never too late to get back to it.”
“I think I will,” Petra said. “How about that Isabelle scarf all of you are making? Do you have the pattern? That might be good to start with.”
“Great idea,” Chloe said, jumping up and walking to the counter. “Here’s the pattern and any of that Bamboo Pop cotton can be used.”
“Now the big decision,” Petra said. “Which color to choose?”
Fay laughed and looked across the table at me. “I’m glad your mother decided to help out here when Mavis Anne and Chloe are gone. We met with her the other day and worked out a schedule. She’ll be coming in on Wednesday and Saturday. Those are the two days I can’t make it.”
So it was final. I’d have to be with my mother in the yarn shop for two whole days. Alone.
“Oh, that’s nice,” I mumbled and kept my head down, knitting away.
“I have it,” I heard Petra say. She returned to the table with two skeins of white. “This will go with anything. Now I just need needles. I got rid of all my knitting supplies years ago so I’m starting over.”
“I’m happy to see you’ll be returning to the wonderful world of knitting,” Mavis Anne said. “Do you know they even have patterns now to make outfits for dogs?”
“No! Really?” I saw the look of excitement that crossed Petra’s face. “As soon as I finish the scarf I’ll get started on something for Lotte.”
“Leave it to you,” I said. “Knitting for a dog.”
Everybody chuckled.
“So you’re going to meet Chadwick tonight?” Mavis Anne asked.
Petra nodded. “I am. Anything I should know ahead of time?”
“That he’s pretty hot,” Maddie said.
“He is that,” Mavis Anne confirmed. “But he’s also a very nice man. I have no doubt you’ll like him. Where are you going for dinner?”
