by Terri DuLong
Grant had sold his place in Boston the previous month—an apartment he’d owned since graduating Harvard and beginning his career as an attorney.
“Listen,” he said. “The main reason I’m calling is because our girl is turning sixteen in a few months. Have you given any thought as to how you’ll celebrate?”
Damn. I hadn’t told Grant about the loss of my job, and even though I knew it wasn’t my fault, it still made me feel like a failure.
“No, not really. Actually, there have been some things going on here.” I paused, and when he remained silent, I continued. “I was informed last month that due to the economy, the clinic would have to let me go. My final day was last Friday. So I’m not really sure what I’m doing.”
“Oh, Josie, I’m really sorry to hear that.”
I heard the sincerity in his voice. “Yeah, I had been there a little over a year and I really liked it, but . . . I’m in the process of looking for something else.” I neglected to mention that I’d be working in the yarn shop for a while.
“Well, I had an idea, and I wanted to discuss it with you before mentioning it to Orli.”
I recalled an incident about four years before when Grant had taken it upon himself to ask Orli if she’d like to spend Christmas in Paris with him. Making it even worse was the fact that it was my turn to have our daughter for the holidays that year. I didn’t hide my anger with Grant, but after we discussed it, he apologized and promised that would never happen again. And it had not.
“So what’s your idea?” I asked.
“Since Orli’s birthday is a few days after Christmas, I thought maybe the two of you would like to come up here and spend the holiday with me. I know it’s not my turn this year, but turning sixteen is special, and I was hoping the three of us could celebrate it together. Plus, my mother would also love to share Christmas and Orli’s birthday. I would pay for your flight, and you know I have a guest room at my new place—so plenty of room for both you and Orli.”
I felt a smile crossing my face. I loved the Boston area. I had lived there for a year while attending Emerson College, and when Orli was six I began allowing her to fly up to Boston to spend the summer with her dad and grandmother. During that first trip, though, I had insisted I would accompany Orli on the flight, stay a few days, and return two months later to fly home with her. Grant’s mother, Molly Cooper, had extended a gracious invitation, allowing me to stay those days with her at her home in Marblehead. It had allowed us time to get to know each other better, and every year after that I felt secure in letting Orli fly from Tampa to Boston as an unaccompanied minor.
“Oh,” I said. “That would be nice, and I know Orli would love it. But . . . gee . . . I don’t know what to say right now because of my job situation. When I get a new job, it’s doubtful that I’ll be able to take time off right away, especially around the holidays.”
“Not a problem. That’s why I wanted to toss the idea out to you now. It gives you some time to think about it. But as soon as you decide, let me know so I can get the flights booked. Well, I’m due in court shortly, so I have to run. Give my love to Orli, and say hello to your parents for me.”
“Will do,” I said, hanging up the phone.
I tossed out the cold toast and opted for a blueberry muffin instead. Pouring myself another mug of coffee, I sat down at the table to begin scanning the newspaper when the phone rang again. I shoved a piece of muffin into my mouth and picked up the receiver to hear Mallory’s voice.
“Are you still speaking to me?” she asked, but I heard the humor in her tone.
“I probably shouldn’t be,” I kidded her. “But yeah, I am. You are such a busybody. I can only imagine what you’ll be like when we’re old and gray.”
I heard her laughter come across the line. “Aw, come on. Working in the yarn shop will be good for you. It’ll give you some extra money and you’ll be helping Dora. You are going to do it, aren’t you?”
“You know I am. I called her, and it does sound like she’s in a bit of a bind. So I told her I’ll be in at ten tomorrow. Friday’s are usually pretty busy in there, but hopefully early morning will be a good time for her to teach me the ropes.”
“I don’t think it’ll take much time. You know the shop pretty well as a customer. Plus, I bet it’ll be fun working in there. Just be careful not to have too many Y O’s.”
“Yarn overs?”
“Yarn orgasms,” Mallory announced, causing me to laugh. “Being surrounded by all that yarn can be very seductive. Still headed to your mom’s for that photo shoot this afternoon?”
I let out a groan. “Oh, yeah. It oughta be great fun.”
“Hey, chin up. Besides, you should be proud of her. That’s a top-notch magazine. It’s quite an honor to be chosen for a feature article.”
“I am proud of her. You know that. I just wish she was as easy to get along with as your mother.”
“Yeah, I did luck out in that department. Anything else going on?”
“Yeah, Grant called a little while ago,” I said, and popped another piece of muffin into my mouth before telling her about his idea.
“That sounds great. I bet Orli would love Christmas in Boston. Do you think you’ll go?”
“I’m not sure yet. It’ll depend on my job situation, but I agree. I know Orli would really enjoy being with both of her parents and grandmother for her special birthday. We’ll be celebrating here too, but it’s not fair for Grant and Molly to miss out.”
“Talk about lucking out—you really hit the jackpot with Orli’s father. He’s a great dad, and the two of you have the perfect relationship.”
She was right. When I found out I was pregnant with Orli, I didn’t tell Grant right away, giving myself time to think it through. I was finishing up my freshman year of college, but Grant was two months from graduating from Harvard with his law degree. After much thought, I realized that I wasn’t about to deprive him of that—weighing him down with a wife, a child, and a marriage that neither of us was ready for. I loved him and I knew that he loved me. But was it enough to sustain a lifetime together? Especially beginning that lifetime under adverse conditions? I didn’t know and I wasn’t willing to find out. So after much discussion we had both agreed that I would return home to Cedar Key, Grant would support us financially, and he would be very involved in our daughter’s life. And I had to admit that almost sixteen years later, it had worked for us—despite, to this day, my mother’s vocal and strong misgivings.
“Yeah, Grant is a special guy,” I told Mallory.
“Still nobody serious in his life?”
“Not that I’m aware of, and I think he would mention it. He told me about two semiserious relationships over the years, but nothing panned out.”
“And where are you at with Ben? You barely mention him anymore.”
I let out another groan. “I have no clue. You know he was down here this summer for a week to visit his uncle, but . . . I have to say whatever I thought I might have felt for him is gone. We tried, and maybe the problem is the long-distance relationship, his living in Manhattan, but . . . I just don’t think we’re going anywhere. When he showed up on the island almost four years ago, I think it was simply an attraction for both of us and nothing more. We’ve just been drifting along—going nowhere.”
“Well, my friend, if that’s the case, then it’s time we get your love life stirred up again.”
I let out a chuckle. “Right, Mallory. I’ll get right on that.” I heard the buzzer go off on my dryer. “Listen, I’ve got to go. Time for me to fold towels.”
“Okay. I’ll stop by the yarn shop tomorrow afternoon to see how you’re doing. Love you. Bye.”
I had no sooner finished folding the towels when the phone rang again, making me wonder if it rang this much when I was at work all day.
I was surprised to answer and hear Dr. Clark’s voice.
“Josie, it’s Jonathan, at the clinic. How’re you doing?”
“Fine. I’m fine.
How’s everything at the clinic?”
“Well, we’re all missing you. And that’s the reason I’m calling. I might have a job offer for you.”
“Really? Back at the clinic?” I could feel my excitement rising.
“Ah . . . no. I’m afraid not. Nothing has changed there. But . . . I have a colleague, Simon Mancini, and he’s also a friend of mine. He’s been practicing over on the east coast in St. Augustine, but he’s done a fair amount of research and he has plans to relocate over this way and open a practice. He’s going to need a good RN to help him run the office. I thought of you immediately, Josie. You’re competent and you’re great with the patients. Do you think you might be interested?”
Wow! He’d really taken me by surprise—both with his offer and with his praise.
“Ah . . . gee . . . I . . . don’t know,” I heard myself muttering before his laugh came across the line.
“Sorry to just throw this out at you, but I think you’d be perfect for the position and I wanted you to have the opportunity if you’re interested.”
“Right,” I said, bobbing my head up and down. “So this would be in Gainesville?”
“No. That’s the best part. Simon is going to be opening a practice on Cedar Key. Right in your hometown.”
Oh. My. God. Our island hadn’t had a full-time doctor for over thirty years.
“Seriously? I haven’t heard a thing about this.”
“Well, there’s been a lot of red tape, so the news wasn’t made public. Applying for a certificate of need and all the hassles, but yes, he’s managed to make it happen. So . . . do you think you might be interested?”
“Oh, yes. Definitely.”
“Great. I was hoping you’d say that, because I did take it upon myself to mention you to Simon. So would it be okay to give him your phone number and have him give you a call?”
“Oh, yes. Definitely,” I repeated. “And Dr. Clark, thank you so much.”
3
Orli and I arrived at my parents’ home promptly at three o’clock. Leaning out of the golf cart, I pushed the intercom system attached to the brick post and heard Miss Delilah’s pleasant voice question how she could help.
“It’s Orli and me,” I told her just before the tall, decorative iron gate slid open to allow us entrance.
My parents’ property hadn’t always had such an elaborate security system. The two-story brick house sat by itself on a point overlooking the water. During most of the years that I’d grown up there, the two acres of oak and cedar trees had been unfenced. Once my mother had become well known as an author, a few of her well-meaning fans had simply shown up on our doorstep, hoping to meet their favorite writer. My parents had decided that to safeguard their privacy, it made sense to install both the security system and a wrought-iron fence surrounding the property.
I drove the golf cart along the path bordered by clusters of bright red hibiscus, pink azaleas, and deep green bushes, making my way to the circular driveway in front of the house. Huge ceramic pots of various flowers sat on the wide veranda, and large baskets of marigolds, geraniums and pansies swung from the roof overhang, giving the feeling that this could have been a setting from Gone with the Wind.
The front door was pulled open by Miss Delilah. “Hello, girls. It’s so good to see you,” she said, stepping aside as we walked into the foyer.
“Same here,” I told her, and saw my father approaching down the hallway from the back of the house.
“Ah, my girls,” he said, scooping both Orli and me into his arms for a hug. “You both look gorgeous.”
“Hi, Grandpa.”
“Thanks, Dad. Where’s Mom?” I asked, and followed him into the family room.
“Putting the finishing touches on herself for the photo shoot. How about some sweet tea or lemonade?”
“Sweet tea, please,” I said after Orli chose lemonade.
Delilah headed to the kitchen, and I walked over to the massive window that dominated the entire wall, taking in the view. Beyond the grassy area was the Gulf of Mexico, and I never tired of staring at the beauty that I had grown up with.
“So how’s everything going?” I heard my father ask. “I’m really sorry about your job, Josie. I know how much you liked it at the clinic.”
“Thanks, Dad,” I said, and joined him on the sofa. “Well, I’m sure something will turn up.”
I didn’t want to risk my mother walking in while I was in the middle of telling him about the phone call from Dr. Clark. What I lacked in a relationship with my mother was more than made up for with my father. We had always shared a close connection. He encouraged me, discussed important decisions with me, and boosted the confidence that always seemed to be absent in my mother’s presence. I would never forget the time he came to visit me alone when Orli was about two years old and made a point of telling me how proud he was of the wonderful job I was doing as a single mother; he went on to say that my decision had been the right one.
“You’re an excellent nurse, Josie. I have no doubt that you’ll find another good position,” he said. “And how’s everything with you, Orli? Things good at school?”
“Yup.” She shot her grandfather a smile. “I’m going to be applying to colleges this year and . . .”
She was interrupted as my mother flew into the room clutching a bracelet to her wrist, saying, “Joe, I just cannot get this clasp. Can you . . . oh, you’re here,” she said, her eyes shifting to Orli and me. “Oh, Josie, couldn’t you have done something nicer with your hair?” She extended her wrist to my father.
My hand automatically reached up to finger my pixie cut—a style that I’d worn for quite a few years, a style that was very becoming with my oval-shaped face and caused many people to comment that I resembled the actress Winona Ryder.
Before I could say a word, my daughter piped in with, “Grandma, her hair looks great. Look at how shiny it is. I wish I could wear my hair that way.”
Leave it to Orli. Ever since I could remember, my daughter seemed to run interference between her grandmother and me. Yup, my daughter, the peacemaker.
“Well . . . it just looks a bit windblown. You might want to run a comb through it before the photographer gets here.”
“Here we go,” Delilah said, placing a tray of glasses on the coffee table. “Help yourself to a nice cool drink.” I caught the smile and wink that she sent my way.
My mother twirled around in front of us. “What do you think? Do I look okay?”
At sixty-eight, my mother always looked more than just okay. No doubt about it, she was both attractive and elegant, and somehow that gene had skipped me. Her auburn, chin-length hair always looked stylish and perky. She’d managed to keep her trim figure, and the pretty mint green sundress that she wore was perfect with her hair and tanned skin. But something seemed off. I couldn’t put my finger on it, but she looked a bit under the weather.
“Feeling okay?” I asked.
“Fine. Fine.” She waved her hand in the air to dismiss the subject.
“Beautiful,” my father told her. “You look great.”
I felt a twinge of stubbornness rise up and couldn’t bring myself to vocalize my agreement, but I heard Orli say, “You do, Grandma. Perfect.”
“Okay, well then,” she said, brushing off the compliments. “You did bring knitted scarves for you and Orli to wear, right?”
Shit. I’d totally forgotten her request. “Ah . . . no . . . I forgot,” I was forced to say.
I saw the expression on her face, which I had no doubt meant, I’m not surprised, but all she said was, “Okay, then come on. Up to my room so we can find one for each of you to match your dresses.”
Fifteen minutes later we descended the staircase—me with an aqua hand-knitted silk scarf perfectly arranged around my neck and Orli wearing a lavender one that matched her dress—just as I heard a voice come across the intercom speaker.
“Oh, he’s here,” my mother said, nervousness in her voice as she adjusted her own emerald gr
een scarf.
Within a few moments, the doorbell rang and Delilah admitted two men and a woman.
“Hi,” the older man said, extending his hand to my mother. “I’m Tom, the photographer. This is Brad, the reporter who will be writing the article, and we brought along our assistant, Kelly. She’ll be helping us with the photo shoot.”
“It’s so nice to meet you,” Kelly gushed to my mother. “I’m a huge fan, and I’ve read every single one of your books.”
My mother shot her a smile. “Thank you,” she told the obvious groupie before introducing my father, Orli, and me.
“Okay,” Tom said, clapping his hands together. “Shall we get started? We’ll begin with the photos first and get that out of the way and then you can relax while Brad interviews you. You have the perfect setting outside with the Gulf as a backdrop. How about if we get some shots down there by the water?” he suggested, and gestured toward the window.
The three of us followed the crew down to the bench overlooking the water and with Kelly’s assistance struck various poses, sitting and standing, for the camera. After about fifteen minutes, Tom said, “Okay. Now maybe we could get a few on the veranda sitting on the swing.”
We traipsed up to the house and posed for a few more shots before he said, “Let’s do a few in the house, and one with your husband would be nice.”
All of it took about an hour, and after a family shot with the four of us, I was happy to hear Tom say, “I think that’ll do it.” He looked at Orli and me. “Thank you so much for your cooperation. I think the photos will be great, but now we’ll get to the interview.”
This was my cue that my daughter and I were free to leave.
“My pleasure,” I said, going to kiss my father’s cheek. “Okay, Mom, I’ll call you tomorrow.”
I thought I saw a look of disappointment cross her face. She hadn’t been expecting me to sit through the interview, had she?
But she walked toward me, gave Orli and me a hug, and said, “Thank you so much for being part of this. I love you both.”
