by Vicki Essex
“That’s not true.” She knew it, deep down. “Why have you been treating me like this, Mr. Jamieson?”
William wiped a palm down his face. “Ever since you came here, it’s like I was losing another piece of my family, like when Daphne lived here. You’d think having a woman around the house would make a happier home, but that girl was like a vacuum. She sucked up every bit of energy in the room. It was always take, take, take. Nothing was good enough for her. That’s why she left.”
Tiffany didn’t say anything. She had nothing in common with Daphne Blaine, and it bothered her that William would compare her to Chris’s ex—the woman who’d abandoned Simon.
He rubbed his hands up and down his thighs. “He knew I was joking, didn’t he? About you people? I suppose it’s not flattering, but it’s kind of true, right?”
Kind of true? Her nails dug into her palms. “That I’m like a locust or that I don’t care about my family?”
He had the decency to look ashamed. “I don’t mean half the things I say.”
“And exactly which half was Simon supposed to believe?” Her personal feelings weren’t as important as the chasm that had opened between Simon and his grandfather, and she felt responsible to the teen’s feelings first.
“He really thinks I meant all those things about him being stupid?”
“Don’t you?”
“Of course not. He’s lazy, not an idiot.”
Well, she supposed that was some progress, but jeez, did he ever need an attitude adjustment. She dragged a chair over and sat next to him. He wasn’t clutching his stomach anymore. This drama had probably diverted his attention from the pain. She glanced at the clock on the wall, hoping the doctor would arrive soon.
“He’s really mad at me, isn’t he?” William said.
“I don’t presume to know what his feelings are. But at a guess...” She looked out the storm door, hanging open after Simon’s abrupt departure. “Yeah, he’s pissed off.”
“But why? It’s not as if I said anything that offended you.”
“Of course you offended me,” she exploded, nearly making her chair rock. “And, to tell you the truth, you’ve been offending me for years.”
Surprise sprang into his aged features. “But...you never reacted. You never even frowned when I said something funny. Your family knows I’m joking. They think I’m funny.”
“No. They don’t.”
“Yes, they do. They always laugh.” He licked his lips, eyes shifting, sounding less certain with each word he spoke. He rubbed his palm hard against his thigh above the stump as if he’d worry a revelation out of it.
She waited, everything in her wound up to pounce. The years of hurt this man had inflicted upon her and her family sat heavily on her shoulders. And yet, a sliver of sympathy kept her from jumping all over him and telling him what she really thought.
“I never meant anything personally,” he said. “Your people are good people. You’re a hardworking, stoic bunch. You never let anything faze you. I always admired that about the Orientals.”
She pinched the bridge of her nose. Good Lord, the man really didn’t know. And Tiffany wasn’t sure where to begin the monumental task of educating him.
“First off,” she said slowly, releasing the words like a hiss of steam from a pressure cooker, “it’s not PC anymore to say Oriental unless it’s referring to a rug or a salad. Second, third, fourth and fifth...”
* * *
NEARLY AN HOUR LATER, Tiffany’s throat was sore, her nerves were shot and she needed a stiff drink. It would have to wait, though. She found Simon in the tack room in the barn with the kittens. He was slouched in one corner with Clover curled up on his stomach. He glanced up as she approached.
“Sorry I walked out like that and left you alone.” He sullenly focused back on the kitten. “Are you okay?”
“I’m fine. I’m more worried about your grandfather. The doctor’s checking him over right now.”
The teen stuck his jaw out. “Whatever. I don’t care.”
“Of course you care.”
“Did he apologize to you?”
“Yes.” No need to repeat the whole conversation. She’d made him listen while she enumerated his insults over the years. He seemed genuinely surprised by the things he’d said and done to anger her. Apparently, no one had ever called him out on his behavior. “We talked mostly about you, actually.”
“I meant every word,” he told her bluntly. “I don’t want to be like him. I don’t want to be a farmer.”
“You don’t have to be,” she said, plopping down on a bale of straw. “There’s no reason you won’t get into the college program of your choice if you work for it.”
“But that’s the problem. I don’t know what I want to do.”
“You don’t need to know definitively right now. I know people in their fifties who are still trying to figure it out. Your education doesn’t necessarily mean you’ll have a straight-and-narrow career path.”
And hadn’t it taken right up to this moment for her to realize it? Tiffany cocked her head, surprised by this minor epiphany. All those years in high school with all that focus pointing toward college... And then that focus had gone to graduating and getting a job in publishing...but she hadn’t found that perfect fit yet. It could take her another fifteen years before she did.
Simon’s head fell back against the bale of straw. “It’s just that...Dad really wants me to go to college. I get it’s a living-vicariously-through-me thing. But he thinks I’m going to do all those things he didn’t get to do, travel the world and stuff. I’ve never even left the country.” The kitten mewed plaintively as Simon shifted and pushed his bangs out of his eyes. “I can’t do all those things he wants. I don’t even think I want to.”
She chuckled. “I know exactly what you mean. My parents have always had these insane expectations of me, but success has always been on their terms.” She shook her head. She didn’t want to bring up her own problems. “If you don’t want to become a farmer or go to law school or become a...I don’t know, a circus clown, you have to say so. You need to speak up for yourself. Otherwise, all kinds of people are going to get in your face and try to shape you.”
“Yeah, I wish they’d lay off.”
“Your dad and grandfather are only doing it because they love you. They want you to have a good future and they have different ideas about what that means. You know that, right?”
He lifted a shoulder. “Yeah, I guess.”
“They want what’s best for you, but you’re the only person who knows what that is, even if it’s not clear right now. There’s lots of time to figure it out, though, so don’t stress about it. If you want help, we can look at your options together. Maybe we can find an internship or apprenticeship somewhere and see how that works out for you....”
She trailed off as she realized what she was promising. She could be heading off to a new job any day now. But she was sure they had time. The summer stretched ahead of them, and anyone who’d be hiring would call in September, after all the summer interns went back to school.
Simon peeked up at her skeptically. “You think that’s going to help?”
“Simon, let me tell you the truth. You’re a smart kid, a lot smarter than everyone takes you for.” At that, he smiled bashfully. “But you’re also too young to know what you really want, which is why you need to stay in school. I know it seems like it’s going to take forever, and that it all sucks, but I promise you, as long as you work hard, you’ll figure it out. We’ll figure it out together.”
He nodded slowly. “Okay.”
It was a minor triumph that he hadn’t dismissed her with “Whatever.” She just hoped Chris wouldn’t object. After all, it was supposed to be his job to guide him through these kinds of decisions. But she couldn’t help sticking her nose in his son’s business. She cared about what would happen to him. He was a bright kid who could get things done when he applied himself. She’d hate to see him waste his smart
s.
She stilled and frowned. Was that what her parents thought about her when she was Simon’s age?
Tiffany shook herself and came back to the present. “Listen, your grandfather was really upset after you walked out. If you want people to respect you and your decisions, you have to stand up for yourself and tell him how you feel without throwing accusations. Man up about it, you know?”
His eyes traveled to the house. “You think he’s okay?” He might have been angry, but he was still worried for the old man.
“Let’s go find out. Dr. van Vierzen should still be around.”
They went back to the house together. In the living room, William sat on the couch buttoning up his shirt, a sour expression creasing his features. Dr. van Vierzen turned and smiled. He’d been the Cheungs’ family doctor since they’d moved to Everville, and despite the passage of time, his age only showed in the slight graying at his temples and the fine lines around his eyes. He still looked like Gregory Peck to Tiff.
“How is he?” she asked, darting a look at William.
“He’s a little banged up. Nothing’s broken from the fall. But I can’t tell what else is going on until he comes to my office for a few more tests.”
“I’ll tell Dad. He’ll make him go,” Simon said.
“Actually, your grandfather’s already agreed. Readily, in fact. It makes me a little suspicious.”
“There’s nothing wrong with my hearing, you know. Don’t talk about me like I’m not in the room.”
“Sorry, Bill.” The doctor grinned wryly. “It was good catching up with you. Lucky thing I was in the neighborhood when this happened, eh?” He winked at Simon discreetly. “Try to lay off fatty foods for now. It might simply be a case of indigestion, but if it’s a gallstone or something worse, I’d rather you not have another attack. You could stand to lose a few pounds anyhow.”
“You gonna air my health issues to the whole county? What happened to doctor-patient confidentiality?”
“I’m not here as a doctor, I’m here as your friend. Otherwise, I’d be charging you an arm and your other leg for a house call.”
William snorted. “Get out of here before I decide to sue your ass for malpractice.”
“Nice to see you, too, Bill.” He clapped him on the shoulder and nodded to Tiffany and Simon on the way out.
“So...” The elderly Jamieson folded his hands over his lap. “You have something else you want to say?”
Simon shuffled in place. “I’m sorry I yelled at you,” he said. “I was mad and I went off. I didn’t mean it.”
“Of course you meant it,” William said matter-of-factly. “You meant every word. And if I knew that sooner...” He eased forward, rubbing his hand up and down his truncated thigh. “Look, Simon, I didn’t mean anything by my words. And...I realize now that some of the things I’ve been saying are plain wrong. Not just about you, but about Tiffany, her family...a lot of things. I guess I took it for granted that you’d know I didn’t really feel that way about anyone.”
Simon watched him warily. He looked like he was waiting for a but. Tiff knew what that was like.
“I’m going to try harder,” William said. “I need to...think before I open my mouth and not...how was it you put it? ‘Dump my bullshit’ on everyone?”
Simon’s mouth twitched, and he stuffed his hands into his pockets.
William gave a dry chuckle. “Sorry, I guess I’m too old to be using language like that. Actually, there are a lot of words I should probably cut from my vocabulary. Your tutor gave me a lesson in that.” He shot her a look. “Not that she needs to be smug about it or anything.”
“Me? Smug? I thought we were all stoic to you.”
He harrumphed. “I take it all back. You, young lady, are an uppity, meddling, precocious know-it-all.”
She smirked. “Finally, an insult I can live with.”
She startled a smile out of William. His chuckle became a laugh that turned into a hoot. Tiffany couldn’t help but laugh along. It was contagious and soon, all three of them were laughing.
After the day they’d had, it was exactly what they needed.
* * *
WHEN CHRIS SAW Micah van Vierzen’s car parked in the driveway, he dropped his tools and ran toward the house, heart banging in his throat. Who was hurt? Why hadn’t anyone called him in from the field?
The doctor was stepping out of the house when he got there.
“Doc,” he gasped out. “What is it? What’s happened?”
Micah smiled reassuringly. “Your father had a little fall. Simon called me down to check on him. He’s all right.”
He gave Chris a brief rundown, told him William had agreed to a checkup. If the doctor didn’t look worried, Chris supposed he had nothing to be afraid of. Micah drove off, and Chris hastened into the house. Simon would probably be shaken up. Tiffany had now seen more medical emergencies in the past few weeks than Chris had seen over the past five years. And who knew what kind of mood his dad was in.
He walked in through the kitchen door to a peculiar sound: laughter. Simon, his father and Tiffany were sitting in the living room with mugs of coffee. His father looked quite relaxed on the couch, a throw over his lap. Chris never realized how old he looked.
He hovered in the doorway, listening as William told some story from his youth. His dad’s eyes shone the way they had when Simon was a baby and William would cradle him.
Tiffany glanced Chris’s way, giving him an easy smile. Longing filled him. The scene looked so natural, it was as if he were finally coming home.
It was as if she belonged there.
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
THE FOLLOWING SUNDAY, Chris asked Tiffany to drive out so he could discuss something with her. She puzzled over what was so important that he couldn’t have sent her an email or phoned. She was happy to have an excuse to see him, and to get away from her parents. Daniel could deal with them, since he was back from his reunion.
When she pulled into the farm’s driveway, Chris strode out of the house. He wore jeans and a clean blue T-shirt that showed off his muscled arms. He carried a small cooler in one hand and a stuffed backpack in the other.
“Headed somewhere?” she asked as she got out of the car.
“I’m taking you out.” He ushered her toward his truck, and tossed the bag and cooler into the back of the cab. “We’re going on a grand nostalgia trip of Everville.”
“A what?”
“C’mon.” He helped her into the passenger seat. “This is my personal guided tour, complete with a picnic lunch and visits to everything Everville, old and new.”
“Why?”
The suspicion in her voice made him stop in his tracks, and she cringed at herself. He scratched his nose and gave a quirky smile. “Because why not? You’ve worked hard, and you and I both deserve a break. It’ll be fun. You do know how to have fun, right?”
Tiffany was going to protest, tell him she really didn’t need to revisit all the old haunts, bring up old, stale memories.
“Please,” he said at her hesitation. He looked so excited, and he had gone to the trouble of packing a lunch. How could she refuse?
It was a gorgeous day for a drive, sunny and not too hot, a few fluffy white clouds in the sky. “First stop, Georgette’s Bakery, now Georgette’s Bakery and Books.”
“She’s still open? She must be in her eighties now.”
“Eighty-two, and still waking up at four every morning. Actually, her grandson, Aaron, moved back to town to help her run the place. I don’t know if you remember him—he was a year or two behind us in school. He was the one who opened the bookstore. I hear he’s looking to expand the business even further.”
“What did he do before that?”
“I think he was a lawyer or something. He lived in Boston before this.”
Tiffany couldn’t imagine why a man would leave a career in law to run his grandmother’s bakery and bookstore all the way out here. But she was glad the woman famous all over
the county for her treats was doing well.
It was a solid ten minutes to the roadside bakeshop and, sure enough, the tiny building had a new addition sporting a hand-lettered sign that read Georgette’s Bakery and Books. The parking lot, expanded and newly paved, teemed with weekenders and locals alike.
The bakery was almost exactly as Tiffany remembered it, though the glaring fluorescent lights had been replaced with attractive halogen fixtures. Everything had a shiny new coat of paint, and there was a lot more on display. The rich smells of chocolate and baked goods mingled with fresh brewed coffee. The faintest hint of drywall plaster lingered in the air.
A pretty young woman served customers cheerily behind the counter. Her gold-brown hair was caught in two pigtails, but she had to be closer to thirty than twenty. It took a minute for Tiffany to recognize her. The girl had been a cheerleader at their high school—one of the popular girls whose circle of friends was practically in another galaxy. Her name was Stephanie something or the other.
“Chris.” She greeted him brightly over the counter. “How’s it going?”
“Doing great, Steph. You remember Tiffany, don’t you?”
Tiffany was caught off guard as he nudged her forward. Stephanie’s eyes widened. “Omigosh, it’s so good to see you.” She ran out and threw her arms around her. Tiff squeaked as the former cheerleader’s thick arms smooshed her against her ample bosom. “How have you been? I heard about the accident. Are you all right?”
“I’m fine.” She regretted saying so when Stephanie squeezed her again, tighter this time. Why did people she barely knew keep hugging her? She sent a pleading look toward Chris, who smothered a laugh.
Steph finally let go and gave her an approving look. “Wow, look at you. You’re gorgeous now. I mean, wow.”
“Um, thanks.”
“Listen, I’ve got to get back to work—” she glanced at the customers who’d walked in “—but promise me you’ll call me up and we can go for coffee, okay?”
First Maya, now Stephanie. Hugging and coffee, apparently, was what people did in this town now. Why did everyone think she’d want to “catch up”? What would they catch up on? They’d never spoken to each other.
