“I’m not going to be ten,” she said, reaching out to gently clasp her mother’s fingers. “Do you remember what year it is?”
“Of course I do,” Mona snapped, snatching away her hand. “Do you think I’m stupid?” She pulled at the ends of her short bob as if that would help her dislodge the jumble of memories in her brain. Her dark hair had gone silver in the past few years, and there were fine lines fanning out from the corners of her eyes, but Mona’s olive complexion was still enviable. Jenny had lost count of the times she’d wished she favored her Italian mother instead of the redheaded Irishman from whom she’d inherited her hair and her temper.
“No, Mom. Tell me what year it is.”
Her mother gazed at her hands and began to worry her thumbs together. Jenny could imagine the synapses in her brain firing away and the tiny gaps and holes where the disease had worn away the connections. It broke her heart when a single tear spilled from her mother’s gentle eyes. “You’re not a child,” Mona murmured. “You have a child. Cooper. My grandson.”
She ticked off the words as if reading a list. In her room there were framed photos on the nightstand and dresser, images of family and friends with labels naming them and their relation to Mona. It had seemed almost offensive to Jenny when she’d first typed out the little slips of paper, as if Mona could ever forget the grandson she adored.
Now Jenny realized that no number of labels could stop the relentless march of Alzheimer’s, flattening everything in its path and stealing her mother one brutal step at a time.
“He loves you so much, Mom.” She leaned in again, and wiped her thumb across the paper-thin skin of her mother’s cheek. “I love you, too.”
“I’m sorry.” Her voice was shaky. “You can eat the cookie.” She sniffed. “You can do anything you want, of course. You’re all grown up.”
“I’ve only made it this far because of your support, Mom,” Jenny answered. “I wouldn’t be anything without you.”
“Nonsense.” Her mother patted Jenny’s cheek. “You have always been the very best part of me.”
Jenny snorted.
“I mean it. You are strong and brave. I know how much you hated not having a father.”
Jenny rolled her eyes and tried to look like she didn’t care. “I never even knew him.” But she had felt the lack of the father she’d never met like a deep, integral part of her was missing. She knew kids whose mom and dad were divorced and a couple of classmates who’d had a parent die. But she was the only one who’d never even had a father.
It upset her mother to talk about the man who’d abandoned them both, so Jenny had learned not to mention it. But from what she had pieced together, her parents had been deeply in love until Mona discovered she was pregnant. Jenny’s father, a bass player in a touring jazz band, left them for a life on the road and never looked back.
“Things weren’t easy for you as a girl,” her mother said, “and living with the Bishops wasn’t what you wanted. But it was the best I could give you, sweetie.”
“It was fine,” Jenny lied, and because emotion knotted in the back of her throat, she took a small bite of the cookie, then made an exaggerated choking sound. “That’s horrible. Nothing like what you used to bake.”
She was going for humor, but Mona’s smile was sad. “I wish I still could bake for you.”
Oh, crap. The wistful expression on her mother’s face did nothing to help Jenny regain control of her emotions. As awful as it was losing her mother in tiny, painful bits, the times when Mona was aware of what was happening were even more difficult.
“How about you come over this weekend and we can have a day of baking? I’m finally getting settled in the new house.” That was another lie, and the truth was Jenny wasn’t even sure if the oven worked correctly. It could heat frozen pizza, but anything beyond that was definitely questionable.
“You hate being in the kitchen.”
“Not when your caramel pecan cake is my reward.”
Mona clapped her hands together, her smile broadening. “It’s been so long since I’ve made that cake.” She ticked off ingredients. “Two cups of flour, a cup of sugar, two sticks of melted butter, three eggs, a teaspoon of cinnamon, a half teaspoon of both salt and baking powder, and a cup of chopped pecans.”
“Sounds about right,” Jenny agreed, although she’d never baked a cake that didn’t come from a box mix.
“How come I can remember recipes and I forget how old my only daughter is?” Mona’s eyes welled with tears.
Jenny sighed. The doctor had warned her about depression as the disease progressed. She’d made it her mission to keep her mother’s spirits up, but some days were harder than others, especially after a night like the one she’d had.
She’d sat on the bed in the hotel room for hours after Owen had left, replaying all the things she’d done and said wrong over the course of the night—throughout the entire time she’d known him, really.
Was kindness so disconcerting that she had to screw it up every time?
Yep.
Running into Dina and her husband so soon after that bizarre encounter in the ladies’ room had thrown Jenny for a hell of a loop. How could a woman pretend everything was fine and fake that kind of affection with her husband? Jenny couldn’t help but compare it to the lie her current relationship with Owen was based on. She hated that what was between them was for show when it felt so real to her. But, once again, she’d let her doubts overwhelm her and ruined their night together.
Eventually she’d curled into a ball and fallen asleep for a few fitful hours. She’d woken in the middle of the night and called down to the front desk for a taxi to take her home. No sense staying in a hotel alone with no change of clothes or when the whole purpose for booking it had been to be with Owen. To finally be with Owen.
The desk clerk had informed her that there was a car waiting. That was the kind of gentleman Owen was at his core. As pissed as he’d been when he’d left, he’d arranged a car to drive her home.
“My high school reunion was last night,” she told her mother.
“Assholes,” her mother muttered, and Jenny’s jaw dropped. Mona Castelli did not swear.
“What?” Mona raised a brow. “You think I don’t know how they treated you, especially after how that boy left you with no support?”
“You never said anything.”
Her mother shrugged. “What good would that have done? I wanted you to have a good education and the Summit School was the best.”
“A lot of good it did me.”
“Life happens,” her mother said, and Jenny choked back a laugh. “Tell me about the reunion. Did that boy attend?”
Since high school, her mother had only referred to Trent as “that boy.” The news of Jenny’s pregnancy had caused a huge rift between Mona and Libby Bishop, Ty’s mom. Libby, who Jenny had never liked, was friends with Trent’s mother. The fact that she was unwilling to support Jenny in making Trent do the right thing was something Mona had never forgiven.
In the end, Jenny had been the one to convince her mother not to quit working for the Bishops. Despite her distaste for their lifestyle, they were a sort of family to her mother, and Jenny didn’t want her mistakes to affect her mom.
Instead, her mother had moved out of the cozy carriage house on the Bishop property that had been their home and rented a tiny bungalow outside Boulder. It had been cramped and a struggle, especially when Cooper was a baby. Mona had supported the three of them with her salary from the Bishops while Jenny worked odd jobs that allowed her to spend days with Cooper. She owed her mom more than she could ever hope to repay.
“He was there,” she said, and Mona’s eyes narrowed. “But he’s not a kid anymore, Mom. Neither of us is.”
“Did you ask him if he ever plans to do right by you and Cooper? It’s not too late.”
Jenny shook her head. “Trent has a family in Wisconsin.”
“He has a son in Colorado,” Mona said through clenched teeth
.
“I don’t want him in Cooper’s life.” Jenny broke off another bite of cookie. “Not really. We’re doing fine on our own.”
Her mother didn’t respond, but one of her brows arched. Mona Castelli could communicate more with a raised brow than most career politicians did during a well-rehearsed campaign speech.
“Owen came as my date,” Jenny said, needing to change the subject.
Mona smiled. “He’s a nice boy.”
“He’s not a boy, either.” She thought about pressing her fingers against the hard cords of muscle on Owen’s back as he kissed her into oblivion. She’d once thought of him as boyish. Boyishly handsome. Boyishly charming.
Last night he’d been one hundred percent man.
It totally freaked her out.
Especially after finding out what he wanted from her in return for attending the reunion. She couldn’t possibly go to his brother’s wedding, and he wouldn’t really expect it, right? It was something he’d said in the heat of anger. He wanted to make her uncomfortable, and he’d more than accomplished that.
“Owen would make a good husband,” her mother said absently.
“I’m not marrying Owen.” Jenny’s heart thrummed out of control. She’d taken off the ring that morning and slipped it back into the velvet box he’d left on the entry table. She touched a finger to the bare space on her left hand.
Despite the fact that she’d only worn the ring for a couple of hours last night, her finger felt weirdly empty without it.
“I didn’t say you were,” her mother clarified. “You’ve made it quite clear that you aren’t interested in having a man in your life.”
Jenny paused with a piece of cookie halfway to her mouth. “I have?”
“I understand, sweetie.” Her mother’s smile was gentle. “After your father left, I knew I’d never have relations with another man.”
“Mom.” Jenny felt her mouth drop open. Her mother’s face was as familiar to her as her own reflection, but a part of her wondered who this woman was sitting across the table. The Alzheimer’s had altered her mom’s personality, bringing forth aspects that had been hidden Jenny’s whole life. Where was the sex talk when Jenny had needed it back in high school? Mona had never once spoken about anything remotely related to men with Jenny.
Based on how her mother had acted, Jenny’s pregnancy could have been the second immaculate conception, even though she’d wanted Trent to marry Jenny. Hearing Mona mention “relations” with anyone was as foreign to Jenny as walking hand in hand with her mother into a strip club.
“Well,” her mother prompted. “When was the last time you had—”
“Do not say ‘relations,’” Jenny said before her mother could finish the question. “I’m not talking about that with you.”
Another arched brow. “I do understand how babies are made, Jennifer.” Mona let out a little sigh. “There are some things a woman doesn’t forget.”
Jenny hadn’t forgotten, either, although she hated to admit even to herself how long it had been since she’d been with a man. Trent had been her first, and for several years after Cooper was born, she’d been too busy, stressed, and chronically sleep-deprived to even consider finding a man.
When she’d finally gotten the itch again, she’d had a string of casual boyfriends and, to her humiliation, one-night stands that had meant little and left her feeling like less than nothing. It had seemed easier not to try.
Until Owen.
Of course, that had been a disaster. She’d sabotaged their relationship before they’d gotten to the bedroom, and last night she’d pushed him away once again.
Surely his demand that she go to West Virginia had been an idle threat. Why would he want to spend any more time with her than he had to? She acted like a lunatic bitch-on-wheels whenever he was around.
“You’re right, Mom. I don’t want a man in my life. Cooper is it for me.”
At the mention of her grandson, Mona relaxed even more. “I miss him,” she said softly. “I miss seeing him every day.”
“I know,” Jenny said, a sharp ball of emotion clogging her throat. The most difficult thing she’d ever done in her life had been to move her mother into a facility. Even though she knew it was for the best, it never got any easier.
“Mona.” One of the young nursing aides, Jessa, approached the table where they sat. “We’re about to start today’s craft project. We’re making beaded bracelets. Will you join us?” She leaned in closer and added, “Bernie Wilcox was asking about you.”
A faint hint of pink colored Mona’s cheeks. “I loved to make jewelry and little trinkets when I was a girl.”
“I remember,” Jessa answered gently. “You told me about collecting soda pop cans to earn money for colored string.”
Jenny straightened as her mother smiled. She’d never heard the story of the soda pop cans. How was it that the paid aide knew something about her mother that Jenny didn’t? Mona stood, then leaned down and kissed Jenny’s cheek.
Tears sprung to Jenny’s eyes as she was enveloped in the soft scent of lavender. She would forever associate that fragrance with her mother.
“I’ll see you next time, sweetie. Give Cooper a hug for me.”
“I love you, Mom,” Jenny said, and watched her mother make her way down the hall, allowing the aide to take her hand. No matter what Jenny had to sacrifice in her own life, she would always make sure Mona was safe and happy.
This facility was the best in the city for Alzheimer’s patients, and although it was almost double the monthly cost of the others Jenny had visited and didn’t take insurance, the fact that Mona was finally settling into a routine left no doubt in Jenny’s mind that she’d made the right choice.
If only the other doubts she harbored were so easily erased.
CHAPTER SEVEN
“To your engagement.” Ty Bishop lifted his beer bottle in mock salute as Owen choked on the drink he’d just taken.
He grabbed a napkin from the center of the scratched wood high-top table where they sat. It was just after six on Monday night, almost forty-eight hours since he’d slipped that diamond ring onto Jenny’s finger.
He’d met Ty for a drink at one of Denver’s ubiquitous local brewpubs, but hadn’t expected the conversation to so quickly turn to his sham engagement.
“If you’ve heard about it, then you’ve also heard it’s fake.”
“Kendall mentioned that,” Ty told him, keeping his deceptively casual gaze on the baseball game being broadcast on the bank of flat-screen TVs hanging on the far wall.
Owen knew he and Ty made an unlikely pair, even as friends. Ty was tall and blond, with the chiseled features and movie-star blue eyes that made women fall all over themselves to have him notice them. He looked like he’d just been on set at a photo shoot advertising clean Colorado mountain living. He wore cargo pants and a faded T-shirt with the image of the large red-and-yellow C from Colorado’s state flag printed on the front.
Owen had just come from a meeting with the Dalton Enterprises board of directors, so he still wore his suit and tie. Yes, he’d upped his game in the style and wardrobe department, but he was still a computer nerd in expensive clothes.
Ty’s blue eyes shifted to him. “But she couldn’t give me a plausible explanation for why you agreed to it. You and Jenny don’t exactly have the best history.”
“Maybe I was just being nice.”
“I thought you gave that up around the time you started gelling your hair and dating bimbos.”
“What the hell is it with people and my hair?” Owen loosened his tie and undid the top button on his custom dress shirt. “Was it so damn bad before?”
Ty flashed a grin. “Not if you’re into the classic bowl cut.”
“Go to hell, Bishop.”
“I’m having too much fun here with you.” Ty had started working for Owen’s namesake foundation, leading the environmental initiatives, around the time things had gotten serious with him and Kendall. It should
have been awkward since Owen had actually gone on a couple of dates with the woman who would later become Mrs. Ty Bishop as part of an on-air dating show that Kendall starred in at the time. Instead, Owen counted Ty as one of his best friends.
But Jenny had been Ty’s friend for much longer, so Owen had no doubt where Ty’s allegiance would lie if things ever went sideways. That was one of several reasons Owen had kept things civil with Jenny after she’d crushed his stupid soft heart into a million pieces. He made light of their breakup, partly because it kept things harmonious within their tight-knit group of friends, and partly because his stubborn pride wouldn’t allow him to admit how much her betrayal had hurt. But the biggest reason had been the fact that he couldn’t bring himself to totally cut her from his life.
When Owen was younger, his father had tried a lot of methods to encourage him to “grow a pair”—one of Hank Dalton’s favorite catchphrases. After Jenny’s betrayal, Owen had gone to work on reinventing himself. Clearly, despite his wealth and power, the man he was couldn’t hold a woman’s attention. He’d loved two women in his life, and both of them had cheated on him.
He’d gone about changing every aspect of who he was—from his hair to his wardrobe to working out to the point of exhaustion. The transformation had been successful on the outside, but based on the situation he found himself in now, he remained a pansy-assed pushover on the inside.
Ty took another long pull on his beer. “Kendall told me Jenny’s mouth got her into a whole bunch of trouble with some of the ladies from high school. That wasn’t your problem. So what’s the real reason you agreed to help her?”
“What did Jenny tell you?”
“She’s gone radio silent.”
“Tell me about it,” Owen muttered. Ever the fool, Owen had both texted and called Jenny yesterday to check in. He knew she’d made it home safely thanks to the report from his driver, but that pansy-assed part of him couldn’t settle after things had been left all blown to hell between the two of them. Apparently, she had no such issue.
Meant for You Page 8
