I didn’t miss the quick change of subject. She was definitely having money problems. But just how bad was it? “You know Leala is really good with numbers and finances. I’m sure she’d be happy to sit down and help you with a budget.”
“I don’t need any help, especially not from LC.”
“Mama.”
“Don’t you ‘Mama’ me.”
I put my bowl on the nightstand. “Sometimes I wonder if you even know how hard you are on her.”
“Hard on her? That’s ridiculous.”
“It’s not ridiculous. It’s true. You should’ve heard yourself when she was cleaning the windows. What was with that? Why were you trying to shame her about having a housekeeper? Who cares?”
“Sadie, honey, you don’t know what you’re talking about.”
I folded my arms. “I think I do. You should be proud of what she’s accomplished and happy that she’s happy with her life.”
Mama lifted an eyebrow. “Is she happy, though?”
I bit back the “not with you” that was balancing precariously on the tip of my tongue. “Why are you so hard on her?”
“I’m tired,” Mama announced as she raised the remote and silenced the TV. “And I’m done with this conversation. Go to sleep, Sadie.” She swung her legs off the bed, went into the bathroom, and slammed the door behind her.
Downstairs, Nigel barked. Down the hall, Tucker started crying.
I glanced up at the mandala, with its three twisted hearts, pulled a pillow over my face, and screamed silently, wishing I were anywhere in the world but here.
Chapter
13
Sadie
Early the next morning I decided there wasn’t enough coffee in the world to help me make it through the day ahead. It was half past six, and I’d been up for more than two hours and was on my third cup of coffee. Between Mama’s snoring and the thoughts racing in my head, I’d slept little. I’d finally come downstairs to work on editing my latest episode of A Southern Hankerin’, but concentrating was proving difficult. Especially after Leala had come down, then Teddy and Bree and Nigel, to partake in sunrise yoga.
I’d passed on the offer, and Leala had given me a disappointed frown that would no doubt be quite effective on Tucker one day. From my seat on the sofa, I could just barely see the end of the dock. Leala was helping Bree balance on one leg, and Teddy appeared to be naturally limber. Nigel seemed happy enough to sniff around the dock.
I’d been surprised he hadn’t barked when the loon floated by, as I’d expected a big to-do. It was as if he, too, recognized that there was something special about the bird.
After watching the yoga class for a few minutes, I forced myself to return my focus to my computer screen. I preferred my videos to be ten to twelve minutes in length, though there had been a few exceptions to that personal rule. Two years ago, I’d made mud pies with a five-year-old girl, and that video had been only four minutes long. It was also one of my most viewed videos as she shared how to make just the right pie—not too much water, not too much dirt, pat, pat, pat, just like this, just like that. She’d topped the pie with rocks spread in a heart design, just the way her granny had taught her before the older woman went to live in the clouds.
The video I was editing now was of two burly twentysomething brothers with ruddy cheeks and shoulder-length hair from Olive Branch, Mississippi, who, along with me, were learning from their dad how to make his family-famous chili recipe, which included the big reveal of its secret ingredient. There was a lot of joking and teasing going on, and some playful gagging when the secret ingredient turned out to be pickle juice. There was also a healthy dose of poignancy, at least on my part, because I knew while filming something the sons didn’t. Their dad had been recently diagnosed with ALS and wouldn’t be able to make the recipe himself much longer. As I edited, I spliced into the kitchen scenes my one-on-one interview with the dad as he talked about watching his boys grow into men and his hopes and dreams for them, seamlessly blending the bittersweet scenes.
His voice cracked in my ear as I listened to the feed through my earbuds. “I want them to know, even after I’m gone, that my love will always feed their souls. And that choosing pickle juice is never a mistake.”
Those words would be how I’d end the piece, along with the video of their high fives once they tasted the chili, followed by a group hug.
There were tears in my eyes when I heard, “Mama?”
Glancing over my shoulder, I saw Connor stepping off the bottom stair with Tucker in his arms. Tucker was still dressed in his pajamas—a short-sleeve-shirt-and-short set printed with dinosaurs—and had his stuffed cow in a headlock, its limp body dangling from his elbow. Poor little suffocated cow.
“She’ll be back soon,” Connor said, giving me a nod of acknowledgment.
I wiped my eyes and pulled out my earbuds. I saved my work and closed my laptop and set it on the coffee table next to two of Mama’s many flower arrangements. “Good morning.”
“Morning. Sorry—we didn’t mean to interrupt.” He motioned with his square chin to my laptop.
“I was just about done anyway.” A few finishing touches and the video would be ready to upload. “Hi there, Tucker. Did you sleep well?”
He shook his head, then buried it in Connor’s chest.
Despite what Leala had said, I was starting to take my nephew’s rebuffs personally, especially since he’d warmed straight off to Iona and Teddy. He’d yet to meet Bree, who’d gone straight upstairs last night after dinner, and not a single one of us blamed her for wanting some quiet time.
From the coaster on the table I grabbed my mug and brought it with me into the kitchen. “Can I pour you some coffee?” I asked Connor as I refilled my mug, hoping the fourth cup would be the charm that would shake off my sluggishness.
Connor pressed his lips together, holding in a yawn, then said, “That would be great. Thanks. And don’t let Tucker fool you. He slept well. Only woke up once, which is pretty normal. He resettled quickly.”
It probably wasn’t all that normal for a dog’s barking to have woken him up—one who’d barked only because Mama had slammed the bathroom door—but life at a bed-and-breakfast wasn’t exactly normal.
Mama hadn’t said another word to me after returning to bed. She simply slipped on her night mask and turned off the light. It wasn’t long before her soft snores were filling the popcorn-scented air. She’d still been snoring when I crept out of the room earlier, and I hoped she would sleep late. Despite all her claims about her heart being fine, it was healing, and healing took time.
Uncle Camp, who was normally awake before the crack of dawn, was sleeping in, and I’d yet to hear anything from Iona’s room as well, but it was early yet. Most guests didn’t usually come down until they were ready for breakfast.
I grabbed an empty mug and filled it. “Room for cream?”
“No thanks. I take it black.”
It was just one more thing I probably should’ve known about him. After all, he’d been part of the family for eight years, not counting the two years he and Leala had dated before getting married. I slid the mug over to him. “How about Tucker?”
“He prefers cold mocha coffee. Don’t you, bud?” Tucker groaned into Connor’s chest. “What? Oh, that’s right. Hold the coffee.”
I smiled. “Chocolate milk?”
“Yeah. I’ll get it, though, once he’s a little more fully awake; otherwise, it’ll likely be shaken all over the floor.” He took a sip of coffee and turned his attention outside. As he watched the yoga lesson on the dock, the hard lines of his face softened. “The coffee’s good. Nice and strong. Thanks.”
His hair stood up every which way, even though it was damp—any attempts at taming it before coming downstairs had obviously failed. He had on a pair of sweats and a tee and tennis shoes, and it was odd to see him not dressed in his usual business attire. I liked casual Connor, I decided. He seemed less … stuffy.
Or maybe I was jus
t finally seeing him for the first time.
“You’re welcome. I was just going to put out the starters if you’re hungry. There are raspberry Danish, cinnamon muffins, and fruit cups. Breakfast today is crepes, banana or strawberry, or your choice of eggs and sausage, but it’s not being served until eight.”
Blue eyes widened. “Impressive menu.”
“I actually forgot how much I like to cook for a big group. The kitchen … soothes me.”
“Probably need a lot of that this weekend.”
I grinned. “That goes without saying.”
This was the most Connor and I had ever spoken, as stilted as it was, and it didn’t come without a good measure of guilt. I used a tea towel to wipe down the already clean countertop, and said, “Connor, I need to tell you how sorry I am for the way I’ve treated you in the past. Really sorry. I—”
“Sadie, you don’t have to—”
“No, I do. I was jealous that Leala was spending all her time with you and not me. It felt like I lost my best friend, and I took out that grief on you. I was an absolute brat. I hope that—” Oh Lord, why were apologies so hard? “I hope that we can start over?”
He looked into his coffee for a moment before turning his gaze on me. “Yeah. I’d like that.”
Maybe there was something to what Mama had said last night about how talking heals. Apologizing now barely made up for ten years of bad behavior, but it was a start. And sometimes a fresh start was all that was needed.
“Good.” I smiled, then bustled about, setting the starters I’d made last night onto the ceramic trays.
Tucker, I noticed, was watching me out of the corner of his eye. When he realized I saw him, he hid his face again.
“Hey, Tucker, is Moo hungry?” I held up a muffin. “A muffin for Moo?”
Tucker lifted his head again, looked between me and the cow, and nodded. Finally, a nod! “Should I cut it up for him?”
Tucker nodded again and pointed at the counter stool. “Down, Daddy, down. Pwease.”
“Yes, sir.” Connor helped settle him onto the stool, then went to the fridge for the milk. He filled a mug with milk, stirred in a good dollop of chocolate syrup, then warmed it in the microwave before transferring the liquid into a sippy cup.
I watched the routine and laughed.
“It’s ridiculous, I know, but Tucker had a terrible time when Leala stopped breastfeeding and this was the only way we could get milk into him for a while. Nowadays, he only drinks it like this in the morning, and we’re slowly weaning him off the chocolate.”
Even though Leala had been worried about Connor being an absent husband and father, it was obvious to me he wasn’t completely checked out. Tuck wasn’t trying to get away from him, and he knew exactly how his little boy liked his chocolate milk in the morning.
“Hey, whatever works.” I slid the plate of dissected muffin over to Tucker and leaned down. “Does Moo want me to feed him?”
“No,” Tucker said, patting his small chest. “I do.”
“All right, then.”
I pretended not to watch as Tucker used his thumb and index finger to pick up a bit of muffin, delicate as could be. He brought it Moo’s lips, then swerved it up to his own mouth and popped it in.
Connor helped me set the rest of the peninsula, putting out plates and silverware and napkins, and it wasn’t long before the morning yoga troupe was heading inside.
Leala led the way into the house, followed closely by Teddy, and finally Bree and Nigel.
“Mama! Moo muffin.” Tucker clambered onto his knees on the stool to show Leala his empty plate.
“Moo ate a muffin?” she guessed. “Was it good?”
Tucker nodded dramatically. “Moh?”
“More? Sure. Why not?” She was reaching for another muffin when Tucker gasped and stood up on the stool.
Connor stepped up beside him to hold him steady. “Hey, now. Careful there. Gotta sit down, buddy.”
“Owie!” Tucker pointed at Bree’s face.
Although Bree’s color had already been high from doing yoga, her face turned a bright red, which only served to highlight her scars even more.
“Owie! I kiss?” Tucker held out his hands, wiggling his fingers, beckoning Bree forward.
Leala tried to push his hand down. “Tucker, honey, no. I’m so sorry, Bree.”
Bree froze for a moment before stepping in close to Tucker. “It’s … okay.”
Tucker reached up and held her face tenderly, each of his hands gently resting on each of her cheeks, his right hand so small it didn’t even cover her whole scar. He stuck his face out and planted a noisy kiss next to her nose. “Bettah?”
She smiled at him, the first real smile I’d seen from her, and said, “Much better. Thank you.”
“Weycome.” He plopped back down and picked up his sippy cup as if he kissed the boo-boos of strangers every day, all the time, no big deal.
Teddy reached for a mug. “Well, there it is. I’ve fallen head over heels in love with Tucker, so I don’t need my wish granted this year after all. Anyone want my lantern?”
We all laughed and carried on with the morning, talking about anything and everything but especially about the cookout later today—and what we needed for it. Surrounded by the energetic chatter, I mixed crepe batter and felt at ease, truly at ease, for the first time in a long while. I couldn’t help thinking that today was going to be a good day, and I tried really hard to keep my focus on that, and to not think about tomorrow when I had to pack up and leave this all behind.
* * *
“Mother,” Mama said, pointing at Leala from where she sat on the big cozy armchair by the fireplace.
“Mama,” Tucker replied as he sat on her lap with a strawberry in one hand and a poker chip in the other.
Moo had been tucked in for a nap on the couch, in a futile attempt by Leala to get Tucker to rest, too.
Mama tried again. “Mo-ther.”
Leala sighed heavily as she dipped a paintbrush into a paper cup. She was cutting in, painting only along the baseboards, corners, and ceiling, while I rolled. She’d left her hair naturally curly today, and even though it was pulled up in a bun, every so often she’d squint at the wall and pull off a spiral strand that had stuck to the paint.
After several hours of work, we only had one wall left, but it was the largest wall, and I thanked the heavens that we’d had the foresight to buy paint that had primer in it, as it didn’t look like the walls would need two coats.
Iona sat in a rocker on the back porch with her book and a big glass of sweet tea. We’d chatted earlier, and she accepted my offer to drive her back to Wetumpka tomorrow morning. Taking a rideshare home seemed a silly waste of money, considering we were both going to the same place. Literally the same place. Her small bungalow on the river.
Out on the lake Teddy, Bree, and Nigel, who was dressed in the smallest doggy life vest I’d ever seen, floated on paddleboards near the dock. Uncle Camp was washing the dock, which he had done every Sunday afternoon for as long as I could remember, and Connor had gone to the market for cookout supplies, which Leala insisted they pay for when I tried to give him my credit card. I didn’t argue. If she didn’t care enough to ask about the details of my career to realize I could afford some groceries, then I was going to happily let her pay for everything.
The phone rang, and Mama said, “I’ll get it.”
Tucker said, “No, I do.”
Mama laughed. “We’ll both get it.”
“Okay.” He nodded.
She shifted him off her lap, stood, then lifted him up onto her hip. I saw her wince before she schooled her features into a smile when she saw me looking at her. Her eyes dared me to say anything.
I bit my tongue. Mama had come downstairs this morning all light and sunshine, and I didn’t want to put a damper on her good mood. She’d been over-the-moon happy when we mentioned a cookout tonight and had spent the better part of the morning planning a menu big enough to feed an ar
my.
“Sugarberry Cottage,” she sang as she answered the phone, “this is Susannah. How may I help you?”
Mama stood at the secretary desk, Tucker balanced on one hip. He looked perfectly at peace in her arms, and I wondered what rankled Leala more—his happiness at being with Mama or Mama trying to teach him to call Leala “Mother.” I suspected the former.
“I see,” Mama said. “I’m terribly sorry to hear that. No, no I completely understand. I was just in the hospital last week myself. Had myself a heart attack.”
Leala groaned.
“Why, yes, I surely will, and I’ll refund your full deposit. It will be in the mail tomorrow. You take care, too. Goodbye.”
“Bye!” Tucker yelled.
Mama lowered him to the floor, then handed him a pencil and a piece of paper before she opened the reservation book and made a notation on one of the pages. “Such a shame. Mrs. Maloney had an emergency appendectomy yesterday, so they had to cancel their trip to the festival.”
Tucker put the pencil and paper on the floor and ran over to Leala, gave her a hug, and said, “Luh you! I paint?”
Her gentle laugh echoed in the staircase. “Sure you can.”
She handed him the paintbrush, and my jaw dropped. Perfectionist Leala had just handed a toddler a fully loaded paintbrush. I wouldn’t have believed it if I hadn’t seen it with my own two eyes.
“I paint!” He dabbed Leala’s knee, coloring it blue.
“The wall, buddy! Paint the wall,” she said with a light lilt, guiding his hand toward an area that hadn’t yet been rolled. “You’re so silly.”
And she hadn’t wiped the paint off her knee. I looked at Mama, who seemed as surprised as I was by Leala’s actions.
People change, she’d told me yesterday, and though I knew it to be true, this seemed completely out of character for her, so relaxed.
But then I had to remind myself that I truly didn’t know her that well anymore. There had been so much we’d kept to ourselves over the last eight years. I decided then and there that I’d make more of an effort to be close again.
The Lights of Sugarberry Cove Page 14
