She all but sang the words. “Yes.”
“I hope mad passionate sex was involved.” Her grin echoed in her tone.
“Maybe a little.”
Sierra laughed. “Good for you. Very life affirming. I won’t force you yet to give me all the details, but I want you to know I’m happy for you.”
“It was just one date. It may not be a long-term thing.”
“There’s no such thing as long term. All you got is now. Sweet dreams.” Sierra hung up.
Libby lay back against the couch pillows, feeling a genuine peace. As she stared at the popcorn ceiling, it was not even the least bit annoying. Well, not that much.
Her phone rang. She did not recognize the number, but thinking it might be a stressed-out bride, she answered it.
“Libby McKenzie.”
“This is Lofton Grant.”
She sat up and swung her legs over the side of the couch, as if ready to spring into action. “Lofton. Is Elaine all right?”
“I want you to stay away from my mother.”
Lofton’s voice sounded as if she had been doused in too much wine. “Excuse me?”
“You know as well as I do that she has not been well. I want you to stay away from her. She doesn’t need this kind of turmoil in her life.”
“I’m her daughter, Lofton,” Libby said carefully.
“An accident by birth doesn’t make you her legitimate daughter.”
“I’m pretty sure she would take exception. She’s the one that set these wheels in motion, not me.”
Her tone shifted up an octave. “Like I said, she’s sick, and I don’t want her being taken advantage of.”
Libby rose and started to pace the floor. “She’s always been sharp and clearheaded whenever I’ve spoken to her.”
“I’m warning you.”
“Oh, wait a minute. You’re warning me to not see Elaine? You don’t get to do that, you spoiled piece of . . .” She caught herself and drew in a breath. “You don’t get to do this.”
“Are you the one that encouraged her to change her will?” Her voice grew quieter, as if she was ducking her head and leaning into the phone.
“A will? Hold on a minute. Is this about money or your mother’s health?”
“Her health, of course.”
“Bullshit. It’s about money. And for the record, I don’t want anything from Elaine other than some family history and maybe one day a friendship. And if you ever call me again, you and I will be having our next conversation in front of our mother.”
“She’s not your mother,” she screamed. “She is my mother!”
“You’re drunk, aren’t you, Lofton?”
“I’ve had a few drinks.”
“You’ve had more than a few. Cut your losses and hang up.”
“She wants to give you Woodmont!” Lofton shouted.
At first, Libby did not say anything. She could not have heard correctly. “Woodmont? She has not said a word to me about that.”
“I don’t believe that. I heard the way you were going on about the gardens and the house at dinner.”
“She told you this?” Libby asked.
“I heard her talking to my father!”
A muscle pulsed in the side of her neck, and she rolled her head from side to side, trying to release the building tension.
“I don’t know anything about this,” Libby said.
“I don’t believe you.”
“Goodbye, Lofton.”
She ended the call and tossed the phone on the couch. A string of unflattering words rolled off her tongue as she paced. She had always wondered what it would be like to have a younger sister. What a little brat.
Libby grabbed her phone and searched out Elaine’s number. She dialed, and her thumb was poised to hit send when she caught herself.
She was thirty-one, and she needed to act like it.
If Lofton thought she was going to stand between Libby and Elaine, she was wrong.
CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN
LIBBY
Thursday, June 18, 2020
Northern Virginia
Take the bull by the horns. That was the motto of Libby’s day as she drove into Northern Virginia.
Guided by the directions on her phone, she wound her way up I-66 and then around the beltway into Old Town Alexandria via the George Washington Memorial Parkway as it meandered along the Potomac River. She had come up here in third grade on a field trip to Mount Vernon, never realizing that she was less than five miles from her birth mother. On that day, she had been so excited about the cupcakes her mother had packed in her lunch box that she had eaten them all before they had reached Fredericksburg.
Thinking about that trip and the lunch her mother had packed for her triggered a pang of guilt. Her mother had done her best, despite her struggles. She had been there.
She turned into a lovely tree-lined neighborhood featuring a collection of older brick homes with large green neatly edged lawns, towering magnolias, and mulched beds of azaleas that had shed their pink-and-white spring blossoms recently.
She parked, shouldered her bag, and walked up the freshly blacktopped driveway. Her stomach churned, chewing into her resolve to have a very frank discussion with Elaine. It was all fine and good to give Libby a journal that detailed Olivia’s first year at Woodmont. She appreciated knowing that, like her great-grandmother Olivia, Libby had trouble carrying a baby to term. And the birth of Elaine’s father was proof that she might have a chance at motherhood.
She climbed the brick steps and pushed the doorbell. After several seconds, when she did not hear footsteps inside the house, she reached for the door knocker.
What kind of a fool got in a car and drove three hours without calling ahead to tell someone that she was coming? Libby rapped hard with the door knocker.
As the silence stretched, she realized this maybe was not a good idea. Irritated that her big speech and grand entrance had failed, she descended the stairs. As she walked along the sidewalk back to her car, she heard, “Libby.”
She turned to find Elaine approaching from the side yard. She wore shorts, a T-shirt, and gardening gloves. “What are you doing here?”
“I came to talk to you. I know you said you would be back soon, but it could not wait. I’ll lose my nerve if I wait.”
Elaine knotted her brows and carefully tugged off her gloves. “Why don’t you come inside? Which should I pour, lemonade or bourbon?”
“Maybe both.”
Elaine opened the front door, and they walked together across the black-and-white-tiled floor to a large kitchen that reminded her of the remodeled one at the Woodmont Estate.
Elaine opened the refrigerator and pulled out two bottled lemonade-flavored waters. “Sorry, no fresh lemonade made.”
Libby accepted the bottle and twisted off the top.
Elaine sat at the center white-marble island on a barstool and extended her hand toward Libby. “What can I help you with?”
Libby took a sip, wondering why her mouth suddenly felt as if she had eaten a handful of cotton. “Who is my birth father?”
Elaine did not answer right away as she fidgeted with the top of her drink.
“We’re in the honeymoon phase of our relationship. Everyone is on their best behavior, trying to do the right thing.”
“You think this won’t work?” Elaine asked.
“It always happens to my relationships. Somewhere along the way it all sours, and I’m left on the outs. I thought my dad was the one guy who hadn’t ever let me down. But he dodged telling me about you.”
“He loved you very much, Libby.”
“I appreciate the love, but I need honesty too. Believe me, if my dad were still alive, he and I would be having a very frank discussion right now.”
“I don’t want you to think less of your father. He was very dedicated to you and your mother.”
“I know that. But that doesn’t mean I wouldn’t have had strong words for him. He should have told me about
Olivia’s letter.”
“I gave it to him that day we met in Roanoke for lunch.”
“Why then?”
“I knew he was sick, and I wanted to take what might be our last chance to talk about the truth. I thought over the years he might have had an honest talk about me. I understood why he did not when your mother was alive. He was protecting her as well as you. But after she died, I thought he would say something. I waited, knowing I had made my choice, and it wasn’t fair to break the promise I made to your parents.”
“What promise?”
“That I wouldn’t contact you under any circumstances. And they also promised that they would not tell my grandfather about you. As I’ve said, he had very unbending views about women who gave birth out of wedlock.”
“That sounds so draconian.”
“It was still like that thirty-plus years ago in the rural South.”
“I have already decided I don’t like Edward Carter.”
“Don’t be too hard on him. He was a man of his time. Not perfect. But he tried his best.”
“His best meant that you didn’t feel free to raise me.”
“I wasn’t ready to raise you or any baby. I had been accepted to law school, and I knew the next ten years would mean long hours of work. Olivia saw that. And as I look back on those busy years after you were born, I know I wouldn’t have had time to be a good mother.”
A cyclone of emotions swirled around her, and if she weren’t careful, they could very well sweep her off her feet. “Who was my birth father? Did he know about me?”
“Yes, he knew about you. And believe it or not, he was very kind to me when he found out I was pregnant. He sent me money and all the help he could.”
“But he didn’t want to raise me. Was he young like you?” Anger turned her tone brittle.
Elaine folded her hands in her lap and pulled back her shoulders. “He was much older. And married.”
“Married?”
“I’m not proud of the decisions I’ve made. I could get into the whys, but none of that really matters anymore. But I had to forgive myself a long time ago.”
This was all old ground for Elaine, but Libby was trudging over fresh territory. “Who was he?”
Elaine drew in a slow, steadying breath. “Your biological father was Dr. Allen McKenzie.”
Hearing her father’s name slammed into her like a fist upside the head. “Say that again?”
“Your biological father was your dad.”
She sat back, her spine pressing into the chair’s back. “I don’t understand.”
“I was a senior in college and home for the holidays. I was working in my grandfather’s medical office over the break, and your dad had set up his pediatric practice down the hallway. My grandfather wanted me to be a doctor, so he arranged for me to shadow your dad at his practice. Your father was good humored and terrific with the kids.”
“Everyone always talks about how kind my dad was.”
“He was kind. Please don’t ever lose sight of that.”
“He stepped out on my mother?”
“Once,” she said. “Your mother was on a new round of medications, and she was keeping your father at arm’s distance, and he was upset and frustrated. I had broken up with my boyfriend from college, and we both had a moment where we let our guards down.”
Tears clogged her throat. “Where did it happen?”
“At Woodmont. I had forgotten my wallet, and he brought it back to me. My grandparents were gone, and I had the house to myself. I offered him a beer. One thing led to another pretty quickly. I quit that job the next morning, and we didn’t see each other again for six months.”
“You got pregnant on the first try.”
“Yes. I’ve never had any problem getting pregnant.”
Libby drew in a breath. “Too bad I didn’t inherit that.”
“I’m sorry. Your dad told me about your miscarriages when we had lunch last fall. For the record, Ted knew about that lunch.”
Libby pressed her fingertips to her temples. “When did you tell Dad you were pregnant?”
“I was six months along. Olivia insisted I tell the baby’s father. So I called him.”
“And after you told him about me?”
“He came up to New Jersey immediately. He never once questioned that I might be lying. He asked my intentions, and when I told him I was considering adoption, he said he wanted to adopt you.”
“I didn’t agree right away, but as I got closer to delivery, it made sense. I would always know where you were, and I knew your father would love you.”
“Did my mother know?”
“Your father said he never told her. He didn’t want to hurt her. And he thought by giving her a child, he could make up for our indiscretion.”
“Wow.”
“Don’t think less of him. He did the best he could.”
Her body was numb, as if she had swallowed a gallon of Novocain. “I don’t think you’re right about Mom. She knew.”
Elaine’s brow knotted. “Your father swore to me she didn’t.”
“She was a smart woman.” Libby shook her head. “All the times she took me to Woodmont. She often said the estate was an important part of history.”
“She could have been speaking in general terms.”
“Nope, I don’t think so. She wouldn’t have dressed me up and made such a fuss if she didn’t know something. I think she hoped your grandmother saw us. I think she wanted her to know that someone like Mom could do a good job raising a child.”
Elaine was silent for a moment. “I don’t think your father ever suspected she knew.”
“She was clever. She proved that at the end.”
“Maybe.”
Libby took a sip of the lemon water, grateful for the tartness that cut through the dryness in her mouth. “Thank you for the talk, Elaine.”
“It was a long time coming, Libby.”
“I guess better late than never.” Bitterness soured the taste in her mouth. She hoisted her purse on her shoulder and turned to leave. “I can find my way out.”
“I think we should talk more.”
“Maybe some other time. Not now.”
“Are you all right?”
“Don’t have much choice.”
“Where are you going?” Elaine rushed to ask.
The motherly concern was oddly touching yet annoying at the same time. “No idea.”
“Libby, I’m giving you Woodmont.”
“Funny you should say that. Lofton drunk dialed me last night and said you were going to do that. I told her to sober up.”
“I’ll speak to Lofton about that call. But the bottom line is that I want you to have it. It belongs to you.”
“Your other daughter will not be so thrilled.”
“She’s never shown an interest in Woodmont. Besides, Lofton would either subdivide it for residential zoning or sell it whole in a few years.”
“She might surprise you.”
“I love Lofton and know all her strengths and faults.”
“What if I don’t want it?” Libby challenged.
“Do you want it?”
Libby shrugged. “I have no idea. Maybe.”
“Think about it. You’re perfectly suited for the property. You already have ideas for the place and know how to make it work financially. I want it to stay in the family.”
“We’ll see.” She had always loved that property. “For the record, if I accept it, I would not subdivide it.”
“Good.”
“You aren’t planning on going anywhere soon?” Libby asked.
Elaine raised an amused brow. “I’m staying on this side of the rainbow if I have any say in it. My doctor told me my cancer is in remission.”
“I’m really glad to hear that.”
To say that all the fences were mended between them would be disingenuous. Libby was nowhere near close to processing what she had learned today. “By the way, who do I look like?”
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“Your great-grandmother Olivia. You’re the spitting image of her.”
The drive back to Bluestone felt daunting, especially considering Libby was going to have to fight her way through rush hour traffic. The wedding she was photographing did not kick off until tomorrow. She was essentially in no man’s land.
She drove to Springfield Town Center outside of DC and walked around, buying coffee and a cinnamon bun that was not nearly as good as what Sierra might make. When she wandered into a clothing store and found herself in the baby section, she bought a large soft blue blanket and had it gift wrapped.
To just show up at Jeremy’s house with a baby gift redefined weird. And still she drove to Dale City and parked across from the duplex that the two of them had shared just two years ago.
He had changed the white exterior to a deep blue, and someone had painted the front door a bright yellow. It had to be Monica’s bold choice. Jeremy’s color palette did not extend beyond antique white.
She was not so lost in herself as to actually walk up to the front door and ring the bell. That was the thing crazy ex-wives did. But she wanted to talk to Jeremy. Despite all the crap that had happened, he was still a friend. So she did what any self-respecting ex-wife would do. Texted him.
Hey. I’m in town. Can I drop off a gift for the baby?
The rolling bubbles appeared, stopped, and then reappeared. He was second-guessing whatever he wanted to say. And then finally, Sure. When?
Now. Parked out front of your house. She added an emoji with a chagrined expression.
The curtains in the front windows fluttered, and Libby waved, hoping she did not look like a stalker.
The front door opened; he appeared dressed in jeans and a stained T-shirt, his hair tousled.
Jeremy closed the door and crossed the yard but stopped at the curb. As he got closer, she saw the dark circles under his eyes. He was not sleeping. Which, if she was honest with herself, made her just a little happy.
She got out of the car, bringing the box wrapped in blue with her. Wariness radiated from his gaze, as it had when she had been pregnant and super hormonal. Was she going to unload on him?
“I’m not going to lose it,” she said. “I was in the area and wanted to bring this for you.”
He accepted the box, studying the big bow that had cost her an extra five dollars. “You didn’t have to do this, Libby.”
Honeysuckle Season Page 26
