Left Turn at Paradise

by Kristin Wallace

Margaret laughed. “It’s amazing. I have another granddaughter. I have another granddaughter,” she repeated, as if she had to say the words a couple times before she believed them. She pulled back. “You’re so beautiful,” she said, her eyes misting with tears. “And so much like your mother.”

  Layla tensed. “You knew her?”

  Her eyes widened. “Of course I knew my only son’s first serious girlfriend. She was a wild one, that girl. Scared me to death. I tried to tell him she was bad news, but children rarely listen to their parents. As if we’ve never been in love before.”

  “Did you really think she was bad for him?”

  Margaret hesitated. “Your mother was bad for herself. Beauty and a lot of hurt going on there. It’s a dangerous combination.”

  “Honey, you’ve kept our granddaughter out here to yourself long enough,” a deep voice said from behind them.

  Layla whirled around to face the porch as a tall, distinguished man with a full head of salt-and-pepper hair emerged. Khaki pants, navy-blue collared shirt, brown loafers. Grandpa…the J. Crew catalogue edition.

  “Layla, this is my father, Phillip Landry,” Colin said.

  Phillip Landry came down the steps and stood staring down at her for the longest time. “Well… Layla.” His eyes filled, and he cleared his throat. Then he turned to his son. “The kids are waiting to meet their sister,” he said, and Layla heard the catch in his voice. The husky edges of emotion he was trying to hold back. He must have been given the edict about not touching, as well.

  Colin took Layla’s arm and led her up the stairs.

  They paused next to her grandfather. “It’s wonderful to meet you,” he said.

  “Is it?” Layla asked, still amazed to find such an open and easy reception.

  “It’s been a hard year for everyone,” he said. “Especially for Colin and the kids. It’s nice to have some good news.”

  Layla passed through the hall without really noticing anything. Then all thought fled as she rounded a corner into the kitchen and spotted the three children sitting on stools at the kitchen counter.

  The boys – one fair, one dark – scrambled to their feet and rushed over.

  “Is this her, dad?” the blond boy asked.

  “Our sister?” the other one asked, as if there were random women showing up at the house claiming to be missing relatives all the time.

  Her father put an arm around her shoulder, and Layla surprised herself by leaning in to him.

  “Yes, she is. These miscreants are Brody and Scotty,” Colin said, pointing at the dark-haired and blond twin, respectively.

  The older girl sitting at the counter stood and Colin held out his hand. “This is my oldest, Taylor.”

  The girl bared her teeth in a semblance of a smile. Of all the people Layla had met today, her sister seemed the most disturbed. More like bordering on hostile. Her father either didn’t seem to be picking up on the vibe or he was choosing to ignore it.

  “Did you tell mom she was coming here today?” Taylor asked.

  She was letting the stranger in their midst know where her loyalties were. Layla could respect that.

  Colin cleared his throat. “Yes, your mother knows everything.”

  Oh, to be a fly on the wall for that conversation. Layla wondered what his soon-to-be-ex thought about him discovering an unknown daughter. Better yet, what she thought of him meeting his high school flame again. She’d left their marriage because of a “lack of passion”. Had she wondered if his passion had already been given to his past love? Did she hear the same things in his voice when he talked about Beth that Layla did?

  It was easier to think your husband simply wasn’t passionate than to know he lacked passion only with you. No doubt Taylor could read the signs, too. She might be too young to understand all the dynamics at work, but she sensed something had irrevocably changed in her family, beyond the addition of a mystery sibling.

  Layla held out a hand. “Hi, Taylor. I’ve always wanted a sister.”

  “I always thought it would be cool, too,” she answered, her lip curling.

  Dreaming of a phantom sister was completely different than confronting the living, breathing, evidence of one. Colin would have a fight on his hands from that quarter if he ever tried to rekindle his relationship with Beth.

  Colin coughed and conjured up a smile meant to be carefree. The expression fooled no one and did nothing to expel the awkwardness of the moment.

  Margaret Landry clapped her hands. Layla was already coming to realize the gesture expressed everything from happiness, to anxiety, to extreme emotional overload. Right now she imagined it was a combination of all three.

  “You don’t look like any of us,” Brody, the dark-haired twin said.

  The blond twin, Scotty, bobbed his head. “Yeah, Brody and Taylor look like Mom, and I look like Dad. How come?”

  “I look like my mother,” Layla answered.

  “Who’s your Mom?” Brody asked. “Why didn’t you know Daddy was your Daddy?”

  Layla shot a ‘what do I say’ look in dear ole’ Dad’s direction.

  “It’s a long story,” her father said.

  “Very long, very complicated,” Layla seconded.

  Margaret Landry jumped in to redirect. “Colin was telling me your mother has a young son?”

  “Josh. He’s five.”

  “Does he look like you?” Brody asked.

  “Nope. He looks like his father.”

  “Oh, your mom is married?” Taylor asked, with noticeable relief.

  “No. I don’t think she’s the marrying kind,” she said, with equal parts warning to her father and reassurance for a prickly sister.

  Grandma Landry tried again. “Josh is such a sweet name.”

  “He has a way about him, that’s for sure,” Layla said, remembering the feel of Josh’s tiny arms wrapped around her. The sweet smile and innocent trust in his eyes.

  “You’ve met him then?” Margaret asked, keeping up the effort to avoid any awkward silences.

  “Oh yes. I’ve got family coming out of the woodwork these days. Every time I turn around there’s another one.”

  “How is your grandmother handling all this?” Phillip Landry asked. “Dr. McCarthy was such a force to be reckoned with. Remarkable woman.”

  Suddenly Layla could almost sympathize with Beth. Had similar words of praise poured forth every time someone opened their mouths around her? Had she waited for someone to compliment her, only to be compared to the much-vaunted Dr. Barbara McCarthy?

  Layla could recall similar instances when she’d been growing up. Even strangers would comment. Of course, the reverential tone was usually replaced by one bordering on contempt when it had come to Layla’s mother. Had the sneers started before Beth had run away? Before she’d really done anything to merit such judgment? Or had being pretty been enough to have her dismissed as stupid and trashy?

  “Why don’t we eat lunch?” Margaret Landry suggested.

  She didn’t wait for assent, but lined up the troops and gave out marching orders. Brody and Scotty were assigned to silverware, while Taylor put out the plates. Her father and grandfather – adding the words “father” and “grandfather” to her vocabulary really would take some getting used to – brought food to the table.

  When everything was set to her satisfaction, and everyone seated, Margaret held out her hands. They all joined hands and bowed their heads.

  “Dear Lord, thank you for this glorious day,” Margaret prayed. “You’ve given us so many blessings, and now we have one more in Layla. Thank you for bringing her into our lives. I pray she will come to love us as much as we already love her. Amen.”

  Layla bit her lip, wondering how she was supposed to eat when she had a lump in her throat the size of a boulder. To her right, her new grandfather squeezed her hand. She angled her chin in that direction. He smiled and winked.

  If anyone else at the table suffered a similar effect from the simple prayer, they didn’t show
it. The boys descended on the lunch like a pair of wild dogs. Taylor tucked in too, probably knowing from experience that she’d be left out in the cold if she didn’t. Layla hesitated, not wanting to lose a limb if she invaded the twins’ space.

  Colin put a hand out. “Boys, we have a guest. Let Layla get some food before you devour it all.”

  The boys halted mid-bite. They shared a moment of silent communication and then both set down their forks and sat back. “Sorry,” Brody said. “You first.”

  “Yeah, you first,” Scotty echoed.

  Layla served herself quickly and then tried to relax enough to actually eat. Fortunately, the twins made it easy to blend into the background.

  “Dad, you know how it’s our birthday next month?” Brody began.

  Scotty picked up the cue. “And you said we should tell you what we wanted?”

  “I said that?” Colin widened his eyes in surprise. Then he glanced at Layla and winked.

  Two heads bobbed in unison. “Uh huh.”

  The twins shared another moment of ESP, and then Brody launched into the sell. “We think a skateboard would be cool. We looked ‘em up on the Internet and found the best deal.”

  “A skateboard would be good exercise, and it’s a lot cheaper than the car Taylor wants for her birthday next year,” Scotty continued.

  The teenager let out an outraged squeal. “Shut up, you little twerps!”

  “Taylor Landry…” Colin warned with such authority that even Layla straightened in her seat.

  Taylor rolled her eyes and sent Layla a “brothers are so dumb” look, a gesture of sisterly solidarity that touched her beyond reason.

  “I’ll think about skateboards,” Colin said.

  “That’s what you said about a car,” Taylor muttered under her breath.

  Margaret Landry rolled her eyes in Layla’s direction. “Teenagers,” she murmured, letting Layla know she’d been recruited as a member of team “Save Us From Teenaged Angst”. “What do you want for your birthday then, Taylor?”

  “There are these jeans I’ve been wanting,” she said, apparently forgetting her disgust with the male members of her family.

  “Don’t you have a closet full of jeans at home?” Colin asked, with apparent sincerity that said he didn’t understand teenaged girls too well.

  “Dad…” Taylor said on a long, sing-songy, you’re-so-clueless groan.

  Colin ignored the sass and turned to his father. “Dad, Layla told me she owned a marketing firm in Miami,” he said, obviously trying to include Layla. He’d picked the one subject she would do anything to avoid, however.

  Phillip Landry turned to her, with a pleased smile. “Did you? So, that’s where those genes went. None of my children followed in my footsteps. What’s the name of your firm?”

  “It was called LM Concepts, but we had to close.”

  He nodded in sympathy. “The economy has been tough on businesses, especially marketing and advertising. That’s always the first thing to be cut from budgets.”

  “I suppose,” Layla said, deciding to let everyone believe that version of events. Her new family didn’t need to know she’d been duped.

  Margaret Landry patted her husband’s hand with teasing affection. “Now that my better half has retired he’s thinking about a second career in landscaping.”

  “I don’t want to do it for money,” Phillip said, with a chuckle. “That would spoil the fun. I like making things grow, though.”

  “Papa, are you gonna enter your orchids in the Harvest Festival this year?” Brody asked. “You said you want that blue ribbon.”

  “I’m thinking about it.”

  Layla remembered the annual Harvest Festival, which was held the first weekend in October. Artists from across the state came to set up booths. At night there were hay rides and campfires. The last night was devoted to the big dance. But the real action came courtesy of the contests. There were categories for pies and cakes, jellies and other preserves, vegetables, and then flowering plants—roses and orchids among them. Winning a category was a huge deal.

  As lunch progressed, Layla forgot to be nervous and instead, listened to the meandering conversations. They all seemed to speak in a sort of code that only they understood. She wondered what it would have been like to grow up surrounded by what amounted to chaos. If Beth had made different choices, Layla might have had the chance.

  Of course, Layla knew things might have been very difficult, too. Two teenagers with no money and no education struggling to raise a baby would not have looked like this group. Then too, her siblings would not exist. Layla might have just met them, but she already felt a faint tug of emotion when she looked at them. Even for prickly Taylor. They hadn’t asked to have their world upended, and they’d handled themselves with more grace than she had mustered thus far. Layla was coming to realize that every choice had consequences. Some of the consequences were destructive, others were blessings.

  Maybe some things were just meant to be. Like Gran getting a second chance at motherhood. Josh being the person who saved her mother. Colin having the chance to become a doctor and help other people through his research.

  Or maybe she was simply stretching to find a way to forgive her mother.

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Movers arrived at The Paradise the next morning with new carpet for the dining room. Three burly men took over, moving all the tables and booths out of the way and stuffing them in every conceivable space in the theatre, including the stage, the back hallway, her office, the dressing rooms, prop room, lobby, and even the kitchen. The Paradise had begun to look like one of those hoarder’s homes on TV.

  Layla lasted about an hour before deciding to take the day off. She wasn’t getting any work done, and staring at the expenses made her want to reach for a paper bag again. There had to be a way to make money outside of just selling tickets. What could they do with a theatre besides put on shows, though? If only there was something or someone who could help.

  “Hello?” a voice called out from the hallway. “Are there any survivors?”

  A moment later, Annaliese poked her head through the door. “Well, at least I don’t have to dig you out.”

  Layla opened her mouth to give a retort when the answer struck. “Why didn’t I think of it before? It’s you!”

  “Me what?” Annaliese asked, a flash of apprehension leaping into her eyes.

  Layla stood. “Let’s go grab some lunch in town, and I’ll explain.”

  “Good plan. All this dust is horrible on the voice.”

  “Right. Don’t want to do anything that could affect your voice. It’s going to be our ticket out of the red.”

  She frowned. “The red?”

  “Never mind,” Layla said, taking her new best friend’s arm. “We’ll hash out the details.”

  “Should I drive?”

  “No, come with me. I’ll bring you back later.”

  Layla didn’t discuss her plan on the way, even though the other woman did her best to try and pry it out of her. She parked along the street and they walked up the sidewalk together, looking for a place to eat.

  “Are you really going to keep making me wait?” Annaliese asked when they stopped to read the menu at one of the outdoor cafés.

  Might as well get her plan in motion. She took a breath and prepared her pitch. “I want to start providing lessons,” she said. “Singing, acting, dancing. So many schools are cutting fine arts programs these days, and I think we’d be able to attract a lot of kids, eager to learn from a real professional. Their parents would pay for the privilege, too. I think it’ll be a good way to bring in income to help pay for the renovations.”

  Annaliese smiled and nodded. “You’re probably right. I like it.”

  “Good. Because I want you to be our first teacher.”

  The smile was wiped from the other woman’s face. “I’m not a teacher.”

  “No, but you’ve had a Broadway career. You sing like an angel, and I’m willing to
bet you can act, and hold your own at dancing.”

  “I used to hold my own,” Annaliese said under her breath. “It’s been a long time.”

  “So, why not put all that experience to good use?” Layla said. “I know you have some hang up about being on stage, but this isn’t the same thing. It’s lessons for kids. I bet we’d have no trouble attracting students.”

  Annaliese bit her lip. “I don’t know, Layla. It’s a big responsibility. I’m not even sure I’m staying for very long.”

  “You haven’t gone anywhere yet. You obviously don’t have anywhere else you need to be.”

  Annaliese delivered a withering glare. “Thanks.”

  “Come on. You would be helping me out.”

  “I thought you wanted to get rid of me,” Annaliese said.

  Layla shrugged. “That was before.”

  “Before what?”

  “Before you let me crash at your place and started giving me advice about Grayson. Listen, we really need the income. And maybe this is a way for you to put your toes in the water. See if you want to take a bow on a real stage again.”

  Annaliese sighed. “Let me think about it.”

  Layla smiled. “That’s all I can ask.”

  “You are still going to feed me though, right?” Annaliese asked, gesturing toward the restaurant entrance. “You promised lunch.”

  “I did.”

  “Good. Because I burn a lot of calories.”

  “I think I hate you,” Layla said, looping an arm through the other woman’s.

  “Talk like that will not win you any friends, Layla McCarthy,” an imperious voice announced.

  Layla looked over her shoulder.

  Tammy-Lynn. Just great. For a moment, Layla considered bolting, but decided she didn’t want to give her oldest enemy the satisfaction.

  “Go in and get a table,” she told Annaliese. “I’ll be there in a minute.”

  Annaliese looked from Tammy-Lynn back to Layla. “She doesn’t look very friendly.”

  “Tammy-Lynn is harmless,” Layla said.

  Annaliese made a ‘who are you kidding’ face. “Just don’t turn your back. You might wind up with a knife stuck in it.”