The Patron

by Tess Thompson

  I ran out of the front door toward the SUV. “Mom!” I shouted. Her face lit up at the sight of me. She gingerly made her way toward me over the icy sidewalks. Seconds later I had her wrapped in my arms. She was slim but dense from her daily yoga practice.

  “Darling, you look divine,” Mom said as she drew away to get a better look at me. Her strong hands squeezed my upper arms before she turned back to thank Mikey. A large, bulky man with a deeply pocked face, he also worked as a bouncer in a night club in Louisville. I had a suspicion he was a former mobster in Witness Protection but I never asked too many questions.

  I slipped Mikey a tip before he hauled Mom’s huge suitcase from the back. “Would you mind putting it in my car?” I asked, pointing to where I’d parked in front of the bakery.

  “Sure thing, Miss.”

  A few minutes later, we headed to my car, waving to Mikey as he drove away.

  “Goodness, what do you have in that suitcase?” I asked Mom. “You packed like you’re never leaving.”

  She laughed as she slipped into the passenger seat. “I brought a lot of shoes.”

  “I hope some of them are appropriate for the snow.” The roads had been plowed earlier and were clear and dry. I wished they’d been last night when Garth was out.

  We chatted about her flight and a few other mundane topics as we drove toward the lodge. The flight to Denver had made her nauseous, and she gratefully accepted the bottle of water I had in the car. “I left Moobie with the neighbors. Their little girl loves him.”

  Moobie was my mother’s lazy, fat cat.

  “I’m sorry about Romeo,” I said.

  “It’s a double punch because of the gallery space. I was excited.” She tugged at the collar of her coat. “But it’s not to be. The universe has other plans for me.”

  “Are you all right, though?”

  “I’m feeling better just being here.”

  We exchanged a smile as I pulled into the long driveway that led to the lodge. Decorative lanterns lit the driveway. Strands of sparkling lights twinkled from the front awnings. Soon, the large fir tree would be decorated for the holiday season as it was every year.

  I left my car in the capable hands of a valet and wheeled my mother’s suitcase into the lodge. Warm air blasted our faces as we walked into the lobby. Built in the 1940s, the lodge had a glamorous yet rustic feel to it. A large stone fireplace was a showpiece. Plush chairs and dark wood tables were set before a stone fireplace and facing the large picture windows that looked out to the mountain. Several families with copious ski gear were checking in at the front desk.

  “Should we have dinner here at the lodge?” I asked as we walked toward the front desk.

  “Do you have to get up early for the bakery?” Mom asked.

  “No, Brandi’s morning baker has it covered.” As it turned out, the bakery wouldn’t need as much time and energy as I’d first thought. Brandi’s assistant manager was very capable. When I’d met with her earlier, she’d assured me that she would be able to take over some of Brandi’s responsibilities. I didn’t want to tell my mom too many details because I’d made such a big deal about her being here to help. Mostly, I just wanted her here with me because I missed her. “Plus, Jack’s keeping an eye on things.”

  “Jack won’t let anything go amiss, I’m sure.”

  “Why do you say that?” I asked.

  “Well, I mean, from what you’ve told me, he’s the responsible type.”

  “That’s true. He’s the best,” I said. “Brandi’s lucky to have him.”

  A flicker of pain showed in her eyes. I shouldn’t have mentioned the father subject. She never said so, but I had the feeling she felt guilty over my fatherless childhood.

  While she checked in, I wandered over to the windows to look at the view. The lights for night skiing lit up the mountain. Only a few skiers were out tonight. Next weekend we’d be flooded with ski vacationers, but for now it was quiet and peaceful.

  “It’s lovely this time of year,” Mom said as she came to stand beside me.

  “How long has it been since you were here?”

  “My parents’ funeral. So what’s that? Two decades?”

  “Give or take.” Neither of us said any more about their funeral. We’d made a pact long ago to talk about how splendidly they’d lived not how they’d died.

  “Do you want to take your bag up to the room,” I asked, “while I get us a table for dinner?”

  She agreed. “I’ll freshen up a bit first.”

  “Take your time. I’ll order us wine.” I found us a cozy table in the bar near a roaring fire. Piano music played softly in the background. When a server came by, I ordered us each a glass of chardonnay. By the time our drinks arrived, my mother had appeared. She’d changed into a pair of loose jeans, a black sweater, and flats. A turquoise necklace that had probably been made by one of her talented friends in Seattle hung around her neck.

  Mom tilted her head, obviously observing me closely. “There’s something different about you.”

  “There is?” I touched my fingertips to my hair.

  “Not your hair. Your aura.”

  I rolled my eyes. “Honestly, Mom, you’re such a hippie sometimes.”

  She narrowed her eyes, still watching me. “Have you been having a lot of sex?”

  I almost spit out my sip of wine. “Mom!”

  “You have. I can see it in your face. Who?”

  I sighed. There was no way I was getting out of this conversation without spilling it all. “You remember my neighbor, Garth?”

  "The hot cowboy? Of course I remember him. He saved your life, after all.”

  “How do you know he’s hot?”

  “I looked him up.” She gave me a smug smile. “Even I know how to google someone. What a career he had, too. Very impressive.”

  “He’s been staying at Brandi’s,” I said. “In the other guest room.”

  “Yes, you mentioned that.”

  “And one thing led to another.”

  “Oh really?” Mom asked, even more animated than she’d been even the moment before.

  I shook my head. “Don’t look like that. It was just a casual thing. We’ve ended it.”

  “That’s a shame,”

  “He was starting to get too serious,” I said.

  “And you didn’t like that.”

  “I don’t have any interest in getting involved like that ever again.” I paused to take in a breath. “He was in a car accident yesterday.”

  “Oh no, that’s awful. Is he all right?”

  “He has a broken leg and two cracked ribs. I had this bad feeling that he was in danger after I hung up the phone with you last night. The storm roared in out of nowhere. He got stuck in it and slid off the road. Smashed into a tree. They had to airlift him out of here.”

  “I’m so glad he wasn’t hurt worse,” Mom said.

  “Me too. The whole thing scared me to death.” I glanced up at the server as she set a basket of bread on the table. She introduced herself as Bree and asked if we were ready to order.

  I’d glanced quickly at the menu before Mom came down and knew exactly what I wanted. “Mom, are you ready?”

  “You order for me, honey,” Mom said to me.

  “We’ll both have a cup of the butternut squash soup to start,” I said. “Then we’ll share the beet and goat cheese salad. For our main course, we’d like the salmon.”

  Bree had the rugged appearance of a person who loved the outdoors. She nodded in obvious approval at my order. “Will you share the entrée?”

  “No, we’ll each have one.” The lodge wasn’t known for large portions.

  “My daughter’s a trained chef,” Mom said.

  Bree smiled politely. “I hope you’ll enjoy your meal.”

  “I’m sure we will. Thank you.”

  Mom waited for Bree to walk away before leaning closer over the table. “Are you sure want it to be over? You and Garth.”

  “It was just suppos
ed to be a fun thing. Something casual. There’s something about the man I can’t resist.”

  “I knew it,” Mom said. “Sex.”

  “We enjoy each other that way.” I flushed. “More than we should.”

  “What’s wrong with having a bit of fun?” Mom asked. “You’ve always been too serious.”

  “The whole thing was getting too complicated.”

  My mom lifted perfectly plucked eyebrows. "What does our hot cowboy want?”

  "He wants to take everything to the next level. He’s that type. The marrying kind.”

  “Then why did you get involved in the first place?”

  I looked away from her intense scrutiny, stung by her question. “He didn’t at first present that way. He’s divorced and said he didn’t want anything serious either. We agreed to have fun.”

  “You have feelings for him. I can see it.”

  “Maybe.”

  “You don’t want to because you think you should remain loyal to a dead man the rest of your life?"

  When she said it like that, I sounded crazy. “I don't know. I guess so.” I moved my finger up and down the stem of my wineglass, avoiding her gaze.

  "What is it really?" Mom asked. “There’s something you’re not telling me.”

  “He’s a skier,” I blurted out.

  “What’s that got to do with anything?”

  “Patrick died on a ski vacation.” I knew the minute it was out of my mouth that my mother would pounce.

  “Let me get this straight. Because your husband died on your ski trip, you can’t get involved with a skier?” She folded her hands on the table. Her fingernails were always cut short for her work. Often they were stained from clay, but tonight they’d been buffed into a nice shine.

  “That about sums it up."

  "This is not at all the same.” She touched her fingertips to one of the stones in her necklace. “Patrick died in a helicopter, not skiing.”

  “To me, it feels similar. Too familiar.”

  “Isn’t Garth retired from professional skiing?” She asked this in such a reasonable tone that I knew she was trying not to let her impatience with me come to the surface.

  "He is. But he still skis. A lot." What was it about being with my mother that reduced me to a petulant child?

  “Again, not the same. Patrick hired a helicopter to take him and his rich friends on a very dangerous ski trip in the backwoods. All very dangerous in good conditions. They knew the risks going out in weather like that.”

  Was she resentful of Patrick’s choice to go out that day? She’d never even hinted at this before. What she said was true. The helicopter company had told me the pilot decided on his own to take Patrick and his friends out even though a storm was expected that afternoon. I had a feeling Patrick had paid him off to take them out anyway. They skied all day and were caught in the storm on the way home. This was something Patrick would do, weighing the odds that they could beat the bad weather and get back to the lodge before conditions grew worse. “You know how he was, Mom.” Going with the risky choice had made him feel excited and alive.

  “I don’t know why he had to take that kind of risk. Not when he had you and…” She trailed off, not wanting to bring up my miscarriage.

  “I’m angry sometimes too.”

  “I loved Patrick, but I don’t know why a man with a wife behaved the way he did.”

  “You’ve never said that before.”

  “I don’t like to upset you. My anger is my own to deal with.”

  I took a moment before admitting to my mother something I’d only recently come to terms with myself. “I think if he’d loved me more, he would have chosen to come back to the lodge instead of going out that day in very questionable weather.” I sighed. Speaking the truth was like coming up for air after swimming underwater.

  “He didn’t think about it that way,” Mom said. “To him, it was all a game. One he was accustomed to winning.”

  “I suppose that’s true.” An image of him from that morning flashed before my eyes. I’d been watching him from the upstairs window at the lodge as they were loading into the van that would take them to the helicopter. Perhaps sensing me, he’d looked up and waved. I’d placed my hand over my heart, a gesture to express my love. He’d given me a grin and a thumbs-up.

  “Honey, he loved you.” Mom reached across the table to cup my cheek in her cool hands. “Of that, I have no doubt.”

  Her touch brought the sting of unshed tears. “Isn’t it strange that the quality you’re attracted to in a person can be the very one that kills the relationship?”

  Mom’s gaze flickered to the wall behind me. “Yes, it’s that exactly.” I detected a deep sadness. One she usually kept hidden from me. Was there someone in particular she was thinking about? Romeo or one of the others? “Was there ever anyone like that for you?” I wanted to ask about my father and if it were him, even though I knew better. She’d told me whenever I asked that he’d been a one-night stand. A man she didn’t know well enough to even remember his name.

  Mom took a sip from her wineglass but didn’t answer my question. “You remember Patrick for who he truly was and the choices he made before giving up on Garth.”

  Bree was behind the counter making a racket with a cocktail shaker filled with ice. The pendant lights over the bar were made of blue glass and shaped like teardrops. “I don’t know if I can let myself care about someone again. Not the way I did with Patrick. I don’t know if I’d live through losing someone a second time.”

  “You might not lose him.”

  “People go away,” I said. “In one way or the other.”

  “Sadly, we know that to be true.”

  “I wish it wasn’t,” I said. “Or I wish I were braver. One or the other.”

  “Jack Vargas and I dated in high school,” Mom said.

  “What? Were you serious?”

  “I thought so. But you know how that goes. A teenage girl doesn’t always have the best judgment.”

  “How come you never told me?”

  She studied her wineglass. “I don’t know. You and Brandi are so close, I didn’t want either of you to feel strange.” Mom looked up at me. “He never mentioned it, then?”

  “No, not to me or Brandi.”

  “I was nothing to him, I suppose.”

  “Did you break up when you left for art school in Seattle?”

  “No, he went to work at a summer camp to make money for college and met Malinda and next thing I knew they were getting married. And that was curtains for me.” She said it lightly, but the hurt in her eyes was unmistakable.

  “They married because she was pregnant,” I said.

  “I know. There was never a finer person than Jack Vargas. He couldn’t have made any other choice but to marry the girl he got pregnant. I was already supposed to go the art institute, but I’d hoped there was a future with Jack. I didn’t know quite how it would work, but we’d talked about him coming to Seattle with me. But then he wrote to me at the end of the summer that he’d gotten one of the other camp counselors pregnant and they were getting married.” Her voice caught as she clutched the stone in her necklace. “He broke my heart.”

  I stared at her in amazement. All of a sudden, certain things made sense. “Is that why you never wanted to visit?”

  She nodded. “I didn’t want to see them together. And then, ironically, you and Brandi ended up best friends.”

  “I wonder why he never said anything to Brandi?”

  “Probably for the same reason I didn’t. He didn’t want it to be awkward between you two. Or it meant nothing to him. Like a blip in his life.”

  “Mom, you don't have feelings for him still, do you?" I stared at her, completely thrown by this new information.

  She waved her hands in a dismissive gesture. “Don't be silly. We were high school sweethearts, that’s all. What you said made me think of Jack. The thing I loved about him was the thing that drove us apart.”

  “Wha
t was that thing?” I asked.

  She hesitated, obviously thinking through how to explain it to me. “He had old-fashioned ideals—hard work, integrity, loyalty, kindness. He was like my dad in those ways. All those things made it impossible for him not to marry Malinda. Even if he had loved me like I thought he did, he would have done the right thing.”

  We were interrupted by Bree bringing out our cups of soup. After she left, we ate in silence for a few minutes.

  “They were never happy,” I said. “Jack’s a new person since the divorce. Malinda was kind of horrible.”

  Mom didn’t say anything as she reached for a piece of bread.

  “Jack’s in and out of Brandi’s house every day. Will you be all right if you run into him?” I watched her carefully.

  I could swear her hands trembled when she placed her spoon next to the bowl. “It’s been ages and ages. I’ll be fine.”

  Interesting thing to say, I thought. Was she trying to convince herself?

  “Do you think he’ll find me old?” She touched her fingertips to her cheekbones.

  “First of all, you’re beautiful. Second, he’s aged too.”

  "Is he still handsome? He had the most wonderful hair.”

  "It’s silvery now, but thick. Very attractive. He’s in good shape, too.” I sometimes saw him running along the road that led to Trapper’s.

  I tried to imagine them together. My artistic, eccentric, and sophisticated mother with straightforward, earnest Jack Vargas? An odd pair for sure. Even if they suited each other in high school, thirty years had brought many changes to both of them. Mr. Vargas was Emerson Pass. Tough and ruggedly handsome, made from the finest materials, like the mountains and sky. My mother was more like a fine city sculpture.

  “Mom, you’ll find him different than you remember from high school. You’re not the same person.”

  “Of course you’re right. It’s just nostalgia for an innocent time in my life. Those were happy days.”

  “I always thought you hated it here.”

  “It wasn’t Emerson Pass that I hated.”