Window on the Bay

by Debbie Macomber

  “I think we should go,” Allie said, finding her friend sitting in the cold on the top step of the back porch. Music blared from inside the house, giving Allie a headache. She normally enjoyed hard rock, but it was being played at decibels that threatened to shatter her eardrums.

  Mackensie had her eyes closed. “I think I’m going to be sick.”

  Sure enough, not a minute later, Mackensie leaped to her feet, leaned over the side of the railing, and heaved up everything inside her stomach that wasn’t permanently attached. When she’d finished, she pressed her hand over her mouth and groaned.

  “Can I get you anything?” Allie asked, worried for her friend.

  Mackensie shook her head. “I want to leave.”

  That was the best news Allie had heard all evening.

  Seeing that her friend was in no condition to drive, Allie got the car keys and led Mackensie through the party and out the front door. Noticing Mackensie’s paleness, no one tried to waylay them.

  This was a switch. Mackensie was the more sensible one of the two, or she had been until that night. Allie suspected the change had to do with accidentally bumping into her dad. Allie’d had no idea Dr. Lancaster was her father, or that Mackensie’s father lived in Seattle. Mackensie went by her mother’s maiden name of Nelson, so she made no connection whatsoever that Dr. Lancaster could even possibly be Mackensie’s dad.

  Once inside the car on the passenger side, Mackensie leaned her head back and closed her eyes. “Did you see the shocked look on my dad’s face when he saw me?” she asked, like it was a joke.

  Allie wasn’t amused. The only shocked look she’d noticed had come from her mother. It would take a long time to forget the pain that had flashed in her mother’s eyes when she’d learned Rowan had abandoned Mackensie the same way Allie’s father had done with her and her brother.

  Upset by what had happened, Allie had been eager to get away. In the hours since, she’d had time to think about everything but was still confused and frustrated by what had happened. She’d been good friends with Mackensie almost from the first day of classes. They did almost everything together. Mackensie had made it sound like no one in her family cared about her. But for some reason, Allie wasn’t so sure. There was something about the way Mackensie had looked at her dad when she saw him, and the way Dr. Lancaster had responded to her, though she couldn’t put her finger on it.

  “Are you taking me back to the dorm?” Mackensie asked, groaning.

  “Are you going to be sick again?” It didn’t seem possible that she’d have anything left in her stomach to lose.

  “No. I want to curl up in a tight ball and go to sleep.”

  “I’m driving as fast as I can.” Allie had had two beers herself, which she had intentionally spaced out over the night, as she didn’t want to risk getting pulled over and ticketed. The university police often patrolled the roads around the school, especially when they got news of a party and its location.

  Once she arrived at their dorm, Allie had a hard time getting Mackensie up the stairs to her room and into her bed. Mackensie groaned, fell onto the mattress, threw the covers over her head, and passed out, clothes and all. Allie waited a few moments to be sure Mackensie was sound asleep and safe before returning to her own room.

  It turned out to be a restless night for Allie. Every time she closed her eyes, her mother’s stricken look filled her mind. This doctor was different from the other men her mother had dated. Allie had seen Dr. Lancaster and her mother together only twice, but it was obvious that her mother cared about Rowan. This must have been far more than a shock or a surprise to her mom. She’d read the hurt on her mother’s face, all too well.

  Hurt. Pain. Disappointment. Discouragement.

  * * *

  —

  Up early the next morning, Allie made a quick trip for coffee and delivered it to her friend. She had kept Mackensie’s keys to check in on her. After knocking loudly against the door, Allie let herself into her friend’s room. Mackensie was still asleep. Her roomie must have gone home for the weekend, as her bed was still unmade.

  “Please, be quiet,” Mackensie said, holding her head in her hands. She sat up, leaning against one elbow, and kept her eyes closed. “You sound like a herd of panicked antelope charging through the room.”

  “Sorry,” Allie whispered. “But I come bearing a gift from the gods.”

  “You brought me coffee,” Mackensie said eagerly, and then winced as she reached for the coffee, bracing her back against her pillow and the wall. She took a sip of the hot coffee and then sighed, as if tasting ambrosia.

  Allie sat on the bottom half of the mattress and held on to her coffee with both hands. “Why’d you transfer out of Santa Monica?” she asked. “It couldn’t have been for the weather in Seattle.”

  It was raining, typical weather at this time of the year. Water drizzled against the outside window, highlighting the question of Mackensie’s move from sunny California to western Washington.

  Mackensie took another swallow of her coffee. “I don’t know. I felt like it.”

  “No real reason, then?”

  “Why would you ask?”

  “I don’t know.” Allie was unsure how far to press her point, but, following her gut, she said what was on her mind. “I was thinking it might be because of your dad living here.”

  For a long, uncomfortable moment, Mackensie didn’t answer.

  “You knew he lived and worked here, didn’t you?”

  “Yeah. So what?”

  “But you never let him know you’d transferred schools or that you were in the area.”

  “Big deal,” she said sarcastically, twirling her index finger in a circle. “You want a prize now?”

  “No, but I’d like to understand why.”

  Mackensie sighed heavily, apparently irritated by the whole interrogation. “Why do you care?”

  Allie raised her knees, placed her arms around them, and rested her chin on her bent knees. “My mom likes him.”

  “Great. She can have him. I don’t want anything to do with him, and neither does my mother.”

  Something wasn’t right. Deep down, Allie was convinced Mackensie wasn’t revealing everything about her relationship with her father. Allie knew that Mackensie texted him regularly, demanding stuff. The last request had been way over the top, claiming she needed a new car. Mackensie had laughed when she’d sent it. She’d wanted a new BMW and he’d refused. When he refused, Mackensie had been furious.

  Allie had casually commented that if she had done that to her father, he would have blocked her number. A couple other times, Mackensie had brazenly shared the exchanges between her and her father. Allie silently noted that Mackensie’s father had always seemed to answer in a calm and wise way, when it would have been easy for him to retaliate with the kind of sarcasm she saw in Mackensie’s texts to him. The only reason that Allie could see that Mackensie was angry with her dad was because he wouldn’t let her manipulate him.

  Allie recalled a time when she was about eight years old, running errands with her grandmother. She’d recently had a birthday and gotten all kinds of presents, including two dolls. Allie had seen a doll at the store that day, and she’d begged her grandmother to buy her that doll. No matter how hard Allie tried, how much she fussed, her grandmother had refused, reminding Allie of the new dolls she’d been given as gifts.

  Allie was stuck on that doll, and her grandmother’s refusal had hurt. She’d been convinced her grandmother didn’t love her, so she pouted all the way home. Later, her grandmother had placed Allie in her lap and pressed Allie’s small head against her heart. She told Allie something she’d never forgotten. “Oh Allie, my Allie. I know you’re disappointed I didn’t buy you that doll. You have two brand-new dolls to play with at home.”

  “But I wanted that doll,” Allie replied, with tea
rs in her eyes.

  “I know, and I wanted to buy it for you.”

  “Why wouldn’t you, then, Grams?”

  Her grandmother had kissed the top of her head. “Sometimes it’s much harder to say no than to say yes, sweet Allie.”

  Harder to say no than yes. That was what Mackensie’s father had done. He’d told her no, knowing she had no need for that new car. It didn’t mean he didn’t love Mackensie less; it meant he loved her enough to say no.

  * * *

  —

  Allie waited two days before contacting her mother. She didn’t know what to say, or even if she should say anything. All the way home on the city bus, ideas on how to comfort her mother ran through her mind, all of which she quickly rejected.

  Her mother had worked the same schedule for years, so Allie let herself into the house, timing her visit so she’d be there before her mother arrived home from the hospital. She’d talked to Paul, hoping he had some suggestions, but he was at a loss about what to say, which was unusual for him. He’d sounded rushed and eager to get off the phone.

  Not knowing what was best, Allie started opening and closing cupboards until she found what she was looking for. It was a soup mix, and one of mother’s favorites.

  The water was at the boiling point when the door off the laundry room opened.

  “I’m in the kitchen,” Allie called, not wanting to give her mother heart palpitations.

  Her mother came into the room. She looked exhausted.

  “I made you chicken noodle soup,” Allie told her cheerfully.

  Blinking, her mother gave her a curious look. “I’m not sick.”

  “Yes, you are. Sick at heart.”

  “It’s no big deal, but thank you, honey. That was thoughtful of you.”

  The best part about this chicken noodle soup mix was that it needed to cook for only four minutes. The timer went off and Allie got two bowls from the shelf and filled them close to the brim. She wasn’t sure she’d ever grow accustomed to these new dishes. She decided that now, however, wasn’t the time to mention it.

  “Sit,” Allie ordered as she carefully set the hot bowls with spoons on the counter eating space.

  “Allie, honestly, I’m fine.”

  “No, you’re not. I can see it in your eyes. You’re miserable. Have you talked to Dr. Lancaster since…?”

  “No, and I’d rather not.”

  “I’m not convinced the story Mackensie told me about her dad is completely true. You should talk to him and get his side of the story.”

  “Not interested.”

  Her mother could be stubborn, often to her own detriment. Allie tried another tactic. “What did Maureen say you should do?”

  “Nothing. I haven’t mentioned it to her.”

  This was odd. They talked about everything. “Why not? She’s your BFF.”

  Her mother smiled. “Maureen’s in love and sees everything through rose-colored glasses these days.”

  “Maureen’s in love? Mrs. Zelinski? That Maureen?” Allie couldn’t imagine her mother’s friend in love. “What have I missed?”

  To Allie’s surprise, her mother laughed out loud. “She met someone at the library and she’s head-over-heels falling for this guy. I’m happy for her.”

  She could see that her mother wasn’t faking it; she was genuinely pleased for her friend. That made Allie even more determined to find out the truth about Mackensie and her dad. The things Mackensie had told her weren’t ringing true. She’d transferred from Santa Monica to Seattle for a reason. As much as Mackensie had denied it, Allie was convinced the reason was her father.

  CHAPTER 27

  Maureen

  The night of the ballet had finally arrived, and I was as excited as a five-year-old waiting for her friends to arrive for her birthday party. I was convinced that once Logan had the chance to absorb the beauty and elegance of the talented performers, he’d appreciate this art form as much as I did.

  “Mom,” Tori said, “are you sure about this?”

  I could tell she thought that taking Logan to the ballet was the worst idea I’d ever had. It disappointed me that she’d even ask this question. She’d unexpectedly stopped by the house as I was looking through my closet for an appropriate dress.

  “Of course, I’m sure,” I insisted, not taking her seriously. She was a fan of both opera and ballet herself. From the time she was five years old, I’d taken her to both. Her husband, Jonathan, had never joined us, insisting this was a mother-daughter thing.

  “Logan likes sports,” Tori felt obliged to remind me. “Manly sports like hockey and football. Watching men leap into the air and lift women over their heads most likely is not his thing.”

  “You’ve misjudged Logan. Yes, he does appreciate sports, which is my point. Ballet dancers are every bit as athletic as those macho football players he admires so much.” I’d like to see one of those linebackers dance on his toes. The image that flew into my mind was enough to make me squelch a laugh.

  “Help me decide what dress to wear,” I said, not wanting to argue with my daughter. She didn’t know Logan as well as I did. He might work on a construction crew, but he was cultured. The books he chose to read assured me as much.

  Sitting on the end of my bed, Tori crossed her legs and leaned back, resting her weight on her elbows. “You genuinely like this guy, don’t you?”

  Immediately I opened my mouth to deny it, and, to my amazement, I found I couldn’t. Ever since the dinner at his house, he’d dominated my thoughts. The beautiful, romantic words he’d said had filled my heart. All these years, I’d hoped to fall in love again and had naturally assumed it would be with a teacher or maybe a researcher. Instead I’d fallen for a plumber.

  A plumber, for the love of heaven, one who had taught me things about myself that I’d never suspected.

  A smile so wide broke over me that my mouth hurt. Over the years, I’d been around only highly educated men. Several had Ph.D.s, and of those men, I was forced to confess, most had the emotional IQ of a slug. Logan was far more than intelligent. He was socially adept, with a well-adjusted personality. His peers admired him, and the company owner trusted him. I did, too, and I wasn’t afraid to admit it.

  “You don’t need to answer me,” Tori said, satisfied by my reaction. “The look on your face says it all.” She stood up from the bed and gave me a hug. “I’m happy for you, Mom. I’ve been hoping you’d find someone for a long time.”

  I didn’t want her to leave just yet. “You have?” I questioned. It wasn’t like there’d been a parade of men in my life. It’d been more like a slow leak from an old faucet.

  “It took someone like Logan to draw you out of your shell,” Tori continued. “It’s been fun to watch your relationship with him unfold.” Finally taking my request to help me select a dress seriously, she walked over to my closet and shuffled hangers back and forth. Now and again she’d pause to examine an outfit before scooting it to one side to consider the next one in line.

  When it came to evening wear, my choices were limited. I’d been toying with the idea of wearing the black silk dress but was uncertain if it was appropriate.

  “This one,” she said, holding up the very dress I’d had in mind. It was my favorite dress, and Tori had given it to me. The skirt reached mid-calf and swirled around my legs, which I considered my best asset. The matching dark silk jacket had silver threads woven into the fabric. I’d hesitated, thinking it might be overly dressy for the night. Having Tori’s approval was all the confirmation I needed.

  “I had the same outfit in mind,” I said, taking it from my daughter and laying it across the bed.

  Tori kissed my cheek on her way out the door. I was concerned about her; she still didn’t look well, and I knew that deep down she was grieving her lost child from the miscarriage. It’d been hard for Tori and Jonathan
. I’d cried with her; the disappointment had crippled her for some time, but she had appeared to be recovering until recently. The last I’d heard, Tori and Jonathan were talking about trying to get pregnant again soon. Maybe it was too soon. Tori needed to give her heart time to heal, not only her body.

  “Call me in the morning. I hope you know what you’re doing, Mom.”

  Once she was gone, I went about getting ready for the evening. The closer the time came for Logan to pick me up, the more antsy and excited I got. When putting on my makeup, my reflection in the mirror said it all. I couldn’t seem to stop smiling. Tori was concerned about this evening, and her doubts had raised a few of my own. All I could do was hope that Logan would enjoy the experience as much as I’d enjoyed seeing the Seahawks play football.

  One of the many things I liked about Logan was that he was punctual. He arrived five minutes early to pick me up. He took one look at me in my black silk dress and released a low, appreciative whistle.

  “Wow. You polish up good.”

  His comment pleased me, enough to make me blush. I twirled around to give him the full view of my outfit, unable to hide the effect his compliment had on me.

  “You look great yourself,” I told him, and meant it. He’d outdone himself by wearing a suit and tie. He eased his finger around the collar and stretched his neck. He might not be accustomed to wearing a suit, but he made for a fine figure in one.

  Ready to depart, he held his car keys in his hand. “My guess is we aren’t headed to a car show.”

  “And your guess would be right.”

  “When do you plan on breaking the news?” he asked, eager to uncover my surprise. “I need to mentally prepare myself for this evening.”

  “You’re going to love it, I promise.”

  “Okay,” he muttered, but didn’t sound convinced.

  I reached for his free hand and a shiver of excitement raced up my arm. “We’re going to the ballet. Orchestra seating, fourth row from the front in the very middle. Our view of the stage couldn’t be any better.”