Window on the Bay

by Debbie Macomber

  Stunned, I stood frozen as my son walked out of the kitchen. A few moments later I heard the front door open and close. The knot in my throat was so big I couldn’t swallow. After several seconds I released a long, hard sigh and noticed that my hands were trembling.

  I hated that my son had dropped out of his classes without discussing it with me first. I wanted so much more for Paul. I yearned for us to talk this through. It felt as if our close relationship had changed overnight, and all over a lousy job.

  Leaving the kitchen, I went upstairs to my window on the bay, practically throwing myself onto the ledge. Tears fell down my cheeks in rapid succession as I mentally reviewed our conversation. It felt as if my life was falling apart. First Rowan, and now my son.

  When my legs started to cramp, I took a hot bath and then dressed in yoga pants and a sweatshirt. I stuffed my feet into fuzzy slippers and grabbed a box of tissues as I continued to sniffle.

  When the phone rang, hope leaped in my heart as I prayed it was Paul. Instead, it was Allie.

  “Hi, honey,” I said, sniffling and trying to hold the emotion at bay.

  “I heard from Paul,” she said.

  Knowing that they had talked did my heart good. “Is he terribly upset with me?” I asked, holding in a sob. Looking back, I realized that I’d reacted instinctively, angry and hurt that he’d made these major life decisions without talking to me. The shock of what he’d done had overwhelmed me. I hadn’t had time to take it all in, to absorb everything.

  “He knew you’d take it hard,” Allie said. “That’s why he didn’t say anything before now.”

  “Did you know?” I asked, because it sounded very much like she did.

  “Yes,” she admitted, and I could hear the regret in her voice. “I promised on my life not to tell you, but it was hard.”

  “How long have you known?” I asked. While I was happy my children were confidants, it saddened me to think they were comfortable keeping secrets from me.

  “A while.”

  Her answer was vague enough to raise my suspicions. “How long?” I repeated.

  “Okay, I’ll tell you, but don’t let Paul know you found out from me.”

  This didn’t sound good.

  “He dropped out of college the end of September.”

  “September.” He’d been back to school for only a month at that point. I gasped. “He’s kept it a secret that long?” My heart hit rock bottom and I felt the sudden need to sit down.

  “He wanted to tell you, Mom. It’s been hard for him not to. He was planning to talk to you about it when Grandma fell. Then her surgery and rehab…you were dealing with so much. Paul didn’t want to add to your burden. We’ve talked a lot in the last few weeks. He might have waited until Christmas, if it wasn’t for Mr. Owen.”

  That was twice now that I’d heard the restaurant owner’s name. “What about Mr. Owen?” I asked, doing my best to disguise my suspicions. I hadn’t met the man, and already I disliked him. I was afraid that he’d used his influence to convince Paul to leave school and work for him full-time. My hand tightened around my phone.

  “I’ve never met him,” Allie added, as if reading my mind. “Paul talks about him a lot. It was Mr. Owen who insisted it was time Paul told you he’d dropped out of school.”

  I should probably be grateful, but I wasn’t. My immediate dislike and distrust of the man overwhelmed any hint of gratitude.

  “What did Paul tell you about him?” The more I knew about this Mr. Owen, the better. I’d do my own online research as soon as we got off the phone, but I already had a strong feeling nothing would change my mind about him.

  “Paul has nothing to say but good things. He’s grateful Mr. Owen believes in him.”

  “No doubt,” I muttered.

  “He’s taken Paul under his wing, Mom.”

  I clenched my jaw so tightly that my teeth made a clicking sound. My father had been the only male role model in my son’s life, because Paul’s father had failed him. It made sense that since my father had passed, my son would look to emulate another man he admired. This restaurant owner must have recognized that in my son and played on it.

  “Mom, you aren’t saying anything.”

  I couldn’t, and furthermore, I wouldn’t, for fear that anything I said would be repeated to Paul.

  “It’s better that I don’t.”

  “You’re not upset with Paul, are you?”

  “Of course not.” Every bit of my anger was directed at his boss.

  “Good. He’s changed a lot since this summer.”

  I couldn’t help but notice. “When did he shave off his beard?” I asked.

  “When he was hired on full-time. Mr. Owen suggested he cut his hair, and Paul decided to shave his beard off as well.”

  I laughed, which was far from a mature response, but again, I couldn’t seem to disguise my feelings.

  Either Allie didn’t hear me or she chose to ignore it. “It’ll all work out, Mom. Just wait and see. It’s going to be fine.”

  All at once it sounded like my daughter was the mature adult in this situation.

  “I hope you’re right.”

  “I am. Give Paul time. That’s what he’s doing with you. He wants you to think about what he said. You’ll do that, won’t you?”

  “Of course.”

  I slowly sank into the sofa, in the very spot my son had been sitting when I’d arrived home. My heart was heavy, and for the first time as a single mom, I didn’t know what to do. I didn’t know how to fix this, or even if I should try.

  CHAPTER 29

  Maureen

  “Oh Tori, a baby! This is the best news ever!” I was about to become a grandmother. We sat in my kitchen drinking herbal tea and it was all I could do to hold still. That I hadn’t guessed earlier was a testament to how involved my head and heart had been over Logan. I could hardly wait to tell Jenna and Logan, who was a grandfather of four.

  “We didn’t tell anyone until I was through the first trimester, and I’m sorry about the timing,” she confessed.

  “Why would you even think such a thing?”

  “Mom, the baby is due in June, just when you have planned your trip for Paris. You said nothing was going to stop you this time. After waiting all these years, I refuse to let this baby ruin your plans with Jenna.”

  My heart sank. Tori knew how much I’d been looking forward to this trip. This would be disappointing news to Jenna, on top of what she’d learned recently about Rowan. Plus, her troubles with Paul. It seemed she was getting hit from all sides. She didn’t need another disappointment, only this wasn’t something I could avoid. I knew she would understand.

  “We’ll change the dates,” I told Tori. No question. I knew what was important. “Paris has waited this long; a few additional months isn’t going to make a difference.” It wasn’t every day that I would welcome a grandchild into the world.

  “Mom, Paris is a big deal and you know it,” Tori insisted. “You and Jenna have been talking about this trip since you were in college. You have to go. I insist.”

  “We will—no question about it. Just not in June. There’s plenty of time to reschedule our trip for later in the year. Autumn in Paris is sure to be just as lovely as late spring.” I’d been looking forward to becoming a grandmother. I knew a lot of women worried that a grandchild would make them feel old, but not me. My heart was ready to burst. “Now, don’t concern yourself with any of this. I’ll talk to Jenna and we’ll sort everything out. Don’t you worry; your focus should be on that precious baby.”

  “Speaking of Jenna, did you invite Logan to her mom’s birthday party?” Tori asked.

  I wasn’t fooled. This was my daughter’s less-than-subtle way of asking how my relationship with Logan was progressing. I’d let her know she’d been right about him attending the ballet. We we
re fine—better than fine, really.

  “It isn’t my place to invite him to the party,” I said.

  “He’s your ‘plus one,’ Mom.”

  I had talked to Logan about the party, but I just didn’t want Tori to know, in case he decided against attending. Following his lack of appreciation for the ballet, I’d downplayed him attending the birthday party with me, uncertain how he’d feel, as he wouldn’t know anyone other than me. More than anything, I wanted him to go. He had yet to meet Jenna, or Tori and Jonathan. To introduce them at the birthday party would be ideal. It would be casual enough so that he wouldn’t feel any pressure or that he was on the spot.

  “I’ve already asked him,” I finally admitted.

  Tori couldn’t have looked more pleased. “Good. You don’t ever say much, but I can tell how crazy you are about him.”

  “Crazy?” I repeated, and for effect I rolled my eyes.

  “Enthralled?” she tossed out with a laugh. “Oh Mom, it makes me feel so good to see you happy.”

  “You and Jonathan make me happy, especially now, with this wonderful news!” I hugged my daughter, feeling her excitement and my own.

  We broke apart, and Tori held my look. “Seriously, I’ve seen changes in you since you met Logan.”

  “You have?”

  “Oh Mom, Logan has been good for you. There’s a gentleness in you, a tenderness. I love how quick you are to laugh these days.”

  “You’re being silly.” Her compliments embarrassed me, although I had to wonder if what she said was true. I didn’t feel that I’d changed, but for Tori to mention it made me reconsider. Since meeting Logan, I’ll admit that I seemed to have a happier outlook on life. The other day I’d caught myself singing in the shower. I’d giggled like a schoolgirl when I realized what I was doing.

  Tori and I talked for several more minutes and made plans to get together soon. After she left, I called Jenna right away.

  “I have good news and bad news,” I said when the call connected. “Which do you want first?”

  “You decide.” Jenna remained depressed. Couldn’t say I blamed her. She’d been in the doldrums ever since she’d learned that Rowan was an absentee father. He’d gone from green light to red in record time. It would take her heart time to mend. I hated that I was going to give her disappointing news about our trip, in addition to all of this.

  Rather than drag it out, I decided to spill it all at one time. “Tori’s pregnant. That’s the good news. The bad news is that the baby is due in June.”

  “Tori’s going to have a baby? Oh Maureen, I’m so happy for her—and for you—that’s such great news.” She hesitated for a moment, slowly coming to a realization.

  “But…June?” Jenna repeated. “We’re scheduled to leave for Paris in June.”

  “I know. I told Tori that you’d totally understand why we’d have to cancel the trip for June. We’ll need to postpone to either September or October.” I didn’t want to leave too soon after the baby’s birth. Those first couple months Tori would need my help, and I wanted to be available.

  “We can do that. I’ll ask for a change in dates at the hospital; just let me know what works best for you,” she said, without giving it a second thought. “Being with Tori and Jonathan for the birth of your first grandchild is too important to miss, especially when we can see Paris anytime.”

  I wanted to ask Jenna if she’d heard from Paul but decided against it. If she had, she would’ve told me. I knew that the situation with her son had been eating at her. She didn’t need a reminder from me.

  “You okay?” I asked, giving her the option to talk or not.

  “I heard from Rowan. He sent me three text messages, asking me if we could talk this out.”

  “Are you going to give him a chance to explain?”

  “I…I don’t know. I’m afraid he’s going to try to place the blame on someone else and I don’t know that I can accept that. I was falling for this guy, Maureen. Falling hard.” Some part of me had been waiting for this. Irrational as it sounded. Deep down, I knew there was something…only I hadn’t expected it to be this.

  “If you don’t feel you can trust him, then cut your losses and be thankful you learned what you needed to know before it was too late.”

  “I wish I could stop thinking about him.” I could see that her heart was in turmoil. The situation with Paul wasn’t helping. I knew she’d tried to reach Paul, but he wasn’t ready to talk. The irony was that Rowan had been trying to talk to Jenna, too, and she’d turned her back on him, refusing to answer his texts.

  My heart hurt for Jenna. I wished there was something more I could do other than be her friend and listen when she needed to talk.

  “I’ll be fine,” Jenna said. “These things have a way of working themselves out. Isn’t that what you always say?”

  Hearing her repeat one of my life themes didn’t resonate, as I could tell she was close to tears. I simply didn’t know what to say or even if I should say anything. “Paul will come around.” As close as they were, I couldn’t imagine him not wanting to set matters straight with his mother.

  “I wanted so much more for my son,” Jenna continued. “I was desperate enough to consider asking Kyle to reason with him. I thought if I couldn’t get Paul to hear that, maybe he’d listen to his father.”

  “Please tell me you didn’t involve Kyle.” This was a desperate move on Jenna’s part. I could remember only a handful of times over the years that Jenna had reached out to her ex-husband. The last time had been when Allie had badly broken her arm and the teenager had wanted her father to know. Because the break required surgery, Jenna felt Kyle should be made aware of the seriousness of the situation. He politely thanked Jenna for telling him. Then his pseudo-wife at the time had mailed Allie a get-well card, which Kyle had signed. That was the end of it. The man didn’t deserve to be called a father.

  Jenna’s response was half laughing, half weeping. “No. Common sense reigned; I knew it would do no good. Kyle would come back and claim this would never have happened if I’d been a better mother, a better role model.”

  No doubt she was right. My friend needed me. “I’m coming over. My shoulder is dry, and you can cry on it.”

  Jenna managed a weak laugh. “Thanks but no thanks. It was a long day at work, and I need to relax and put all this out of my head for one night.”

  “Let me know if you need me.”

  “I will,” she promised, “and don’t worry about Paris. France is the last thing on my mind right now.”

  “On a positive note, this will give us a few extra weeks to hone our French,” I said.

  * * *

  —

  By the end of the workday on Friday, I was ready to explode with the news that I was going to be a grandmother. I could hardly wait to tell Logan, so I decided to surprise him. Heaven only knew why I’d return to the sports bar to do this. Maybe it was my way of proving that I was willing to make compromises in our relationship. Despite him being most comfortable at events that involved drinking beer and eating overpriced hot dogs, he’d been a good sport about the ballet. So I decided I could do something fun for him.

  After my initial experience at the bar, I knew that I’d need to dress appropriately, so I’d brought a change of clothes with me to work. At the end of the day, I escaped into the ladies’ room and changed into my skinny jeans. They were tight across my butt, but I knew they showed off my assets to the best advantage.

  I’d purchased a new Seahawks T-shirt, too. This was no ordinary cotton T-shirt—it had bright, colorful beads of blue and green outlining the shape of the hawk’s profile. It was flashier than what I’d usually choose, but I knew Logan would approve. I changed clothes and let my hair down. Logan once mentioned that he liked it that way.

  As I suspected, the pub was packed by the time I arrived. I could see it
was the usual Friday-night crowd. I managed to find a table in the far corner of the room with a good view of the door. I wondered how long it would take Logan to notice me. I’d give him a few minutes before I’d surprise him.

  When the server came by for my order, I asked for a diet soda and relaxed in my chair. I didn’t need to wait long before Logan showed. A cheer rose when he entered the room. What stunned me was seeing a woman with him.

  My immediate reaction was anger. As ridiculous as it sounded, I wanted to shout out to her that he was my man and she couldn’t have him. I’d never had such strong feelings of jealousy before. If her attire was anything to go by, the woman was a coworker of some sort, and they appeared to be familiar with each other. A little too familiar, in my opinion. I was about to stand up and let him know how I felt about seeing him with another woman when I overheard one of the men sitting at the bar.

  “Hey, what’s this I hear about you going to the ballet?”

  Logan shrugged and pretended to ignore it, but I could tell he was embarrassed. He stepped up to the bar, and the bartender slid him a cold mug of beer. He seemed to be trying to find a way to escape the question. I noticed he didn’t answer one way or the other.

  “Yeah, Logan. You went to the ballet?” a second man chimed in, sounding incredulous.

  Logan took a big gulp of his beer. “I went as a favor to a friend.”

  Friend? That’s what I am to him? A friend? Furthermore, this wasn’t a favor he’d done for me. I’d paid top dollar for those tickets.

  “Did you like watching all those pretty women in pink tutus on their tippy-toes?” One of the guys raised his arms above his head and did a pirouette. The crowd laughed like it was the funniest joke they’d ever heard.

  Logan included.

  “It wasn’t my thing,” he explained. He took another sip of his beer. “I can tell you this much—there won’t be a repeat.”