“I’m so hungry, I could probably eat poo.” Sarah stood and patted Ollie on the back to burp the eating machine. “You feeling better?”
I cradled Freddie to my chest. “TBD. I just didn’t want to miss this.”
“So I shouldn’t invite Helen, your father, and her two sons for dinner just yet?” Her eyes twinkled.
“By all means. The twins and I can stay in a hotel.”
“A night alone. That idea isn’t half-baked.” She bumped me with her hip.
“Come on, dear. Let’s get some food in you before you really do eat…” I couldn’t reference poo aloud. The neat freak in me stopped that conversation cold.
“I feel like we’re drowning in shit—literally and figuratively.” Sarah wasn’t kidding.
Chapter Fourteen
“Elizabeth.” Peter’s voice drifted out of the speaker on my cell phone and made my stomach shudder.
“Peter. What’s up?” I glanced at the clock on my nightstand. It was a little after eight on Monday night.
“Uh… do you have time for lunch on Friday? I was hoping we could talk about things.”
Was things code for Dad and Helen?
“I do, if you make the trip up here.” This was an interesting turn of events. Peter and I never met privately for lunch.
A clicking sound on the other end of the line suggested he was checking his calendar. “Friday, say around two?”
“Sounds good. Come by the house. I’ll order in. Would you prefer sandwiches or pizza? Or something fancier?”
“Pizza is fine.”
“Is Tie coming?”
He sucked in a lungful of air. “She can’t make it, unfortunately.”
“Too bad. I’ll see ya Friday.”
The phone went dead.
Sarah breezed into our bedroom, wearing pajamas she’d lived in for three days straight. “Who was that?” She settled under the covers and rested her head on my shoulder.
Holding her close, I replied. “My brother. He’s coming over for lunch on Friday to discuss things.”
Sarah remained quiet for a moment, much to my shock. I peeked to see if she’d fallen asleep, which was not unusual these days, but she met my eyes. “Hell’s frozen over.”
I laughed. “Lately, you’ve been full of one-liners.”
“I’m too tired to form complete thoughts. It’s easier to steal a line or cliché to communicate.” Her eyes wandered to the baby monitors. Freddie wiggled on his bed, but he didn’t need attention. “What do you think Peter wants? Do you think he’s learned about Allen?”
“Who knows? My gut is telling me it’s about Dad’s November wedding, considering the invitation we received in the mail today.”
“Weddings do bring families together.” She slipped her hand under my shirt and tweaked my nipple.
I kissed the top of her head. “Hmmm… I think just as many, if not more, have torn families apart. History—”
One of the twins squealed.
“Saved again.” I wiggled out from under Sarah, relieved. “My turn.”
“I need to start adding a dollar to their college fund every time one of them saves me from a history lecture.” She yawned. “Ivy league schools aren’t cheap.”
“So funny. Get some rest. The next shift is T minus forty-five minutes.” I tapped my watch.
She groaned and smothered her head with a pillow.
***
That Friday, ten minutes before two, my cell phone rang. I pounced on the phone, motioning for Sarah to pay up. We’d made a bet whether or not Peter would actually show for lunch.
“Elizabeth?”
“What’s up, Peter?” I couldn’t keep the smile out of my tone.
“I can’t remember which house is yours, and I neglected to add you to my contacts.”
Crestfallen about losing the bet, I handed the crisp five-dollar bill back to Sarah. “1815.”
“See you soon.” He disconnected.
Sarah clapped her hands together, attracting both of the twins’ attention. “Mommy made money.”
Ollie reached out a hand.
“Yes, get used to that. Your other mommy is horrible at bets. You can supplement your income by betting with her. And here’s a tip—she’s so competitive, she’ll make bets on anything.”
Both twins sat in their individual monkey chairs on the kitchen island.
I placed my cell phone down on the counter. “Are you teaching our children to take advantage of me?”
She nodded. “Someone has to.”
“Are you serious? It seems like every time I blink, someone wants me to pay for something. My debit card hasn’t gotten this much action ever.”
“At least something is getting action.”
“Hey, now. These”—I motioned to Olivia and Freddie—“were your idea. Don’t blame me if we’re exhausted. When’s the last time you showered?”
She tapped her chin. “Yesterday, maybe. Is that why we haven’t had sex? The doctor has cleared me for action.”
I covered Freddie’s ears.
“What about Ollie?” Sarah asked.
“Oh, it’s clear she takes after you.”
“What does that mean?” She crossed her arms.
“Ten bucks I don’t have to explain.”
Sarah put her hand out. “You see, Ollie. That’s how it’s done.”
“You see, Freddie. That’s how you wiggle out of a conversation with a woman.”
The doorbell rang. “Ten bucks it’s Mom,” Sarah said.
“Nah. It’s the pizza for Peter.”
Both of us were wrong. Peter stood in a three-piece suit on my front stoop, squirming in his custom-made Italian shoes. “I thought for sure you’d just left Denver.”
“I’m never late, not even for inconsequential appointments.”
“Glad to know where I stand.” I waved him inside. “Come into the kitchen and see your niece and nephew.”
His expression wasn’t receptive, which was why I didn’t give him a chance to refuse.
“Peter. How was your drive up?” Sarah gave him a hug.
Peter eyeballed her pajamas and robe, casually conferring with his Rolex. “Fine. How are you and the babies?”
Sarah smiled. “Best not to ask.” She turned to me. “I’m going to hop in the shower. Let Mom in for me, please.”
“Of course.” I kissed her cheek. “Take your time. There are two of us.”
She beamed. “I might do that. What a luxury to have a shower that lasts longer than sixty seconds.”
“Two?” Peter scanned the kitchen for another adult.
“It’s okay. You aren’t afraid of a baby, are you? You might want to take off your jacket and vest, though. They tend to spit up more regularly than Old Faithful.”
He flinched, removing his layers and rolling up his shirtsleeves.
“Sarah and her mom will be heading out soon, so we’ll be hanging out with the twins. We wanted to give them a chance to see you.” I relished his look of revulsion, which he tried to bury with a nod and a forced smile.
“Hello!” Rose called from the front of the house.
“In the kitchen with the twinkies,” I answered.
“Where are they?” Rose entered the room, nearly stopping dead when she saw Peter’s perfectly styled hair and expensive suit, sans jacket and vest. “Hello, Peter. How are you?” Her tone could refreeze glaciers that had melted centuries ago.
“I’m well. You?” He put a hand out to shake, business-like. And Sarah thought I was the awkward one in the family.
She nodded, in Rose fashion, causing Peter to glance at me out of the corner of his eye. It was oddly reassuring to see him uncomfortable in his skin.
“There they are.” Rose squealed and made gobbling sounds as she pretended to eat one of Freddie’s bare feet. Freddie wriggled in his rocker, loving every second. Ollie demanded she be included in the game by letting out a loud wai
l. Rose repeated the performance with my daughter. “Is Sarah ready?”
“Not by a long shot. She just went upstairs to shower. Can I fix you something to drink?”
“Tea would be lovely.” Rose unclipped Ollie and cradled her close. “How’s the big bad world of finance treating you, Peter?”
Since I wasn’t the one in the hot seat, I admired Rose’s carefully crafted expression, which simultaneously showed interest and condemnation. Sarah had the same touch, but she hadn’t reached Rose’s mastery—not yet at least.
Peter ran a hand over his hair, careful not to rustle his “do” too much. “Okay.”
Just okay? Usually he loved to opine about how hard it was to be a slimy robber baron.
Rose’s eyes widened, no doubt taking note. “Trouble?”
“What? Oh, no.” He waved a diffident hand.
The teakettle whistled, much to Fred’s dismay, and he wailed. “Peter, would you mind holding him?” I asked as I poured hot water into a china cup.
Peter stared at me as if I’d just asked him to eat a live scorpion, tail first.
“Here, take Ollie. I’ll get Freddie.” Rose handed my innocent daughter straight into the viper’s arms.
Peter’s eyes narrowed, and his arms were stiff.
“Go on, cuddle her to your chest and rock on your feet. Like this.” She demonstrated with a red-faced Fred, who started to settle. Unlike his sister, his moods shifted quickly once in someone’s arms. Ollie was the terror of the two.
Peter followed her lead, Herman Munster-like, but Ollie didn’t seem to mind. Spit bubbles burbled from her lips, dampening his blue and white striped shirt. Inwardly, I smiled.
“Hi, Mom.” Sarah pranced in, fresh as a daisy, her hair still slightly wet.
Peter’s face shone with relief… until he realized Sarah didn’t plan on rescuing him.
“Can you make the tea to go?” Rose’s smile conveyed it wasn’t a request.
“Of course.” I poured her tea into a travel mug. “Would you like one to go as well, sweetheart?”
Sarah nodded.
It wasn’t long before the two of them skedaddled, leaving me alone with Peter and the twins.
“Is Sarah’s mom always—?”
“Yes.” I cut him off.
“You’re a better ma—person than I am. How do you put up with her snootiness?”
That was rich coming from my brother. “Years of practice.”
His face remained blank.
Usually, I let out a sigh of relief when Rose left, but this time I’d wanted to go with her. However, I strode to the chairs with confidence. “Let’s move these two into the library.” I took Ollie from him and refastened the safety straps in her seat. Rose had already secured Freddie. Without being prompted, Peter grabbed Freddie’s chair and followed me. Funny how everyone picked up on Fred’s chill vibe. “Come on, Ollie Dollie.”
The doorbell rang moments after we arrived in the library. “That’s the food. I’ll—”
Peter jumped off the couch. “Let me!” He darted to the front door, reaching for his billfold from his back pocket, like Doc Holliday at the O.K. Corral.
“Uncle Peter’s funny, isn’t he?” I wiggled a foot of each twin as they sat side-by-side in their chairs. They loved being in our presence most of the time, and we found it cut down on outbursts. Maybe it was a twin thing. “What a silly uncle.”
“Order enough?” Peter stood in the doorway, holding four large pizzas.
I shrugged. “Food is rare around here these days, except for the twins, of course.” I motioned to the side table, which already had plates, napkins, and silverware in case Peter didn’t eat pizza like a normal person. “Let’s dig in. I’m starved.” Also, I was procrastinating. I wasn’t too keen on beginning our conversation.
“Still have bourbon?” He loosened his tie and undid the top button of his shirt.
“Aren’t you driving?”
“Not far. I’m meeting a client in town for golf. Two birds, one stone, you know.”
“Help yourself.” I motioned to the bar.
“Would you like something?” He poured a robust portion into a tumbler.
I widened my eyes. “No thanks.
He continued to pour.
I chomped into a slice that was burdened with pepperoni, sausage, and Canadian bacon. Peter opted for the barbeque chicken, which Sarah had ordered. Barbeque and pizza didn’t sound right to me.
On couches facing each other, we ate in silence but much too quickly.
Peter jettisoned his plate and grease-smudged napkin on the coffee table and locked his cold eyes on mine, not speaking.
“What’s on your mind?” I prodded. Might as well get this over with.
“Dad.”
“I assumed. Did you get the invite?”
He nodded gravely. “The day I called.”
“Me too. When he announced his engagement, you weren’t shy about voicing your objection.”
Peter rolled his tumbler between his palms. “I know. He took me by surprise; that’s all.”
“This family has a way of doing that.”
He snorted, avoiding my eyes.
“I take it you’ve known about Helen for some time.” I tapped Freddie’s giraffe, which I’d found wedged into the back of the couch, against my thigh, while the theme song to Jaws played in my mind.
“Correct. You?”
“I didn’t know about Dad and—not until Maddie told me on your wedding day.”
Peter bolted from his chair, silently fortunately, so as not to upset the twins. “She had no right—” he whispered.
“That’s neither here nor there.” I flung my hands up in a what gives motion. I failed to mention that Maddie had also informed me of Peter’s indiscretions and his proclamation to his bride-to-be that it was normal. From the fire shooting out of his eyes, he knew I knew. Was he really meeting an associate or his mistress? If I asked, would he bother telling me the truth? “Are you going to the wedding? Is that what this is about?”
Peter collapsed onto the arm of the sofa and ran a hand over his hair again. “He asked me to be his best man.”
“Really? I’m surprised, considering.”
He nodded. “I don’t know what to say.”
“Do you want to refuse?”
Peter shrugged. “I don’t know the right thing to do. He’s my father and it’s an honor, of course. But what will people think?”
Interesting that he hadn’t referenced our mother at all. I wondered whether he knew he had competition in the son department. If he didn’t, I was of the opinion that Dad should break the news about Allen, not me.
I leaned forward. “Are you asking my advice?”
Peter’s face softened, hardened, and then acquiesced. “I guess so. You know… the family.”
If he meant I knew what it felt like to be the one on the outside, he nailed it. “My advice is that you can’t say no. Jesus, when Tie asked me to be in your wedding, it was the last thing I wanted—but I said yes.”
He took no offence to my saying it was the last thing I wanted, since I suspected he’d been of the same opinion. “That’s what Tiffany said.”
He never pronounced her name in her preferred Tie-Fannie manner. Not surprising, since he never called me Lizzie. Perhaps that was a form of endearment.
“Were you hoping I’d say it was okay for you to refuse?”
He actually smiled, shyly. “Yeah, I was. You were my last hope, really, considering.”
“Considering I’m not much of a family person?”
He nodded.
“Sorry. Sarah has rubbed off on me. And now that I’m a parent, well, I see things differently.”
“Do you like it?” He jerked his chin in the babies’ direction.
“Thinking differently? Or being a parent?”
“Both?” His face displayed genuine curiosity.
“Thinking differen
tly takes some getting used to. It throws me for a loop. Being a parent… that’s totally different. I’ve never experienced something that made me feel this complete, happy, and terrified.” I gazed at the twins, now both happily snoozing. “I don’t want to fuck them up like I was.”
Peter’s spine stiffened. “Do you blame Mom?”
“Interesting question and one I’ve discussed ad nauseam in therapy.”
“You’re in therapy?” His face tightened with concern.
I nodded.
“Does it help?” He avoided my eyes.
“Most of the time. It can be infuriating depending on the session.” I hefted one shoulder. “But it helps keep me sane, and it’s improved my relationships, especially with Sarah.”
Peter stood and walked to the bay window. “I’ve known about Dad and Helen for years. I wasn’t sure why Dad introduced me to her, but I wish he hadn’t. I thought it was normal, and that ended up costing me.”
Even with his back to me, I could sense the pain on his face.
“Can you fix it?” I asked. “My therapist likes to say, ‘It’s never too late.’”
He remained quiet, lost in his own thoughts. Finally, he let out a snort. “I never realized how miserable Mom was… until Maddie…” He left the rest unsaid.
“I didn’t either, really. It couldn’t have been easy, for either one of them.” If we were going down our family’s rabbit hole, I needed a drink, but I was in charge of the babies. “You need a refill?”
He nodded.
When I handed him another full tumbler, he peered into my eyes with a sadness I’d never seen before.
I retook my seat on the couch. “I knew Mom was unhappy, but I never suspected about Dad and Helen. How long did it go on?”
“Years,” he mumbled over the rim of his tumbler.
“Always Helen?”
“As far as I know.” He gripped the glass, and his knuckles whitened. “I suspect there weren’t any others. Dad has honor on some level.”
Did his wry smile mean he himself wasn’t honorable? Was he regretting his decisions, regretting losing Maddie?
“Does that make it better or worse?” I meant for the question to be rhetorical.
A Family Woman Page 19