by Beverly Long
She shoved the heel of her hand into his chest. “Don’t play dumb.”
He motioned for her to take a chair, and he returned to his. “Yes, I have a son. Joshua. I guess everybody calls him Josh.”
“And you had no idea?” she asked.
That didn’t sit well. “You think I would have stayed away for thirteen years if I’d known?”
“Of course not,” she said. “I said that poorly. It’s just that you and Tilda didn’t date all that long.”
“Only takes once,” he replied. “Prom.”
She rolled her eyes. “Chloe is never going to a school dance.”
“She found out right before graduation. I’ll admit, I was pretty shook up. But then she told me she lost the baby. She says that she thought she did and didn’t realize she was still pregnant until several weeks later.”
“And you were already gone.”
“Yeah.”
“How’s it going between the two of you?” Sloane asked.
“It’s...” He stopped. He’d been about to say that it was fine. But this was Sloane. He could be honest with her. “It’s really hard. I’m angry with her. With what she did.”
“I get that. But you were gone, and you’d told most everybody that you couldn’t wait to leave Roaring Springs, that you didn’t intend to come back. She had to have heard that. And have you considered that she might not have told you because she didn’t want you to come back because she and the baby were an obligation?”
“She said that she intended to give the baby up for adoption but couldn’t once he was born.”
Sloane’s face softened. “The first time I held Chloe, my heart was so full of love I thought it was going to burst. I would have never been able to give her away, so I get that Tilda would have changed her mind.”
“She could have told me then.”
“I suspect she thought she was doing what was best for her child. I had to do the same thing when I left Chloe’s father and got a divorce. It was hard. But I did it for Chloe. And I never regretted it for one single moment.”
What she said made sense, and it wasn’t all that different than what Tilda had already told him. But still, he’d missed thirteen years. “I don’t know if I’m going to be able to get past it.”
She stood up. “I hope you can. My divorce was a messy one, and I lived in the shadows for a long time. And until I met Liam, I think I forgot that happiness is a choice. Don’t make a bad choice and hang on to the anger. You’re too good a person for that.”
He stared at the door of his office long after she’d walked away. She made it sound easy. But he knew the truth. There was nothing easy about this situation with Tilda and Josh.
But then again, he wasn’t exactly known for running away from hard things. As a Green Beret, he was one of the people called in when it got especially difficult.
And speaking of difficult, there was lunch at Colton Manor tomorrow. Tilda hadn’t seemed to care one way or the other if he attended. But he wasn’t going for her. He was going for Josh.
* * *
Tilda tried to focus on teaching but couldn’t get past wondering if Blaine might show up again at the end of the day. Was it dread or anticipation in her stomach? Hard to know.
There was no paper from Toby and no explanation. Raeann came in just as she was packing her bag. “Yay, it’s the weekend,” she said. She propped herself on the edge of Tilda’s desk and let her feet hang. “What are your plans?”
“I’m having lunch at Colton Manor. With Mara Colton. And Josh and Blaine,” she added.
“Oh my God. I want to hear everything about that house. It looks so gorgeous from the outside. Can you take some pictures?”
“We’ll see,” Tilda said. “They’ll probably be pretty blurry because I’m pretty sure my hand will be shaking.”
“Don’t be nervous. My mother used to say that the rich put on their pants the same way as the rest of us, one leg at a time.”
“I’ll try to remember that,” Tilda said wryly.
“I’ve seen Mara Colton at events in town. She always looks perfect. Her hair is perfect, her clothes are perfect. She smells good. Or at least that’s what somebody told me once.”
“Not making me feel any better,” Tilda said. She was feeling rather like a hot mess right now.
“What are you taking for a hostess gift?” her friend asked.
“Ugh... I haven’t exactly been focused on hostess gifts these last couple days.”
“You have to take something. Something cool, yet classy. Probably not wine since it’s a lunch date.”
The perfect hostess gift. More things to worry about. She was going to have a permanent wrinkle in her forehead if this continued. “I’ll think of something,” Tilda said. Probably not, but really, it likely wasn’t going to be the deciding factor whether Mara Colton approved of her. “What are you doing this weekend?”
“Painting the laundry room,” Raeann said.
That sounded heavenly. “Want to switch?” Tilda asked lightly.
“Is Blaine Colton included in the deal? I saw him in the hallway outside my room yesterday, and he is a fine example of a man. If I wasn’t happily married most days, I’d have found a reason to casually bump into him. Maybe I could have pretended to be lost, and he could have helped me find my way.”
“And then when he found out your classroom was next door?” Tilda asked dryly.
“By then he’d be so enamored that he wouldn’t care. Of course, once he found out about the twins, probably not so much.”
Tilda shrugged. “I don’t know about that. He’s good with Josh.”
Raeann looked at her. “You’re not unhappy about that, are you? I mean, that’s a good thing.”
“Of course. I already had this conversation with myself,” Tilda admitted. “The first night that Blaine and Josh went to dinner by themselves. I was...a little jealous that Blaine seemed so easy with it all. I was being stupid.”
Raeann shook her head. “You’re never stupid, Tilda. You’re thoughtful and self-aware, and you just need to accept that this has been a pretty significant change in your life and that you might need more than a minute to get used to it.”
Tilda hugged her friend. “Does your laundry room really need to be painted? Because it would be very helpful if you could come home with me so that you’re available when I need the next pep talk.”
“Call me if you need me. I can paint and talk. I can pretty much do anything and talk at the same time.”
* * *
Two hours later, Tilda and Josh were at her parents’ house. There was pizza and salad and absolutely no discussion about the Coltons. Either her parents wanted to give Josh a chance to bring it up or they’d decided that they were simply going to ignore this most recent development. Given that her parents were not the stick-your-head-in-the-sand kind of people, she thought it was the former.
She was grateful for the interlude. It offered a brief respite when she could stop thinking about their mandatory appearance at Colton Manor and simply enjoy life as it had been for so many years. She and Josh were getting ready to drive home when she heard the ping of an incoming text. She glanced down at the open purse at her feet. Could see the screen. It was Blaine. And for just one sweet second she allowed herself to hope that he had reconsidered how they’d ended their conversation the previous afternoon and he wanted to apologize.
She reached for her cell and quickly realized that she’d been foolishly optimistic. He was simply confirming that he’d meet her at his parents’ house at 1:00 pm. With a heavy heart, she acknowledged his text with a quick Thank you.
Her mom saw her on her phone and asked, “Everything okay?”
She wanted to tell her mom the truth. That Blaine’s return had stirred up feelings that she’d thought were wrapped up and put on a shelf a long time ago. T
hat she didn’t know what to do about the attraction she still felt for him. That...that she wasn’t sure she could bear it if he never forgave her. But her mom didn’t need to be carrying around those kind of worries. “Yes. All good. Josh and I are going to Colton Manor tomorrow to have lunch with Mara Colton. Blaine will be there, too. My friend said I should take a hostess gift.”
“A nice box of chocolates,” her mom said.
“I don’t know. Mara Colton is super thin.”
“Super thin. Super rich. Doesn’t matter. Even if she doesn’t eat them herself, she can always take them to work and share them.”
Tilda smiled at her mom. “Why am I not surprised to know that you have an answer for every one of my problems?”
“I’m your mother, darling. That’s my job.” She leaned in to hug Tilda and whispered in her ear. “You’re every bit as good as any one of the Coltons. Don’t you forget it.”
Tilda drove home, her mom’s words reverberating in her head. She went to bed and there was no relief. She dreamed that she was standing outside Russ and Mara Colton’s house, her fist raised in the air, shouting, “I am as good as any one of the Coltons.” On Saturday morning, she woke up with a dull headache. She could hear Josh already up in his room and figured he was too excited or maybe too nervous to sleep in like he would on a usual weekend during the school year.
Nothing usual about their lives right now.
Now, she walked into the kitchen and saw that Josh had not started the coffee. It was just one more way of showing her that he was seriously unhappy with her. She pulled out a filter from the cupboard, tossed some grounds in, and added water. Then stood there while she waited for it to brew.
Finally, cup in one hand and two pieces of peanut butter toast in another, she walked back to Josh’s room. Kicked gently at the door with her foot.
“Yeah,” he said.
“Good morning,” she said through the door.
“Good morning,” he answered.
That was progress. “You’re up early.”
“Not every day a guy gets to meet grandparents that he knew nothing about.”
He said it sarcastically, a bite in his tone, not at all in the easy, teasing manner that had been a hallmark of his usual communication with her. She was grateful that she was still in the hallway, where he couldn’t see her face, couldn’t see the hurt. “We leave at noon,” she said. “Don’t wear jeans.”
The Coltons needed to understand that she’d done just fine raising Josh. That he had good manners. Was respectful of others. In the car ride there, they’d have a short conversation about all those things.
Tilda took two steps before stopping, remembering her mother’s parting words. She had nothing to prove to the Coltons. Turning, she walked back to Josh’s door and set her coffee cup on the floor so that she could knock properly.
“Yeah,” he answered.
“May I come in?”
“I guess.”
She opened the door. He was sitting on his bed, still in his pajamas. His laptop was open, on the bed next to him. His hair was rumpled, and he looked like the young and sweet kid who’d lived in her house for all these years.
Because he was.
“Actually, Josh, you can wear whatever you want. And for the record, I’m sorry. Sorry that I wasn’t more forthcoming with the truth. Sorry that all of this just got sprung on you. You didn’t deserve this. And believe me, if there was anything I could do to make it better, I would. Because I love you. More than you will ever know. Well, at least until you have a child of your own.”
He stared at her. “I think I just want to know why.”
She could not tell him. It would influence how he felt about the Coltons, and maybe even about Blaine. “It’s complicated, Josh. But believe me when I say that I had very good reasons. And trust me, as well, when I say that we’re going to get through this.”
He stared at her. “I told... Blaine that it didn’t feel right calling him Dad.”
“How did he take that?”
“He said that it was okay, that maybe for now I could just call him Blaine.”
She sat down on the edge of the bed. “Here’s what I believe to be true. Blaine very much wants to have a relationship with you, to be your dad. But as an adult, he also realizes that this is all pretty new and strange.”
“And do I call her Grandma?”
It was hard to think of the very stylish and chic Mara Colton as Grandma. “Not if you’re not comfortable with it.” And if Mara insisted or made a big deal out of it, she would simply pull her aside and explain that now wasn’t the time to push it. “We’re just going for lunch. We’ll stay an hour or so and be on our way.”
“I heard that their house was so big that people get lost in it.”
She smiled at her son. “Nobody is getting lost today. And look at the bright side. You’ll have a good story to tell Isaac.”
He chewed on the side of his mouth. “I’m sorry that I’ve been a brat.”
“You are never a brat,” she said. “You’re a champ. Always have been, and always will be.” She leaned in and gave him a quick hug. “Now I’m going to go take a shower.”
“Are you wearing jeans?”
“I don’t know. I just might.”
* * *
In the end, neither of them wore jeans. Josh put on the blue dress pants she’d bought for him to wear to church on Christmas Eve along with a blue and white button-down shirt. Tilda chose a long black skirt with short black boots and a white loosely knitted sweater. She put on makeup and jewelry and even a little perfume. Then she took an extra fifteen minutes to put hot rollers in her hair.
Who was she trying to impress? Mara Colton? Russ, if he happened to be there?
Blaine?
He used to tell her that she was the prettiest girl in high school. That her mouth was made for kissing and that her breasts were a perfect fit for his hands. It wasn’t poetic, but it got the point across. And more than one night, before that fateful prom night, she’d felt him press up against her, hard. Wanting. But he’d never pushed her.
But just her luck, she’d gotten pregnant the one and only time they’d had sex. On prom night.
She was such a cliché.
They, she supposed, was a better pronoun. After all, while she’d been the one with a baby in her belly, he’d been every bit as responsible. And had been willing to assume it. Had not been happy about it, that was for sure. And the relief in his eyes, upon hearing the news that she’d miscarried, had been sincere.
They left early enough that she had time to stop at one of the small shops in town, and she got a box of expensive chocolates. They wrapped it up really pretty, too. She and Josh did not talk for most of the drive. Six blocks out, he turned to her. “What if she has something fancy for lunch, something that I hate? You know, you can only push it around your plate for so long.”
She turned to give him a look. “Like delicately sautéed pigs’ feet in lavender-infused butter.”
“Or sheep brains over pasta with smelly cheese,” he countered.
It was an old game they played on Wednesday nights when her favorite cooking show was on. Most weeks, instead of retreating to his room, he’d curl up next to her on the couch and try to come up with the most outlandish, foul-sounding recipe he could.
“I’m hoping for cow intestines in a simmering broth of snails and caviar,” she said.
He waved a hand. “Fish eggs. You can do better.”
She laughed. “If there’s caviar, I am so going to enjoy watching you eat it.”
He laughed, too. “I can push that around my plate all day if I have to.”
* * *
Blaine knocked on his parents’ door. His mother answered, wearing a turquoise pantsuit, looking lovely as usual. She leaned in for a quick hug. “Good to see you,” she said.
When he’d found out about the luncheon from Tilda, he’d immediately sent Mara a text, telling her that he’d be attending, too. She’d replied quickly, You know that you’re always welcome.
He supposed he was.
Now, she stepped back to consider him. “You look as if you might be anticipating a trip to the dentist.”
He knew there was a good chance that this lunch could be more painful than that. “I want you to meet Josh,” he assured her. “He’s a great kid.”
“I’m sure he is. I’ve done a little research.”
“On kids?” She’d had five of her own and mostly raised Fox and Sloane, too, after the death of her sister and her husband, but then again, she’d never really embraced motherhood.
“On Tilda. And Josh.”
That didn’t thrill him. But it also didn’t surprise him. Mara Colton prepared and planned for every event and any eventuality. She would not want to be surprised in any way. “And you discovered?” he asked.
“Tilda is the teacher everybody wants to have. Her students love her. Their parents respect her. Got the Teacher of the Year award two years ago.”
He’d not heard that last little tidbit. “What else?”
“She lost her husband to throat cancer. Very rarely dates.”
Very rarely meant that she did date once in a while. The thought of that made his stomach turn. Told himself that the only reason it bothered him was that these men had access to Josh. “What did you learn about Josh?” he asked.
“Good student. Good athlete. Makes excellent farting noises in social studies.” She smiled at him. “That comes from Stella Witman, who works with me at The Chateau, who has a daughter in Josh’s class.”
“Good to know he has talents,” he deadpanned. His mother had raised boys. She was no stranger to farting noises.
“Yes, it is,” she said.
“Mom, I want this to go well,” he said. Since seeing Tilda at her school on Thursday afternoon, he’d done nothing but think about her and about Josh. She’d seemed so tense. Maybe that had to do with the student that she’d been dealing with, but he was fairly certain that it also had something to do with him. He’d wanted to call Josh on Friday but decided not to press too hard too fast. His son needed a minute to catch his breath.