“Well, let’s just say I was busy taking a trip down memory lane.”
Before the interview, Ray and I discussed what I would say. We decided it would be best to tell a different—possibly more believable—version of what happened in my subconscious. We didn’t need the world thinking I was off my rocker. Besides, if I ever decide to pursue writing, what an awesome “fictional” story would that make?!
“How so?” Barbara shifts in her seat.
“Basically, it was like a movie. All of my memories with Ray came back. Everything I had forgotten or repressed resurfaced. I remembered.” I smile sheepishly at Ray.
“What happened at the end, right before you woke up?” She squints a little, encouraging me.
“Grayson came up from behind me and grabbed my hand. He told me how proud he was, and how much he loved Morgan and me.” My chin quivers.
“What else did he say?”
“That he will always love me and that he wants me to be happy. That I should enjoy the rest of my life with Ray.”
“Do you find a lot of people rolling their eyes at your story?”
“No, but then again, I’ve only told a handful of people.” Now I shift in my seat. “I’m sure there will be people who don’t believe me, but I don’t care. I got to say goodbye to my husband, the man I loved so very deeply. I never got to do that in real life, and I needed the closure. He gave me his blessing, and that’s all I care about. That’s what matters to me.”
“Becca got something else, too,” Barbara narrates. “She came out of the coma remembering her relationship with Ray, and was even aware of her pregnancy. When we come back, we’ll find out how Ray and Becca put all of the pieces of their five-year history together and where they are now.”
Ray wastes no time fast-forwarding once the show fades to a commercial. When it comes back, we’re walking with Barbara along the pathway to the new portion of the inn and talking about all of the issues we faced when I woke up.
“Le Maison de Montreal,” Barbara reads aloud as we approach Ray’s beautiful creation. “Amazing. So warm and inviting ... enchanting, really. Such detail.” She looks around inside. “This must’ve been quite the undertaking,” she says to Ray.
“On more levels than one can imagine,” he replies. “This was the most important project of my life. Becca gave me full carte blanche. I wanted to design something that spoke to us and captured our essence.” We continue to give her the tour, making sure to stop at “Boulangerie de Grand-Mère” for some delectable treats.
“Grandma’s Bakery?” Barbara asks before Hazel and Elise, the proud owners, come out to greet her.
Hazel and Elise approached Ray and I when we were preparing to advertise the space in the building for small, tourist-friendly businesses. It was actually more of a presentation—an over-the-top presentation. They had the girls help create a plethora of charts and pictures to showcase why their business plan would succeed. Ray gave me a quick wink and we sat back to listen. Miraculously, our stolid expressions remained intact as they nattered on about the French bakery they wanted to open.
I came across some of the “charts” a few weeks earlier in the girls’ room. I put everything back the way it was and immediately called Ray.
“Hey, baby, everything all right?” His usual greeting for whenever I call him shortly after he’s left for work.
“Uh, yeah. You got a minute, sweetie?” I spoke softly before peeking into the twins’ room to make sure they were still napping.
“Yeah, I just pulled up to the inn. What’s going on, Becs?” I could hear him shuffling papers around, meaning he didn’t put the manila folder right into his briefcase when he got into the truck, like I told him to. I rolled my eyes instead of mentioning it. I knew he had a lot going on that day, what with all of the inspections scheduled. He didn’t need my nagging on top of it.
“I stumbled upon some information that tells me we already have some interest in one of the shops that’ll be available.” What fun would it be, stating what I know from the start? None, I tell you!
“Really? That’s great! What is it, and who’s interested? Shit!” He added the last word under his breath.
“Drop something?” I asked. I was sure something had fallen to the truck floor again.
“Yeah,” he said. “I got it. Go ahead.” I could hear the clasp lock on his briefcase.
“Good thing you put that folder right in your briefcase like I suggested. I’d hate to think what kind of mess would’ve ensued if all of those papers flew out everywhere,” I said nonchalantly. I tried to hold back, but I just couldn’t help myself.
Ray laughed. “I’m pretty sure it would’ve been cringe-worthy, with an elongated Faaaccckkk added for emphasis.”
“Good thing you always listen to me, McNeil.” I smiled and shook my head as I walked down the stairs.
“Yup, always.” I could sense his smile. “So, tell me what you know, baby. I’ve got to head in.”
“Sorry,” I said quickly as I sat on the couch, curling my legs beneath me. “It’s a French bakery, or so I presume. It’s called Boulangerie de Grand-Mère. Simply: Grandma’s Bakery.”
“Well, that’s cool! It sticks with the whole Montreal motif,” he said.
“Yep,” I said. “Any idea who the Grand-Mères may be?”
“No,” he stated. I could hear him open the truck door. He didn’t even think about it!
“Really?”
“No, babe—who?” he asked impatiently as he slammed the door.
“Why, none other than Grand-Mère Elise and Grand-Mère Hazel.” I sighed, ignoring his impatience.
“You’re kidding?” He almost laughed. I continued on to tell him what I found in the girls’ room. “You know, now that I think about it, the four of them have been having lots of hushed conversations lately. I thought they were just planning a surprise for us.”
“Hmm. Well, what do you think about it?”
“Actually, I think it’s good. We’ll talk about it tonight. I’m sure there will be more pros than cons. Baby, I’m sorry, I’ve got to go,” he said quickly. I could hear some of the guys nearby asking him questions.
“Go ahead. I love you. See you tonight.” I heard one of the boys over the monitor, which hastened my need to get off the phone as well.
“Love you, too! Bye, babe,” he said before hanging up.
That night, we did discuss it, and compiled a pros and cons list. Ray was right—there were more pros. First, Hazel and Elise both cook and bake like nobody’s business. There would be no problem gaining interest in their product, we were sure of that. Second, they would be responsible for their upkeep and rental payments which, of course, we wouldn’t want to charge them. However, we knew they wouldn’t hear of us giving them space rent-free. Thirdly, it would mean Elise and Artie possibly giving in to the idea of living with us on a more permanent basis and treating their house in Maine more like a vacation home.
Ray’s men had just put the finishing touches on the in-law suite he built off of our house for them. They would have their own entrance and privacy, leaving us with ours. He offered to build one for Hazel on the other side of the house, but she declined.
Charlie proposed to her in the spring and she said yes. In response to this wonderful news, I clasped my hands together, looked up, and said, “Finally!” I was, and still am, certain that a divine intervention took place. Put that in your hat, Hazel!
Charlie owns a small, cottage-style house not ten minutes away from us. We helped Hazel move there before the babies were born. Of course, Ray being Ray, he went through the house with his guys, making a list of all the maintenance and repairs that he needed to make. Free of charge—against Charlie’s wishes. It was Ray’s way of apologizing again to Hazel. He vowed that he’d always take care of her in honor of Grayson—and my love for her, of course. They’ve become quite close again, and she adores the fact that he calls her ‘Mum.’
Yes, Hazel and Elise are now quite the dynamic
duo! They became friendly over the years, but my being in a coma solidified their friendship on a level it may never have reached had that not happened. Now they’re inseparable. They remind me of older versions of Stacey and me.
“Eh.” Ray cringed when they finally finished. “Don’t take this the wrong way, MaMums.” MaMums is what Ray started calling them when he had to address them simultaneously. He felt ‘Mama and Mum’ was too long-winded, so he smashed the two together. It’s caught on, really; we all call them that when we’re talking to them both. “Your business plan sounds wonderful, and Lord knows you two know your way around a kitchen, but ...” He trailed off.
“But what, son?” Elise asked, not hiding her disappointment.
“Becca and I have enough on our plate without worrying about complaints of nepotism! Besides, you girls are getting up there in years. Not really a good idea for you to start a new business.”
Elise and Hazel both gasped. I decided to join Ray in his raillery efforts.
“If we’re going to be honest here,” I began, “yes, you two know your way around a kitchen. Ray knows his way around a kitchen too, but it doesn’t mean he should cook. Now, what you two make for the family is fine. We love you, so we eat what you put in front of us and smile to protect your feelings. This is a business though, ladies, and while what we’re saying may seem harsh, it’s meant to protect you from embarrassment. I don’t think anyone will buy your baked goods.” I looked down at my hands.
“Baby, they’ll buy them ... they just won’t come back for more,” Ray added. He and I looked up at them again, and I felt the urge to run and get my camera. To make one of these ladies speechless was quite the feat, but to get the pair of ‘em in that state at the same time was nothing short of a phenomenon! I was sure it would never happen again, like witnessing a total solar eclipse in your lifetime.
For several minutes—which actually felt like hours—the deafening silence became a test of wills between the four of us.
Artie and Charlie entered the room. “How are things going in here?”
“You were right, Artie.” Elise slowly turned her head to him. I could’ve sworn I saw steam escaping her ears. “Our son is an asshole!” she stated in a matter-of-fact tone.
Ray pretended to be hurt. “Mama, that’s not a very nice thing to say about your son. Or your landlord, for that matter.”
“What?” Hazel finally spoke up. I gave in to my girlish need to giggle. “Why are you laughing?” She looked to me with noticeable irritation.
“Maybe you ladies should change the name of the bakery from Boulangerie de Grand-Mère to Boulangerie de Credules.” I laughed. “You are both so gullible!”
“Is that what that means, baby?” Ray smiled my way. I nodded, having another laugh.
“You two are awful!” Elise yelled, but smiled in spite of herself. They both started flinging markers at our heads when we gave into the fit of laughter we tried to bury.
“Mmm ... delicious.” Barbara groans with delight. We bid Hazel and Elise adieu and continue our tour of the shops. We get coffee from the Java Café, sister to the town’s Java Joint. The Mini Mad Scrapper is next, where Morgan and Annie present Barbara with a bag full of scrapbooking supplies for her to start an album. Next, we come up to The Book Nook, which, of course, carries all of Grayson’s books, as well as those by many other wonderful authors. Barbara picks up her book, Audition. “I heard this is a wonderful read.” She smiles.
“Only the best in this shop,” I say with a wink. Finally, we arrive at the shop Ray and I are most proud of and excited to talk about.
“Back to Basics.” Barbara reads the sign aloud before we walk in. The works and talents of some local and not-so-local hands greet us. There are quilts, knitted and crotched blankets, sweaters, and hats ... you name it. There are hand-carved cabinets, shelves, and even toys by Eddie Lewis, who does woodworking as his pastime. We have jams and preserves from Elsie Cartwright. We even have pure maple syrup from a local farm. “A quaint little craft store,” Barbara notes as she admires a baby sweater that my own Aunt Tess made.
“It’s so much more than that, Barbara.” I smile.
“Oh?” She focuses her gaze on me.
“Well, when Ray and I decided to renovate the inn, we got to talking about how many jobs would come of it.” I glance over to him and he nods for me to continue. “That conversation led to one about getting the community involved in helping each other out during these difficult economic times. So we met with the Mayor and had a town meeting. Ray and I, along with many others, started the Back to Basics Foundation locally. Basically, we involved everyone we could in creating a plan of action to get people back on their feet, or at least lighten their burden. A town local and friend of ours, Reggie Smith, created a program to help us.”
I stop, noting Barbara’s need to interject.
“What does this program do?” She smiles—I think she’s thanking me for providing her the window to ask. I can be quite the chatterbox when discussing something I’m passionate about.
“It’s a wonderful program. The best way to explain it is to give you an example,” I start. She nods. “Okay. So say, Barbara, you are an avid gardener and have a wonderful garden filled with vegetables or herbs, maybe both. But, hypothetically of course, you don’t have the money to make repairs on your home or car. Now, you come to me. I’m a single mother who barely makes ends meet. There’s only so much my coupon clipping will do, and coupons for vegetables and fresh herbs are a rarity. Thankfully, you’ve given me enough vegetables and herbs over the summer for me to freeze a portion of them for winter. You’ve helped me out quite a bit. I’d help you, but I can’t do any of the things you need done. Sorry, Barbara.” I pat her hand gently. “What I can do is help Ray. He’s a bachelor, and with that title usually comes the need for a home-cooked meal here and there, a dusting of his house, possibly his clothes leaving the washer machine the same color they went in. I can do that! I don’t even have to worry about my kids, because I’ve received free babysitting services from someone else while I help Ray out. By the way, Barbara, you’re in luck!” I throw my hands up with enthusiasm. “Ray is quite the handyman, and he’s been popping in on the weekends, crossing off one or two items off your to-do list while I’m working at his house. I may even be leaving him a casserole or quiche with your wonderful vegetables in it! That’s the Foundation’s plan. We’re all learning how to scratch each other’s backs.” You can see the pride beaming from my face.
“What a wonderful idea! So ... this store?” she asks.
“Everything you see in here was handmade or donated by locals. Some are even from other states! People involved in the program run the store, and all proceeds go to help families with their everyday bills, mortgages—whatever they need. We don’t charge rent and everyone who works volunteers their time,” Ray explains.
“You’ve gotten a lot of recognition for your efforts. Other communities have been asking you about the program.”
“Yes! That makes it even more rewarding. To see people in other areas taking a page from our book. Well, really ... it’s quite the accomplishment to all of us involved.” My eyes fill with tears.
“It’s also a well-deserved compliment. In talking to many locals, we’ve heard quite the buzz around town about you two. Talk of you running for mayor, Ray, when Mayor Brewster’s term is up.” She smiles, as if she knows she’ll catch Ray off guard.
“Uh ... yes. I have been approached about it.” His smile implies he’s both shy and embarrassed. “While I’m flattered, I know that right now would not be a good time for me, personally, to take on such an endeavor.”
She brings her attention to me. “You’re frowning, Becca.”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“Well, Ray’s right. It’s not a good time. That’s what I find so disappointing, because he’d make a hell of a mayor. Who knows, though? Maybe in the future?”
I smile at him, my pride again beaming
off my face.
“Well, being recognized as one of Architectural Digest’s top ten architects on the East Coast is nothing to scoff at, and has probably demanded your attention as much, if not more, than any political office.” She plugs Ray’s accomplishment as we leave the shop—not that he needed it.
“Yes, it’s a wonderful burden,” he says.
“I’m sure many people tonight will find your story encouraging in so many ways. You went through so much, and yet you’re able to leave an amazing legacy for your children.” She smiles as Morgan and Annie approach us with the boys. “Speaking of children, we’ve met your darling daughters already, but your sons have yet to be introduced.”
“Barbara,” Ray starts. “I’d like for you to meet Grayson Arthur McNeil.” He puts Gracie’s hand out to wave at Barbara. Her eyes widen.
“This is Troy Everett McNeil,” I say, making Troy wave as well. He immediately goes for her necklace. Gracie follows suit, but finds her earring more interesting.
“They’re beautiful. Look at their curly brown hair. Hi. Yes, hi!” She gives them her attention. “You know I’m going to ask, because many people besides me would want to know. Grayson? How did that come about, and how does that make you feel, Ray?”
“I named him,” Ray states. “It was ... is ... an honor to name our son after him. He was a great man.” Ray kisses Gracie’s cheek. Barbara turns to me.
“Becca, what, if any, reservations did you have?”
“None. I didn’t have a chance.” I laugh. “He named him in the delivery room. He asked me if he could name our firstborn. I knew the middle name would be after his father, but I didn’t know the first name until delivery. Of course, I reminded him of my power of veto if I didn’t like it.”
“No need for a veto?”
She plays with Troy’s hand.
“No. It was the most powerful, overwhelming moment for me. I am married to an amazingly wonderful man.” I look to Ray again, my eyes glistening.
Goodbye Uncertainty Page 25