by Claire Adams
"Penn, I know you are going to say this is only because of my recent recovery, but I really think a change of pace would do you good, help you clear your head. If you can't cancel this next business trip, the least you can do is meet your father and me in Monterey for the weekend afterwards. We should talk. I love you."
I erased the voice message from my mother. It was the third one like that she had left since the charity ball. I was busy with work and hardly had time to listen to her long, rambling messages, but they stuck with me.
How was I supposed to clear my head if everyone kept bothering me?
Phillip was insisting on more happy hours than usual. Bill and Tamara had invited me over for countless dinners. And if my assistant asked me one more time if I was getting enough sleep, I was going to knock him out.
Sleep was the farthest thing from my mind. Work was everything. We had the new fall lines to premiere and the holiday catalogs to settle. Then there was the huge list of potential new products, each one waiting for me to review them.
No one understood why I was determined to test every one personally, but I kept reminding them that is how I built my company in the first place.
Still, the simmering heat of the desert was not very appealing. I faced a three-day trek across Joshua Tree with nothing but a light pack and the latest water-filtering technology. I was going to prove that I could survive using nothing but the fetid standing water left from the rain or the ground water I managed to dig up. I would test the pH of the water and rate the filtration systems accordingly. By Thanksgiving, we would have an entire new line of products, perfect for stocking stuffers.
Christmas, I thought with a wince. How was I supposed to face my parents at Christmas without-
I cut off the thought and stalked around my car to unload my pack. My assistant sat inside the cool, temperature-controlled luxury interior and yammered away on the phone. So far, he'd settled three labor disputes, expedited two cross-seas shipments, and hired a new vice president of sales. All while I had stared at the desert with my thoughts wandering miles away.
I kept thinking about my house in Monterey, leaning on the kitchen counter in the early morning, just waiting for Corsica to come bounding through the door, energized from her run. My mind drifted downstairs to where she had sung like an angel while my father played my sadly neglected baby grand piano. She had shone, actually shone under the recessed ceiling lights, her hair lit up like a halo.
"How can you not be frowning about the weather? I can actually feel all the moisture being sucked right out of me. I'm going to need a facial," my assistant sighed. He reluctantly shut the car door and joined me at the trunk.
"Who says I'm not frowning about the weather?"
Jason cocked an eyebrow. "You're about to tell me it's the perfect forecast for your equipment test: dry and hot. But that's not what you're frowning about."
"I swear to God, if you ask about how I've been sleeping one more time-"
"I don't need to ask. You haven't been and, I'm sorry, but it's showing. And you really should be sitting in on the sales meeting tomorrow. Your new VP starts tomorrow."
I thought about it, long enough for Jason to give me a hopeful smile. Then I shook my head. "How can I announce that our new angle is 'every camper for himself-self-sufficiency in every climate?' It'll mean a lot more if I say it fresh off this trek."
"You won't be so fresh on the other end," Jason said with a wrinkled up nose.
I rolled my eyes and slammed the trunk shut. "Luckily, there won't be anyone around for me to offend. You scheduled for a car to be left for me at the other trailhead. I'll check in morning and night by text, otherwise, you won't see me until I'm showered and ready for a day at the office."
"There's nothing wrong with the office," Jason said. "You designed it. And, you helped build it. I don't think a single person in your company would think twice if you started delegating all this macho-man, tough testing to other people. We get dozens of calls a day from world-renowned adventurers that would love to help out. Plus the thousands of unsolicited reviews that come pouring in to the website. How about we just get back in the car and go get an iced tea?"
I laughed. "That sounds awful. I'll take my chances with puddle water, thank you very much. See you on the flip side."
Jason watched as I marched down the trail and into the first stretch of arid land. The air was thick with heat, but the desert stretched out and the sound of the car door slamming reverberated over the ground I had crossed. My assistant drove away, but instead of the normal rush of adrenaline, I felt hollow. It seemed like I echoed as I kept my pace steady along the trail.
Then, the song reached me. A faint breeze carried it from some far off campsite, but it hit me like a sharp upper cut. Corsica had sung that song. I remembered holding onto the railing, not believing that the same, snobbish woman I had run into on the dance floor stairs was now singing as if she was born with a jazz trio at her back.
I shook it off and kept going, but the desert winds liked to carry sound. The song slipped back and forth across the trail. For the first time ever, I worried that the solo trip wouldn't give me peace–it was only giving me too much time to think.
Three days later, I was still whistling that song as I got out of the shower. I had given in to one gnawing desire and gone straight from Joshua Tree home to my beach house in Monterey. It was irritating how Jason had predicted my change and already sent my clothes along. I yanked a clean T-shirt out of the top drawer and flung it over my shoulder as I walked to the kitchen.
My gut clenched as I hoped to see Corsica there. My mind kept throwing out images of her everywhere I looked, and I wondered if it was like some toxin that I somehow had to flush. I chugged two tall glasses of water before turning away from the sink.
"You're kidding me," I snarled as I looked up in time to see my father sauntering in the front door.
"God, you do wear sunscreen, right?" Xavier asked.
I looked down at the deeply delineated tan my hiking gear had left. "I don't worry too much about tan lines," I said and tugged the shirt over my head.
"You could at least worry about fading all those tattoos. They'll look even worse once they’re washed out."
I ground my teeth. "Is there something you want, Xavier?"
My father smiled wolfishly. "Don't let your mother know you forgot our plans."
"Shit." I had completely forgotten she wanted to meet at the beach house. It was lucky my own sappy thoughts had dragged me there.
"There you are!" Alice swept in the door in a long kaftan of bright turquoise. She had gained back the color in her face and some of the weight she had lost during chemotherapy. Her hair was thinning, but a wide band of bright, white silk covered it up.
I came around the kitchen island to fold her in a hug. "You look great," I said, careful not to squeeze her too hard.
"And you look pale, Penn," she said.
I snorted. "He says I'm sunburned, you say I'm pale. Can't you two ever agree on anything?"
Alice grinned. "Yes, we can. We've set a date for our wedding."
"He agreed to the drum circle and jumping the broom?" I asked, jabbing a thumb at my father.
Xavier tugged down his tailored suit coat. "I'm only going to say this once, Penn; you're going to respect your mother's choices, and you're going to be nice about it."
"Or what?" I snapped.
We squared off, but my mother stepped between us with an impatient sigh. "You two are so alike, so stubborn and quick to mouth off. It's a wonder we ever have any decent conversations."
My mouth went dry, and I turned away to get another glass of water. Ending up like my father was exactly what I was afraid of. I knew I had the same quick temper, the same tendency to work too hard and play too hard.
It was probably lucky that Corsica had taken off when she did, or I probably would have ended up hurting her. I wouldn't have meant to, but I could imagine it happening.
Like the mornings aft
er when my father was so sorry, so crushed with contrition that he could hardly speak.
Then I remembered that I had already hurt Corsica and, because of that, I would probably never see her again. What did it matter, then, who I ended up being like? I was going to end up being alone and I needed to get used to it.
"Speaking of conversations, have you talked to Corsica yet?"
I jumped, still not fond of my mother's near magic perceptions. "Why would I talk to Corsica? She ran off all wounded and probably wouldn't even answer the phone if I called."
The strange wrong number I had gotten the afternoon before sprung to mind again. Like an idiot, I had assumed it was her and had even called her name. The person hung up after only a few seconds, but the embarrassment had lasted. First her song haunted my entire three-day trek and now I was hoping strange phone calls were her?
Alice crossed her billowing sleeves with an irritated look. "Wounded? Corsica has survived far worse wounds than you being a jerk at a society ball. She's a lot stronger than you think she is."
That's one of the things I love most about her, I thought. It was a good thing I bit my tongue, but I was afraid my mother had read that thought, too. Alice smiled and loosened her hands.
"The person you should worry about is you," she said, taking my fingers and squeezing them. "You're too tough on yourself. It's your father's stubborn pride. Ask him because Xavier knows the only person who suffered because of it was him."
My father tugged my mother away and brushed a kiss against her cheek. "It's true. I avoided Alice for too long because I was afraid she wouldn't forgive me. I couldn't stand the idea of her seeing how much that would hurt me."
"But you forgave him," I said. It was a fact that still amazed me, but I was beginning to see that my father really had changed.
"All it took was a little honesty," Alice said.
Xavier scoffed. "That and your own stubbornness making me worry about you enough that I had to see you face to face."
They rubbed noses and only laughed when I looked away. My father announced they were taking a walk on the beach before our dinner reservations. I didn't turn around until they were gone, but then all I could do was watch them walking arm-in-arm.
If my mother had forgiven my father for his drunken loss of control, then I wondered if Corsica would forgive me for my cowardly lie? Would she understand I really just wanted her to get to know me before she knew how much money I had?
The thought stayed with me the entire afternoon. When my parents returned from the walk all fresh-faced and giggling like high school sweethearts, I made up any excuse I could to escape. "I'm going to take a rest and then get dressed for dinner," I said.
I shut the door of my master suite and leaned hard against it. The memory of that quiet night next to the stream filled my head until I thought I would explode. Corsica's sweet smile as she explained the comforts of dressing for dinner, the water of the stream doing nothing to cool my desire for her, the moment she stepped up to the campfire looking so elegant and happy…
Happy. I'd been happy. Then the night turned into one of the best of my life, and I screwed it all up the next morning. I was exactly like my father, except there were no twelve steps to repair the damage my ego had done.
I paced around my suite like a caged animal until it was time to put on my suit. I knew Xavier had made the dinner reservations and it would please them both if I, for once, tried to act like a civilized man.
"Now that is a fine cut suit," Xavier said when he saw me. He slipped out of the guest room and shut the door behind him. "Might as well get comfortable. Your mother is trying out a new look."
"She's really feeling better?"
My father smiled. "She really is. Every second of it feels like a miracle. That's why I was so sharp about your comment earlier. I know you were just teasing us about the wedding, but you understand how important it is to us, don't you?"
I cringed. Even my own family thought I didn't have the ability to care. "You know I'll be there even if you two decide to get married in a meadow at dawn."
"God, let's hope not," my father joked. "We know it's going to be outdoors, but I'm trying to steer your mother towards a garden or something with at least a few vestiges of civilization."
He kept talking about the wedding plans with a smile on his face. I watched him and suddenly couldn't take it anymore.
"I forgive you."
"What?" Xavier asked, taking a step back.
"I know you never wanted to hurt her. I know it was just the alcohol. You've really turned everything around, and I know it wasn't easy. I forgive you." I felt like an elephant eased off my chest and walked away.
Tears sprung to my father's eyes as he stumbled forward to fold me in a hug. "I really am sorry, Penn. There is nothing I can do to change it except tell you I think about it, think about how I was to you, and I regret it every day."
"It's over," I said, my throat hot. "Now let's figure out how to tell Alice you want a garden party wedding."
My father laughed. It took him a moment to steady himself and even then, he kept a hand tight on my shoulder. "Next you have to forgive yourself, Penn."
"For what?" I asked, immediately tense and stepping away.
Xavier smoothed down his tailored suit, but kept his eyes steady on me. "You had every right to hide your financial status. We have to be guarded; it's just part of the territory when you have that much money."
I shook my head. "But I was so hard on her. I made fun of her for wanting money. I made her think that I was better because I didn't need money and all the time, my bank account was climbing into the stratosphere. I made her feel bad for wanting something I was taking for granted."
"So you made a mistake," my father shrugged.
Alice appeared at that moment and tuned into the conversation as if she'd been in the room the whole time. "There are no mistakes," she declared. "There's only what you choose to do next."
"How very Zen. Thanks," I muttered.
My mother swept over and cupped my face in both hands. "You changed directions once, remember? It was drastic and it took you far away from your father and me. But, it brought you to where you needed to be. So why are you so afraid of changing directions now?"
I took her hands and squeezed them, not quite up to meeting her sharply intuitive gaze. "I can't go back."
"No you can't," Alice said, her voice certain and strong. "But you can stop hemming and hawing over the next step and just take it already. You know what you want to do, so get on with it."
I tried to brush off her words, but they stuck hard in my chest. "How about we have dinner first."
My father saved me with another slap on the back. "Excellent idea. And wait until you try the salmon at this new restaurant. You'll swear they fished those fillets straight out of heaven."
Alice stopped and gave us a mischievous smile. "About that restaurant."
My father and I groaned. Every time Alice had that expression on her face, we had ended up trying some authentic hole-in-the-wall where we didn't speak the language and the food set our senses on fire.
"Oh, come on, where's your sense of adventure?" she asked.
My mother was impossible to resist, but we complained the whole way there.
"If I'd have known, I would have eaten at home," I said.
My father held up his hand and whispered, "I would have stuffed some crackers in my suit pocket."
"And antacids," I added.
"Enough," Alice said with a laugh. "We're here."
Both Xavier and I were shocked when we stepped out of the car. My mother, the wild bohemian, had chosen an old-fashioned supper club.
The sign still buzzed with red neon, though the exterior was completely new and very swanky. A gold-colored awning sheltered a red carpet up the steps to heavy oak doors. Inside, the restaurant glowed with candles in jars on each table. The wood-paneled walls offered the only other light from sconces. The curved booths were covered with red le
ather and the floor was a wild swirl of old-fashioned paisley.
"This is great," Xavier breathed. "I bet they even have rare steaks here. Actual rare steak."
I hung back as my parents followed our white-jacketed waiter to a booth. All I could think was Corsica should be there. She would have delighted in the way my parents walked with arms wrapped around each other, but more than that, she would have loved the stage.
There was a small, raised dais of a stage with a grand piano and a row of gilded stalls for a full jazz band. I couldn’t tear my eyes off the single, vintage microphone sparkling under the spotlight. It was like a beacon showing me the first time I saw Corsica sing.
That very moment when I fell in love with her.
"Penn? Are you coming?" my mother asked.
"In a minute," I said, turning back to the front door. "I have to make a phone call."
"If it's work, it can wait," my father advised.
"Nonsense," Alice said. "Whatever it is can wait until we've ordered at the very least."
I had no choice but to slide into the booth and listen to a novel length's explanation of the daily specials. When my father asked about the steaks, the waiter launched into a whole other spiel and I thought I might lose my mind.
"I really need to make a phone call," I said through gritted teeth.
My mother patted my hand. "I know, dear. If you're in such a hurry, you can order first."
"Ladies first," Xavier said. Then, after my mother ordered, he took forever to decide on what sides to have and what dressing would go best with his salad.
"I'll have whatever that first special was. Just the standard sides. No dressing," I snapped when the waiter turned to me.
His eyes widened slightly but he bowed. "Very good, sir. Enjoy the show. Your food will be out shortly."
I stood up from the booth so fast that the silverware jangled. "I just have to make a quick call," I lied. If I got Corsica on the phone and she didn't hang up with me, I knew the conversation could very well take all night. In fact, it would probably go better if it was face to face.
I was about to make my excuses and call for my car when the house lights dimmed and the stage lit up. A band shuffled on, looking relaxed and ready for a good show. My mother tugged me back into the booth. It was a good thing, too, because my legs turned to jelly.