But her longtime best friend had been very persistent and wouldn’t take no for an answer, so here she was in Molly May’s, sitting alone in a darkened restaurant on a Thursday evening. She checked her cell phone to make sure she hadn’t missed a call. Maybe, hopefully, Linda had called to cancel, but there were no missed calls or voice messages. Molly May’s, one of the few fine dining restaurants on the Cape, had several artificial Christmas trees, with soft white lights entwined throughout their fake branches. Christmas tunes played quietly in the background. At least they hadn’t gone into overboard mode as far as the decorating went, Brandy thought as she waited for Linda to arrive.
She was about to prepare to leave when Linda came rushing over to the table. “Sorry I’m late. Dylan was delayed getting home, and I hadn’t lined up a sitter. I thought if I called, you would just beg off, so here I am,” she said, then pulled out the chair across from Brandy.
As usual, Linda was impeccably dressed. She wore navy slacks with a navy-and-cream pinstriped blouse, low heels, and always-perfect hair and makeup. Where she found the time with three girls, Brandy hadn’t a clue. Despite her shortened hair and fancy manicure, Brandy still felt dowdy beside her.
“What’s so important that we have to have dinner? You could have called. I’m exhausted,” Brandy said, her tone grudging.
Linda squinted her eyes when she looked at her. “Are you serious? Can’t two girls have dinner together? Two best friends? Do I need a reason to invite you?”
Brandy shook her head side to side. “No. I’m just tired. We’re putting up that twelve-foot tree at the library, and everyone who agreed to come in and help decorate canceled. Andrea told me I would have to do it myself. So that’s why I’m so cranky. I’ve been lifting boxes and climbing up and down a ladder all day. I hope you and George aren’t behind this.”
Linda smiled mischievously. “Whoa! I guess this calls for a celebration.” She waved to a passing waiter. “We’d like to see the wine list.”
Incredulous, Brandy asked, “You think my aching back is cause for a celebration?”
“No. I think the fact that you’re actually participating in something Christmasy calls for a celebration. A good bottle of wine, and your aches and pains will be history.” Linda took the wine list the waiter gave her, choosing a bottle of 2009 Lang & Reed North Coast Cabernet Franc.
The waiter brought the wine to the table. He poured a small amount into the glass. Linda took a sip, then nodded. He filled both their glasses, then stepped aside. “We need a few minutes,” Linda explained.
“We do?”
“Yes, I really didn’t bring you here to eat. Well, eventually, but first we need to talk.” She took a sip of her wine.
“Okay. Shoot,” Brandy uttered, her lack of interest apparent.
“Keira called me today,” Linda informed her in a serious tone. “She was upset.”
Brandy rolled her eyes. “What now? I let them put the tree up the day after Thanksgiving. They took out every single ornament Jeff and I had collected. I told them that was okay. I even let Matthew drag out that old plastic Santa that Jeff used to put in the front yard. Is that what she’s upset about? Please, tell me it’s something new.” She took a sip of wine.
Linda hesitated before speaking, as though weighing her words. “She never mentioned Christmas or anything connected to the upcoming holiday. What she did tell me worries me. She was concerned about Matthew.”
“I’m concerned about Matthew myself. I’ve tried talking to him, and all he does is shake his head, yes or no, or give me that darned shoulder shrug. And lately, the kid hardly ever wears any clothing. If I see him in those gray sweats again, I just might be tempted to toss him along with the sweats into the washing machine. He’s becoming more of a slob than I am,” Brandy confessed.
Linda traced the rim of her wineglass with a manicured finger. “That’s what I want to talk to you about.”
“Matthew’s sloppiness?”
“No. You said he hardly wears clothing anymore. Doesn’t that strike you as odd? Being a Floridian, I know we can virtually run around half naked most of the year, but that’s not the case with Matthew.”
Brandy rolled her eyes. This conversation was getting old already. “What are you trying to say, Linda?”
Her best friend took a sip of her wine before she spoke. “The reason Matthew is running around half dressed all the time is because the kid has outgrown his clothes. Keira said he’s been borrowing jeans from a friend of hers and sneaking into Jeff’s clothes. When you’re not around, of course. She said you practically chewed him a new rear end a couple weeks ago when you saw him in a pair of his father’s boxer shorts.”
Brandy felt as though she’d been struck by a giant fist. She pressed both palms over her lips to hold back a cry. Tears filled her eyes, and she didn’t try to hide them. Shaking her head from side to side as though she had been physically hit by a giant hand of disbelief, with a trembling hand, she reached for her wineglass, brought it to her lips, and downed the contents without tasting any of it. “I didn’t know,” she said, her words barely audible.
“That is why I invited you to dinner,” Linda stated.
When Brandy felt she’d absorbed the enormity of her obliviousness, she realized just how neglectful she’d been of Matthew. Yes, she’d provided a roof over his head, three meals a day, and a ride to school, but now she realized that anyone could do those things. What mattered most hadn’t even entered her head. Three years, and she hadn’t noticed the changes.
Riddled with disbelief by her own lack of parental awareness, she finally found her voice. “I don’t know what to . . . say, do.” She met Linda’s gaze.
“I’d start with a trip to the mall,” Linda advised. “The rest, well, you’re on your own since I’m not a grief counselor.”
The waiter chose that moment to return. Linda quickly ordered salads for both of them. Food was the last thing on Brandy’s mind. As soon as he stepped away, they returned to their conversation.
“No, you’re not. Every Friday the library has some kind of grief session. It’s on the schedule as long-term. They use the main room every Friday night.”
Linda raised her perfect eyebrows, a slight smile lifting the edge of her mouth. “Maybe you should consider going.”
“I will. Tomorrow night. I . . . I am a terrible mother, Linda! I’ve been so self-centered since Jeff died. The kids have been trying to tell me this, in their own strange ways, and I haven’t paid attention. Keira’s changed her hair, gotten the piercings, not to mention the new attitude. Matthew’s giving up on his music. They probably hate me by now.”
“Possibly, but they’ll get over it,” Linda replied confidently.
“Thanks.”
“Hey, I’m not here to sugarcoat the situation. This is serious, Brandy. You need to—no, forget I said that.” She held her palm up as if to stop whatever she’d planned to say. “I am not going to tell you what you need to do, I’m going to let you figure that out for yourself, but if you can’t, then I’ll do whatever is in my power to see to it that you get the proper counseling.”
Brandy nodded. “How long has it been since I told you what a good friend you are?” She grinned. “Forget I said that. I don’t even want to know. Seriously, Linnie, I appreciate your doing this.” She motioned to the bottle of wine, the quiet restaurant. “You could’ve chosen to do this in front of the kids, making me appear more of a jerk than I am already, but you didn’t. So, thanks.” For the second time that evening, her eyes flooded with tears, and again, she allowed them to flow freely.
Linda reached across the table and patted her hand. “That’s my girl.”
Chapter Seven
“There’s a swimming pool?” Lily asked, her excitement spilling over the next morning as her father prepared her breakfast.
Ryan had spent the night narrowing down the homes he was considering purchasing. All three had swimming pools, so he felt it was safe to tell this to Lily.
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br /> He grinned. “There is,” he said as he took the bagel out of the toaster. “And one of the houses has a hot tub, too.” He slathered strawberry jam on the bagel before placing it on a small plate in front of Lily. He poured two glasses of orange juice and refilled his coffee cup before sitting in the chair across from her.
Between bites, Lily asked, “What’s that?”
Of course she didn’t know what a hot tub was. “It’s a cross between a little swimming pool and a giant bathtub. It has jets of water.” He stopped. She wouldn’t understand this. “I’ll show you a picture of one, how about that?”
“Okay,” Lily said.
He took his iPad out of his briefcase, made a few finger swipes across the screen. “This is a hot tub,” he said as he adjusted the stand in order for Lily to get a good view.
She squealed, her childish excitement on overload. “Could I take a bath in my swimsuit?”
He laughed. “Well, you can wear your suit in the hot tub if we buy this house. I’m not sure this is the house for us.”
Lily took a drink of her orange juice. “How’s come?”
Ryan shook his head. Lily would ask questions all day if he let her. He really didn’t have an answer for her. “I’m not sure. Why don’t we look at this house after school?”
She nodded. “Okay. What about Grandma? It’s Friday.”
Every Friday Lily spent the evening with Nan and Phillip while he attended the grief sessions at the library. He decided tonight would be his last night attending. He’d learned how to handle his grief, and if he were totally honest, he was finished mourning Anna. He would always have a special place in his heart for her, but he knew she would want him to move on. He would make the announcement tonight at the meeting. He’d take Lily to her grandparents’ after they looked at the house with the hot tub.
“It’s okay. We have time to see the house before I drop you off. Now,”—he returned his iPad to his briefcase—“if you’re finished, it’s time to go. The principal can’t be late for school,” he teased. “I wouldn’t want to have to give myself a tardy slip.”
Lily snickered. “Daddy! You can’t do that.”
“Of course I can. I have to be on time, too. Remember, principals set an example for the students?”
“But what if you’re sick or . . . break your leg? Or die? Like Mommy. You won’t get a tardy slip, right?” Lily asked as she put her saucer and glass in the dishwasher. “Are you dying soon? ’Cause I don’t want to stay with Grandma. I want to stay with . . . someone else whose house doesn’t smell like a cat box.”
Ryan felt as though he’d been sucker punched. How did one answer such a question, and to an eight-year-old who was wise beyond her years?
“Lily, that’s not a nice thing to say about Grandma” was all he could come up with. He did not want to talk about dying. Not today, when he’d just made life-changing decisions affecting both of them.
“Sorry, Dad. Let’s go, or I’ll be late,” she said.
A typical eight-year-old. One minute they’re talking about dying and smelly cat boxes, then she’s worrying about getting to school on time. For once, Ryan was glad of his daughter’s ability to switch topics before he even had a chance to formulate an answer.
“Yep, we can’t be late. Grab your book bag,” he said as he clicked the dishwasher on.
Fifteen minutes later, they arrived at school with plans to see the house with the hot tub.
“Dad, if we like this house, what are we going to do with our old house?” Lily asked, as they entered the school.
“We will sell it to another family. It’s a great house.”
“Then why are we moving? Is it because you want that hot tub? I do,” Lily said in her matter-of-fact way.
He laughed. “It’s time we had a pool. You’re going to want to have pool parties when you get older, and I decided I’d better start looking for a house with a pool before they’re all gone.”
“Dad,” Lily singsonged. “If there aren’t any houses to move into, you have to build one. Cara’s mom said they are building a new house because she’s sick of the repair bills. Is that why we’re moving?”
Inside, Ryan took the keys to his office from his pocket and unlocked the door, motioning for Lily to enter. They still had fifteen minutes before the buses and car riders were due to arrive. Lily didn’t always come to his office with him, but today he felt like they needed some privacy so he could continue this conversation. He didn’t want her to tell Mrs. Pellegrino, her first-grade teacher, about the upcoming move for fear the entire staff would find out. Mrs. Pellegrino was a superb teacher but she loved to discuss private things with some of the other teachers. He wanted to make it clear to Lily that this had to be their special secret for a few days.
He was brief and direct. “Lily, we have to keep the house a secret. We can’t tell anyone yet.”
“What about Grandma and Grandpa? Can I tell them?” she asked as she rearranged the things on his desk.
“Yes, but I want to be the one to tell them. Do you think you can keep this a secret tonight when you visit?”
“Dad! Of course I can. I am not a tattletale. I didn’t tell on Cara for taking Lisa’s blue pencil case.” Her dark eyes widened, and she placed a hand across her mouth. “I won’t tell Grandma or Grandpa.”
Ryan nodded, aware that she had just revealed a secret. He decided to let it go. All little girls shared secrets. Didn’t they?
Chapter Eight
It was a miracle that Brandy didn’t have an accident on her way home from Molly May’s. It wasn’t the one glass of wine she’d had. No. She couldn’t stop the tears from blurring her vision. Crying had become normal for her, yet her tears tonight were hard, and almost cleansing. This time her tears had nothing to do with Jeff. In fact, she hadn’t thought much about him the past two hours. All she could think of was Matthew and how terribly she’d treated him. And Keira, too. How self-centered her grief was.
When she pulled into the driveway fifteen minutes later, Keira’s car was parked haphazardly, which seemed a bit odd. She rarely stayed home in the evenings since getting her driver’s license. She and her new group of friends met at Starbucks, the library, and sometimes, they’d meet at the Barnes & Noble in Fort Myers. Brandy never questioned her daughter’s whereabouts or asked her about her social life, other than asking her if she’d had anything to eat. She supposed caring for her daughter’s appetite earned her at least a couple brownie points in the mothering department. She didn’t ask Matthew this because all he did was eat and listen to music on his iPod.
She shut the ignition off and just sat in the driveway. There was simply no way she could make up for the past three years of neglect. However, she could start acting like an adult, the mother of two hurting teens.
Brandy walked in the house she had shared with Jeff for most of their marriage. While it appeared to be the same as it was when Jeff lived, it wasn’t. The light was gone. The heart and soul that gave the house life was gone. At that moment, she realized it was up to her to bring back the light, the heart and soul, to their home. Without it, they would continue to let the darkness of their grief consume them. Her grief, as she felt Keira and Matthew had moved forward. It was she who’d kept the sadness and darkness alive, with her inability to focus on her life as it was now.
Renewed, at least for the moment, she shouted to the empty living room, “I’m home.” Not expecting a response, she was surprised when both kids shuffled out of their rooms.
“Did you bring anything to eat? We’re starving,” Keira informed her.
“Hello to you, too. And no, I didn’t bring food. Why don’t we call out for a pizza,” she suggested, something they all enjoyed but rarely took the time to do anymore. “I had dinner with Linda.” She directed her gaze to Keira. “We had a long talk.”
Keira almost smiled. Matthew hulked beside her.
“And?” Keira pushed.
“And, we can order a pizza and sit down together, as a fa
mily, and discuss how oblivious I’ve been since your father died.” There. She’d said it. Now she had to back up those words.
Matthew spoke. “I’ll order the pizza. Can we get a bottle of soda, too?”
“Of course,” Brandy replied. Had she been so out of touch that her children had to ask for such simple things as a bottle of soda? The breezy, free lifestyle they’d all been so accustomed to had slithered through the hard edges of her grief, and now, it seemed as though they were strangers living beneath the same roof, strangers who knew nothing about one another. She blamed herself for this. She’d wallowed in grief and self-pity much too long.
She kicked off her shoes and made her way to the dining-room table. In the past, this had been the gathering place, not only the place where they shared meals but where they told one another of their days, of what was happening in their lives. She intended to reestablish her family, no matter what it took. No, it wouldn’t be the same, but she was going to try. She thought of that old cliché, “Better late than never.”
Keira plopped down in the chair her father used to sit in. Brandy had never allowed this in the past. She knew her daughter was testing the waters, and though it hurt to see Jeff’s former place at the head of the table occupied by her daughter, in her heart she knew Jeff would want this. She wasn’t going to call attention to Keira’s behavior as there was no point.
“What kind of pizza do we want?” Matthew called out.
“Get whatever you both want,” Brandy said. “I had dinner with Linda.” They hadn’t asked why she’d been so late, but she needed them to know she wasn’t out . . . what? Meeting up with some guy?
“Thanks, Mom,” Matthew replied a bit sheepishly.
“You’re welcome,” she said. “And when you’ve finished, would you mind having a seat? I really need to talk to you.”
Keira rolled her eyes. “What’s with the mom act? Linda hit a nerve or something?”
The Most Wonderful Time Page 4