by Drea Stein
“I brought bourbon,” she said without preamble, pulling a bottle out of a brown paper bag and setting it on the granite countertop.
“I don’t drink bourbon,” Tory said, wondering just what the hell this woman was doing in her space.
“With me, you do. Besides, what I have to tell you will go down easier over a glass of bourbon. Where are they?” Eleanor made a gesture, asking where the glasses were.
Tory stood with her arms crossed for a moment, deciding whether or not to kick this woman out.
“Look, you may think you know the story, but you don’t. And, because I care about Colby more than you might think and right now his heart is broken because you dumped him—just like I said you would, college girl—you owe me.”
“I don’t owe you anything. And I didn’t dump him. We just—”
“Just shut up and listen,” Eleanor said, but there was an almost kind tone to it. Tory nodded, walked over to the cabinet and pulled out the glasses
“I don’t know what Colby told you about me and Bobby Dean and him,” Eleanor said as she took a sip of the bourbon. She eyed Tory until she was forced to do the same. It burned down her throat but not unpleasantly.
“I was fourteen when I had Colby. Fourteen. Yup. So just swallow your shock and listen. I grew up hard. No father, mother who worked two jobs and drank and smoked and picked up guys at the bar and brought them home, hoping maybe they’d buy us dinner or groceries or something like that.”
Eleanor nodded as if to remind herself to keep going. “It was hard. I was smart, though, so school was easy, but then when I was twelve, I started ‘developing’, as they say. Tall, boobs, the whole package. Boys started to notice me. So did the gym teacher and the guys my momma brought home. One of them screwed my mom, then tried to screw me while she was passed out. I screamed and woke my momma up. She kicked that guy out but sat me down and told me the way of the world, at least according to her. Didn’t matter how smart I was, I wasn’t going to college to be a lawyer or a doctor or a flight attendant. We were too poor, and I was too pretty. She said the next time one of the guys tried something, just to let it happen, that maybe we’d get two weeks’ worth of groceries out of it.”
“I am sorry,” Tory said, and she meant it.
“No pity yet. So I stayed and when Sam Clarence started making eyes at me, I made eyes back. He was about eighteen and worked as a mechanic. He was nice, not gross like the men my momma brought home—or at least that’s how it seemed to me. Well, one thing led to another, and I got pregnant.”
“Oh,” Tory said.
“Sam promised to stick around—and he did, until I was rushed to hospital. After that, he disappeared. Gone but good. Heard he’d joined the Army or something like that. So I stayed with my momma for a bit and then left the baby with her. I know it was wrong, but I went to Nashville to get a job.
“It was the big city, at least to me, and I got a job tending bar. Learned something from my mom. Nobody cared that I was underage. Well, Nashville seemed like a land of opportunity. I started out at a dive, then worked my way up until I became a hostess at a steak house.
“Met up with a sleazy music producer. I had a nice voice, good but nothing special. Thought he was going to make me a star. Sang on a real record once, but I soon learned that my voice wasn’t the talent he was interested in.
“Had some big dreams for a while, but I quickly learned that there was an easier way. Men had the money, had the power, and they all wanted me. So I gave them what they wanted, but I always made sure they had something to give me. A better job, a nice piece of jewelry that I could sell. I was surviving. I sent my money back home, for my baby and my momma. One of them taught me all about managing a restaurant. Another how to ride a motorcycle. But in the end, they all wanted one thing.”
Tory nodded.
“And then I met Bobby Dean DeWitt. He wasn’t quite a star anymore—getting a bit past his prime—and, yes, he was a lot older than I was. But he was a real gentleman. He came to the restaurant and I seated him, and that was it. Except I could see him looking at me. But he didn’t try anything. Slipped me a twenty as a thank you, but that wasn’t anything odd—wasn’t even a big tip. But he came back every night he was in town, and by the end of the week, he asked for my number. Two weeks later, he was back in town and asked if we could go on a date.”
“A date?”
“Would you believe I hadn’t ever been on one? Not like that. He took me out for a drive around the track, then we had dinner. And then he drove me home.”
“And?”
“That was it. By then, I had classed myself up a bit. I had some money, so I had nice clothes. I studied other women—you know, the ones who seemed to have it all. I practiced talking nice and slow, trying to sound less like a redneck and more like a Southern belle. I made up some vague story about myself, and I read the paper and books until I seemed like something I wasn’t.”
“So you remade yourself,” Tory said, thinking of her own reinvention.
“Exactly. We all choose who we want to be, Tory, but for some us it takes a lot more work to get there.” Tory just nodded.
“Bobby Dean kept coming around, taking me on dates. I played it coy, cool, not having sex with him, but taking an interest in him. That wasn’t hard. I really liked Bobby. He asked me to be his wife and, though I was worried about becoming the third Mrs. DeWitt, I thought I knew what Bobby wanted. He had kids, didn’t want any more, and that was fine by me. He wanted arm candy, a companion for his racing and endorsement deals, someone to take care of him. He wanted it to be about him, and I was ok with that. Bobby was rich enough and good-looking, and I knew I’d never be hungry again. I knew I could send money home to momma and Colby.”
“So, you got married.”
“It was great for a while. Bobby was generous. He sent the money to my momma, moved her and Colby into a new house. I told him Colby was my sister’s kid. That my sister had run off. Hell, that’s what we told Colby most of his life, too.
“Then Bobby had to start traveling and … well, he wasn’t a man to sleep alone. I thought about leaving, but I loved Bobby. And I realized something. I could either deal with it or leave. Life with Bobby was good. And I’d signed a pre-nup, too, so there wasn’t much in it for me if I left.”
“What about Colby?”
“That’s when Sam, Colby’s real daddy showed up back in town, wanting to re-connect with his son. I couldn’t stop it, since I wasn’t there … and, well, I was kind of interested in keeping Sam quiet. He even got some money off of me to make sure it happened.
“At first, Colby was pleased as punch to see his dad. Learned how to fix cars and got in a heap of trouble with him. Colby felt loved for the first time. Then Sam went off and drove drunk and wrapped his girlfriend’s car around a tree. His wife wasn’t happy about it and … well, Colby was pretty messed up. He drove off with Sam’s prized possession, an old Charger the two of them had fixed up. Sam’s wife called the cops on Colby. He’d been drinking, he was almost an adult, and it looked like it could have gone real bad for Colby. So, I went down there with Bobby Dean, and we sweet-talked everyone into letting Colby come home with us.
“He was a lost little boy. I told him he had to keep pretending I was his aunt. That Bobby couldn’t know. But Bobby took to him, took Colby everywhere—and I mean everywhere. By then, I’d gotten used to it. I knew Bobby was unfaithful, just figured it was the way he was made, that he was good to me. At first Colby loved the life, but then I could see that he didn’t like what Bobby was doing, how he was treating me. But I told him to cool it, let it slide.”
“Oh,” Tory said faintly.
“Seemed like everything was going all right…. Then one night, there was a knock at the door. Some hussy named Brittany showed up, claiming she was pregnant and it was Bobby’s. I was furious. Colby was there, Bobby too. Bobby claimed it was impossible, but I saw the truth in Colby’s eyes. I was furious. Bobby just hadn’t wanted a baby with
me.”
Eleanor took a sip of bourbon.
“Colby wanted to say something, to tell Bobby the truth, to punch his lights out, but I couldn’t let that happen. I was too afraid to leave Bobby, too afraid of being poor or starting over. Colby said he’d take care of me, wanted me to leave with him, but Colby was still a kid.
“So I told him no. But I was afraid he wouldn’t listen. I told him to leave, and Colby wouldn’t. That’s when I went to Bobby and told him Colby was being inappropriate toward me.”
“What happened?”
“Bobby kicked him out. The look on Colby’s face … once again I had betrayed him, even though I found another place for him to go. He was good with cars, so I talked to a friend of Bobby’s, got him a job far, far away in Europe, with the race circuit. I sent him money, hoped maybe he sow a few wild oats, then use it for college.
“Didn’t, though, it just sat there. Heard he was racing and near broke my heart. I hated the thought of him risking his neck for a stupid trophy. Went over there, tried to talk some sense into him. But he was with Kayla.”
Eleanor snorted as she swirled her bourbon. “Anyone could see that girl had her eye on a bigger prize than a third rate race car driver. Don’t get me wrong, Colby was a good enough driver, but just good enough. He was happy with Kayla, wanted to settle down, do something different, and leave behind the lights and the crowds. But that’s all Kayla wanted – chasing the fame and the fortune.
“He was devastated when she left, but it was the best thing that happened to him. He got out, got into doing what he’s doing now. Before I knew it he had taken the money in the account, purchased a couple of old cars, fixed up and flipped them. Sent me the money back with interest.”
“You’re his mother,” Tory said. The bottle of bourbon was down quite a bit. Tory had had her fair share, and she felt light-headed and giddy all at the same time.
“Keep up, sugar. I think I said that in the beginning.”
“Sorry, I’m having trouble wrapping my head around it.”
“I know. It’s a story.”
“My mom was eighteen.”
“What?”
“Eighteen when she had me. She and my dad got married, struggled. He went to college, became an accountant.”
“Sounds like a good man.”
“I think she wants a divorce. I think they were only together because of me.”
Eleanor laughed. “Did he cheat on her?”
“No.”
“Did she cheat on him?”
“No.” Tory looked at Eleanor, puzzled.
“Then, sugar, there’s still hope. If they’ve made it this long, then it doesn’t have anything to do with them. I am sure they’ll figure it out.”
Tory nodded. There had been entirely too much to take in tonight.
“Colby’s mother … for real.”
“Right here, in the flesh.”
“He calls you ‘Eleanor’.”
“Old habits die hard.”
Eleanor looked at her. “Tory, I don’t know about all the bullshit in your life. You seem like an ok girl—better than ok, more ok than I thought—but you’ve got to decide.”
“What do you mean?”
“Colby loves you. He gave you that bracelet when he wanted to give you a ring. He didn’t because he knows you’re scared. So, I’ve got a question for you. Because he’s my boy and everything I’ve done, as selfish as it might seem, has been so that he could have it better than I did. And he’s done it. I’m real proud of him. He’s smart, successful and handsome. But deep down, he’s that little boy who wants a family. Who wants someone to love him, and cherish him and have kids with and even a white picket fence. And if you can’t give that to him, Tory Somers, you better cut him loose. I think you can love Colby, but will you let yourself?”
Tory was silent, couldn’t answer that. Eleanor just nodded and took a sip of her drink.
In the end, they pulled out a deck of cards and played crazy eights, drinking until the bourbon was almost gone. Eleanor never mentioned another word about Colby, and Tory let it all sink in her alcohol-soaked mind.
It was late when they called it quits. Tory told Eleanor there was no way she was driving and gave her the couch. Tory crawled into bed and fell into deep, heavy sleep.
#
She woke up the next morning with a headache and stomach that did a precarious somersault as she sat up. Sun was streaming through the window, and snippets of last night kept coming back to her. Eleanor had told her the saga of Bobby Dean and Eleanor DeWitt, in which Colby was blameless. It was she, Tory, who had overreacted.
Slowly she got out of bed. The almost-empty bourbon bottle was on the counter, and she had to stifle her gag reflex. There was a note, too: “Thanks for the drink. Next move on you. Ellie.” The throw was neatly folded on the couch.
Tory sank down in one of the chairs at the counter and put her hands in her head. It hurt like hell, but that wasn’t the only thing that was wrong with her. She had made a mistake—one she wasn’t sure how to fix.
She looked at her watch. Shit, she had to meet Phoebe and Lynn. There was wedding stuff to do. Not to mention her job and the fact that she had promised her mother she’d help her set up her new office. Her own personal life would just have to wait.
Chapter 58
“And I’d like that there,” her mother said.
Tory nodded. She and Joan Altieri had come to help her mother set up her new office. They’d painted first, then waxed the floors, and now Tory had spent an hour putting together a desk and bookcase combo, with about a million different screws. It was hot, and she was sweaty—and she couldn’t help but think that this was just the kind of thing Colby would love, that she should just swallow her pride and call him, apologize and ask if … what? Could they start over? Except she knew he didn’t want to start over. And she wasn’t sure she knew how to go on.
She threw down the wrench in frustration. Colby had invaded her thoughts again. She missed him, the smell, the feel, the presence of him. It had been more than a week and he’d kept silent, so she had, too. She had rejected him, rejected his proposal. He probably never wanted to see her again. After speaking to Eleanor, his mother—God, she was still having trouble with that—she still didn’t know what to make of it all.
“Linda,” Tory’s dad stood in the open doorway, looking shy and unsure of himself as he shifted uncomfortably from foot to foot.
“George,” her mother said and kept unpacking one of her file boxes.
Joan caught Tory’s eye, gave a little jerk of her head.
“You know, I could use an iced coffee,” Tory said, looking around for her purse.
“No,” her dad said with surprising authority, “you should hear this.”
“Hear what?” Linda all but snapped.
“Linda, I want you to come home.”
“Maybe I don’t care what you want anymore. I am living on my own and making my own money. It doesn’t have to be about what you want.”
Her father sighed as if this were painful, and Tory couldn’t have agreed more. Knowing her parents’ relationship was imploding was painful beyond belief. Watching it was even worse.
“I’m sorry. What I meant to say was that I would really like it if you came home.”
“Why? So you can have a hot dinner ready when you come home?”
“No. Well, yes, but I would like someone to eat it with, and that would be you. It could be takeout.”
“What?” Her mother turned.
“It could be takeout. I know you’re working now, and I respect that. But it does seem silly to be sleeping on a cot above your office when you have a perfectly good bed at home.”
“It’s not a cot, and it’s my money.”
“Linda, I don’t what you to give up your office, though if you wanted to have a home office, I could give you a nice tax deduction on it.”
“Dad,” Tory hissed. Her father’s apology was coming along, but she couldn’t
let him botch it.
“But a separate place of business really does make you look more legitimate, so I would say keep it.”
“I intend to.”
“Right, well, I also thought that first you might want to go on a trip with me?”
“A what?”
Her father pulled out an envelope.
“Well, two, actually. The first is a week in Italy. I know it’s not enough time, but….”
“I have clients who need me.” Linda’s cheeks huffed, but Tory could see that her mother’s eyes were wet with tears.
“We don’t leave until next month, so I am sure you could find a way to get away for a week.”
Tory couldn’t help but smile. It was something she had often heard her mother say to her father. Now here he was, telling her the same thing.
“You said two trips?”
“The other one is to Indianapolis.”
“Why Indianapolis?” Tory asked, bewildered.
But her mother only smiled. “The Colts, honey.”
“The Colts?”
“The Colts and the Patriots. You know their rivalry has been going on for years. Your dad has always wanted to see them play.”
“In Indianapolis….” Tory nodded. “Ok, I guess that makes some kind of weird sense.”
“Oh, George.”
Tory looked up. Her mother had her arms around her husband and was hugging him.
“I thought maybe we could road trip it out in that fancy new car of yours,” her father was saying. “Find a few nice places to stay along the way. Or we could fly.”
“Driving is fine,” her mother said, her voice happy.
Tory felt a weight lift off her chest. Her father had made an effort, and maybe that was all it took. It was something to think about.
Chapter 59