“Whoa, Abby. Let me make you some chamomile tea. Your aura hit the shop before you did.”
The young woman’s frown smoothed. She slumped, as if in relief. “Thanks, Sally. Oh, and good afternoon. I apologize for busting in, but I’ve been abused via phone.”
“Then you need a hug. Come here.”
“I’m feeling better, thanks.” Abby inhaled. “You and your store always calm me.” She placed her hand on Sally’s arm. “So does being with you. I get to believing that all things are possible with you and Carlos on my side.”
“I’m glad, but remember that your strength is your own. But, because today is sunny, I’ll take your compliment and raise you one. That blue top you’re wearing enhances your eye color and shows off your curves. I’m glad you deep-sixed the over-alls and work boots.”
Abby shook her head and eyed Sally’s loose tie-dyed cotton top, dangling jewelry and black leggings. “We’ve had this discussion before. Our idea of styling will never match. Not in this lifetime or any number of the others we’ve shared. Which I don’t remember but I take your word for our long history.” She leaned closer. “Fashion is a dictate. You’re the real deal.”
Sally’s throat held a lump. She swallowed several times. “Still want that tea?”
“Thanks, but don’t bother. I’m headed across the street. Want to join me?”
She put a “Back in ten minutes” sign on the door and they walked in to The Collective Unconscious Café. She enjoyed watching her son and his fiancée together, but never as much as when they spotted each other across a crowded room.
The two women settled at a table with coffee and fresh-baked scones. Good thing she’d passed on her good cook genes to Carlos. Abby had dropped weight and couldn’t afford the loss. She watched Abby gather her thoughts.
“You won’t believe what mother suggested now.”
“Try me.”
“She wants us to lock the dogs away during the ceremony. She thinks Henry and Bunny will bite someone.”
Sally’s jaw dropped. She studied her scone to hide her upset. “I thought—”
Abby nodded. “Yes. Henry is carrying my ring, and Bunny will handle Carlos’s.” She grinned. “You should see the two of them when we practice. They’re rocking the assignment.”
She hesitated. “So your mother has come to terms with a private wedding at the house?” Her forehead wrinkled. “Wasn’t she lobbying for a ceremony at The Blue Peak Inn with a reception to follow immediately?”
“That was yesterday. Or the day before. Now she says she understands we want a private ceremony, but she thinks having the dogs participate will create a disruptive atmosphere rather than the decorous one a wedding demands.”
Sally didn’t need air quotes to know who’d said what. She struggled to keep her dismay and anger from showing. “You know I’ll follow your wishes. I’m happy to be part of your special day.”
Abby sighed. “I’m beginning to think we should have held the wedding and told her after it was a done deal.”
“That option is still open,” Sally said. “The ceremony is yours.”
She grinned. “Don’t think that idea hasn’t crossed my mind.” She munched a bite of scone, her forehead wrinkled in thought. “I have to make this stand. Even though mother lives a thousand miles away, she’s still my parent. It’s time I came to terms with all that means, both past and present.”
Sally grasped Abby’s hand. “I’m so proud of you.”
“That makes two of us.” Carlos pulled out a chair and settled beside Abby, his arm across her shoulders. He kissed her cheek.
She swallowed hard. Had she and Jack exchanged the same loving looks and touches? She knew they had, but memories of arguments and betrayal presided, even after learning the truth about their past.
“How can I help?”
“Listening is good,” Carlos said.
Abby nodded. “I may need you to run interference once she arrives.”
“Arrives?” Sally caught her breath. “You don’t mean—when is she coming? Exactly?”
The couple’s glum looks answered her question before Carlos spoke. “Too soon.”
Abby placed her hand atop Sally’s. “Would you mind keeping her busy?”
“You mean out of your sight? Sure, I can take her to Asheville. Lots of cute shops will keep her busy. Or is she an outdoors girl? Plenty of places to hike around here.”
“Better take her to the nicest places in Asheville. You know, the boutiques and galleries. Add a linen tablecloth restaurant with an extensive wine list for lunch and you’ll have a friend for life.” Abby bit her lower lip. “That’s pushing it. She’ll be softened up, though.”
“Gosh, and here I’d thought we could sit in on Asheville’s Friday night drum circle downtown.” She lightly chucked Abby’s jaw. “Better close your mouth, sweetie. I know the right places to take your mother. She won’t know she’s been played.”
Abby gave a weak grin. “I knew I could count on you.”
Carlos leaned forward. “Simply because Abby wants help doesn’t give you permission to set her mom straight.” He rubbed the nape of his neck. “I know you, remember? All we need is help showing my future in-law around.”
“I won’t say anything she can’t handle.”
“That’s not what I—”
Abby placed her fingers over Carlos’s lips. “Shush. Whatever happens is meant.”
He kissed her fingers then shifted closer to her. “I knew I was in for trouble when you started reading the claptrap my mom pushed on you.”
She snorted. “It’s not claptrap, and you’re stuck in outmoded science.”
Sally laughed at their interplay, but also caught the look her son leveled at her. She wouldn’t promise not to set Margaret Stephens straight, but she’d watch her words. Sometimes, though, the truth revealed itself without human help. And Abby’s mother needed a good talking to. She wondered what had set Abby’s mother on her path, and whether she could be diverted.
“Exactly when does Margaret arrive?”
Her son’s lips twitched. “Halloween weekend.”
“Well, that’s…nice.” She complimented herself on refraining from saying “appropriate,” but Abby’s grin told her that her thoughts had been read. “So, I’ll give you the weekend, then take her to Asheville on Monday. We can head over to Cashiers and some of the other smaller towns, too, that week. Will that help?”
Abby sighed. “Yes, thanks. I wish I could have prevented her coming early, though. We’d hoped for one last quiet dinner with you and Jack before the tour. Plus, I hate that you’re closing the store to help us out. If I didn’t have a deadline, I’d man the register.”
“Hush, girlfriend, soon to be daughter. I’ll get Deirdre Collins to come in and cover the store. Not a problem.” She tapped her forefinger against her teeth. “And you may as well get the family meet and greet over before Jack leaves, so keep your dinner plans.”
Carlos stood. “Thanks, Mom. I’ve gotta get back to the kitchen.”
Abby leaned across the table. “I really, really appreciate you taking on mother. For sightseeing, I mean.”
Sally heard the underlying meaning. She placed her hand over Abby’s. “Don’t worry. I won’t say anything that shouldn’t be voiced. My main concern is getting you married to my son, and I won’t let anything, or anyone, stand in the way of that happening.”
“Thanks. Have I told you lately that you are my very favorite person in the world?”
She raised her eyebrows. “Don’t you mean favorite female person? My son is your favorite, right?” She frowned. “Because if he’s not, you’ve got some explaining to do, young woman.”
Abby grinned. “Don’t tell Carlos, but sometimes I think I love you more. You know, because you helped me find myself.” She lowered her voice. “But mostly because you gave birth to and raised the one man in the world for me. When we have kids, I hope you’ll teach our munchkins about the real meaning of life.”
Sally wiped away her stray tears. “For balance, you mean? Someone to show my grandkids that Elvis is King, not science as Carlos believes?”
She nodded. Her eyes lost their mirth. “I’m hoping you can work out a truce with Jack. Having him around has made such a difference to Carlos.” She bit her lip. “You’ll always be his anchor, but Jack is an extra he never expected. I hope I didn’t hurt your feelings saying this.”
“No, you didn’t. Carlos is happier since you, and Jack, entered his life. What kind of nasty ass would I be if I couldn’t share him with others?”
Abby nodded and sipped her coffee. “So, how’s it going with that? Sharing Carlos with Jack, I mean?”
Her nonchalant tone didn’t fool Sally. “You can answer that, you’ve seen us together.”
“You mean those have been the only times you’ve seen Jack? Huh. I heard—”
Sally thought quickly to avoid lying. “He’s been rehearsing for the tour almost since their trip out West ended.” She concentrated on her coffee.
“So you mean if you had a chance you’d meet Jack even without our invitation?”
She refrained from blurting out the truth. “No, that’s not what I said and stop trying to push us together. We live in two very different worlds. What we had, if anything, is so far in the past, I need a microscope to find traces of what we were.” She sipped her coffee to relax her tight throat. “I know we had the ‘I’d like a man’ discussion, but I wasn’t referring to Jack then. The truth is—”
“Better not finish that statement, Sally. I’d hate to listen to another lie.”
Her jaw dropped. “What?”
“I’m really glad you taught me to read auras, that’s all. I know you’re hiding something.”
“I’ve created a monster.”
“You’ve said so before. Once more I’ll take your sentiment as a compliment.”
They finished their coffee, and their conversation skirted personal topics, a relief to Sally. She wondered what Abby had sensed in her statement about not needing Jack to be happy. She’d lived without a serious relationship for so long, she didn’t know how including someone else in her life would work. A man wasn’t required for happiness, but she also knew the failure of her young marriage had marked her, and not positively. Jack’s reappearance had stirred the pot, that murky vessel she’d rather had been left undisturbed.
“So you’ll come?”
Abby’s question came from the blue. “Sorry, I didn’t catch that last.”
“To dinner. The night my mother arrives.”
“Absolutely. Meanwhile, I’ll send up some prayers that her trip is delayed. Oops. I shouldn’t have said that.”
“Sure you should. You always suspect my secret desires.”
And now her soon-to-be-daughter-in-law could read Sally in return. She’d have to watch her thoughts. Every single minute. The universe listened way too closely for her comfort. Nope. It wasn’t the listening but the delivering of wishes that came too fast and unexpectedly that tied her in knots.
She’d never been good with macramé.
Chapter Eleven
Jack sensed turmoil before Carlos and Abby’s door closed behind him. The atmosphere resembled the split second of stillness before thunder and lightning combined to create a sound like no other. Sally and a woman who must be Abby’s mother had faced off before the fireplace.
Abby broke the silence. “Mother, this is Jonathan Young. Margaret Stephens, Jonathan.”
Jack flinched. Why had they chosen to hide his identity?
She continued the introduction. “Mother lives in St. Louis and came in early to help.”
His musician’s ear heard the stress on her last word. Even had Carlos not clued him in, he’d have to have been totally self-absorbed not to sense the tension in Abby’s formal speech patterns. Her stiff posture.
“Carlos’s father is a, um, consultant. That’s the best way to describe your business, isn’t it?”
Her forehead sported perspiration. Where was Carlos and why wasn’t next to Abby? His son entered the room with a drink tray. Ah. This group needed alcohol, if he were any judge. Lots of alcohol.
“Yes, that’s right, Abby. I consult with others who work toward making the world a better place. We invest in the future, you could say.” Hell, no lies there. Music, all the creative arts, made life worth living.
Margaret Stephens curled her lip. “I see.”
Abby placed her hand on his arm. “Mother is unhappy with some of my changes. She prefers that I use my full name of Abigail, not Abby.”
Once again, he heard the faint stress on her last word and smiled. A family dynamic he understood too well. Poor Abby.
He slipped his arm around her shoulders. “Marge, your daughter makes me wish I was young again. I’d pick her in a heartbeat. Abby is special, don’t you agree? I’m glad she and Carlos are making a life together. Can’t wait to see my grandkids. And the dogs—where are Henry and Bunny?”
Abby grimaced so quickly he wondered if he’d imagined her expression. “They’re in the yard. We were afraid they’d be underfoot.”
“Underfoot? But they were fine the last time I was here.”
Sally grabbed a wine glass from the tray. Her face was red, and she shot a glare at Margaret. Aha.
She held up her glass. “Let’s toast, shall we?”
Christ, even Sally sounded formal. He didn’t intend to spend his last evening before the tour playing a game for Abby’s mother. Oh, hell, sure he would.
“Here’s to Carlos and Abby. May your happiness never end, your disagreements be minor, and your home continue as a sanctuary from the evils of the world.”
He drank the toast but wanted to laugh, instead. Trust Sally to tell that biddy off in a way she wouldn’t catch. He glanced at Margaret. Huh, maybe she did get the dig, after all. And these two mothers were set to spend a few days together? Could be going out on tour would be convenient, after all.
“Jonathan, perhaps you misheard. My name is Margaret, not Marge.” Her scorn was palpable. “I’d appreciate your attention to detail.”
“Sorry, my hearing isn’t as sharp these days.” Well, that was true enough. “Right. So, when did you arrive?”
“This afternoon, no thanks to Asheville’s rinky dink airport. Honestly, closing down because of a little fog.”
Abby set her glass on the tray. “Didn’t you say that all flights were delayed in Atlanta?” She straightened. “Mother, the local airport can’t land flights that never take off. The fog had lifted by the time you arrived.”
His estimation of his future daughter-in-law rose. Abby one, Marge zero.
The older woman huffed. “You’d think the weather could have cooperated. My suitcase had gotten soaked by the time those luggage handler sluggards unloaded the plane. Honestly, people in the South move so slowly I don’t know how anything is ever accomplished.”
She sipped her wine, either ignoring or not understanding the room’s thunderous quiet. “Forgive me, Mr. Young, but you and Carlos don’t look Hispanic.”
The non sequitur caught him off guard.
“Pardon me?” He quaffed his beer to gain time.
“You gave your son a Spanish name. I assumed you were a foreigner.”
He held the beer in his mouth until he could swallow without choking. “My son’s name was chosen for sentimental reasons. I’m sure you understand.” He placed his beer on a nearby table, removing the temptation of dousing her with the liquid. “I’ve had some business in St. Louis on occasion. Why don’t we sit? I’d like to hear a little more about your hometown.”
“It’s not my hometown—” she sniffed “—but my husband’s. Rather my former husband. I was raised in Chicago, the Lincoln Park area. Are you familiar with the city?” Her doubt as to his sophistication was obvious.
Jack remembered the city for a reason she couldn’t understand. The Rough Cuts had played a blues festival. What a rush, sharing a stage with many of his musi
cal heroes.
“I’ve seen a bit of the city, yes. Toured some of The Art Institute. Their Impressionist exhibit is world class.” Sally had shared her love of Impressionist art with him, and he’d gone to that wing, first. He’d spent less than an hour there before he’d been spotted, and had always meant to return.
“Well, then you understand that Chicago has much to offer.” She began a monologue on the pleasures of her hometown.
Jack made appropriate noises when she paused. The grins on everyone’s face but hers told him the others enjoyed having a secret over Marge. But why perpetrate the hoax? And why disguise his true identity?
He saw his chance to push for answers when he followed Carlos to the kitchen. “Carlos, what the hell is going on out there? What kind of game are you playing?”
His son grinned. “You mean you haven’t deduced that Abby’s mother is difficult? She thinks Abby is ‘marrying down,’ whatever the hell that means.”
“I figured out she’s a stone cold bitch, yeah. I thought you were ashamed of me or something.” Shit. Where had that come from?
Carlos lowered his voice. “No way. Abby is afraid her mother will spill the beans to the media. She’s all about the spotlight, ya know. Her daughter marrying a celebrity’s son is more in line with what she sees as her daughter’s right.” He ran his fingers through his hair. “We want a quiet wedding. Margaret wants the type of event that shows up in the social columns of the newspaper.”
“So, why don’t you and Abby change your wedding date, have the ceremony you want, and present it to the bitch as a done deal?”
“That’s what mom suggested too.” He rubbed the nape of his neck. “But Abby and I are decided. You and mom are standing up with us. Period. We want you with us, totally with us, not pulled away from your tour for the wedding. And we want it on the day we picked.”
“Right. The day is astrologically auspicious, right?”
Carlos stared. “How did you know?”
“I knew your mother before you did, remember? And I’ve seen she and Abby together, heard their woo-woo speak.”
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