“Hopefully, one day he’ll learn to forgive me and realize I thought I was doing the right thing.” His father took a breath. “I was wrong and I ruined everything. These weeks without you and your mother were the worst of my life. If that doesn’t define love, I don’t know what does.”
“Van, do you mean that?” Tears streamed out of his mother’s eyes.
“I love you, Lillian. I don’t remember ever not loving you.”
“I believe this belongs to you.” Argyle relinquished his hold on his mother
“Oh, Van.” She flung her arms around his father’s neck. “I love you too.”
With his mother in his arms, his father stood and held his hand out to him. “Hopefully, I still have a job working for you.”
He never remembered his father saying he loved him or his mother, or the man ever admitting he was wrong. As if in a trance, Randolph shook his father’s hand. “Of course.”
“Let’s go home, Van. You look just awful.” His mother attempted to straighten his father’s jacket. “Did you see the art our son made? He’s the one doing the murals that appear all over.”
He stiffened, waiting for the backlash, talk of risks and wasting time.
“We’ll discuss everything back at the house, Randolph.” His father’s voice possessed power once more. “Including where to hang your work. For the record, I don’t hate art.”
“Mr. Angel Man, don’t worry about the art thing. My woman’s club would be more than happy to finance it, and we don’t need collateral, we just want first dibs on the art. We love to be on trend.” She held her hand out.
Argyle took her hand, bent down and kissed the back. “You will have first choice.”
“Goodbye now.” She giggled. “See Van? I do know about good investments.”
“Yes, dear.” Junior kissed her once more.
Everyone watched his parents leave.
“What happened to no grants?” Randolph glanced around the shambles of the room.
“Your mother is not the government.” Argyle turned away.
“When do we get to do a showing?” Slate lifted one of Randolph’s pictures.
“Please forgive me. I think at the end of the day I need to remember to be true to the art and live my vision. We all want to make a name, be someone.” Argyle walked the perimeter of the room. “These are really incredible, I never would’ve guessed.”
Maybe in a way he envied Argyle and his freedom of expression. Yes, everyone wanted to be someone, have a name. He gave Willow her name, wanted her to keep it. Randolph let the men examine the art and went to his desk, glancing at his cell phone in hopes of any message, even from Peter. Yes, he stalked Willow and he also had his personal assistant keeping an eye out for her. Though he couldn’t think of the exact word to add on to his already illustrious titles he bestowed upon himself, he wished he still possessed the one title he had…husband. He put the new contract aside. Strange how life-changing a piece of paper could be.
Chapter Twenty-Two
“I’m done entering all the ingredients.” Willow turned her new laptop in Peter’s direction.
“Great.” Peter pushed himself back from the railing around the apartment’s balcony and returned to her. “Now, once you enter the quantity you’re making, the spreadsheet will calculate your cost per unit. You can take that number and enter it over here, and then this column will calculate your markup and then you will know how much to charge for each SKU.”
She processed his words, or tried to. Along with learning to drive, she was determined to get her business under control and not undo anything Randolph created. A few days ago Peter walked into the shop asking for more tea. They chatted a bit, and when she expressed concern about an upcoming order for one of Randolph’s mother’s friends, he offered to help. She invited him to the apartment for lunch. It was good to have someone around even for a few hours. “What does SKU mean?”
“It means stock keeping unit. It’s just a number or code we assign to each product.” He leaned in toward the screen. “You did really good.”
“How did you learn all this?” She furrowed her brow at the screen.
“Baptism by fire with Randolph.” He typed away on the keyboard.
“When you decided you didn’t want to be a doctor, what did you want to be?” She leaned back and watched him.
“I never wanted to be a doctor.” Peter stopped, looked up at the sky and inhaled. “I think I just wanted to be successful.”
“How do you measure that?”
“I thought by money, but now I don’t think so.” He shook his head. “It’s that whole unfulfilled dreams thing. You were right about that.”
“The tarot cards?” She got up and poured him a glass of lemonade hoping he would fill in on his own without her prodding though she always loved to hear what people thought about the results of any reading. Since she walked out of Randolph’s life, she avoided looking for answers when the answers were right in front of her.
“Yeah, I don’t know what my dreams are anymore, but I do feel unfulfilled. I keep searching but I always miss something.”
She put the glass next to him and sat back down. “Maybe the dreams are missing.” Or maybe dreams were overrated. Maybe they were unattainable, and therefore destined to remain dreams. It seemed every night she dreamed of Randolph in some way. She wanted her slumber time messages to be a sign, and each morning she awakened with the sense something would happen, but nothing ever changed.
He gulped down the drink and nodded. “You were also right about the arguments.”
She winced, hoping he didn’t take her reading as some self-fulfilling prophesy.
“Elizabeth and I finally decided to end the misery.” He turned to her.
“Sometimes when there’s so much misery, when it ends it’s almost a relief.” It would have been much easier if she didn’t love Randolph and was relieved when they split. Of course, it would be much easier if she didn’t love Randolph now. While she tried to go about her life, even move forward, she seemed stuck. She needed to let go and couldn’t and therefore landed in limbo. All her life she had been taught to go with the flow, but she struggled when it came to Randolph. Her husband, or ex-husband, battled the flow every chance he could. He might be at war with himself, but he moved forward.
“I agree. I actually feel a little lighter.” He gave her a huge smile and leaned toward her as if to tell her a secret. “Do you want to know what the unexpected change was?”
“Did you memorize every word I said?” She couldn’t stop her smiling.
“The whole thing sort of freaked me out. I relived it a few times.” He chuckled.
“Tell me.” In Peter’s case the change seemed positive.
“I was the one who did the leaving and for the first time I meant it.” He shook his head.
“That’s so good. I know it’s still hard, but when you know it’s right it’s liberating.” She looked down. The problem with her and Randolph was that it didn’t seem right that they weren’t together. There was no sense of freedom as she imagined when they first got married. Instead, their separation seemed more like a fracture with no brace. They were broken and couldn’t heal.
“As you said, I needed to change my path and I did.” He stood and stretched. “You even predicted a catastrophe.”
She got up as well. “I don’t think I’m that good.”
They went to the balcony railing and looked out over the boats in the marina. If Randolph were here they could simply look out at forever together.
“I think you were right about it being a sign. I think the catastrophe happened with my family when I quit. Everything else has been the residual from that fall out.” Once more he looked out. “I think something is telling me to deal with my family before there’s another catastrophe. I didn’t fight hard enough for them. I didn’t face them. I didn’t say all the things I wanted to. I just walked away.”
At his words, her chest constricted and the sick nausea th
at had come and gone for weeks, reappeared. It was almost as if Peter relayed to her the last few weeks of her life. “Peter?” Out of nowhere tears sprang to her eyes, blurring her vision but at the same time clearing things up.
“What’s wrong?” He took her by the shoulders. “Are you okay?”
“Randolph.” She squeezed her eyes shut, but the tears fell anyway.
He gave her a hug. “Let it out.”
“I did all that. I didn’t fight, didn’t face him, didn’t say what I wanted.” She cried into his shirt, but managed to look up at him. “In the end, I walked away.”
“What are you going to do about that?”
“He told me to leave. Paid me off.” She shrugged, wishing she had one tiny hint Randolph wanted her, still cared, something beyond the intuition, something concrete, maybe even signed in ink. “But it always feels like he’s around.”
“That’s because in a way he is.” Peter stared into her eyes.
“Not that way.” When at last she got everyone to understand her metaphysical world, she needed reality.
“No, seriously. Why do you think I showed up at your shop?” One side of his mouth curled up in a smile.
“I don’t understand.” She searched his face for answers.
“I wasn’t supposed to tell you, but he has been following you or had you followed since the day you left. The other day he called himself some animal wimpy stalker or something like that, and when I asked if he wanted me to stop, he just threw more money at me and told me to continue.”
“That’s real. It’s real.” Her stomach lurched. She pushed him away and leaned way over the railing. “I think I’m going to be sick.”
“I shouldn’t have said anything.” He held her hair out of her face and rubbed her back.
The sea air washed over her. She waited until the wave passed and she lifted her head. “No, I needed to hear it. I wanted to hear it.” No doubt Peter handed her the proof she wanted, or did he? Was Randolph only checking on her out of some obligation?
“You okay?” He brushed her hair away from her face.
“Actually, for the first time since I left, I think I am.” Randolph always fought for them and she just went with everything. If she wanted him, she needed to show him she loved him. “I need to act.”
“What are you going to do?”
“I don’t know yet. He always used to ask me what I wanted, and it’s about time I answered.” Her mind went off in a million different directions, but she had what she needed to go after her dream. Maybe they weren’t only dreams after all.
“What do you want?” Peter guided her back to the table.
“I don’t want to be afraid.” She already lost him and survived. “I don’t want to always wonder.” Going with the flow had its place, but for the first time she realized she might have to walk against the tide to get what she wanted, even if it ended in catastrophe.
Chapter Twenty-Three
“Don’t get married.” Randolph shut his eyes as Slate hung one of his paintings in the gallery.
“Yeah well, after watching you all these months, Jade and I decided to go for it.” Slate chuckled. “Take a look.”
He opened his eyes and glanced at the artwork of a weeping willow tree.
“We both love women whose names can be depicted by pictures.” His father walked over to the picture of the lily, took it off the wall and handed Slate a roll of cash.
“And now you can say you are a professional artist.” Slate counted off some bills, and handed Randolph his percentage.
He shook his head. Once his mother declared avant-garde art sexy, his father joined him in investing and appreciating. Willow always told him to look for signals and messages from the universe, but unfortunately the universe put him on hold and the flow he was supposed to go with went stagnant. “I’m going to have to do something.” He groaned.
“Yes you are,” his father and Slate said in unison.
“No, I need to find out why she didn’t even fight for us. Was everything just a means to an end?” These questions repeated themselves over and over in his mind. No wonder he couldn’t sleep. He handed Slate the money. “I can’t part with the willow tree.”
“I had a feeling.” Slate took it down. “Cool boots by the way.”
Yes, he finally wore the boots. He took in the image of the willow tree. He literally made the tree weep, dripping with tears. For the first time, he signed his name to a piece, making it sacred. “I have to do something.”
“Yes you do.” Slate repeated.
“You don’t understand. She never signed the divorce papers. Technically she is still my wife. If she’s my wife, I demand to know what is happening!” He slammed his fist into his leg.
“I say you go grab her by the hair and drag her back to that mean old mansion of yours.” Slate patted him on the back.
“Or maybe I just need to let her be and stop ruining her life.” Randolph raised his arms toward the ceiling. “The universe needs to tell me what to do.”
As if on cue, the gallery door opened, and he turned to find Peter walking toward them.
“I normally wouldn’t interrupt, but this came for you.” Peter held out a manila envelope. “It’s from Willow.”
The size of the envelope was perfect to hold a signed contract or signed divorce papers. If the way his stomach bottomed out was any indication of how Willow felt when he presented her with a similar envelope, no wonder she simply left. “Well, I asked for a sign.” He took the envelope from Peter and glanced around the gallery. At least he had his friends and family here. His actions hadn’t allowed for her to have similar comfort.
For a moment he stared at the envelope, relishing in the last few seconds he would be a married man. He created the situation and he would pay for it, maybe her lack of fight said everything at the end.
“Son.” His father came over.
“It’s fine. It’s better this way.” Without further hesitation, he tore the envelope open and took out the contents. He squeezed the bridge of his nose at the sight of the divorce papers. “It’s over.”
“There’s more in here.” His father took the envelope and turned it over. Some small, ripped up pieces of paper spilled out on the table followed by one intact smaller envelope. “These are pieces of a check.”
Her final act to him was not cashing the check, which meant he left her with nothing except an apartment. “Damn it.” He snatched up the second envelope, tore it open, and pulled out what appeared to be an invitation.
Mrs. Willow Van Ayers
requests the honor of your presence to her wedding vow renewal to
Mr. Randolph Emerson Van Ayers III
If accepted, ceremony will take place as soon as this invitation is read
at the location you first proposed to me.
His heart sped and he flipped through the divorce papers, the unsigned divorce papers. “Vow renewal?”
“I think that’s your sign.” Slate laughed.
“I manipulated her.” He shook his head.
“Do you love her?” his father asked.
“Yes.” Once more he read the invitation.
“Then let’s go to your wedding.”
Not wanting one more second apart from her, he dropped the card and rushed out the back of gallery, skidding to a stop at the scene in front of him.
Practically everyone he knew, or at least everyone who mattered, had gathered in the alley, including his mother, his grandfather and grandmother, Nan and Vincent, and even Millicent and Jeb, but most importantly Willow. Dressed in a simple white dress with flowers in her hair, she would always be the most gorgeous woman in the world, or the universe.
Somehow in record time, they decorated the alleyway with an aisle and flowers, blowups of his murals, and everything.
Randolph kept his focus on his bride and walked to her, the energy seeming to change with each step he took. Willow would call it a connection, and he would as well. “You used your name on my
invitation.” He took her hand.
“You said I could have it, but I can only have it with you.” She laced her fingers in his.
“Are you sure?” He shook his head. “I made you love me.”
“That’s what you’re supposed to do.” She stepped closer. “And I was supposed to fight for us.”
“You did. Look at all this,” he whispered. Her actions in planning another wedding told him everything about her and about them.
“I planned everything. We even have cake.” She let out a light chuckle. “I wanted to show you how much I love you, and I wanted to start fresh.”
Unable to stop himself, he wrapped his arms around her waist. “Will you marry me?”
“First I have a question.” A smile took over her face. “If we ever have a baby and if it’s a girl can still name her after you? Can she still be the fourth? I don’t want to buck tradition and I know it wasn’t part of the deal.”
“Willow?” He pulled her closer. “Are you trying to tell me something?”
“I don’t know. We’ll have to find out together.” She wrapped her arms around his neck. “I suppose we do get a Part Two.”
“We have as many parts as we can fit into our life.” When everything started, all he wanted was what he felt was his due, but it all seemed worthless compared to what he had ahead. “Now we’re ready.”
“Wait, one more thing.” She shook her head.
“Why do you always make me wait to get married?” He laughed.
“This will be the last time.” She reached out and his grandfather handed her a paper. “You have to sign something.”
“No more contracts. We don’t need them.”
“No, it’s time for your reading, you’re receptive now.” She held the paper and a pen out to him. “You always said your signature was sacred.”
Without even looking, he signed the paper.
“Oh, look here, large signature, initials larger than the other letters.” She studied the paper. “You have pride and self-confidence, and you’re very goal oriented.”
On The Dotted Line Page 29