“Can I swing?” Margo asks as we approach the playground.
“I think the swings are wet.”
“Do we have a towel, Mommy?”
I check the diaper bag and pass her a receiving blanket, which I probably don’t need to lug around anymore. Margo wipes her swing and the baby swing next to it.
“Do you want to swing?” I ask Rory, who raises her hands to me. I pull her out of the stroller and plop her in the swing, giving a little push for her and an under-duck for Margo.
After swinging, we meander onto the beach, which is advantageous because Rory can try walking a new terrain. I put my arm around Margo and draw her close.
“Margo, there’s something you should know.” I repeat the words I’ve been rehearsing in my head, praying this goes smoothly.
“What Mommy?” Margo looks up at me, her small cup cradled in her hands.
“Daddy loves you very much.” Oh, God. Margo raises her eyebrows, waiting for me to go on. She suddenly seems a lot older than five. “I saw Daddy when I was away in Saint Lucia,” I continue.
“You saw Daddy?” Margo asks, her eyes wide.
“Yes. He has some new business plans and works in Saint Lucia now, which is very far away.”
“Why couldn’t I come?”
“Because we had a lot of adult things to discuss. Margo…you should know your daddy and I are not going to be together anymore.”
“What does that mean?” Margo asks, sounding horrified.
“Well, it means you and Rory will continue living with me, for always, until you are all grown-up. And Daddy will live…somewhere else.”
Margo’s face crumples and she turns her head away. Oh, this is horrible. The lightness I felt earlier has come crashing down in Margo’s loss. Even Rory hovers close by and gazes at me with concerned blue eyes. I sweep down and pull both girls into my arms. Margo starts to sob and Rory, mirroring her sister, breaks into a tormented wail; and I hold them both, tears eventually rolling down my cheeks too. This will be a big change for all of us to know it’s permanent. All we have is each other now. And I’m going to be a single mother perpetually—it’s terrifying.
Eventually, Rory loses interest in the Big Cry and wanders off to explore. And Margo whimpers at my side, drink abandoned.
“Do you want to finish your hot chocolate?”
Margo takes a quivering breath and shakes her head.
“Listen Margo, you need to understand things aren’t really going to change at all. Because we’ve been on our own without your father for some time now, right?”
She nods.
“And it’s not all bad. I mean, you have fun sometimes, right?”
Margo’s mouth twitches.
“It’s like what I said before. You have to choose the way you want to look at this. It is what it is, and we can’t make Daddy come back, but we can choose to be strong and live a good life.
“And you have a lot of people who love and adore you and Rory. Like me, of course, and Pops, Auntie Louisa, Uncle Riley, and Uncle Billy.” Did I really just name Riley before Billy? “And there’s Juliet, and of course George—”
“And Liam?”
“Liam?”
“Yeah.”
“Uh, well Liam is really busy.”
“No, he’s not. I saw him lots.”
“Yes, but that was before. Now he’s busy.”
“He came over when you were away.”
“He did?” I ask, awed. But then, why should I be. He came over to see George. Anyway, I don’t want to talk about Liam.
“Margo, our lives are going to change for the better. You can go to a better school—”
“I don’t want to go to another school.”
“Okay, that’s fine. Rory—stop eating sand!” I wipe Rory’s tongue with the back of my hand, and she gives us a sour face.
“Rory looks like an old man,” Margo laughs, pointing.
“Margo, we can buy a home, and you can have a bedroom again and we could decorate it together.”
“You said we don’t have money.”
“We didn’t. Uh, your daddy gave us some of our family’s money. So we’re okay.” I smile, and when she looks up at me with such trust and innocence, it takes my breath away. I won’t let my girls down.
“Where will we live?” Margo asks, as we make our way up George’s street.
“Well, we don’t have to move far. We can live here in Kits,” I say, surveying the homes. “Like, that home there is for sale. Any home with a sign out like that means it’s for sale and someone can buy it.”
“Can we buy it?”
I laugh at her impulse. “No, buying a home is something that takes a lot of time. It has to be just right.”
“Can we see this one?” Margo asks.
I gaze up at the two-story Cape Cod-style home with the large veranda and pretty garden. “It’s a nice house but the Realtor isn’t here so—”
“Yes I am.” I swing around in surprise to find a man in his mid-forties walking up from his car.
“I didn’t hear your car,” I cry.
“I didn’t have it on. I was inside on a phone call. Are you interested in seeing this home?”
I shake my head. “Uh, no I don’t think we—”
“Please, Mommy?”
I glance down at Margo’s bright face and pleading eyes, then turn to the Realtor. “We’re not really looking.”
“Yes we are, you just said.”
I shoot Margo a look to shut up.
“I had a tour booked but the guy hasn’t shown,” the Realtor says, motioning for us to follow him. “If I don’t show you the house, I will have driven all the way here for nothing. You might as well humor me.”
I peer up at the house with apprehension; well, I have nothing to lose, so I pull Rory from her stroller and the three of us follow the Realtor.
Inside, well, where do I begin? The entrance is inviting and homey—the fir floors gleam and the open concept is refreshing—as opposed to a formal grand mansion foyer. Everywhere I look there are well-thought-out custom touches and character features that really individualize the space. The kitchen is glorious, with pearly white granite counters, handsome fixtures, and a six-burner Wolf range. There’s a massive deck off the kitchen and a good-sized backyard that’s fully fenced and kid ready.
Stop it, Lane, you’re not buying this house.
Upstairs is equally lovely, with hardwood floors, five good-sized bedrooms with ample closet space, two full bathrooms, and an en-suite. Wainscoting, crown molding, and fresh, pastel-colored walls give warmth to each room.
“As you can see, this home has been lovingly crafted and cared for,” the Realtor says. Margo has gone off to play in “her” room, and Rory is toddling about, content as pie.
“How much?”
“It’s a steal at six point two. It was only listed two days ago, and it won’t last long.”
“Right. That’s what you realtors always say.” The guy is good natured and laughs at my comment. But it’s true! “I need to think about this. This feels all too much like the last scene of Miracle on 34th Street.”
“Sure. Though sometimes, things are just meant to be.” He gives me a wink, and I half expect Kris Kringle to pop out from somewhere.
Or Liam.
34
“How’s the house sale coming along?” Billy asks, as I adjust his bow-tie. I smooth it with my fingers and stand back to survey the end result. Billy is beaming; his eyes are especially vibrant today. It’s an exciting day for everyone, even for me.
“Well, it’s not a done deal yet; subject to inspections and what-not. I just figured a closing date two months away will allow transition for the girls. Plus, I’m thinking of asking Dad and your Mom to move into the in-law suite.”
Billy is bent over at the hotel bar fridge inspecting the boutonnieres he made. He pulls out an orchid-with-ostrich-feather art piece. “You want them to live with you?” he asks, as he pins the flower to his lapel.
“If they want,” I say, and pop a strawberry into my mouth. “We’d still have separate quarters, and Dad would have the garden, which he’d love, and he and Louisa can take long strolls on the beach.”
“Is Riley going to have his own bedroom?” Billy asks, raising his eyebrow and breaking into a grin.
“Actually,” I say, perplexed, “Dad said Riley has decided to move back to Brooklyn after the wedding.”
“Your dad’s getting rid of Riley?” Billy’s jaw has dropped.
I have to admit I was pretty shocked myself—and more than a little relieved. “Well, Louisa and I were talking about it in private, and she thinks he doesn’t need Riley anymore. I mean, we have to remember, Riley is a puppet and a crutch for Dad, not a living, breathing human being, right?”
“Yeah, you’re right…but still.”
“Well, I just want to help improve all our lives a little, now that I can. Actually, one thing I can do right away is to give you the money you lost with your dad,” I say, eyeing Billy and trying to gauge his reaction.
Pain flickers in his eyes, but he turns to me with a smile. “Don’t worry about it. Now that our business has really taken off, it won’t matter before we know it.”
“I know,” I say, “but this is something I want to do.”
Billy meets my gaze and seems to struggle for the right words, but instead, leans in to give me a squeeze. “You’re going to be the best sister, I know it.”
We giggle together, and then I notice the time and panic. “Look at you, you’re all ready. I have to put my dress on.” I pull away and race to my bedroom.
Our hotel is out in the country near Langley, in close proximity to the wedding venue. I definitely didn’t want to have to commute home at all hours of the night. The girls are with Juliet and should be back soon—I must get ready.
I push the door closed and survey my strapless dress on the hanger. I have to hand it to Louisa—it’s gorgeous. It’s made of navy blue satin that clings in all the right places and fishtails at the knee and complements my curves and skin tone.
I touch up my makeup and hair, spray some scent, and step into my gorgeous dress. I pull on my nude heels and sashay over to Billy for his help.
“Do me up, will you?” Billy pulls up the zipper and spins me around.
His eyes are shining. “Well, you’re exquisite, Lane. My mom has good taste.”
“She does. On that note, I should probably check on her.” I wave, then saunter down the hall to the honeymoon suite.
“It’s Lane,” I say.
Aunt Louisa answers the door and gasps. “Lane, you look so lovely,” she says, her eyes dancing.
“Thanks,” I say, entering the room. Louisa’s wedding dress is hanging from a hook, and I catch my breath as I take in its beauty. “It’s gorgeous,” I murmur. “Are you ready to put it on?”
“I think so.” I lift the dress down and help her into it, and then stand back to take in all her glory. “Wow.”
Louisa’s hair is in a soft up-do and her makeup is classic. Her simple dress—an ivory crepe gown with a bateau neckline—hugs her figure and cascades to the floor. The dress is class and sophistication at its very best. And when I place the delicate veil at the top of her head, she looks like an angel. She looks like my mom.
“Sweetheart, I’m sorry if this upsets you,” she says, her face full of concern.
“No, it’s just…well…you could be her.”
“I know. It’s extremely difficult.”
I struggle to contain my breathing and to keep the tears at bay. Why I didn’t wear waterproof mascara is beyond me.
“It’s funny,” I say, when I’m finally composed to speak. “I think she would almost be happy for you and Dad. I think she’d be okay with this.”
Louisa approaches, takes my hands into her own, and gazes into my eyes with such warmth and sincerity. “I know she would be, Lane. I know Leia would be pleased to know your dad and I are looking after each other. Somehow, it’s almost like she would have planned it…” Her voice trails off. She squeezes my hands and lets them go. The moment passes, and then we focus on readying ourselves for the ceremony, which starts in less than an hour.
We’re in our procession line, waiting to make our grand entrance into the old church.
“Are you girls ready?” I ask, turning around. Margo and Rory gaze up and smile. They’re wearing matching white dresses with crinolines and hints of lace. Their hair is pulled into single ponytails fastened with white orchid clips. Margo even had sponge rollers in her hair, so it falls into lose ringlets. They’re adorable. It’s still surreal to see Rory standing and walking on her own. I just hope she follows me down the aisle as planned.
The organist has stopped playing, and I know the processional hymn is about to begin. “Okay, when Mommy walks, count to ten and then follow me, slowly.” I remind Margo who nods and bounds with excitement. “Just be calm.”
The guitarist begins his rendition of Pachelbel’s Canon, and I give one final encouraging smile to Louisa, as I wait to proceed. I hear my cue and turn the corner, walk through the double doors, and into the church. Heads turns as I make my way up the aisle, taking time to smile and breathe.
And then I see him.
Liam.
My heart somersaults, and I feel my pulse hammer and my breath quicken. Liam. And he’s looking right at me. And he’s smiling. I want to cry! I want to run to him, but somehow I tear my eyes away and continue the procession, all the while in a blissful daze. Liam is here.
Maybe he’s only here to accompany George? But then again, he was smiling at me. That’s a good sign.
I reach the front of the church, and only then do I remember poor Dad standing there, and Billy, who… Now I want to laugh. Billy looks utterly mortified because he’s holding Riley. And Riley, with his crazy yellow hair and freakish grin, is wearing a black tuxedo. His arms and legs dangle helplessly. I bite my lip to keep from laughing and take my place as rehearsed.
The girls! They’re nowhere to be seen, so I scan the back of the church, but they’re not there either. Should I go and get them? I can’t leave; I’m already at the front of the church. The guitarist finishes the Pachelbel piece, and the congregation stands.
I dare not breathe as the wedding march begins and Louisa emerges with Rory in one arm and Margo holding her other hand. The congregation gasps simultaneously, and everyone breaks into wide smiles. My eyes brim with tears as I watch Aunt Louisa, who looks exquisite as she smiles—Mom’s smile—and glides up the aisle holding my girls. What woman would share her crowning moment with two little kids? My mom would have; and her sister is. Tears stream down my face when Rory nestles her head on Louisa’s chest and the congregation responds with a chorus of awws. Margo is beaming and seems truly captivated by the enchantment of the ceremony. Who would ever suspect Margo now carries the weight of knowing her father will never return? She has a brave little face and a resilient personality, and I love her for it.
When they’ve reached the front of the church, I step forward to take Rory, and Margo comes to stand beside me. Dad is crying openly, his happiness shining through.
“Dearly beloved…” The minister starts with his opening words, and I sneak a peek at Liam and then look away quickly.
Shit, he was looking right at me.
Our glances continue for the rest of the ceremony, and progress to smiling and long stares into each other’s eyes.
It’s okay, Liam isn’t mad anymore.
I turn my attention to the ceremony. The minister is speaking, and I’m not even listening. I switch Rory to my other arm, as Dad and Louisa exchange vows, with Billy standing behind them holding Riley. I’m relieved to see Billy is engrossed in the ceremony and seems to have forgotten all about the freakish puppet perched on his arm. Margo keeps hopping from one foot to the other—so I repeatedly give her sharp looks to behave—and Rory is squirming in my arms. I’m hoping the minister will finish soon.
An
d at last he pronounces them husband and wife, and Dad leans in to kiss Louisa. They make their way up the aisle as Rory and I join the recession with Billy and smile at all the familiar faces. Margo skips behind.
Billy and I hug, and I congratulate Dad and Louisa. Then I leave Rory and Margo with Billy and go off in search of Liam. It’s not an easy feat; I keep getting intercepted by well-wishers and family friends.
Where is Liam?
I make my way through the sea of people but I can’t find him. Disheartened, I turn to join the wedding party and—“Liam!”
We come together and melt into a long and tender embrace. “I’m sorry, love,” he whispers in my hair.
Not wanting to disentangle myself, I keep my arms entwined around his neck and raise my eyes to his. “I’m the one who should be sorry. I never meant to ever hurt you.”
“I know that now. Actually I came to my senses pretty quickly, but I wanted to prove it to you first.” Liam grins and shrugs.
“Prove what?” I cradle his face in my hands and lose myself in his eyes.
“You were right, in every way. I did let my family’s opinions of me shadow any real effort on my part for an independent life. I just assumed the role of someone who isn’t to be taken seriously and… eventually lost the confidence to actually make my way on my own.”
“And?” I ask, baffled.
“And so, I partnered with my friend Nick and started a catering company. I’ve always loved cooking, so why not? We’ve put together business and marketing plans, and we’ve designed menus and a website—it’s all arranged. I have some bookings already, through family friends and—”
“That’s fantastic Liam. I’m so proud of you!”
A pensive look crosses Liam’s beautiful features. “I’ve reconciled with my family. Apparently, they’re more supportive than I thought, and we’re in a good place now.”
“That’s wonderful,” I gush, pulling him into the pew. The church is emptying out, and our sitting together and sharing this moment feels divine.
“Ah, there’s another thing though, Lane.”
“What is it?”
Riches & Rags: Things are seldom as they seem. Page 29