by Susan Wiggs
Cara knew Alice was a sucker for a challenge. “Do you remember what you said to me once, that day we went through the college admissions letters?”
“And what was that?”
“‘Are you saying this is a legitimate roadblock, or is it an excuse to avoid doing something that scares you?’”
“Listen, I know what you’re trying to do, but it’s really not necessary. I don’t have anything helpful or inspirational to say to a roomful of people.”
“They’re going to love you.”
“They’re going to be polite and feel sorry for me.”
“Depends on what you say. It’s a fifteen-minute talk. You can tell them about studying behavioral psychology. Or being on the swim team. Or reading ‘The Rape of the Lock,’” Cara said.
“Sounds riveting,” Rick said.
“Please. I have one job with this committee,” Cara pointed out. “Don’t make me fail.”
Alice stared at her. Then a decisive light came into her eyes. “I’ll make you a deal,” she said. “If I agree to speak at your event, you have to agree to apply to three of the colleges represented that night.”
Cara pursed her lips, already mentally tallying up the application fees.
“Don’t worry about the application fees,” Alice said, as if reading her mind. “I’ll see that they’re waived.”
“On what basis? What makes you think I’m special?”
“My girl, if you don’t believe you’re special, who else will?”
* * *
Faith was seeing someone. Well, sort of. She had gone to a Friday night football game with Ray Tolley. The next weekend, he’d taken her and Ruby on a drive to look at the fall colors, pick apples and take them to a cider press, and the three of them came home with several gallons of the freshest apple cider they’d ever tasted. Faith and Ray saw a couple of movies together, and when Inner Child performed at the Shawangunks Outdoor Festival, she’d gone with a few friends for the music and dancing. The autumn colors around the grand river gorge had created a magical setting for the event. The beer was delicious, the music was great and it was a lovely, fun day.
So, yes. She was seeing someone. Ray was incredibly nice, very funny, a talented musician. They got along fine. After their most recent date—the town gallery walk followed by dinner at the Apple Tree Inn, they made out in the parking lot. His lips were sweet with the crème brûlée they’d shared for dessert, and she wanted sparks to fly.
It was...nice. But nice wasn’t the same as flying sparks. She stepped back, resting her hands on his shoulders, and smiled up at him.
He smiled back, but his eyes held a quiet knowledge. “Is this where one of us says, ‘It’s not you, it’s me’?”
“Aw, Ray.” She wished she didn’t see the disappointment in his eyes.
“I like you, Faith. I like you enough to level with you. We’ve been having some good times together, but I can tell you’re not feeling it. I mean, us, together.”
“And you are?”
He reached out, smoothed a lock of her hair back behind her ear. “I’m not going to lie. I’m into you. No, don’t say anything. I’ll get over you. These things...they don’t work if they’re one-sided.”
* * *
Cara was stupidly nervous about college night. She told herself not to be. Alice was going to be awesome. She was smart, and she’d do a great job. Philomena had done her hair and makeup, and even little Bella was tricked out in school colors. Yet when Cara knocked on the door of Alice’s room, Alice greeted her with a scowl.
“Is that what you’re wearing?” she asked bluntly, in full-on dragon lady mode.
Cara looked down at her jeans, Doc Martens and rock-festival T-shirt. “You’re the star of the show, not me.”
Alice sniffed. “This way,” she said. “Into the vault.” Bella trotted after her. “That’s what I call my closet. I’m much too fond of nice clothing. Don’t give me that look. You can keep the combat boots—those are actually kind of cute...”
To Cara’s surprise, the vault was not a bad place to shop. She found a gray canvas pleated skirt with leather closures, and it looked good with leggings and her boots. Alice picked out a navy-and-white-striped boatneck top, and a short cashmere cardigan.
“There,” Alice said. “Now you look like a young woman with good prospects.”
Cara couldn’t deny that she felt more confident, wearing nicer clothes. “You’re not so bad yourself,” she said. “It’s time to go. Donno’s taking you in the van, and I’ll come later with Mom and Ruby.”
After Alice left in the van, a midnight blue sedan glided like a stealth aircraft into the driveway.
Cara’s heart soared. She had sent Mason an email, inviting him to come hear his mother speak, but she’d never heard back, so she assumed he was ignoring her. She should have known better. He never ignored things that were important.
“Mason,” Ruby yelled, rushing out to greet him. “You came!” She turned to everyone else. “He’s here!” Then she ran to Mason. “I can’t believe you’re here.”
He swooped her up into his arms. “I heard a rumor that my mother was going to be the star of the show tonight. I wouldn’t miss it.”
Then he gave Cara a hug and turned to her mom. “Hey, Faith.”
They didn’t hug. Cara kind of wished they would, but that would probably be weird, because he was engaged and he probably shouldn’t be hugging other women. Especially her mom, because Mom looked at him as if he was a box of Godiva chocolates.
He let Cara drive his car to the event. Ruby and Mom were in the backseat, Ruby nattering on about the fancy car, with its big-screen display and surround-sound system. “Put on ‘Climb Every Mountain,’” she insisted. “You know, from The Sound of Music.”
“Oh, my God, no,” Cara begged. Ever since Philomena had turned the kid onto that movie, Ruby had memorized every single song.
“Please.”
“Only if you promise you won’t sing,” Cara said. “Mom—”
“You’re the driver. You get to pick the music,” her mom said. Yay, Mom.
“But it’s my car.” Mason scrolled through the playlist and found the number. “Come on, what good is a song like this if you don’t sing along?” And with that, he turned up the volume. A moment later the deep, operatic tones of Mother Superior filled the car.
Ruby joined right in, and then Mason picked up the melody, belting out the song with a fake operatic vibrato. Mom couldn’t resist adding her voice, either, and finally Cara caved to the pressure. They yodeled “Climb Every Mountain” for at least three miles, until they were laughing so hard they couldn’t sing anymore. When Cara got out of the car, Ruby gave her a swift, hard hug. “You look really pretty,” she said.
“Thanks. That’s a nice thing to say.”
“After high school, are you going away?”
“Yeah. Probably.”
“I’m gonna miss you. What’ll I do without you, Cara?”
“Wherever I go, I’ll always come back to see you, squirt.”
“It won’t be the same.”
“Nothing ever stays the same, Ruby Tuesday,” said Mason, grabbing the kid’s hand and giving her a twirl until she started to giggle. “It’s more interesting that way.”
“How are you not the same?” Ruby asked, eyeing him up and down.
“That’s a long story. Let’s go inside.”
A long story. Cara wondered about that. She could tell by her mom’s narrowed eyes and intrigued expression that Mom was wondering, too.
At the entrance to the country club, Cara found Milo passing out flyers for the service dog training program. His committee with PAWS was dedicated to turning strays into working dogs for people who needed them. “I know one guy who is not going to have to lie about his commu
nity service on his college apps,” she said.
Milo grinned. “I’ll just have to lie about my athletic prowess. Think they’ll believe me if I say I’m a pole-vaulting champion?”
“Pole vaulters are a dime a dozen,” Cara said. “Guys who rescue puppies—it’s no contest.”
“From your lips to Yale’s ears.”
“Oh, so it’s Yale now,” Cara said.
“A guy can dream.”
“That’s what tonight is about, right?” Cara’s heart skipped a beat. It was painful to want so much, to want everything. “Hey, listen. I want to hear more about those diabetic medical alert dogs you were telling me about.”
“For Ruby?”
“Can she, like, be put on a list for a dog?”
“Sure. I’ll get you all the info.”
“Thanks, Milo. You’re the best. I’ve been thinking how great it would be for Ruby and my mom to have a dog that can sniff out her blood sugar level. And after I’m gone, she’ll have another dog for company.”
“We’ll make it happen. Let’s go inside. Looks like they’re getting started.” Milo stepped aside with a fake-gallant bow.
After the opening remarks and a great number by the Yale group, it was time for Alice’s speech. Accompanied by Bella—who wore a service dog vest in Harvard crimson colors—she glided to the podium. The crowd murmured with admiration as Bella took the mike from the host, brought it over to Alice and then settled down, as attentive as everyone else in the room.
With slow deliberation, Alice gripped the mike and fitted it into its holder. Her face glowed with pride at the simple gesture.
Cara could tell the moment Alice spied Mason. They were all sitting together in the front row. He gave his mother a thumbs-up sign, and her face lit like the sunrise.
“I’m not going to talk to you tonight about being a quadriplegic,” Alice said, looking directly out at the crowd. “I’m sure as hell not expecting you to feel sorry for me, and I’m not going to tell you to follow your dreams. Dreams are what happen when you’re sleeping, and I want everyone to be wide-awake.”
Murmurs of laughter. Alice gave a brief overview of what it was like for her to go to college, to create a future for herself and pursue a career and family. She was witty and sharp, and not at all boring. Her concluding remarks brought the house down. “I’ve done a lot of things in my life, including the accident that landed me in this chair. You might think the accident is the worst thing that’s ever happened to me. But it’s not. The worst thing is that I stopped listening to my heart.”
She paused and took a long, steadying breath. “The hardest part of life is not a physical struggle or financial worries or anything like that. The hardest is learning to be who you are and whom to love, and to love the life you’ve made for yourself. I do not have a single regret. I’m proud of the things I did. I’m not sorry for the stupid things I did, and believe me, there were a lot of them. I’m just glad it all happened. And the best part of life started with choosing my education. So don’t tell me you can’t attend college. Don’t tell me you can’t climb a mountain or learn a language or explore outer space. Don’t tell me it can’t be done. The smallest success starts with the greatest motivation.”
The reception afterward was a crush of well-wishers and snacks served by crisply dressed waiters. Cara bent down and gave Alice a hug. “You nailed it,” she said. “I knew you would.”
“She’s right,” Mason said. “Way to go, Mom.”
“Thanks for coming,” said Alice. She looked around. “Where’s Regina now? Switzerland again?”
* * *
When Mason found Ruby the day after his mother’s college night speech, she was practicing “Doe a Deer” on the piano. Ruby’s obsession with The Sound of Music continued. She walked around in a long gray robe, with a coif and veil over her hair, and at a moment’s notice she would fling it off to reveal a blue dress and an apron. She’d memorized all of the songs.
“Hey, Sister Mary Shortstuff,” he said.
She spun around on the piano stool, her nun’s coif flying. “Hey, yourself. Alice said you broke up with Regina.”
Oh, boy. So the cat was out of the bag. “We decided not to get married, after all.”
The relationship had ended several weeks before, coming to a slow, grinding halt as the realization had come over them like a storm cloud. He vacillated between a feeling of relief and one of defeat. The bottom line was, Mason had finally admitted to himself, and then to Regina, that he longed to be here, in Avalon, close to his family. Spending time with his mother—and yes, with Faith and her girls—made him realize what he really yearned for—a family. Not just for show or to entertain his mother, but to give life its deepest meaning.
Regina told him flat out that she couldn’t see herself moving to a small town. She acknowledged—and not graciously—that Mason was a changed man, and she didn’t like the changes.
“Why did you break up with her?” asked Ruby. “She’s beautiful, and she wears designer clothes. That black-and-white sundress she wore on the Fourth of July was Missoni.”
“Someone’s been watching too many style shows on TV. I didn’t break up with her.”
“So did she break up with you? What did you do? Did you beg her to take you back?”
“Enough with the questions, brat. You’re right that she’s beautiful and wears nice clothes. But we both realized that although we care about one another and share a lot in common, it wasn’t enough to make a lifetime commitment.”
In fact, he reflected, he and Regina had broken up the same way they’d gotten engaged—by mutual consent.
“So you didn’t ever love each other.”
“We liked each other and got along so well that it seemed like love. But it wasn’t the kind of love that would keep us going for sixty years, like my great-uncle Charles and his wife, Jane. You’ll understand when you’re older.”
“I understand now.”
“I think maybe you do. That’s pretty cool.”
“Why’d you propose to her in the first place, then?”
“I didn’t. We were sitting around one day and we decided that we liked doing things together and working together and we thought we’d stay together.”
She pinched her lower lip, studying the songbook propped on the piano. “Maybe you’re like Captain von Trapp and the Baroness. You were supposed to be in love but it kept falling flat because you were distracted by Maria.”
“Who? What? Oh, The Sound of Music.” He scarcely remembered the plot. It was about a rich Austrian widower who wanted to bang the governess, something like that. “No, we’re not like that,” he told Ruby. “It was just...a mistake. People make mistakes. Reg and I thought we’d make a good pair, but we were wrong.”
“Dude,” she said.
“I know,” he conceded. “We didn’t exactly think things through.” Or maybe, he mused, they had overthought everything and convinced themselves that this was what they wanted out of life.
“Does this mean you’re staying off the market?”
“What?” He gave a short laugh.
“That’s what people say when they don’t want to date—that they’re off the market.”
“I’ll probably take some time,” he said.
“I’m sorry,” she said.
“Thanks, Ruby Tuesday.”
“Does it hurt?”
“What? No. Or...yes. I feel bad that we got engaged and it didn’t work and we had to let each other go.”
“Don’t feel bad for trying.”
“Okay, that’s good advice. Thanks.” The kid was so damn sweet. In one conversation, she broke his heart more surely than Regina had.
“You’re welcome. Are you off the market for good?”
“No.” His reply came swiftly. “Li
ke I said, I’ll take some time.”
“And then what?”
“And then you quit asking so many questions. Let’s go drown our sorrows in a whole bag of Cheetos.”
She grabbed his hand and planted a kiss on it. “Just so you know, I think Regina’s out of her gourd for letting you go.”
“Yeah?”
“You’re a keeper.”
“I am? Does that mean you’re keeping me?”
“No, silly. I’m a kid. When the right one comes along, she’ll know you’re a keeper.”
“I think you’re the right one. My Cheetos buddy.”
“Just don’t tell Mom.”
25
“I’ve invited Simon Gauthier to spend the holidays with us,” Alice announced as they were finishing dinner one night shortly before Christmas. “I hope that’s all right.”
No one moved a muscle. No one said a word. Mason looked at his brother and sister, who sat frozen in place.
Finally, Adam dropped his fork onto his plate. “Jesus H. Christ, Mom. Seriously?”
“Actually, I invited them both—Simon and his mother—but Celeste didn’t care to come. Understandable, wouldn’t you say? Simon readily accepted. I believe he would like to meet his half brothers and sister.”
“Why didn’t you tell us he was coming?” Ivy demanded.
“I just did.”
“And why did you invite him?” asked Mason.
“He’s your half brother. I’m sure the three of you have questions. And he does, too. I have nothing against this person. He didn’t ask to be born into the mess your father made. I don’t have any illusions that you’ll become lifelong friends, but—”
Ivy jumped up and gave her mother a hug. “But maybe we will, and how cool would that be? Mom, you’re amazing. Inviting Simon here was incredibly generous of you.”
“I’m kind of surprised he wanted to come,” Adam said. “When will he get here?”
Bella skittered over to the doorway. Her pencil-thin tail stuck straight up like an antenna, and she gave a single, sharp bark.