by Beth K. Vogt
She waited for Alex’s words to hurt . . . to wound her . . . but they didn’t. There seemed to be some sort of buffer around her heart that allowed her to listen to Alex . . . to be his friend . . . even as he verbally dismantled their romance. He wasn’t rejecting her—not really. He was asking for freedom to figure out who he was as he extricated himself from the emotional web created by his mother’s alcoholism. Maybe this unexpected calmness came from recognizing that.
At this moment, Alex needed a friend more than anything else. She could be that for him. She’d always been his friend.
“I understand, Alex.” At least, she was trying to understand. She leaned close, resting her head on his shoulder. “And you’re right. You need time to sort things out—and the freedom to do it without worrying about me.”
“You do know I love you, Caro—” Alex’s voice was so low Caron had to strain to hear it. “But I can’t ask you to wait while I try to figure my life out. Who knows how long that will take?”
“I know you love me, Alex.” Caron could say the words, knowing they were true. “And I love you. You’re one of my best friends. And I know the all-wise ‘they’ say you should marry your best friend . . . but in our case, I think they’re wrong.”
They sat in silence for a few moments, as if unsure what to say next, or who should say it.
Alex tapped their paired hands against his knee. “So . . . we’re not getting married then, right?”’
He sounded so detached. Is that what happened when you realized you were marrying the wrong person? Or you were marrying the right person for all the wrong reasons?
“Correct. We’re not getting married.” Something pierced her heart as she said the words, but she squeezed his hand, trying to keep any emotion from her words. The last thing he needed right now was for her to cry. “You need to take care of yourself—and not worry about me.”
“And we’re both okay with this decision?”
“Yes. We made the decision together.”
“I suppose we’ll need to tell our parents we’ve ruined their plans—”
His parents. Her parents.
Her father.
“Not right away. Please.”
“What?”
“I just got back from Colorado. I’m exhausted. Give me a couple of days to get my bearings again. To get settled back into my job. Can you do that?”
“Sure. I understand.” At last Alex shifted on the couch and looked at her. “So, not to ask an awkward question, but what are you going to do with that destination wedding you won?”
The wedding in Telluride. How funny that Alex would remember that before she did.
“Oh, I don’t know.” Caron tried to keep her voice light. “There’s still time before the expiration date. Maybe I’ll donate it—surprise some other couple who is ready to get married. Don’t worry about it. You have more important things to think about right now besides a destination wedding you never wanted in the first place.”
Alex had the decency to look apologetic—but only a little. “Still friends?”
“Always friends.”
“Who knew being an adult was so tough?”
“Who knew?”
“I guess I need to get home.” Alex rose to his feet and Caron followed him to the door. “Thank you for listening. For understanding.”
“Of course.”
Only as Alex hugged her, his embrace so familiar, did something inside of her seem to shift. To crumble. How was she supposed to let him go? His heart beat beneath her ear—steady and strong—an echo of his long-standing presence in her life.
They’d agreed to this . . . this new definition of their relationship. Friends—and only friends. She would not make Alex think she wanted more, not when he was hurting, struggling to find his way. She wouldn’t demand something of him that he couldn’t give her. And she’d stop pretending she could give him everything he needed from the woman he’d marry.
“Go on, now.” She stepped back, face averted, so Alex wouldn’t see the tears pooling in her eyes. “It’s late.”
“Take care.”
“You, too.”
Only when she was safe in her bed, the covers pulled up over her shoulders, did Caron release a shuddery sigh that became a tear-soaked sob.
She’d done the right thing. It was time for her and Alex to stop using their relationship as a safety zone. Despite her tears, they’d done the right thing.
THIRTY-EIGHT
One week of work behind her, another week about to start, and Caron had settled back into the routine of working for her father—and Nancy Miller—easier than she expected.
Yes, the sign outside the building now read HOLLISTER REALTY GROUP. And the smaller conference room had been transformed into a private office for Nancy Miller. But the summery pillows Caron had purchased still decorated the couch in the reception area, and she had rescued the vase from the break room, refilled it with vivid pink zinnias, and centered it on the glass table.
Following the Monday-morning staff meeting, Caron waited as the other Realtors left the conference room, some pausing to talk with her father or with Nancy Miller. As the other woman ended her conversation, Caron caught her father’s attention.
“Could I talk to you for a moment?”
“Will this take long?” Her father closed his leather folder. “I was about to meet with Nancy.”
“No. I wanted to share an idea with you—” She realized Nancy was watching their exchange. “—and Nancy’s welcome to listen, since this involves the company. I’d like her opinion, too.”
“Well?”
“As you know, I staged a home while I was in Colorado. And you—we—often recommend that our clients use a professional home stager before they put their homes on the market.”
Her father remained standing behind the table. “Yes, we do.”
“What would you think about developing a home staging branch of Hollister Realty Group?”
“We’re a realty company, Caron. We do not stage homes.”
“But I can stage homes—”
“You’re a Realtor—”
“Yes, I’m a Realtor, but I loved what I did for Kade Webster—” At the mention of Kade’s name, her father’s posture stiffened. “And I’ve considered doing it full-time.”
“Don’t be absurd, Caron. You are not a home decorator.”
“But I have the skills. I could show you photographs of the Peak Tour of Homes house—”
“I’m not interested.” With a glance at his watch, her father headed for the door. “You’ve studied real estate. You still have a lot to learn about that. I’m finished with this conversation.”
Caron’s father didn’t even spare her a glance as he left the room.
So much for her brilliant idea.
Nancy Miller lagged behind. “I’m sorry, Caron.”
“It’s not your fault.”
“No, although I do want to say I think your idea has merit.” Was the woman merely trying to soften her father’s rejection of her idea? “I realize that is not the same as your father being willing to listen.”
“No, but I appreciate it.”
“Don’t let his reaction stop you. Keep gathering information about establishing a home staging division in this company. I’ve known your father for a long time, and sometimes he forgets that other people have ideas worth considering.”
“Yes, well, other people aren’t his daughter.”
“True. And I hate to say it, Caron, but being his daughter only makes working for him all the harder. Sometimes it’s successful, but this is your second attempt to be both his daughter and employee. Do your best, but realize, no matter what you do, you’re not ever going to be able to satisfy your father.”
• • •
You’re not ever going to be able to satisfy your father.
Hours later, Nancy Miller’s statement resounded in her mind, as if it was on nonstop playback.
Caron moved her laptop off her lap,
scrunching her eyes shut and letting her head fall back against the couch. Her bottle of water had warmed to room temperature, and her container of blueberry Greek yogurt sat beside it, uneaten.
How could the other woman see the truth when Caron couldn’t?
She’d failed.
Any indication she’d earned her father’s notice as a Realtor? Fleeting, at best.
She’d denied her heart—walked away from Kade—all for her father, who thought Alex was the right man for her.
What would her father say when he knew they’d broken up?
What was she going to do?
The trill of her phone ended her introspection. Okay, easy answer. She’d answer her phone.
“Caron, it’s Vanessa. Do you have time to talk?”
“Absolutely. I’m more than happy to talk. I’ve spent too many hours trying to sort out my life.”
“Sounds like there’s a story there. Logan’s on the road with the team, so I’ve got lots of time to myself. The last time we talked, you’d quit your job and things were a little strained between you and Alex.”
“Yeah, a lot has happened since then.” Caron eased off the couch, stretching her back with a soft groan.
“So how’s life been treating you since you quit your job?”
Caron tucked the phone between her shoulder and ear as she scooped a handful of Hot Tamales out of the glass jar she’d set out on her kitchen counter earlier in the day. “You want an honest answer?”
“No, I want you to lie to me.” Vanessa’s words were laced with laughter. “Of course I want an honest answer.”
“Let’s see . . . weren’t you the one who prayed for imperfection for me?”
“I did say something like that the last time we talked. But I’ve really been praying for clarity and for direction for you.”
“God’s said yes to the imperfection . . . but not so much to the clarity and direction.”
“Why don’t you tell me what’s going on?”
“The most recent life change is that Alex and I broke up. We both know it’s the right thing to do. And we also know our decision isn’t going to please our parents at all.”
“Oh my gosh, Caron! We have got to talk more often. First you quit your job and now you break up with Alex? You’re just making one huge life change after another, aren’t you? What happened?”
How did she explain the breakup to Vanessa?
“Well, Alex wasn’t very happy when I told him I was going to work for Kade Webster—”
“What?”
Vanessa’s shriek had Caron holding her phone away from her ear. “I guess I deserved that. So much has happened in the past month—including my working for Kade Webster, although that’s not why Alex and I broke up.”
When silence was Vanessa’s only response, Caron asked, “Aren’t you going to say anything?”
“Me? I’m not the one whose life is in upheaval. Keep talking.”
“The condensed version is that Kade Webster offered me a temporary job staging a house for him. I accepted, thinking the tension between my dad and me would disappear while I was gone. Alex wasn’t crazy about it, but, being Alex, he understood.”
“And?”
“Things got . . . a little confusing between Kade and me when I was in Colorado.”
“Confusing how?”
“Romantically.”
“Caron, we’ve been talking for, what? Two, maybe three minutes? And I feel like I’ve been riding a Tilt-A-Whirl.”
“You? Hey, I’ve been living all of this.” Caron paced her kitchen, returning to the pile of Hot Tamales. “It’s okay, though. I got my head on straight and remembered I was with Alex—”
“But you said you broke up.”
“That happened after I came home. Alex admitted he’s been dealing with a lot of family stress and that he’s not ready to get married. To me or anyone else.”
Once again, Vanessa didn’t say anything.
“Are you still there?”
“Oh, I’m here all right. But I’m waiting for the next installment in ‘Caron Hollister, This Is Your Life.’ ”
“More like ‘This Is Your Life Unraveling.’ ” Caron tossed two Hot Tamales into her mouth. “Alex and I were finally able to admit we are just friends. Nothing more.”
“And what do your parents think about all this?”
“We haven’t told them yet. Being honest with one another was hard enough. I needed a little time to gather my strength for the conversation with my parents.”
“That’s understandable. So, what else?”
“What else—what?”
“Is that all?”
“No, although I wish it was.” Caron huffed out a breath. “My father offered me my old job back—”
“What?”
“Believe me, you’re no more shocked than I was.”
“And?”
“Of course I took the job. What else would I do? But . . .”
“But . . . ?”
“It’s not going to work.” Speaking the truth out loud seemed to drain the energy from Caron, causing her to slump onto her kitchen floor and lean back against the island.
“Why not?”
“Let’s just say Nancy Miller was right.”
“Are you going to explain that comment?”
“She said I’m not going to be able to make my father happy.” Caron closed her eyes. “Did I ever tell you about what happened in high school?”
“High school?”
“Sophomore year. I participated in a class prank that got labeled as vandalism.”
“I imagine that didn’t go over too well with your father.”
“Just another transgression, along with poor grades and pink hair.” Caron sighed. “After that, I decided I was going to stop being the reason my parents dreaded parent–teacher conferences. Put all my time and efforts into my grades and basketball.”
“That must have made your father happy.”
“Sure. But every basketball victory gave way to the next game and the need to win. To make my father proud, whether he was in the stands or not.”
“And then you became a Realtor . . .”
“Yes.”
“I would have to agree with Nancy Miller—you are never going to make your father happy.”
“I’m just facing that truth for the first time.”
“You’re not the only person to get tripped up by wanting someone’s approval, you know that, right?”
“I know that’s true . . . but it doesn’t change anything. It doesn’t help me figure out how to change.”
“Can I share one thing with you?”
“Sure.”
“There’s a passage in Scripture—John, I think—that talks about the rulers who believed in Jesus. But they didn’t confess their belief because they were afraid of the Pharisees and that they might be put out of the synagogue.”
“Okay . . .”
“The passage says, They loved the approval of men rather than the approval of God.”
Her father’s approval. God’s approval.
“Those rulers who believed in Jesus? They wanted the approval of the Pharisees more than they wanted everything a relationship with Jesus would give them. Things like freedom. And grace. A new identity.” Vanessa paused before continuing. “Can I ask you a couple of questions?”
“Yes.”
“What do you want out of life, Caron? And why are you so afraid of losing your father’s approval that you aren’t truly being you?”
“I . . . can’t answer those questions, Vanessa.”
“Didn’t mean to throw a pop quiz at you—”
“No. No, I’m an adult. I should know the answers. I’ve never stopped to really think about it before.” Caron ran her fingers through her hair. “You’ve given me even more to think about.”
“I’m sorry—”
“Don’t apologize. I’ve got to figure this all out on my own.”
“Not on your own. Talk to
God. Listen. Wait before you make any more decisions. Maybe if Logan and I’d done that, we wouldn’t have made such a mess of our marriage the first time.”
Talk to God. Listen. Wait.
Caron lay awake for hours after her phone call with Vanessa, puzzling over the same five words. Maybe talking, listening, and waiting were the right steps to discovering what she wanted out of life.
THIRTY-NINE
After hours of nonstop talking and laughter following Margo and Ronny’s rehearsal dinner at the restaurant, all was quiet in Margo’s apartment.
Emma, Leslie, and Brooke had already said their goodbyes, promising to be back by ten o’clock the following morning to get ready for the wedding. Only Caron remained, gathering up glasses and soda cans and carrying them to the kitchen.
“You, my friend, need to go to bed.” Caron tried to shoo Margo out of the kitchen.
“Do brides-to-be really sleep the night before they get married?”
“I wouldn’t know, but I highly recommend it.”
“I can’t believe my wedding day is almost here.” Margo moved from the kitchen, but only as far as her couch, decorated with the pillows from the Tour of Homes, collapsing onto it with a sigh. “We’ve been planning it for months, and now here it is.”
Caron moved from the kitchen to sit on the padded arm of the chair across from her friend. “It’s going to be a beautiful wedding. The handmade necklace and earrings are perfect with our dresses.”
“I’m glad you like them. Maybe that means you’ll wear them again.”
“I will. But everyone will be looking at you anyway. Tomorrow is all about you and Ronny.”
“How are you doing?” Margo sat up, wrapping her arms around her knees.
“Me? I’m fine. A bridesmaid is kind of like background furniture or an accent piece—”
Margo reached for her hand. “I’m serious, Caron. Is tomorrow going to be hard for you after breaking up with Alex and the fact that you’ll see Kade again?”
“Breaking up with Alex was the right thing to do.”
“And what about Kade?”