by Maggie Marr
“Seems Mrs. Kessler is having some difficulty with the idea of her son getting married.”
“Mrs. Kessler has difficulty with everything all the time,” Nina whispered. “That woman is sour. Always looks like she’s been sucking on limes.”
“Stop.” The giggle she’d held back while speaking with Mrs. Kessler slipped from her mouth. Thank goodness for Nina. Aubrey always had someone to talk to, a person she could trust not to repeat what she said. In a small town, having a sister who understood the words discretion and secret was pure gold. “Bob needs to talk to you about sweet butter grass.”
Nina nodded. “And Dad needs to talk to you … about I don’t know what. He just called on the landline.”
Aubrey’s brows furrowed. “Dad?”
Dad never called during the day. On occasion he might swing by the kitchen to drop off a new wood project or if he knew that Nina was preparing fresh ravioli for the evening service, because Nina’s fresh ravioli was Dad’s absolute favorite.
“Is he okay?”
“He sounded … irritable.”
“Dad always sounds irritable.” Aubrey continued toward her office door. There were checks to cut and invoices to send, orders and payroll to complete.
“You need to go talk to him.”
The somber tone in Nina’s voice stopped Aubrey. She turned toward her sister. “Talk to him? Now?”
A deep breath and a sigh passed over Nina’s lips. “He ran into Justin in the woods. I think they … spoke.”
Her stomach plummeted. What had Justin told Dad? What did Dad say to Justin? This couldn’t be good. If Dad had called and demanded to talk to her now, this wasn’t good at all. This was nearly as bad as Justin arriving at Rockwater Farms unannounced.
Aubrey pulled her bottom lip between her teeth. Dealing with Dad and Justin and the whole damned mess took too much time and energy. She looked out the giant windows that lined the hallway. Parked outside and through a tiny canopy of trees, on the private white-gravel driveway to the Rockwater Suite, was the black Range Rover that Aubrey assumed was Justin’s rental.
“Fine.” Aubrey sighed and turned to her right. “He’s in his shop?”
Nina nodded. “Good luck.”
Great last words from her sister. Aubrey walked through the kitchen and out the back door into the sauna of summer. A bright blue sky and heat and sun had burned away any morning coolness, and now it was just plain hot and humid. She hiked up the trail and past the house to the woodshop. She heard a saw buzzing inside Dad’s shop, pulled open the door, and stepped into a room that was a bit cooler. Dad sometimes flipped on the air in the middle of the day, although he wouldn’t admit to such an extravagance. When they were kids, there’d been no air-conditioning in the farmhouse or the woodshop. When Nina and then she moved back into the farmhouse, they’d installed central air and taken over the thermostat. Dad finally surrendered to the luxury of air-conditioning in his shop.
He slid a chain saw through a big branch that still contained leaves and bark. She didn’t yell over the noise—he’d never hear her through the wall of sound. His cut was nearly finished. He stopped the saw and looked over to the spot just inside the doorway where she stood. He turned off the chain saw, and she approached his workbench, as he pulled up his safety goggles. In the far corner of the shop was a new stack of wood. He’d been searching for timber that “spoke” to him. Dad said the wood told him what it wanted to be, and then he used his feeble skills to try to make the wood into its own request.
There was no smile on his face, but that wasn’t unusual. Dad hardly ever smiled. The line of his lips seemed particularly hard and judgmental. His eyes raked over her. He set his goggles on the table and then sat on his workshop stool. He took a breath and his nostrils flared.
Oh. No.
She knew that look from her childhood. A spanking or being grounded followed that look after Dad’s litany of whatever misdeeds Aubrey was guilty of.
“Dad? Nina said you needed to see me.”
Ten years old. Suddenly she was a ten-year-old little girl who’d angered her father. She pressed her fingertips to the smooth top of the worktable. He couldn’t spank her now and he couldn’t take anything away from her, so why did she feel so small when he cast that disapproving look her way?
He folded his hands together and stared into her eyes. Anger flashed, followed by disappointment. “Met Max’s dad in the woods today.”
Aubrey raised one eyebrow. “He’s here. Arrived unannounced last night. I didn’t know he was coming from New York.”
“Seems everyone been getting some surprises.” Dad pulled out his red bandana from his pocket and brushed it over his forehead. Tiny bits of wood dust came off with his sweat, and he stuffed the rag back into his jeans pocket. “Aubrey Lynn Hayes, how in the hell did you never tell that man about his boy?”
Aubrey’s chest tightened. Her lips set into a firm line. “Dad, this is a very personal matter, and I’m a grown woman. I don’t think—”
“You didn’t think. You’re absolutely right there; you didn’t think. And not only did you not think, but you lied to your family.”
“I never lied.”
“You lied.”
“I never told you that Justin didn’t want Max.”
“You lied by omission. Girl, you are one smart lady. You been out East. You graduated from them Ivies. I was there. You worked in New York, you chose to come back here, and you chose not to talk to me or your sister or even your mother about Justin Travati. What the hell did you think we’d assume? Did you think we’d assume that a smart woman like you, an independent businesswoman such as yourself, would scurry away in the night without having the fortitude, the sense of character, to actually tell the man that fathered that boy that he had a child coming into this world?”
“This is really my issue, Dad.”
“Your issue? The minute you came back to my farm, this became my problem. And let me make one thing clear: you still have my last name, and whether you think that binds us together or not, I do, because that name plus you and your sister are what I’ve got in this life. What you do reflects on me. I don’t care how old you think you are or how independent. That last name was given to you by me. And a person’s last name means something. You took that away from Max. You took his last name and his father and his opportunity to know half of his family. An entire side of his family. And for what, Aubrey Lynn? Why? What in the hell did you think you were doing?”
Aubrey’s knees wobbled, and she sank to the highboy chair beside the workbench. What had she thought? “Dad.” She took a deep breath. “At the time, this decision seemed like the only decision to make.”
Dad’s eyes softened. His voice was gentler, lower. “And I can understand that. I can. Coming home in the family way and unmarried. I’m not a woman, but I can imagine how hard that must have been. And to a small town like Hudson? After you made a run in the big city? And you did good. You and Nina have done better than good, especially with Rockwater Farms and seeing the future of farm-to-table and making this whole damn thing work when all anyone ever did was laugh at your ideas.” Dad reached out and grasped Aubrey’s hand. The calluses on his palm were rough against her fingers. “But Aubrey, it’s been nearly fifteen years. You’ve had fifteen years to tell this man about his son, to tell your son about his father. It’s too long. It’s not right.”
Aubrey closed her eyes. She wanted to spew all the reasons why she’d not told Max. All the things she was fearful would happen. How she’d wanted Max to be fully formed as an adult before the influence of the Travati family came into his life. But the sad thing was Dad was right. He was absolutely right. And if she was completely honest with herself, every reason that she’d told herself for the past fifteen years came down to one thing—fear. Fear that once Max knew his other family, who his father was, what kind of money and power and glamorous life that Justin Travati could provide to his son, that Max would choose Justin over her.
Aubrey took anoth
er long breath. She opened her eyes and looked at Dad. The anger was gone. His temper was always a quick burst, and once he got out his piece then the heat dissipated fast.
“You’re right, Dad. I was afraid. I was afraid that Max would leave me, that he’d pick Justin and New York and”—her voice wobbled in her throat and tears bit the backs of her eyes—“and that he wouldn’t ever come back to me. That he’d forget about me and us and who we are.”
“Oh, Aubrey.” Dad shook his head, and a warm, knowing look took over his face. “I understand. I can’t tell you how well I understand. You weren’t leaving your mother and me for another parent, but you were leaving us for another type of life. A real glamorous life with jet planes and champagne and fancy parties.”
Tears dripped down her cheeks, and Aubrey met her father’s eyes.
“But Aubrey, did you ever forget about us? Did you ever forget where you were from? Or did you take me and Mom wherever you went?”
“I took you, Dad. I took you both with me everywhere I went.” The lump in her throat was big, and she could barely speak around it. “But Dad, it’s his father. It’s Max’s dad. How angry will Max be?”
“Sweetheart, he’s already angry. He wants to know his dad. How the hell do you think that Travati fellow found out about Max?”
Aubrey wiped her hands under her eyes and cleared the tears from her face with her fingertips. “Max?”
“Wasn’t me, wasn’t you, and it wasn’t Nina. Leaves only one other person to find Justin Travati.”
Aubrey nodded. She hadn’t wanted to admit it, but yes, it had to be Max who had sought out his father, called him or e-mailed him. Aubrey sniffled.
“The past is the past, Aubrey, but it seems to me that how you handle this moving forward is going to have a big say in your future with Max and with Max’s dad. And that fella in the Rockwater Suite, whether you like him or not, is Max’s dad, and he’s now a part of your life for the rest of yours and Max’s.”
Aubrey took a long, cleansing breath. That was part of her problem too. She’d hoped that by pretending there was no Justin that not only would Max not leave her for his father, but she’d never have to confront her lingering feelings for Justin. The strong attraction that still hovered between them. The desire that grew between them while she worked with Justin that had finally exploded in a night of passion. A night that still caused her body to quiver with desire. A passion and desire that had been evidenced the night before.
“You two need to try to figure out what’s best for Max. And you got some time to get that done before Max gets home. Then if that Travati man is willing, you ought to present a unified front to your boy. I tell ya, two parents standing firm means a lot more to a kid than two parents divided. Especially when they’re teenagers.”
Aubrey nodded. She stood to leave.
“And Aubrey?”
Aubrey looked at Dad.
“A boy needs his father, but a man, he always loves his mama.”
Aubrey’s lips burst into a weepy smile. God, she hoped so. God, she did.
Chapter 10
“Are you okay?” Nina tilted her head and examined Aubrey.
Aubrey pulled at her black dress and touched the edges of her sleeves. Was she okay? No. Not exactly. She was walking and talking and pretending like everything was normal, but nothing was the same anymore. For three days she’d sat with the words Dad had said and the knowledge that Justin was in the Rockwater Suite. She couldn’t wait much longer. Soon, if she didn’t go to speak to Justin, he would come to her. Her entire carefully crafted existence was ripping apart, being shredded by the truth that she’d tried to ignore for years.
“I’m fine,” she said, and pasted a smile to her lips. The scents of freshly roasted pork and beef and caramelized onion and garlic wafted through the air. Usually her stomach would growl and she’d head to the chef’s table in the kitchen to taste every course offered to the guests that evening so that she might have a coherent conversation with them about the different flavors and techniques Nina had used to prepare their meal.
“Tasting?” Nina asked and turned toward the kitchen.
“I have a couple of things I need to do on the computer before service starts.”
Nina’s face revealed her worry. Again Aubrey smiled and walked away from her sister. She didn’t want to talk about her decisions about Max and Justin. She entered her office, sat at her desk, and opened the spreadsheet on her computer. She would crunch numbers, a task that always took her mind off her worries. Her Skype beeped and she pressed the icon. Incoming from Max.
Her heart thudded in her chest. What to say? How to act? God, she couldn’t tell him now, on his fifth day of camp, that his father was here. Especially after how they’d left things when she dropped Max off at Camp Willow. She clicked on the video-call icon and plastered a false smile to her lips. Maybe he wouldn’t notice.
“Hey, Mom.”
“Hey! How’s camp?” Her false falsetto rang high in her ears. Better pull it back or he’d know for certain something was up.
“’Kay, I guess.”
“Thought calls were for Sundays?”
“Not this week. We can go to the computer room any evening and call out. Just have to ask first.”
“I see. So what did you do today?”
Max looked away from the screen. There, in his profile, was the strong Travati chin and nose. She closed her eyes for a brief second. Dear God, he looked so similar to his father. He pushed his hand through his hair. He seemed older, as though in the few days since she’d left him at Camp Willow he’d gone from a boy to nearly a man. “My phone got confiscated. They put me on morning kitchen prep for a week.”
“That shouldn’t be too tough for you. You’ve been helping out for nearly a decade in one of the finest kitchens in the world.”
“Not like that,” he said, a smirk on his face. “They’ve got me peeling spuds and cracking eggs. No lobster or foie gras here.” Finally a smile. Or a hint of smile. She’d take it. For the rest of her life, she’d take any smile from Max she could get because she feared that soon those smiles would be in short supply where she was concerned.
“Only a week?” she asked, trying to make lemonade out of Max’s lemons.
“Yeah.” He glanced around the room and then turned back to the screen. He leaned forward. There were those eyes, those green eyes with flecks of amber from his father.
A gasp. Damn, he looked so very Travati.
“Listen, there’s something I didn’t tell you, and I kind of need to, you know. Just in case.”
“In case of what?”
“I don’t know. Listen, Mom, okay? Just listen.” He rubbed his hands together and sat back in his chair, then clutched the edge of the computer desk and leaned forward again.
What could possibly have happened at Camp Willow that had Max this nervous? He’d already copped to having his phone confiscated and getting kitchen detail, what else could he have done? Sneaking into girls’ cabins? Drinking? Weed? Oh my God, he was still too young for weed.
“I e-mailed my dad.”
Her heart stopped. Her chest tightened. A roar started in her ears. The smile, the smile she’d so carefully crafted and plastered to her face, was slipping, sliding like a pile of dirt in a rainstorm.
“Mom? You okay?”
“Yes, yes, of course.” She nodded her head and tried to look calm. Panic would help neither of them or their relationship. “And did he respond?”
“Dunno, I mean, I think so. I thought I saw an e-mail with the name Travati on it, but that’s when Purcell, our CA, walked in, saw the phone, and took it.” Max set his elbow on the desk and leaned on his fist. “Are you mad?”
Aubrey shook her head. “Nope. Not mad. Surprised, maybe, but not mad.” She was breathing again. Words were forming in her mind … but what to say … what to tell him … that Justin was here? That not only had he responded to Max’s e-mail but immediately flown to Kansas to track down his son?
Aubrey nodded. She fought the tears that were flooding her eyes. Of course he needed to know. This was Max’s father. The man that should be in his life. The man she’d intentionally kept from him for no other reason than her own fear.
“Max—”
A voice sounded from across the room.
“Gotta go, Mom. They’re calling for dinner. I’ll talk to you soon.”
“Max—” But the screen went black. Gone. Max was gone. She closed her eyes and breathed deep. What had she done? What had she done to her son?
*
The knock on the door surprised Justin. He’d just shut down his laptop and was heading to bed in his pajama bottoms and nothing else. He certainly didn’t expect anyone, and not the woman who stood at his doorway when he opened the door. He’d given her three days’ distance since the last time she’d arrived at his suite.
“May I come in?” Aubrey held her head high and her chin jutted forward, but a softness inhabited her eyes and gave away her apprehension over being here and seeing him again.
Justin stepped away from the doorway. “Of course.”
She walked in and patted her hair with her hand, then clasped her hands and walked to the living room. She didn’t sit but instead paced forward and back, keeping a tight grip on her hands. “Okay. Here’s the thing”—she took a deep breath—“you have a right to be here.” She turned toward him and paused, her gaze tangled with his. “In fact, a part of me”—she took another deep breath—“is thankful that you’re here. Because at the very least it proves that you have a strong interest in your son.”
Justin settled on the arm of the couch and crossed his arms over his chest. He remembered this Aubrey, the woman who didn’t admit that she was wrong. Fresh out of grad school, when working for him, the few mistakes she’d made, her type A personality had demanded she find the reasons for her errors, catalog those reasons, and learn from them. Which she did, and it seemed she was doing the same now.