Unfinished Business

by Roxanne Hensley

  “Nah, buttercream cookies,” Henry said. “The ones that come in that blue tin.”

  “What about wedding cake?” Frank asked. “That’s always been my weakness.”

  “You all lost me at dessert,” Adrian said. “Give me salty, like smothered cheese fries with bacon.” She rubbed her stomach.

  “Just as we were beginning to like you,” Susan said.

  They all laughed, and for the first time since she’d arrived, Adrian finally felt like she’d found her place in her hometown.

  20

  On the drive home, Adrian dialed Laura. She picked up after several rings, sounding out of breath. “Everything okay?”

  “Yeah, everything’s fine. What’s up?” Laura attempted nonchalance and failed.

  “You sound out of breath. Can you talk?”

  “Sure, I’ve got a minute.” Dylan screamed in the background.

  “If now isn’t a good time…”

  “Yes, it’s fine. He’s just refusing to eat, which is making Mommy crazy.” Her tone bordered on maniacal.

  “Why don’t we just catch up later?”

  “Okay.” Laura sounded relieved. “But do you mind stopping by my mom’s house this afternoon? She has a little something for you.”

  “Of course. Is she home now?”

  “Yeah, she should be.” Dylan wailed in the background, making Adrian cringe. They said their goodbyes and hung up.

  Adrian changed course and headed toward Laura’s parents’ house, which was only about fifteen minutes away. She felt a little embarrassed it had taken her so long to visit them. Better late than never, right?

  As she pulled up and parked by the curb, she noticed how little their home had changed. The stucco exterior was a warm shade of beige, and white trim made the windows pop. A sago palm fanned its fronds like a proud peacock, not to be outdone by the large live oak blanketing the front yard. The driveway comprised of stone pavers, and a warm wooden garage door replaced the old metal one that was peppered with dents from Laura’s dad’s putting practice. Memories of sleepovers, dinners, and birthday parties flooded Adrian’s inner screen. She’d practically lived there in her youth, it being their preferred gathering place.

  Laura’s mother, Elizabeth, was the epitome of a mother in Adrian’s mind: warm, nurturing, and encouraging. Adrian often felt jealous of Laura’s close relationship with her mother, wishing she and Margaret could have a bond like theirs. But they were different people, and she had to appreciate her relationship with Margaret for what it was.

  Adrian knocked on the door, and Elizabeth answered. “I was wondering when you’d show up,” she said, leaning in for a long, warm hug. When she pulled back, Adrian admired her. Elizabeth’s ash brown hair was neatly pulled up into a bun, and she looked ten years younger than her age. Her mahogany eyes beamed with pride and excitement, and she smelled of cookies and roasted chicken. She wore an old apron yellowed with age, peppered with many indiscernible spots and Never Trust A Skinny Cook stamped in faded block letters across the front. It made Adrian smile, since Laura’s mother was anything but pudgy.

  “Come in, I’m just baking cookies.”

  “You’re still like Mrs. Cleaver, I see.”

  “Oh, stop.” She playfully patted Adrian’s arm. A kitchen timer went off and Elizabeth hurried after it.

  The kitchen had received a face lift. The dark oak cabinets were painted a light shade of gray, and white marble countertops replaced the peeling buttercream Formica. Elizabeth offered her a glass of water, and she sat at a bar stool near their kitchen island just like old times.

  They made small talk while Elizabeth took a batch of cookies out of the oven and prepped another cookie sheet. Adrian’s mouth watered as the scent of confectionary perfection tickled her nose. “Paul is out playing golf this afternoon. He’s going to be so sorry he missed you.”

  “There will be other times. I promise,” Adrian said.

  After placing the new cookie sheet in the oven, Elizabeth wrinkled her brow as she studied Adrian. “Something’s bothering you.” She held a hand to Adrian’s forehead. “Man trouble?” Elizabeth always had a sixth sense about things. “Oh, what am I thinking? How’s your mother?”

  “She’s okay, I guess.” Adrian shrugged. “We’re just taking it one day at a time.”

  “I know this can’t be easy, and I’m here for you and Margaret. Whatever you need.”

  “Thanks.” Adrian noticed a hint of regret in her eyes when she mentioned her mother.

  “I think we need to try one of these cookies, don’t you?” Elizabeth smiled.

  Adrian nodded. “I thought you’d never ask.”

  Elizabeth handed her a warm cookie. “Did Laura tell you what I found?”

  “No,” she mumbled. “Should I be worried?”

  “Of course not.” Elizabeth giggled, finished her cookie, and wiped her hands on the apron. “Let’s go into the living room. I have something to show you.” She looked at the clock, nodding her head. “But first, let’s get something a little stronger than water and a cookie, shall we?” She pulled a bottle of white wine from the fridge. “Want a spritzer?”

  Adrian nodded, cracking a smile at Elizabeth living dangerously, breaking out the wine before a socially acceptable time of day. She made quick work of making their drinks before they moved into the living room. They sat together on a faded blue plaid couch, and Elizabeth pulled two coasters from the corner of the rustic oak coffee table for their drinks. Laura was practically with them in the form of family portraits lining the mantle of the hardly used fireplace. Why they even built homes with fireplaces in Florida was a total mystery.

  Elizabeth leaned over and grabbed a brown photo album barely held together with duct tape, pages poking out in different directions. “I was going through some old boxes in the garage last week and came across some pictures I thought you might like to see.” She carefully opened the album, and they looked through photos of Laura and Adrian as children celebrating birthdays and silly pictures of them playing dress-up—Laura in her father’s cowboy boots that came up to her waist and Adrian clogging along clumsily in Elizabeth’s stilettos. They both laughed at the memories as they viewed each image, a tiny window into good times long passed.

  Elizabeth turned the page, revealing pictures of her and a woman who looked remarkably like Margaret. Her head was leaned back in laughter, and Elizabeth was next to her. This had to have been before she was born. “Is that…?”

  “Yes.” Elizabeth grabbed her hand. “I thought you’d like to see these pictures. Did you know Margaret and I were good friends?”

  “I vaguely remember.” Adrian searched her memory, unable to recall a time when her mother looked so full of joy. “This looks like it was before I was born.”

  “It was. Your mother and I were pretty tight for a while.” Her eyes rueful, Adrian waited for her to say more. Instead, she turned to another page in the album, revealing a photo of Margaret full of bliss, holding a giggling baby up in the air.

  “Is that me?” Adrian asked, and Elizabeth nodded. Her mother looked proud, practically buoyant, a stark contrast to who she had known her to be. “I’ve never seen my mother so happy.”

  “You know she loves you.” Elizabeth placed her hand on Adrian’s, searching her face for comprehension. “I know she has a funny way of showing it sometimes, but that’s never changed.”

  Adrian swallowed hard, feeling deep-rooted emotions bubbling to the surface. “She certainly does.” She couldn’t remember the last time her mother said she loved her. Had she ever? Deep down, Adrian knew it, but sometimes, it’d be nice to hear.

  “She’s never been good with words,” Elizabeth said, as if reading Adrian’s mind. “But one thing’s for sure—she’s always wanted nothing but the best for you.”

  “Do you still talk?”

  “No,” She grimaced, “And I’ve been thinking about going to see her. We should put our differences in the past behind us.”

  “Wha
t happened?”

  “We had a disagreement. About you, actually.” Elizabeth took a big sip of her spritzer. “I always thought she was too hard on you. Too critical. She wanted to be closer to you and couldn’t understand why you favored your father. I said some things in honesty, trying to help her as a mother and my friend, and I guess she didn’t really want to hear them.” She shrugged. “Afterward, she pulled away, and I tried to apologize, but she wouldn’t hear it. We’ve never been the same since. You of all people know how she’s always right.” She forced a smile.

  So, her mother’s critical nature wasn’t only in Adrian’s head. Other people saw it too. She still didn’t understand why Margaret was so hard on her, and she secretly wondered if she even wanted to have a child. Adrian remember her speaking fondly about her budding career before Adrian came along. Had she ruined her mother’s life?

  She looked down at the photo. Seeing her mother so full of joy holding her in the air certainly made it seem like Adrian was wanted and loved. While seeing the photos and hearing what Elizabeth shared helped fill in some gaps, she couldn’t help feeling a little confused. In front of her was evidence of a softer side of Margaret that Adrian had long forgotten about, and recently, little glimmers made brief appearances. Could anything be done to fully unearth it?

  “Thank you for sharing all of this with me. It’s actually helped me make sense of some things.”

  Elizabeth pulled the picture of Margaret and baby Adrian from the album. “I think you should hang onto this one.”

  Adrian held the picture in her hand, feeling sparks of the reconnection with Margaret she’d longed for since her arrival. “Thanks, I definitely will.”

  Adrian stood in the kitchen over a pot of golden milk about to boil over, lost in thought about the afternoon. She appreciated Elizabeth showing her the old photos but felt more confused after seeing them. She recalled the picture of her and her mother in her mind’s eye, seeing the sheer joy on Margaret’s face. Adrian searched her mind for the catalyst that caused Margaret to change and came up short. Obviously, Elizabeth saw it too, or she wouldn’t have said anything. And if she and Margaret used to be close, Adrian wondered why her mother would react so poorly to her concern and push her away.

  She had a hard time believing Elizabeth about her mother being jealous of Adrian’s relationship with her father and how she longed to be closer to her daughter. If it was true, she had a funny way of showing it. Was she that unaware of the effect of her criticisms? In contrast, Adrian’s father was warm and encouraging. No wonder she’d favored him.

  “Are you trying to burn the house down?” Margaret said, turning off the burner. The contents in the pot quickly settled to a slow boil before reaching a state of calm.

  “Sorry.” Adrian shook her head, snapping out of it. She reached for two mugs before realizing her mother had beaten her to it.

  “Are you okay?”

  “Yeah,” Adrian lied, filling the mugs.

  Margaret examined her daughter. “Oh, I see what’s going on.”

  “What?”

  “Christian hasn’t called you, has he?”

  Adrian’s jaw dropped, and she quickly shut it. How did her mother know about Christian? Before she could answer, Margaret motioned for them to sit at the dining table.

  “So, tell me what’s on your mind.” Margaret blew on her milk, her mouth a perfect O.

  “I saw Elizabeth today.”

  She stopped blowing, her body tense. “Oh? How is she doing?”

  “Good. Said she wants to come visit with you sometime.”

  “Pay her respects while she still can, huh?”

  Adrian shrugged. “I wasn’t aware you two used to be so close.”

  “That was a long time ago.” She avoided eye contact, staring into her cup. She shifted uncomfortably and adjusted her cannula.

  “We went through some old photo albums.”

  “Wow, she really is feeling nostalgic.”

  Adrian pulled the photograph Elizabeth gave her out of her purse, placing it on the table facing her mother. “She’s not the only one.”

  Margaret softened as she studied the photograph. She held it between her bony fingers. “I remember that day.” She smiled. “I’m glad she found this one.” She set it down, patting it with approval.

  Adrian swallowed hard. She knew it was now or never, and she might lose the nerve if she didn’t just ask what she’d been thinking the entire afternoon. Nay, her entire life. “Ma, did you want me?” Her voice cracked and she blushed, feeling stupid hearing the words out loud.

  Margaret paused. “Are you serious? Now why’d you have to go and ruin this by asking such a silly question?”

  Adrian shrugged, shrinking in her chair. “I always got the impression you would have been happier if I hadn’t been born.”

  Margaret sat quietly, and Adrian’s chest tightened as she tried not to cry. She felt sheepish for even asking, but she’d always wondered. There was no taking it back now.

  “Look at me,” Margaret said, and Adrian raised her eyes. “Of course, I was happy to have you. Why would you ever think I wasn’t?”

  “But I thought you would have preferred pursuing your career and I messed that up…” Adrian said. “You always stressed the importance of that to me.”

  Margaret swallowed hard. “I’ll admit it didn’t happen in the timing I’d imagined, but life doesn’t always go according to plan. You can attest to that too.”

  They sat in silence, sipping milk from their mugs. So much to say, and no clue how to say it. “Speaking of, what’s going on with the baby?”

  “Brian asked Celeste’s lawyer to provide documentation of her affair to back up her lien on my house.” Adrian felt agitated by the whole situation. She wanted to know Celeste’s proof was valid but didn’t want to see the proof at all. Seeing the woman’s swollen belly was already too much, too painful. She didn’t need to see text messages and emails with, “You up?” sent at ten-fifteen pm from her husband, who should have been home with her.

  “Christian isn’t helping you with this?”

  “No, he referred me to his colleague, saying there’s a conflict of interest…or was a conflict of interest.”

  Margaret nodded, and they resumed their silence. Adrian couldn’t help feeling like her life was on hold until the baby was born. What was God’s plan for her?

  “He’s an idiot for not calling you, by the way.”

  “Thanks.” Adrian smiled.

  They sat together, finishing their milk, truly enjoying each other’s company. Before long, they wouldn’t be sitting together at the dining table. A sinking feeling washed over Adrian, and she decided she’d cherish the fleeting moments of connectedness with her mother while she still could.

  21

  Adrian sat across from Brian, clasping her hands into tight fists in her lap. She’d known when he’d asked her to meet with him, he’d probably gotten ahold of Celeste’s proof, and she’d reluctantly agreed to meet with him. She’d made some progress in finding a form of peace with Brad’s death and infidelity, and yet the Universe kept testing her, keeping her from totally healing.

  He pulled a manila file from a stack of folders to his right. “I was able to talk to Celeste’s lawyer, and she sent over substantiated evidence of the affair with Brad.” His hands fanned over the folder, lifting the corner slightly with a plump finger.

  “Is that—?” A lump form in her throat.

  “Yes, it is, and you don’t have to look at it if you don’t want to.” His eyes brimmed with sympathy.

  Adrian wondered what she would do leading up to that moment, vacillating between looking and not. However, faced with the choice, she knew she needed to see it to make it real, despite her entire body screaming against it. She reluctantly nodded before Brian opened Pandora’s Box.

  Her eyes scanned the pages, unable to focus on anything. She saw phone calls and text message history spanning months. Words like hot, kissing, sexy, tonight, and
she’ll never know jumped out on the pages, knocking the wind out of Adrian with every blow. But the phrase that pushed her over the edge was, “I love you” from Brad to Celeste on several occasions. That was the knockout.

  She quickly closed the folder, bile rising in her throat. “I’ve seen enough.” She pushed it away. Her mind cruelly echoed the three significant words. Every replay dug a hole in her heart, threatening to bleed indigo ink all over the pages of his adultery.

  “Adrian, I’m so sorry.” His mammoth hand covered hers.

  “Please tell me you have good news after that.” Her voice trembled.

  He sighed. “Well, Celeste has gone missing.”

  “What do you mean?” How could a pregnant woman just vanish?

  “She vacated her apartment and left no forwarding address. Even her lawyer doesn’t know where she went.”

  “So, what now? Could this be seen as a good thing?”

  “Unfortunately, it’s not that easy.” He leaned back in his chair. “We’re working on tracking her down, but something tells me she won’t stay hidden for long. Not with what’s at stake for her.”

  “Yeah, no kidding.” Adrian scoffed.

  “Don’t worry. We’ll find her. I’ve got a guy I can call for these types of things.”

  Adrian imagined his guy to be a big mafioso-type, cracking his knuckles and just waiting to be called in. Sure, I’ll find her, he’d say while cleaning his gun with a microfiber cloth. “Thank you.”

  After she left his office, she paused in front of Christian’s. The door was closed, indicating he was in a meeting. But Adrian didn’t care. After seeing Brad’s words on the page, she felt annoyed at Christian’s silent treatment. She refused to stay in the dark any longer. She needed answers. Immediately.

  She opened his office door and their eyes met. He stopped talking, his jaw hanging open.

  “Adrian—what?” Christian struggled to form a complete sentence.

  He wasn’t the only one struggling. Adrian stood in the doorway at a complete loss for words. She felt embarrassed at her rash behavior. “Sorry, I—”