“Five actually. We started on Wednesday.”
The fatigue lifts from her features. “With the scruffy google dude?” she says with a shrill voice.
“No, with Harry Styles.”
“Every day?”
“More like, every hour.”
“You slut!” She claps her hands and almost screams, “I knew it, I knew it, I knew it! Let’s hug it out.”
She hugs me like I just returned from the war.
“Shut up or the Ash will get in here and demand answers.”
“She’s probably eavesdropping as we speak,” she whispers. And then loud as hell, “Details!”
I zip the imaginary zipper on my lips again.
“Details or die!” she threatens.
“That’s all right. I’m good,” I say.
“You won’t be good when I kill you,” she says, nodding with evil eyes.
There’s some sudden realization in her eyes. “Wait a moment. This means when you called on Thanksgiving you were lying.”
I give her an innocent look. “Well, I was lying down.”
“You bitch! He was there, wasn’t he?”
I nod and as I definitely don’t want to get into details about where he was exactly during that phone call I say, “Donuts anyone?”
“The donuts can wait. Was he any good?”
“Ah, if by good you mean magnificent, then, um, yeah. He’s a supernova.”
She gets serious all of a sudden. “Is he making you happy?”
“It’s still very unreal. I can’t even think straight right now.”
“You needed this,” she says, almost resigned.
“It’s a bit ominous at times,” I confess. “One minute I’m the most excited I’ve ever been and the next I realize he’s completely out of my league and he’ll leave once he’s had his fill. I worry what he sees when he looks at me.”
“What do you mean?”
“Things like my boobs could be bigger, my ass could be firmer, my stomach tighter.”
Taylor chuckles. “Trust me, if he gets it up for you several times a day, then he really likes what he’s seeing.”
“He did say I’m beautiful.”
“You are beautiful, Grace,” she says, picking up some envelopes from the desk and going through them. “When will you get it through your head?”
One of the envelopes falls to the floor and as I squat to pick it up, the folded paper inside falls out. “Hey, what’s that?” I say looking at what seems to be a notice from the bank.
“Nothing,” she says, snatching it from my hands.
“Taylor, I’ve been meaning to ask. I wish I would have done it sooner. Are you in some kind of trouble? Is the store okay? You know you can tell me anything.”
“It’s nothing I can’t handle,” she says with a shrug.
“See, when you do that with your shoulders I know you’re lying.”
“It’s just a momentary challenge,” she insists.
“Taylor please,” I say sternly.
“All right. I was behind with the bank but it’s been fixed.”
“Fixed how?”
“A new loan,” she says. “Payments make the world go round.”
“Have you talked to your accountant about this?”
She becomes irritated. “Grace, it’s under control. Drop it.”
I hesitate to ask the key question. “Can you even afford to pay me? I don’t want to add to your troubles. I can get another job.”
“No, listen to me. I would have hired someone new anyway. I didn’t take you on as charity. I can use the help as I plan to spend less time here.”
“Do you feel confident the store can recover?”
“It’s not the store, the store’s treading water but it came with a lot of debt that my grandmother had piled on without realizing. And then my father needed help.”
“Needed? You mean he asked for help?” I say doubtfully.
“Semantics,” she says.
“Was it semantics when he walked out on your mother and sister and you and took the family nest egg with him to Vegas?”
“You can’t judge him. He was desperate. He was seriously ill and could not afford his medical bills. We’ve been over this. Wouldn’t you have done anything for your father?”
I would have done anything to spend one more day with my father. Taylor’s right. Who am I to judge?
“I’m sorry, Grace,” Taylor says sensing my momentarily distress. “That was not what I meant to say.”
“Don’t ever worry about words. They can’t change anything and they don’t have any magical powers. Just please keep me in the loop with your issues from now on. You need a sounding board, too. You’re not alone.”
“Fine, consider yourself looped,” she says, betraying more emotion than is normally in her nature. “Now, tell me more of these donuts.”
*
Nate waits for me outside the shop. “I brought lunch,” he says, kissing me on the lips as he clutches a brown bag in his hands.
The day is almost spring-like with a clear blue sky above so we decide to walk over to the Bridges at Bridgeport to have our lunch. I’ve always loved walking the trails by the lake, quietly contemplating the silly ducks with their ducklings running about, admiring the young mothers with their babies in strollers along the lake paths. Other days I disappear into a book on a bench facing the waterfront.
Nate takes Chinese food out of the bag – chicken fried rice, cashew chicken and spring rolls – along with two pieces of flourless chocolate cake.
“I can’t believe someone besides Taylor buys flourless cakes,” I say, taking a small bite out of one of the cakes.
He slaps my hand. “Never start with dessert. It spoils your taste buds.”
“Sure, whatever you say, Mom,” I say licking my fingers.
“Speaking of moms,” he begins.
Uh-uh, do I want to hear this? “What?” I say after a moment goes by without him finishing his sentence.
“My mother’s throwing a party for us,” he says in one breath right before swallowing a huge amount of food.
“What?” My eyes just about fall out of their sockets.
“Stop saying what all the time,” he says.
“Stop talking with a full mouth. It’s gross and dangerous.”
“Dangerous, eh?” he says in a way that has me thinking he doesn’t exactly believe it’s dangerous.
“You could choke,” I inform him.
He swallows down. “There. Crisis averted.”
“Whatever. Go back to that party thing. I don’t think I heard you right.”
“I haven’t exactly been on good terms with my parents,” he says.
There are parents. That’s the first piece of solid information about him. Now I can rule out the idea that he’s an alien from my list. “Why?” I ask.
“It’s mostly my fault. Wild kid and all. Anyway, they’d been trying for some time to lure me back and I’ve been resisting but with you in my life I thought it wouldn’t hurt to give it a try.”
“Really? All because of me?”
He shrugs. “What can I say? You’re a good influence.”
“Yeah, I’m not buying it.”
“I’ve grown to enjoy being doubted by you, Grace,” he says touching my hand. “It’s true, however. I went to see my mother this morning and raved about you.”
“I can imagine how thrilled she was to hear about me.”
“She was actually. Why do you say it like that?”
“Let me see. Next to you I am a total hag. I’m broke, can’t cook and I’m loaded with doubts about her son as you pointed out.”
“Next to anyone, you are a complete beauty.”
“You never told me you’re blind,” I say, rolling my eyes.
“You never told me you’re dumb,” he says, touching the tip of my nose.
“Oh, really, well, let me catch you up on that. I’m an idiot.”
“You’re so dumb it’s almost cu
te,” he says, leaning in for a kiss.
“You’re so cute it’s almost dumb,” I say to get the last word.
“Grace, to me you are the most beautiful girl in the world.”
“Pfft, in the universe,” I tease him.
“The universe,” he repeats, kissing me again.
I kiss him back wrapping my arms around his neck. He always smells so incredible, like honey and vanilla and salt water and numerous other indeterminate smells I want to one day discover.
“So, your mother,” I say trying to stop his compliments.
“She loves parties. She’ll make us de facto guests of honor. Can you deal with that?”
“Isn’t it a bit too soon to celebrate us?”
“Why? I’ve been celebrating every chance I get.”
“What if we break up next week? That’ll be one wasted party.”
“We won’t break up. And parties are never wasted.”
“I leave it up to you,” I say. “If you want us to go and if it will help you reconnect with your parents, I’m all in. When is it?”
“Saturday. If it’s warm, it’ll be outdoors in the backyard. You’re advised to bring a bathing suit. The instructions are hers.”
“Your parents have a swimming pool?”
“This is Los Angeles. If you have a house, you have a pool.”
True that. Well, not entirely, but my fate is sealed anyway.
“I have to help with the preparations,” Nate says, “so I’ll spend Friday night at my parents’ place. I’ll have someone pick you up on Saturday morning.”
“Pick me up? It all sounds so formal.”
“That’s Mom,” he says. “A lot of pomp and circumstance.”
Yet again my mind screams, Who the hell is Nathan Henley?
Chapter 16
The car turns onto a long cobblestone drive. Since my chauffeur had to give my name at a guard gate to even enter the private enclave, butterflies have been building. This is not just Beverly Hills. This is Beverly Park. My quick estimate would be in the twenty million dollar range. We showed a property like this when I worked at the real estate agency.
A valet rushes to open my door. I take his offered hand and step out in a daze, thanking him at least three times.
“Your name, Miss?” he asks with a frozen smile on his face.
“Grace,” I say, quietly. “Grace Kendall.”
“This way, please,” he says pointing at the main door. “All the way through to the back. Have a pleasant day.”
I straighten my halter dress with the sunflower pattern that reaches the top of my knees and cost me exactly twenty eight dollars and fifty cents. I clutch onto my silly bag, the one I made myself that contains my wallet¸ lip balm and bikini inside. I feel totally and undeniably unprepared.
“Please, please, please, make this a lightly attended affair,” I whisper to myself as I walk through a long hallway to get to the back of the house and out onto the backyard.
Not lightly attended at all. The place is overrun by exquisite people young and old. I half expect to be arrested just for standing among them. My heart chills sending a shiver through my veins. This is the shiny world of money that I brushed past when I worked for Harley Moss for six months and hated every minute of it.
I am relieved to go unnoticed. Older, wealthy people with impeccable skin and airy, lightly colored summer shirts hold drinks and chat while the young hot bodies parade around the endless pool wearing cool beach shorts and strapless designer bikini tops.
If that big hole to nowhere from the movie 300 were next to me right now, I might just take one quick step into it and disappear.
My eyes search the lush courtyard and garden areas for Nate. I find him standing in Bermuda shorts and nothing else, a cocktail in his hand, surrounded by three gorgeous women in bikinis. Not only are they all beautifully tanned, but I am certain they earned those tans in places like Saint-Tropez or Ibiza.
When a leggy blonde touches his bicep I want to politely jump on her back and gauge her eyes out, but then I realize I cannot find the courage to move my feet. I don’t belong here. He seems right at home, laughing and joking and rubbing elbows with all the shiny people.
I step away from him to find a quiet place to collect my thoughts but all I manage to do is bump a waiter and nearly knock a tray out of his hand.
“I’m sorry,” I mutter, feeling an urgent need to hide.
A silver-haired woman with an impossibly unwrinkled face glances to me and raises one eyebrow almost imperceptibly but I know it represents a deep disapproval, almost like contempt.
Get a grip, Grace, I tell myself. I’m too insignificant to get any kind of reaction out of these people. I weave my way through a small crowd of vociferous gentlemen when I hear a voice behind me.
“You must be Grace.”
My eyes turn and find her immediately. Her casual smile provides instant relief. She doesn’t seem to belong either. The kind woman possesses an understated elegance. Among the glistening set, she looks the most casual.
“I’m sorry,” I say. “I have to make a phone call.”
I start walking away when I hear her voice again. “Grace, wait.”
Every fiber in me wants to get out of here but I can’t be impolite. I turn back to match her smile which is country sweet like my aunt’s. I dive into my bag to grab my cell phone as if that would prove my previous statement.
“Can we talk? I’m Nathan’s mother, Nora.” She looks to be in her early fifties with hair that has not been chemically treated and she wears a simple, navy blue dress with short sleeves. She reaches out her hand.
I stare at her like an idiot for a moment before shaking her hand. I guess she is not quite what I expected. First of all, she doesn’t look anything like Nathan. She’s blonde and pale and quite younger than what I would imagine.
How can I turn her down? “It’s great to meet you, Mrs. Henley.”
“It’s just Nora,” she says. “The pleasure is mine.”
“Your place is so breathtaking,” I say.
She winks. “It better be.” She nods her head to the right. “This way.”
I follow her through a bend in the garden trail to a little shed where a jar of lemonade and tall glasses have been placed upon a small glass table.
“Please, sit down,” she says, pointing at the white, bamboo chairs.
I take a seat, pulling the hem of my dress down to cover up my thighs.
“It’s so good to have a moment alone,” she says. “You are as lovely as Nathan has described.”
“Thank you,” I say and then my mind draws a blank.
“Yes,” she says and stares into my eyes as if looking for answers. “I feel the need to arm you with information. If you are like me, you’ll want to know everything before making any hasty decisions.”
Did she know I was planning to leave? Can she read minds? “I was just stepping out to return a phone call,” I say, sticking to my lie.
“This place can be intimidating,” she says, ignoring my comment. “I felt that way when I first moved in. I didn’t think I could really grow into myself in a place so vast and impersonal. So I created little havens like this one and filled them with things that had meaning to me. Like those pictures.”
I follow her gaze to a shelf behind me decorated with old family photos and a toy tea set. “It’s nice,” I say, having no idea why she’s telling me this.
“I’m not sure you know this, but Nathan is not our biological son.”
I absorb her out of the blue revelation and shake my head.
“We adopted him, Warren and I, when he was eight,” she goes on. “He was my Cousin Ella’s only child. We had a baby daughter but no boys so we were glad to take him in. Nathan had suffered severe abuse at the hands of his foster parents who were related to his biological father.”
My mind numbs. “Physical abuse?”
She nods. “Beatings, burns, unthinkable things, Grace.” She pauses to study my reaction.
“His therapists suspected sexual abuse as well although there’s no proof and he has never mentioned it.”
I look away. I can’t stand to hold her gaze anymore and the world is spinning out of control. I reach down to hold onto my seat for support.
“He was in a bad state when he came to us. Damaged beyond words, they told us. Shaking in terror at every loud TV show, having constant nightmares, afraid to ask for anything. But we tried hard to bring him back to some form of normalcy.”
She shows no emotion, but carefully breathes in and out which must be some form of relaxation she uses.
“How?” I say, my voice suddenly dry and cracking. “How did he respond?”
“He tried, that dear boy. He tried very hard. He did everything in his power to please us and become a part of our family. But somewhere along the way he slowly lost his ability to connect with people. He wanted so badly to be able to love but he just couldn’t trust anyone enough. He’s gone through a lot of counseling and at times there was progress. But in the end, he always fell back into his old habits.”
“Habits?” I say trying to understand.
“I don’t know anymore, Grace. They’ve changed over the years but they’ve always been dangerous. The cycle of behavior often led to the emergency room. I don’t know if his substance abuse was excessive for your generation, but he often picked fights just to feel something, anything.”
“He wanted to get hurt?”
She stares at me before deciding to ignore my question. “Once,” she says, “he told us he could only be intimate with strangers. But there are a lot of blanks he never revealed to us. We lost touch with him nearly two years ago. He just disappeared. Not a single word. Can you imagine what that did to us? And then he shows up talking about you.”
“Nathan is very kind,” I say. “Any progress is solely his own.”
“I don’t think so, darling. Nathan has feelings for a human being again and it scares him. He’ll want to protect those feelings. He came back to us because of you, Grace. To have you he believes he needs to accept all good things in his life. His family is one of those things he wants to embrace. He’ll need us and he’ll need you to fight his demons. I know it will take time to absorb what I’m telling you. Nathan has a lot of baggage but I believe he’s worth it.”
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