“Well, how did you meet him?”
Willow’s natural resistance to intrusion flared. “Why do you want to know? I’m not sure what that has to do with anything.”
“You don’t need to get defensive. We’re not about to jump into your life and start trying to run it. I was just making conversation.”
Taking a deep breath, Willow tried to calm herself as she answered. “I didn’t mean to be defensive. That day is still very difficult for me.”
“Difficult—oh!” Carol choked down the sip of tea she’d taken. “I’m sorry. I didn’t know—the memories. I didn’t mean to make—tell me about your farm.”
After that, the conversation, while superficial, flowed more naturally. She described the farm, what they grew, their projects, and how they kept busy. As Carol tried to envision the size of the garden or the wallpaper Kari painted, Willow sighed. “I should have brought a photo album to show you.”
“That would be nice to see some time.”
It would be so simple to invite them to visit. The words hovered in the back of her throat, almost taunting her—daring her—to issue an invitation, but she hesitated. Once she made that overture, she would hurt them if she chose not to continue a relationship with them. They’d been hurt so much already—the stories Carol told…
“Perhaps you would like to visit sometime.” The moment she spoke, Willow wished the words back again. An illegible expression crossed Carol’s face, and Willow hastened to add, “It would have to be after Christmas. I would invite you before then, but I’m busy with Christmas presents, and I have guests coming for Christmas day, but maybe after the first—”
“I’ll have to check with David. He’s so skeptical about the wisdom of even meeting you.” She must have noticed Willow’s dismay, because she continued apologetically. “Kari’s disappearance was very hard on us both emotionally and financially. I think he aged ten years in one.”
“I understand. If you don’t care to come, I’ll order reprints of my favorite pictures and mail them if you like.”
Willow lost all heart for the discussion. “I think we’re monopolizing this table. I should go. Thank you for inviting me, Grandmother. I hope it hasn’t been too difficult for you.”
She rose, grasped the other woman’s hand briefly, turned, and disappeared into the crowd near the front of the tearoom. When Carol called for their check, she found it paid in full with an ample tip added for the extra time at the table. Picking up her bag, Carol hurried to her car, pulled the afghan from the tissue wrappings, and sobbed into it. The white lacy afghan was almost identical to one she’d coveted so many years ago. It smelled of lavender, and yet somehow, when she inhaled she caught a slight whiff of the essence of Kari.
“Mr. Solari will see you now.” The voluptuous receptionist sashayed across the floor, opened the door to an immense office, and introduced her. “Willow Finley, sir.”
Steven Solari had never expected Willow Finley to arrive at his office. When his letter brought no response, he had assumed that he would have to find another way to ingratiate himself to her. “Willow—”
“I think Miss Finley is more appropriate.”
“For a man to call his own granddaughter—” Steve began, but Willow cut him off.
“Excuse me, but I am not here to discuss genetics or genealogy.”
“Then why are you here Will-ow Finley.”
From within her purse, Willow withdrew his check. “I came to return this. While I appreciate the sentiment that prompted your sending it, I cannot accept it. I’ve lived my whole life on your money. I don’t want more of it now.”
“It must be running low by now. Let me try—”
“Actually, Mother invested it well, and I truly have no need of it. Perhaps you should consider sending it to my maternal grandparents. I just learned that they spent a significant amount of their savings and retirement looking for Mother after you threatened her.”
Impatiently, Steven slid the check into his drawer. “Had I wanted to look for her, I could have found her in less than a week. Property records, utility bills—it doesn’t take a genius—”
Willow turned on her heel to leave, making one last reply. “They didn’t look for her alive here in Rockland. They searched records in other states, but they assumed if Mother was close, it was because she was dead. I heard what my grandparents went through today. When I think that my existence caused everyone so much pain—”
Her voice broke and she opened the door, but not before Steve caught up with her and blocked it, pushing it shut. “I don’t understand why she ran away when she needed help most. We could have been supportive of her even if her parents—”
“She left,” Willow ground out through unshed tears, “because she assumed a threat behind your payoff. She feared for my life if you learned of my existence.”
The girl’s words stunned him. He’d warned Kari Finley, it was true. However, he’d only tried to prevent her from returning often for repeated handouts. In fact, he always been a little surprised that she’d never come again. “But I never said, or even implied—” Steve protested hotly.
Willow whirled and glared at him. “Mr. Solari, my mother was a broken and battered woman. According to her journals, she still had bruises the day she saw you. You couldn’t have missed them. How do you expect a woman so utterly debased to think clearly?”
He tried another tactic. Perhaps if she pitied him... “She protected you. I understand and respect that. I protected my son too, but unlike you, it just made things worse. Your mother was a much better parent—”
“Excuse me, Mr. Solari; I’d like to leave.”
Despite his desire to force her to stay and listen, Steve stepped aside. As she opened the door once more, Steve couldn’t resist asking one more question. “Were you afraid to come here today?”
“Terrified.” Her words sounded sarcastic, but he saw that she spoke the truth.
“Now that you’ve seen that we won’t hurt you, perhaps we can discuss dinner sometime...”
“I don’t think so,” she whispered and slipped from the room.
Steve Solari crossed his arms and grinned at the sight of his retreating granddaughter’s back. This might be easier than he thought.
Chapter Fifty-Eight
“Chad?”
Something in her tone put Chad on alert. “What’s wrong?”
“I’m at the corner of,” she paused looking at street names. “Sixth Avenue and California. I see a bank building, a big office building of some kind, and Starbucks—it says coffee.”
“Ok… um, are you ready for Mom to come get you?”
A sniffle alarmed him. “Um, do you think she’d mind if we went later or tomorrow or next year?” Her tone grew strained—pained.
“I’m on my way. Go inside Starbucks and order a Caramel Macchiato or one of those Peppermint Mocha things. I’ll be there as soon as I can.”
“Ok.” She sounded lost and hurt. “Hurry, Chad. I want to go home.”
Chad was in his truck and on his way before she hung up the phone. He punched his mother’s cell number and waited impatiently for her to pick up. “Mom?”
“Yeah?”
“First, pray. Something went wrong with the meeting. Willow is a mess. She’s asking to go home, and the Willow I know would have just gotten on the subway, bought a bus ticket, and gone home. She wouldn’t call for help.”
“Well maybe she didn’t know where the subway station is. It’s probably nothing—”
“She was downtown in the financial district.” As he spoke, the hair on Chad’s neck stood at attention.
“Did she say where?”
“Sixth and California.”
“That’s near the Solari building.” Just as he started to panic, the familiar soothing reassurance that characterized her in a crisis came through the phone. “She’s fine. She called. Send her to the Starbucks—”
“Already did.”
“That’s my boy. Bring her hom
e. Don’t let her go home if you can stop her.” Just before he disconnected, his mother added, “Oh Chad,”
“Yes?”
“Happy Birthday, son.”
“Chad said to get a Caramel Machiavelli or something with Peppermint. Which do you suggest?”
“You’ve never had Starbucks?”
“I’ve never had coffee,” Willow admitted with a feeble attempt at a smile.
“I’d get the Peppermint Mocha Grande. The chocolate and peppermint give it a nice smooth and mild but refreshing flavor.”
The counter girl sounded like an advertisement on Chad’s parents’ television. Once mixed and ready, a young man Willow’s age called it out from the other end of the counter. “Have a nice day.”
She sipped her drink, burning her tongue twice. At first, the coffee’s bitterness overshadowed the flavor of the chocolate and peppermint. However, once her taste buds adjusted, and the temperature cooled a little, she inhaled the rich steamy scent between gulps, finishing it in record time. A glance at her watch showed a whopping ten minutes had passed. Surely, Chad couldn’t get all the way from his house to her in less than fifteen or twenty minutes—not with all the downtown traffic.
She brought her cup back to the counter and ordered another one. To her dismay and irritation, the girl behind the counter tossed her cup and accepted her money. “I take it you liked it?”
“It was very good. I didn’t think I was going to; it was a little bitter at first, but then it got better.” She paused. “I didn’t need a new cup. The other one was fine…”
“We have to use a fresh cup. Health regulations.”
Back in her seat, once again, she again sipped at the coffee while watching the pedestrians on their way to undisclosed places, trying to forget her morning. Solari had been difficult but a necessary step. She wanted to ensure that the man was permanently out of her life and thought that the easiest way to remove him was to face him. Now she wasn’t so sure. He hadn’t been menacing or frightening—he seemed almost pathetic in his eagerness to forge a relationship. But something still felt off about the interview.
Grandmother Finley, however, had been much more emotionally difficult than Willow had imagined. Lost in thought and memories, she didn’t notice when Chad strode into the coffee shop and pulled another chair up to her table. “Willow?”
“Oh, you got here fast.”
“Traffic was on my side,” he explained brushing aside unhelpful commentary. “What’s wrong?”
“I want to go home.”
“Mom’s house is empty. Let’s go there. It’s closer.”
How he managed it, Chad didn’t know, but he got her to the truck, across town, onto the Loop, and to his parents’ house in half the time it should have taken. Before he went inside, Chad sent his mother a text message asking her to give them an hour before she came home.
As they stepped in the door, she strode through the house, directly to the kitchen. He watched as she pulled a glass from the cupboard and filled it, guzzling it in just a couple of gulps. “Thirsty?”
“I had all that coffee, but I just need water. I feel jittery.”
Willow’s spoke at unnatural speeds. Her hands twitched, her eyes roamed, and she seemed to shake her head now and then, giving her the appearance of one with Parkinson’s disease. “Um Willow, what did you order?”
“Peppermintcoffeelikeyousaid. It wasgoodtoo.”
“Wow. You’re sensitive to caffeine I guess.”
“I hope not,” she confessed. “Ihadtwoofthem.”
Chad’s mind raced. If drunks needed coffee to counter the effects of alcohol, what did you give people for caffeine? He refilled her glass with water, sliced a chunk of cheese, and pushed her to eat, not knowing if it’d have any effect on her. “Tell me about Starbucks. How did you get way down there?”
“I took Mr. Solari his check.”
“I see.” He didn’t see, actually. For once, he realized that his natural tendency to blast her for putting herself in a painful and vulnerable position wasn’t going to do a lot of good and would probably irritate her in her hyper caffeine-induced agitated state.
“He’s a small pathetic little man. It was a little embarrassing.”
“Embarrassing? How?” Embarrassing wasn’t the word he’d expected.
“To think that I’m related—that I share genes and DNA with a man like that—little minded and self-seeking. It was disgusting. I felt dirty just being in there.”
“Solari is a powerful man, Willow.”
Finishing her water in a single swallow, Willow refilled it. She started to take another drink and stopped, handing it to Chad. “Excuse me.”
The effects of the coffee were already evident. Chad took the water to the living room and set it on the coffee table in front of the couch. While he waited, he glanced around the room, noticing the changes there since he’d been a child at Christmas. The advent calendar was gone. In its place on the mantel was a Christmas pyramid. His mother had always wanted one but didn’t like the idea of candles and boys shoving and pushing through the house. He could almost hear her voice, “Take it downstairs, boys!”
The stockings were missing and replaced by swags of evergreen, white lights, and silver bells with deep blue bows. As he thought about it, he remembered that the swag had been there last year as well. The coffee table sported a large holly arrangement with pinecones and candles. His childhood home had changed completely while Willow’s remained just the same.
When she returned, Chad patted the sofa next to him. “Come talk to me. I’m a little concerned.”
“It was awful, Chad. Those people, my grandparents, they’re still hurting.” The words poured from her heart as she relived her discussion. “Mother hurt them so badly when she left, and I felt like I should apologize for her, but I know she made the best decision she could with the information she had, and I—”
“Whoa there. Just take a deep breath. No one blames you for any decisions, right or wrong, that your mother made.”
“I think they do. If I didn’t exist—” She jumped to her feet pacing the floor and ranting. “I should never have contacted them about mother in the first place. I should have known that it’d be reopening wounds. I was insensitive and selfish and—”
The sudden urge to kiss her into silence both shocked and amused him. Been tortured with too many chick flicks thanks to Cheri, he thought to himself. Keep her sisterly. You wouldn’t exactly kiss Cheri like that, and anyway, she’d consider it a whipping to have “smashed lips” at a time like this. Aloud, and unaware that he actually spoke, he muttered a stern lecture to himself, “You’ve got to get people’s opinions out of your head and stop letting them dictate your thoughts and actions.”
“You’re right. I know you are. But the things I said are true too.”
“I’m what? What exactly did I say?” Panic filled his heart. Had he really spoken aloud? What if he’d said—
“You’re right. I am letting other people’s opinions have too much control over me.” She peered at him closely. “You didn’t know what you were saying?”
“I didn’t know I said it aloud,” he confessed and praised the Lord’s mercy in not letting him have said any more.
“What else are you thinking but not saying then,” she retorted glaring. “If you have opinions, why not share them like the rest of the world? I can’t believe this!”
“I’m not the enemy, Willow. I often think things that I don’t share. My opinion is just my opinion and it’s mine to share or not. I’m not the enemy.”
Willow simultaneously burst into tears and a fit of giggles. Chad watched miserably, and slightly amazed, as she wiped frantically at the streams of tears pouring down her cheeks, tittering about how silly she was.
Marianne arrived in the middle of the outburst and promptly asked, “Is she drunk?”
Willow dissolved into a fit of hysterics, punctuated with the occasional sob. Chad snickered at the sight and tried to explain.
“She’s on her first caffeine high, and it’s a doozy. Two Peppermint Mocha’s in a row.”
“Oh honestly, Chad!”
“See, now I got you in trouble with your mom. I swear today—”
Desperate to stop the constant and highly out of character self-recriminations, Chad tried something else. “You’re right. You really should have thought of these things. You should have known that you’d cause pain to these people, but you went anyway.” The dumbstruck look on Willow’s face and the fury in his mother’s eyes would usually have stopped him, but Chad continued as seriously as if he was rebuking a naughty child. “I think you owe everyone an apology for your existence and for how you’ve ruined theirs with your presence. You’re nothing but a burden to everyone around you. I think we’d all be better off if you would just go back to your farm and stay there. Your mother had the right idea. You’re not meant for socializing.”
“Chadwick Elliot Tesdall!”
“Mom!”
Willow’s attempt to control her laughter failed. “Cha—Chad—your face.”
“I cannot believe you’d be so insensitive—even in jest. I taught you better than that.”
“He’s right, Marianne,” Willow began. “He’s right. I’m being self-centered.”
Shaking his head, Chad tried again. “No, that’s not the point I was trying to make. I was trying to point out that everyone is so wrapped up in their own hurts and grief that they don’t realize the pressure on you to be everything to everyone at all times.”
Marianne drew Willow to the couch and pulled her down next to her. “Listen. Chaddie’s right. We’re here to support you. You’re not alone. You’re not at fault for things you had no say in. You’re just another one hurt by a horrible string of events—by a crime. If you have anything blameworthy, it’d be the crime of innocence. The last I heard, that’s not even a misdemeanor.”
She pointed to the stairs. “Now get your tiny fanny up those stairs and put on your jeans. Chad’s taking you to the park for a while. I want you to keep him there until five o’clock and then you both come home. If you get cold, go to the mall or something.”
Past Forward- A Serial Novel: Volume 2 Page 20