Jim Morrison had been in the kitchen with the caterers until his kids arrived. As soon as he heard their car in the drive, he shot out and the lines in his face deepened.
Interesting.
Jim Morrison was hard to ruffle, but his kids clearly knew how to do that. Lacey Morrison was pretty, with soft, light hair and eyes. She had a big bag of laundry. Laird Morrison was golden-haired, golden-eyed, and just plain gorgeous. He seemed to know it. He unloaded a surfboard.
Petra had seen the pictures throughout the house, but most of them had been taken when the kids were young. She was curious to know what their mother looked like.
Laird moved lazily behind his sister and leaned the board against the side of the porch.
“You can’t leave that there,” Jim Morrison said shrilly.
It was the first time she’d heard him lose his mild, professional tone.
The twins hugged their father perfunctorily.
“I was going to bring it to the shed,” Laird said. “It’ll be fine out here for a while. Guests aren’t due till six, right?”
“Five,” Jim Morrison snapped. “Five o’clock.”
He seemed to remember himself, and introduced Jenna and Petra to his children.
Laird eyed Jenna’s Sailor Moon T-shirt then transferred his gaze to Petra’s modest chest. She resisted the urge to kick him and asked the twins about their ride up. Jim Morrison pushed them indoors.
“I thought we’d eat in the dining room. That way we won’t disturb anything for the ceremony. Just a simple sandwich buffet.”
“Where’s your beautiful bride-to-be?” Laird asked.
“And your sister?” Lacey said to Petra. She displayed a set of even white teeth.
“I’ll go get them,” Jenna said, springing up.
Great.
“Maybe you guys would like to go get settled. I can help Jim Morrison set out lunch,” Petra volunteered.
“Oh no. It’s our house, our dad,” Lacey said. “Our job.”
She flashed another tight smile then reached to get her laundry bag. The swinging motion knocked a few tulip pots over. She didn’t bother to right them.
Lisa appeared downstairs in the blue suit, which was a pretty color. It should have made her eyes look bright. Instead, her gaze darted tensely between Laird and Lacey and Jim Morrison.
Well, at least it was nice that Petra wasn’t considered the troublemaker anymore. If anything, she wondered if Lisa had had the same words with Jim Morrison about his children that he had with Lisa about Petra.
Jim Morrison had managed to regain his normal tone, although his eyes looked strained. He kept one hand on Lisa at all times, probably to steady her, but it almost looked like he was keeping her from flying off into a nearby bush and hiding. He tried to get her to eat, but she just shook her head. Laird made a none-too-subtle crack about delicate flowers, and Ellie hissed at him like an angry mongoose. Lacey laughed. Jenna held Ellie back, and Petra suddenly wished Ian were there to smooth things over.
Because that’s what he did. Beautifully. More than that.
Sadness closed around her suddenly, like a clamshell.
It was funny, she thought, sipping a glass of water. Her mother and sister were unhappy right now, but at least they had people to hold their hands. The tulips waved outside on the porch and Laird and Lacey weaved in and out of the conversation like a pair of stinging bees. Here was her mother so brave, trying once again to find love, and her sister being soothed by the gentle hands of her girlfriend. The whole blond group of them already looked like a family. Even though anger and tension and argument swirled all around her, Petra felt very still and very alone.
She looked at them, dry-eyed, and she wished she had done things differently.
• • •
People were gathering on the lawn. Laird had forgotten to move his surfboard, although it did look rather beautiful leaning there, its red and white stripes blending with the brightness of the tulips. In any case, Jim Morrison was too busy and too worried to notice. As for Laird, he had disappeared somewhere and Petra knew better than to touch someone else’s board.
She went to get a bottle of water for Ellie and a sandwich for her mother. It would be bad business if her mother passed out during the ceremony. It didn’t matter if she got crumbs on her wedding dress.
The caterers were in the kitchen, pulling pans out of the oven. They had covered the granite countertops with trays in varying stages of being assembled. The dining room beyond had also been co-opted. It was a good thing that lunch had broken up so quickly—Petra was still not sure what had been said—because it seemed like every single space on the cabinets, in the refrigerator, and even on the floor, was occupied and humming and warm with activity.
She took a step back. Probably best to leave them alone.
But as she moved, she saw out of the corner of her eye a tall man in a charcoal suit approaching her. Her heart zoomed up, then went plunging down into her shoes.
Ian.
• • •
She looked calm and beautiful. He had never seen her in a blue dress before. It brought out the soft duskiness of her skin. It skimmed her shoulders and breasts and draped lovingly around the curve of her bottom. But an embroidery pattern of leaves and branches unfurled around the skirt, making her look like a cool winter scene.
Only her eyes said something different. She looked at him, tired and sad. He wanted to pull her to him and enfold her in his arms, but he didn’t want her to run away. Instead, they just looked at each other.
“Jim asked for advice about a last-minute caterer. Then, he and your mother wanted me to come,” he said.
“That was nice of you.”
“Not particularly. I wanted to see you.”
He was going to say more, but she held up her hand. “I need to get something for my mom. She hasn’t eaten all day. And maybe some water.”
Ian nodded and flagged down the woman in charge. He smiled and said something in her ear and within minutes, she produced a plate with hors d’oeuvres and two squat water bottles. Petra thanked her and Ian, and he nodded. “I’ll find Jim, then,” he said. “See how he’s holding up.”
He watched her walk down the hallway and curled his fist. He was stupid. Of course she wouldn’t want to talk to him at her mother’s wedding. She was probably feeling terrible about the whole thing. She would be busy through the night, chatting with guests, shaking hands, and catching up with old friends. She was exhausted and unlikely to be charitable. She had hardly reacted when she saw him. She hadn’t even bothered to say hello, or touch him, or kiss him.
A kiss would have been nice.
He straightened his collar. He had no ammunition to beg for a second chance. Nothing had changed. He still had the cat. She still, obviously, didn’t trust him. At least he’d left town for a week and hadn’t had to worry about choking on a furball in his sleep. Kevin had arranged for a delighted Penny to sit with Snuffy, although she had strict orders to change her clothing if she went to visit Kevin afterward.
But he had worried about Petra for this day. Even as he sped along the road, he’d thought of Petra. He thought, too, of his father and all the travel and the neglect. He thought of his mother. He considered all the mistakes they had made and how much he hadn’t wanted to end up like them. He had gone to see his relatives earlier in the week, and it wasn’t terrible. He had expected epiphanies, closure, seraphim and cherubim, earthquakes and floods. Something. But all he felt when he cleaned out his aunt’s eavestroughs, or helped his uncle change the oil of his Chevy, was the heavy ache of missing Petra. As he drove around the winding highways along the coast, he remembered himself as a teenager, and all the things that he had wanted to do with his life. Despite the mess of his parents’ marriage, he had wanted to find a home, and love. Now, it seemed, he had gone in exactly the opposite direction. He had nowhere to live, and the only woman he would ever want didn’t want to speak to him. At this moment, he was worse off than his mother
and father.
He promised himself that he wouldn’t let her go without one last chance to say his piece.
In the meantime, he probably needed a drink.
CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT
“I think she has the dry heaves,” Ellie whispered loudly.
Petra knocked on the door. No answer.
She set down the plate of hors d’oeuvres and banged on the door.
“Mom, are you okay?”
A pause.
“Mom, answer me if you’re conscious. Just make some sort of sound.”
She heard a sob.
Great.
It wasn’t fair that her mom got to freak out in the bathroom just when Petra needed to splash cold water on her face.
Petra paced in front of the door and looked at herself in the mirror. Her mouth jerked tremulously. Her hands opened and shut convulsively. Her heart, she was sure, was wrung out, spent, and left in messy knots.
“You could have warned me,” she muttered to the door.
But how could she have prepared about how for how the dark suit complemented Ian’s hair, made his eyes look darker, his torso look leaner and more dangerous. His shoulders were hugged perfectly by the wool. His mouth was sexier, his face more pleading. After two weeks of not seeing her, he seemed like a better version of himself. While she just looked short.
“His kids hate me. You hate me,” Lisa whimpered.
“I don’t hate you, Mom. I just wished you’d told me Ian was coming,” Petra said. She kicked the door.
“His kids think I’m a gold digger. They were practically putting Post-it notes on everything. They asked him to make sure he’d updated his will.”
“I mean, I could have worn heels,” Petra said to herself. “I thought I’d sink into the lawn during the ceremony but at least for that moment in the kitchen, I would have looked taller.”
“All Jim did was stroke my arm and try to get me to eat more.”
“What could Ian possibly want to talk to me about?”
“I don’t want to be stroked like some pet cat.”
“I hate cats.”
Ellie was looking at the door and back at Petra. “You don’t mean that,” Ellie said.
“I don’t mean it. They’re usually fine. But they like to rub me, and I’m allergic.”
“Is that why we couldn’t get a cat? Because you hate them?”
Lisa wailed, “What if I end up divorced again? A third time!”
“I don’t hate cats, Ellie. I just feel like my life is being ruined by one right now.”
“Who is this Ian, anyway?” Ellie asked.
Lisa burst out of the door. “I can’t do this. Not yet, not now.”
She had her lipstick on, but no eye makeup. She had teased her hair a little higher and changed into another yellow suit, with a scalloped peplum. She looked a little bit like a daffodil. A very upset daffodil.
“We’re leaving,” Lisa said. She went to the closet and grabbed a suitcase. She stuffed the other suits in it. “Go to the bedroom and get my underwear,” she told Ellie. “It’s in the dresser, top drawer to the left.”
“Uh, Mom. Is this a good idea?” Ellie asked.
“Elizabeth Ann, go get my damn underwear,” Lisa almost shrieked.
“I’ll go,” Petra said. She whispered to Ellie, “I’m alerting Jim. Try to get her to eat something. Don’t let her go anywhere.”
Petra went down the stairs and out onto the porch. Laird was right there, his arm around his surfboard as if it were his girlfriend. “Looks nice, don’t you think?” he said, gesturing at the yard.
“Where’s your dad?”
He smirked. “Problems? Need Dad to prescribe the bride some medications?”
“She’s got me for that. Where’s Jim?”
She scanned the small gathering anxiously and took a deep breath when she saw Ian coming her way.
He looked from Petra to Laird and back. Deliberately, Ian put a hand on her arm. She let out a shaky breath. Her nerves felt calmer even as her skin prickled over. She stepped away but cold air rose like a column between them. She had forgotten to put on a jacket and the heat lamps that surrounded the tent didn’t reach this far. “Hey,” he said, “what’s wrong?”
“I need Jim. My mom is—” She didn’t want to say anything more in front of Laird.
Ian understood. “I’ll get him. You go into the house and get warm.”
He shot a glare at Laird and strode sure-footed toward the back.
“Get that surfboard in the shed,” she snapped at Laird.
She stepped back in. Safely inside the front door, she closed her eyes.
She couldn’t hear anything from upstairs. She could only assume that Ellie had calmed Lisa down. Or that Ellie had killed Lisa in frustration and was now stowing her mother’s body in the suitcase.
She was really glad Ian was here.
And he was here for her because he knew it would be hard. Why had she condemned him for being someone who smoothed things over? She could get used to him easing her way.
Don’t be weak, she chided herself. Still, she let herself slip down onto the stairs.
The door opened and Jim Morrison hurried through followed by Ian, Laird, and Jenna.
Jim glared at Petra openly. For the first time, and she was struck by how Laird resembled him. For a moment, it pleased her to know that the cocky kid would lose some hair and his face would get paunchy and wrinkled.
But Jim must have caught the glimmer of her smile, because he said, “What did you say to her?”
He took a step toward Petra, but Ian put himself in front of her, almost casually.
“Hey, Jim,” Jenna said at the same time, her voice soothing.
She liked that Jenna. She also had feelings about Ian that she did not care to define at this moment.
Petra wobbled to her feet and peeked around Ian. “Mom’s upstairs. She’s scared.”
“And whose fault is that?” Jim Morrison snarled.
Ian’s shoulders tensed. Petra said quickly, “Let’s not start on this, okay? I didn’t say anything. She gets worried. Just go to her, talk to her.”
She stepped around and lay a gentle hand on Ian’s arm. Her fingers curled into the chill of his jacket. His gaze dipped to her hand and they remained still. Until Jim Morrison pushed past her to go up the stairs.
Ian looked ready to punch him.
A few minutes later, Lisa and Ellie came barreling down with Jim Morrison in pursuit. “We’re leaving!” Lisa said.
Her face was flushed and her eyes were bright, but her voice was surprisingly steady.
“Lisa, let’s sit down and be calm,” Jim Morrison pleaded.
“Don’t talk to me like I’m one of your crazy people,” Lisa snapped.
“Was she one of your crazy people?” Ellie asked. She looked around. “I mean, I could imagine Mom in a shrink’s chair more easily than Mom on a dating site. I always thought that story was a cover. Don’t tell me you didn’t think that, too.”
Petra certainly had.
“First of all, they aren’t crazy. Second, I would never do that with one of my patients. That would be unethical,” Jim Morrison declared.
Petra winced. Ian looked stony-faced.
But Lisa whirled around. “Ethics, shmethics,” Lisa said. “You act like I’m one of your crazies, which is worse. You talk to me in that mild tone of voice like I need to be soothed at all times before you slip me some pills.”
“My patients are people with legitimate medical problems, in need of counseling and medication, Lisa. I do not use a voice on them. I admit that sometimes we need to help people see their issues and we need to communicate this in a non-accusatory manner.”
“You sounded plenty accusing to me,” Petra murmured.
“You have no say in this conversation,” Jim Morrison said, whipping around.
“She may say whatever she wants,” Lisa said, stepping between them.
Ian had tensed and inched closer to Pet
ra. Even with all the anger flying around them, Petra found herself imagining she could feel his hipbone against her waist.
She cleared her throat. “Jim’s right, Mom. I really have no say. Maybe you should go into the study and talk.”
“Oh, how very reasonable,” Jim Morrison said.
“She’s being serious, Jim. Besides, she hasn’t done any more than your own children have,” Lisa said, stepping in front of Ian and Petra. “All you’ve done is defend Laird and Lacey, even though they’ve been crank-calling the house, and whining to their mother, and threatening to have me investigated, just because I’ve been married a couple of times before.”
“Let’s leave them out of this,” Jim Morrison said.
“Yes, let’s leave them out of everything. Let’s have some understanding for the poor dears even though they’re painting me to be some sort of man-eating siren.”
Petra choked. It was hard to think of Lisa Lale as a man-eater.
“Sarcasm is not becoming, Lisa. And it doesn’t aid with clarity of communication.”
“Oh, stuff it, Jim. You understand me perfectly well.”
She turned on her heel, and before anyone could understand what had happened, she barreled out the door. Only the sound of the car engine and the squeal of tires alerted them to the fact that Lisa Lale had escaped her own wedding.
• • •
She had stolen Ian’s Prius. Tiny, anxious, law-abiding Lisa Lale, wringer of hands and worrier of warts, had stolen a car. Not only that, Lisa was more canny than Petra gave her credit for. Ian’s vehicle had been the last one on the driveway and while arguing, Lisa had scouted that out and lifted Ian’s keys when she’d slipped by him earlier. Luckily, Ellie and Jenna had their beater and Petra had her rental. She and Ian hastily organized a search party. They told Jim to stay to placate his guests.
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