She was pretty. But, to Hal, the Joanie he knew now was even more attractive than the girl in the picture. Those few extra pounds and the accompanying curves suited her. So did that line between her brows. It meant she’d lived, and learned. She was a survivor. And, he thought to himself with a smile, as stubborn as the day is long. But that was one of the things he liked about her. One of the many.
He placed the pictures carefully on the floor and searched through the rest of the box. At the very bottom, he was rewarded once again.
The photo, black and white, four inches by six, showed a close-up of a very much younger Minerva, lying propped up in a hospital bed and holding a newborn in her arms. Hal slipped it into his back pocket, then snapped off the light and climbed down the ladder, holding the other pictures in his hand.
Chapter 37
When they told her about the plan to renew their vows, Trina was over the moon.
“Really? That’s so cool! Can I be a bridesmaid?”
“I was kind of hoping you’d be the maid of honor,” Meg said.
“Awesome. That means I’m in charge of the bachelorette party, right? How about a Nerd Girl theme? We could go to the Science Center for an IMAX marathon and then to the Pie Bar for strawberry rhubarb crumble. Or maybe the skate park at the Seattle Center? I’m up for anything. As long as it doesn’t involve finger paint.”
Meg laughed and put her arms around her daughter.
Appointing Trina maid of honor was a deviation from the plan to adhere as closely as possible to their original wedding, but Meg wouldn’t have had it any other way. She knew it wouldn’t be possible to perfectly re-create one moment in time anyway. So many things had changed.
The justice of the peace who had married them the first time had retired to Puerto Vallarta. Asher wanted a real minister this time and suggested his childhood friend Matt, who was a pastor at a small community church in Ballard.
That’s where they were when Avery called with the news of Minerva’s imminent arrival. Asher drove them down to the King Street Station as fast as he could. They arrived five minutes late and ran from the parking lot into the depot, searching for Avery, Walt, and Trina, only to learn that the train would be delayed fifteen minutes.
Now there was nothing for Meg to do but wait. Wait, cling to Asher’s hand, and try to breathe normally. She couldn’t understand why her heart was pounding so hard or why her chest felt so tight. Meg didn’t remember her mother any more than she had the rest of the family. Why should she feel anxious about meeting her?
The status on the electronic reader board changed from “Delayed” to “Arrived” at the exact moment a voice came over the loudspeaker, announcing the Coast Starlight was now arriving on track two. Other people who had come to meet the train, lounging and loitering in distant corners and scattered benches, now consolidated near the entry doors, searching the faces of arriving passengers.
Avery and the kids surged to the front of the crowd. Meg, still holding Asher’s hand, hung back. Even so she spotted her mother before the others did, outside the windows, walking toward the door of the station, tidy and perfectly coiffed in the middle of a clutch of more disheveled disembarking passengers. Had she never seen a photo of Minerva in her life, she still would have known who she was.
Her features were an oil-and-vinegar blend of her three daughters, flavors that complement but never combine completely, with Joanie’s searching eyes, Avery’s full lips, and Meg’s short, slightly upturned nose, looking just like her girls but, at the same time, entirely like herself.
She wore a light tan skirt and jacket, trim at the waist, made from a fabric that looked like linen but either didn’t wrinkle or hadn’t yet. It looked expensive, but not as expensive as the diamond tennis bracelet she wore on her right arm. She carried a bouquet of yellow carnations, wrapped in green paper and tied with a white ribbon, laid long across her left forearm, held lightly, like a tribute for visiting royalty or a prima donna from the Paris Opera.
It seemed strange to Meg that she would exit the train with flowers. People generally brought flowers to the train, not from it. Didn’t they? But then, seeing the anxious darting of her mother’s eyes as she attempted to look over and around her fellow travelers for a familiar face, Meg understood. The flowers were a prop, something she could hold on to, giving herself courage and the appearance of being wanted and welcomed even if neither turned out to be true and no one came to meet her.
It was a ridiculous ploy, comical and simultaneously sad. Still, Meg couldn’t help but feel a grudging respect for this strange woman who worked so hard at playing the part, determined to land on her feet no matter how far she fell.
When she saw her mother nearing the door, Avery’s delighted squeal reverberated off the enormous barrel-shaped ceiling of the great hall. Minerva flung her arms wide. Avery ran into them and Minerva embraced her, now clutching the carnations in one hand so they stood straight up, looking like they were growing out of Avery’s head. The two of them stood that way for a long moment, heedless of the fact that they were blocking the doorway, drawing some scowls and some smiles from the passengers who had to wend their way around them.
When Minerva released her at last, Avery grabbed her mother by the arm and steered her toward Walt and Trina, who, though searching eagerly for their grandmother before, suddenly appeared shy and uncertain of what to say. Minerva either didn’t notice or didn’t care.
Ignoring Walt’s extended hand, she opened her arms just as she had for Avery and hugged him as close as she could, her fingertips several inches from meeting on his back and her head no higher than his chest. He hugged her back, patting her shoulders awkwardly.
“Look at you!” Minerva exclaimed when she finally released him, hinging her neck all the way back so she could see his face, like she was gazing into the upper branches of a mighty oak. “You’re enormous! And so handsome. You look like an outdoorsman and philosopher, a young John Muir.”
Walt’s face split into a goofy grin. She couldn’t have picked a compliment that would have pleased him more. Muir, the naturalist and writer known as the “Father of National Parks,” was one of Walt’s heroes.
“And you,” she said, clasping a hand to her breast and making her voice softer as she turned to Trina, who seemed a bit more reticent than her cousin. “Those eyes. Such a deep and beautiful brown with those little golden flecks. Thoughtful and so intelligent. You remind me of Nancy Roman. Do you know that I met her once? Back in 2015.”
Trina’s beautiful, intelligent eyes went wide.
“You met Nancy Roman? The first Chief of Astronomy at NASA? The one who headed the Hubble telescope committee?”
“None other,” Minerva replied. “The California Science Center held an event marking her ninetieth birthday. I brought a postcard with a picture of the Hubble and asked her to sign it for you, hoping that someday, I would finally get to meet you. And now, at last, I have.” Minerva opened her arms once again and Trina stepped willingly into her embrace.
Through all of this, Meg stayed back and close to Asher, watching from the fringes. Now Minerva walked toward them.
Closing the distance, Minerva dropped the arm that encircled Trina’s waist, placed her hands on Meg’s shoulders, and searched her face for a long, silent moment before collapsing into tears and her daughter’s arms.
Meg held her, dry-eyed. When Minerva’s sobs finally began to subside, Asher tapped her on the shoulder and gently suggested they collect the luggage. At that point, Avery, whose eyes were as red as her mother’s, stepped in and took charge, explaining that Minerva would be staying with her for the duration of her stay.
“In your tiny house? The one Asher built?” Minerva asked, smiling wetly at the two of them.
“Not quite,” Asher corrected. “The one Avery built with my help.”
“With a lot of your help,” Avery laughed.
“How wonderful. I can’t wait to see it.”
Minerva’s entourage moved on w
ith Avery leading the charge and Meg and Asher bringing up the rear, but slowly. When the others were out of earshot, Asher leaned closer to Meg.
“I’ll say one thing for her—she knows how to make an entrance. Do you remember her now?”
“No, I don’t think so.”
“Ah,” he said, sounding a little disappointed. “Well, maybe in a day or two.”
She took his hand and longer steps, trying to keep pace with her husband and outdistance the lie she’d just told.
Chapter 38
As they neared the door of the bookstore, Avery placed her hand flat over Hal’s camera lens.
“Cut! That’s as far as you go. I told you before, Adam doesn’t want cameras following me around the shop. He says it would disrupt the customers.”
“Come on. It’s just me. I won’t be in the way.”
Hal moved his head to one side, looking at her around the end of the camera he held perched on his shoulder. Avery shook her head and Hal pretended to pout.
“You know what I think? I think Adam just wants to keep you to himself.”
“Right. Like he’d ever be interested in somebody like me.”
“Why would you say that? What’s wrong with you?”
“Nothing. But, aside from loving books, we’ve got nothing in common. He came from this totally regular, all-American family—Mom and Dad, still married, sister, family dog, church picnics, Sunday night supper with the grandparents—and I was conceived in a lab.”
“So you’re going to hold that against him? Don’t be such a snob, Avery. It’s not his fault he’s normal.”
“Very funny. You know what I mean. I’m not his type. And I’m not sure he’s mine either. Adam is so . . . so white bread. If he was just a little weirder—”
“You want him to be weirder?” Hal snorted out a laugh.
“No,” Avery protested, then reversed herself. “Well, yes. I mean, not weird weird. I’m not looking for somebody who wears tinfoil hats or anything. Just interesting weird—quirky. Crazy, but in a good way. You know what I mean?”
Hal shook his head. “I do not know. Not about you or any other woman. You’re all impossible to make sense of. But look, all I need is fifteen minutes of you doing your bookseller thing. Ten,” he said, lowering his offer when he saw her immovable expression. “And I’ll buy you a cupcake.”
“Now that I’m working I can buy my own cupcakes. But, hey, you’ve got a front-row seat for my mermaid shoot down at the pier. I asked the producer if it would be okay and he was all for it. Apparently, he’s a big fan of your work.”
“Well, then that makes him a member of a small and exclusive group. One that’s getting smaller by the minute.”
“Why? Does Joanie hate you now that you’re behind the camera again?”
“No, we’ve negotiated a truce. She’s even letting me come to the big family dinner next weekend. As an observer, not a guest. Unlike some people,” he said, giving her a pointed look, “Joanie understands I have a job to do.”
“Hey, if it wasn’t for me there wouldn’t be a family dinner next weekend. I’m the one who talked her into it. We had to have at least one group activity while Minerva is here, right?”
Hal lifted the camera from his shoulder. “Not even five minutes? Seriously, I’ll be the least disruptive man on the planet. I’ll be wallpaper.”
“Can’t do it. Besides, I thought you were supposed to be wallpaper over at Joanie’s?”
He shook his head. “Nope, I was supposed to be at Meg’s, interviewing her while she’s working, but she blew me off. Said she was coming down with something. It’s all right; I’ve got some research to do anyway. Can I get some time with you and Minerva together? Maybe at your place?”
“Sure,” she shrugged, “if you can find her. She spends every spare moment with Trina and Walt, playing tourist. So far, they’ve gone to the aquarium, Pike Place Market, the Space Needle, the EMP Museum. Trying to corrupt the next generation, I guess. The current one being such a disappointment.” Avery smiled, but it wasn’t very convincing. Hal reached out to touch her on the shoulder.
“Hey. It’s only natural that she’d want to spend time getting to know her grandkids. Don’t let it bother you.”
“I’m not jealous of the kids. I want them to have a chance to get to know her. If anything, it’s kind of a relief to have her point her laser at somebody else for a while.”
“Point her laser? What’s that supposed to mean?”
“Nothing,” she said, waving him off. He craned his neck and followed her eyes, refusing to be put off. “Really. It’s just Minerva being Minerva. It took less than a day for her to let me know, without quite coming right out and saying so, that a minimum wage job selling books isn’t quite what she had in mind for her daughter. She called it betrayal of my talent, which is another way of saying I’m a disappointment.”
Hal’s jaw clenched tighter and tighter as Avery was speaking, his eyes like two smoldering coals. When she finished, he unleashed a string of oaths that practically turned the air blue.
“Whoa!” she exclaimed. “Calm down. Where did that come from?”
“Sorry,” he muttered darkly. “But I mean it; screw Minerva! First off, you’re not making minimum wage. You got a raise.”
“True. A whole seventy-five cents an hour.”
“Yes, because you got a promotion, less than two weeks after you were hired. You’re on your way up. You’re a manager. Which is more than I can say for Minerva. Where does she get off—”
Hal stopped in midsentence and started to pace, two steps to the left and then two to the right, trying to walk off his anger. It didn’t seem to be working. Avery watched him. She didn’t quite understand why he should be so angry on her behalf, but she couldn’t say it didn’t please her.
“What right does she have to be disappointed in anybody?” He fisted the air and then spun around to face Avery. “Let me ask you something—are you disappointed in you?”
Avery lifted her brows, a little surprised by the question. She mulled it over, thinking about where she’d been four months ago and where she was today, thinking about her growing little cadre of customers, the mom who sought her out just the week before and thanked her for helping her son find books he really enjoyed, crediting her for helping turn him into a “reader.”
“No,” she said honestly. “Actually, I’m kind of proud of me.”
“Good!” Hal said, the anger in his voice becoming more like a simmering defiance. “Because that’s all that matters.”
Hal didn’t say that he was proud of her, too, but he didn’t have to. Avery knew it was true. That pleased her too. Hal bent down to retrieve his camera and hefted it back onto his shoulder.
“Not even five minutes, eh?”
She laughed at his pathetic expression.
“Not even. But that was a good speech.”
* * *
Avery was reorganizing the middle-grade fiction shelves when Adam came up and stood next to her.
“So. Uh . . . I was wondering. How do you feel about baseball?”
“How do I feel about it? Fine, I guess. I mean, I like it all right. I don’t know much about it.”
Baseball? Was he suggesting she do something with a sports theme for the next Saturday Shenanigans? She’d been thinking about a Fractured Fairytales theme—there were lots of fun titles with twisted takes on classic folktales. But, Adam was the boss. If he wanted baseball . . .
“But I’m sure I could figure it out.”
“Great. See, I’m shooting this show down in Tacoma next weekend. I thought you might want to go with me.”
Avery’s brow furrowed. “Shooting a show? In Tacoma? Where in Tacoma and why? I’m not following.”
“Sorry. I didn’t explain that very well,” he said, reaching up and pushing the hair out of his eyes. “The Tacoma Rainiers—a farm team for the Seattle Mariners—has a home game next weekend. Afterward, there’s going to be a fireworks show and I’m going
to help shoot it. I’m a licensed pyrotechnician. Anyway, I thought you might want to come to the game with me and then stay to see the fireworks.”
Avery laughed. “A licensed pyrotechnician? Really? Is that something else you picked up to impress girls? I mean, besides balloon animals?”
“Nah, just something I do because it’s completely awesome,” he said, his eyes sparking with boyish enthusiasm as his face split into that adorably goofy grin of his. “My family thinks it’s crazy—my mom is always worried I’m going to blow off my hand or something. But what the heck. Everybody needs a little crazy in their life, right? It’d be pretty boring otherwise.”
“So true,” Avery said, matching his grin with her own.
“So, would you like to come with me?”
“Oh, Adam, I’d love to. But I can’t. My mom is in town and there’s a big family dinner.”
“Sure,” he said, the bow in his lips flattening a little. “I just thought we might have fun. Maybe I shouldn’t have asked you, since we’re working together and everything.”
“No, no,” she rushed to assure him. “I’m really glad you did. Are you busy on Memorial Day weekend? There’s a barbecue at my sister’s house. . . .”
She blurted this out without thinking, anxious for him to know she was sincerely interested in him, but then, remembering Owen’s reaction to her prior invitation, immediately wished she’d kept her mouth shut. If Owen thought she was trying to move too fast by inviting him to a family barbecue a couple weeks into what she had thought was a serious relationship, then what would Adam think about being invited to a family event—a wedding, no less—right off the bat?
“A barbecue at your sister’s,” he said, prodding her to go on.
“Right . . . well, it’s actually kind of a wedding. My sister Meg and her husband, Asher, are going to renew their vows. You probably wouldn’t want to come. I mean, I’m sure you’ve got better things to do—”
“Sounds great,” Adam interrupted. “What time should I be there?”
The Promise Girls Page 27