by C. J. Lake
“Okay...” Cady had said. “You're saying that your marriage to Dad has gone stale. But not died. Right?”
Instead of giving Cady the reassurance she was so blatantly pushing for, Hortense had sidestepped the question, but looked squarely into Cady's eyes. “Cadence, I want you to know something. My marriage to your father has been the greatest achievement of my life, because it gave me you and Rex—greater treasures than I could ever find in an excavation pit.”
In case you missed it, that was Hortense being a gushing, effusive mom. Warm fuzzies weren't exactly her bread and butter. And while Cady wasn’t mad at her, she was definitely disappointed. If only Hortense could have been satisfied with whatever stale, fossilized “union” Brandall was offering after twenty-eight years, then nothing would have had to change.
In the months since the marriage ended, Brandall Killoren certainly had changed. No, he hadn’t dyed his hair, bought a red Jaguar, and studied up on the newest memes and catchphrases. It wasn’t a stereotypical mid-life crisis. Instead, Cady’s dad had sort of morphed into a mess of grappling insecurity.
He had always been so unemotional; kind, but in a detached, perennially-baffled sort of way. His post-divorce personality was quirkier and more dependent. Sometimes he even dipped into the bottle of Black Velvet that had been collecting dust on the china hutch for years and wondered aloud, in a meandering stream of thoughts, if Hortense might come back to him.
The truth was: Cady wondered that herself. Maybe the divorce was just part of some passing mid-life crisis. After all, Hortense could not just be discovering now that Brandall was rather dull and clinical. Something didn’t make sense.
Fortunately, Brandall’s emotional well-being wasn’t all Cady’s responsibility; her older brother, Rex, helped, too. Rex often had dinner with their dad, distracting him with the usual father-son stuff—like riffing about String Theory or busting out the Rubik’s cubes and the kitchen timer for a real old-school match-up.
Now Cady brought the cell to her ear. “Hey, Dad.”
“Hi, Cady, thanks for answering.”
Jeez, did he have to make himself sound so desperate? Her heart ached for the guy sometimes. If only he'd applied his genius to his marriage, could it have been saved? “What’s up? How are you?” Cady asked.
“I am exceedingly well,” he said, surprising her.
“Really? Well, that’s great, Dad.”
“In fact, I would like us to go to dinner tonight,” he suggested cheerfully. “Are you able to go? I want to make reservations at Travelli's. Unfortunately, Rex won’t be able to meet us. He has tickets to a lecture in Cambridge on arachnid exoskeletons.”
“Sounds killer.”
“Yes. I can't wait to hear all about it,” Brandall remarked, obviously missing Cady's sarcasm.
“Sure, I can do dinner,” she agreed—even though she'd planned to start her term paper on narrative voice today, after she completed her reading for the upcoming week. Although she liked to stay ahead of the syllabus in each class, her dad sounded so upbeat, she couldn't bear to say no. “What's up?”
“Well, I will tell you tonight. It's a very, very good thing,” Brandall promised. “It’s a surprise, let’s put it that way.”
It wasn’t until later when they were both seated at Travelli's Restaurant that Brandall dropped the bomb, which was supposedly a “very, very good thing.”
“Dad—a girlfriend?” Cady echoed, wrinkling her face in disbelief. “Already? Really?”
Sorry, but she just couldn’t hide her surprise. He had never said a word before tonight. Of course she knew something was going on when she saw him enter Travelli's wearing a jacket and tie (they clashed horribly, but still). Normally her dad was a rumpled button-down and sweater vest kind of guy, so yes, jacket and tie implied this was a special occasion. That said, Cady still had not seen this announcement coming. A girlfriend!
The woman's name was Linda Croft. Apparently the two had met on a website for lonely, divorced middle-aged people. When Brandall was done gushing about how beautiful and sweet this Linda Croft was, he explained that she would also be arriving any moment to join them—with her son.
Cady froze, her glass of Chablis poised a few inches from her face. “Wait, Dad. Why am I meeting her son?”
“Because, as I told you, this is a very serious relationship,” Brandall explained.
Then Cady tapped her forehead, realizing. “Oh, wait, I get it. Linda wants her son to meet you, the same way that I’m meeting her, is that it?”
“Well, yes, there’s that, of course,” Brandall agreed, sounding hesitant.
“Dad…” Cady eyed him warily all of a sudden. “Why would her son and I need to meet? What aren't you telling me?” Before he could answer, Cady sharpened her gaze. “How long have you been dating this woman?”
“Almost four weeks,” Brandall replied and fiddled with his tie. Instead of straightening it out, the gesture only seemed to make it more crooked. “As I said, I didn't want to say anything too early. Linda and I agreed not to tell our children we were dating anyone until we knew it was right.”
“Okay...” Cady began, still taking this in. God, how could she have missed this? Four weeks and she hadn't known that her dad had a girlfriend? Even though he'd kept it to himself, surely Cady should have picked up on a change in his tone of voice or some cues that he had been happier recently.
“To be honest, it really didn't get serious until very recently,” her father commented.
“How serious?”
“Let's just say: this experiment has far exceeded the parameters of my hypothesis.” Then giggled.
For a second, Cady looked at him in wonderment. Since when did her dad giggle?
“That’s great, Dad,” she said, forcing a smile on her face, hoping to stave off intimate details. With this new emotional-rollercoaster father, who knew what to expect? “Good for you,” she added quickly. Suddenly her phone chimed. She pulled it out of her bag and read the text from Torie:
Hey, it’s Sunday and u r not here doing homework??? U ok?
Covertly, Cady typed back: I’m in Twilight Zone Hell, but yes I’m fine.
What’s up?
At a restaurant w/my dad
“Can you please put that away?” Brandall implored, glaring disapprovingly at her cell phone. “I don’t want Linda to arrive and think that you’re being rude.”
“Sorry,” Cady said, setting her phone back in her bag.
Brandall cleared his throat, as he tinkered with his silverware. “Cadence, I want you to understand…this dinner is about more than introducing Linda. It’s also about bringing the families together.”
“Why do I suddenly feel like I'm in a mob movie?” Cady joked.
“What?” Brandall said, utterly bewildered. “You lost me.”
“Nothing, never mind.”
Absently scratching his temple, Brandall continued, “Now where was I?”
“Bringing the families together.”
“Ah, yes. Tonight...I...well, this is why I’m disappointed Rex couldn’t make it,” Brandall babbled on, as Cady became more tense, waiting for her dad to get to the point. She brought her glass to her lips, but barely tasted the wine as her father said: “Because if things go the way I’m calculating...Linda’s son will end up being your brother.”
Cady almost spit out her Chablis. Fortunately, she choked it down before that happened, though not before sputtering a few coughs. “What?” she burst, managing to catch her breath. “My brother?! Dad, come on! Get serious. How long have you even known this woman?”
“I told you. Four weeks.”
“Weeks? Okay, you were married to Mom for years!”
“Lower your voice in case she comes in and overhears you,” Brandall urged, before craning his neck toward the entrance of the restaurant.
“Dad, you can't really think a few weeks is a long time to know someone. This is...” Haplessly, Cady also searched her surroundings—but in her case, she wa
sn't looking for Linda, but rather a tactful way to tell her father he'd lost his grip. That he was being immature and ridiculous and that she didn't want to see him get hurt. For goodness sake, who was the parent here?
“When it’s right, it’s right,” Brandall prattled on. “Isn't that what they say?” Then he burst into a wheezy, delighted chuckle.
Still stunned, Cady kept her tone even. “All right, Dad. Even if you do marry this woman—whom you barely know,” she couldn’t resist adding “—that still would not make her son my ‘brother.’ Okay? That’s ridiculous.”
“Stepbrother is what I meant, obviously.”
“Even that!” Cady yelped. “Come on, Dad, we’re adults. Do people still use that term when they’re adults?”
Brandall blinked at her, perplexed. “I fail to see what being adults has to do with the terminology.”
Impatiently, Cady rolled her eyes. “I don’t even know this guy. I’m hardly going to think of him as a brother—‘step’ or otherwise.”
Brandall scratched his temple again. “I must admit, that’s somewhat distressing.”
“Why?”
“Because when I marry Linda—”
“When you marry her?” Cady interrupted, feeling both incredulous and annoyed. “Don't you mean if?”
Staunchly, it seemed, Brandall took a puffing sort of breath—and then doubled-down. “What I'm trying to say is: assuming Linda and I take that next step at some point...I hope you will consider her your stepmother, and treat her that way.”
Still slack-jawed, Cady's thoughts muddled together for a moment. She didn't point out that the logical “next step” after four weeks dating someone was not marriage; it was more dating.
Brandall's words kept playing back in her mind. Consider her your stepmother and treat her that way. What did it even entail to treat some virtual stranger as a “stepmother”? Hopefully not more than generic politeness and a nice gift at Christmas time?
When the waiter interrupted to set down the bread basket, Cady buried two or three unsupportive comments into her next drink of wine. Okay, was she being too much of a bitch here?
Probably.
She needed to look at this another way. Yes her father was talking crazy. At the same time, though, it was his life, he could do what he wanted—and Cady honestly couldn’t remember ever seeing him so giddy and happy. Sometimes change was a good thing, she reminded herself. Sometimes madness was harmless. Right?
Her phone chimed again. It was muscle-memory, she supposed, because without thinking, she pulled it out of her bag. Another text from Torie:
Our next-door neighbor is having loud sex right now and u r missing it.
Eww, Cady typed back with a grin.
So how’s dinner?
Cady couldn't help grimacing as she typed: Let’s just say…there’s some Brady Bunch shit going down tonight.
Torie typed back: Ha! I know if u r cursing, there’s going to be a funny story later. Can’t wait to hear it!
Def…ttyl.
“Cadence, please,” Brandall said, exasperated.
“Sorry!” Cady said with an apologetic half-smile, and dropped her phone back into her bag.
Chapter Eight
Mick couldn’t help gazing idly out the taxi window as his mom gushed about the new guy in her life. In truth, she seemed to be repeating the same selling points about him over and over, just in different words. “He’s financially stable and oh, yeah, he’s really nice, too” was basically the gist of it.
Finally, he interjected, “So, is this why you asked me to dinner tonight? To hype this new guy or what?” He didn’t mean to cut her off, but Mick could tell that his mom was really trying to talk him—and herself—into liking this dude.
She hadn’t so much asked Mick to dinner as she had cornered him after his workout. The dental office where she worked wasn’t too far from the university’s main gym, so she was close enough for a sneak-attack if that’s what she had in mind.
“Don’t you want to know about him? The fact that your mother has a boyfriend now…I’d think that would be of some interest to you.”
“No, you’re right, I’m sorry,” Mick said gruffly. He did feel his mom deserved some happiness, after all. Still, she was moving pretty fast considering she’d only known this guy a few weeks.
“I wanted you to know about him, because, well, this could be something serious, Mick. Very serious.”
“Wait—how serious?”
With a celebratory smile, his mother, Linda, clucked her tongue and said, “I can't be sure yet, but he's dropped more than a few hints about making a commitment.”
“Already?” Mick said, openly disdainful. “Christ, what’s wrong with this guy?”
“Excuse me?” Linda said, clearly offended.
“You know what I mean, Mom. Who comes on that strong so early?”
“He’s a bit needy,” she admitted as if that was a perfectly reasonable defense, and loosened her scarf. “At least that's the impression I'm getting. You know, his divorce is still fresh and so I think he might be feeling a little desperate for a solid relationship to cling to.”
With a grimace, Mick said, “Mom, do you hear yourself right now?”
“What?”
“You're saying this guy's desperate.”
“No, no—that was a poor choice of words.”
“But—”
“He’s very sweet to me, let me be clear on that,” Linda added quickly. “And that’s the important thing.” Then she shrugged and started digging an even deeper hole. “He's just one of those 'nerdy' intellectual types. You know, slightly awkward with women—but, you know, solid.”
Mick barked a disbelieving laugh and began enumerating on his fingers. “So we’ve got awkward, needy, and painfully obvious about it. Gee, Mom, I never knew this was your type.”
Defensively, Linda jutted her chin up and dropped her sunny attitude. “Hey, let me tell you something: nerdy intellectuals make the best husbands.” Under her breath, she grumbled, “Something I had to learn the hard way…”
Mick deliberately ignored that dig at his father, Tony, who was apparently popular and charming wherever he went (though a lot of that hype came from Tony himself). Of course Mick loved his dad, but it was hard to forgive him completely for hurting Mick's mom. “All right, well be careful, Mom, that’s all I’m saying,” Mick commented, looking out the window again. “Just because this guy wants to go all-in doesn’t mean that you have to.”
“I think he might propose.”
Mick whipped his head around. “Marriage?”
With a short laugh, Linda said, “Yes, obviously.”
“Soon?” Mick challenged, still not believing what he was hearing.
“Yes.” Linda fluffed her blonde hair a bit, adding, “That’s why I wanted you to know what’s going on. It could happen any day.”
“Jesus...”
“Maybe I'm wrong,” Linda qualified, “but that's just what my women’s intuition is telling me.”
“What the fuck?” Mick blurted, annoyed by this whole ridiculous grenade his mom had just dropped on him. Was she crazy? This guy sounded like a real desperate loser and she was ready to marry him?
“Watch your mouth, please,” she chided, shaking her head, frustrated.
Mick ignored that, sitting up more. “Mom, come on. Please tell me if this guy proposes you’re not actually about to accept? For chrissake, at least tell him you need to think about it,” he said, stating the obvious.
“Listen, Mister High Horse,” Linda argued, color coming to her cheeks. “If and when Brandall proposes, I certainly will be saying yes. Assuming nothing changes, of course, and that he's still treating me so wonderfully.”
“But you don't even know him!”
“Yes, I do!” Linda yelped. Mick knew that frustrated tone; she was pissed now. Next was the withering sigh. “Look, I know enough. And I need some financial stability. From what I can tell, Brandall does very well for himself.
Mick, he drives a BMW! Granted, it’s only the 3 Series,” she remarked. “But still.”
Stunned, Mick just looked at her for a moment. “Mom, since when are you such a gold digger?” he asked her point-blank, then insisted: “This isn’t you.”
“I'm offended by that,” Linda said, annoyed. “I care about Brandall. My affection for him gets stronger each time I see him.”
“Mm-hmm,” Mick muttered skeptically.
“It's true,” Linda insisted.
Mick said nothing.
“Well maybe if your father hadn’t left me destitute in the divorce, I could afford your lofty principles,” Linda griped.
The last thing Mick was trying to do was to make his mom upset, but was he supposed to act like she was making great decisions when she wasn't? Some clingy guy she'd met online was suddenly her only hope—and Mick was supposed to pretend it wasn't fucked up?
“Dad was sort of a dick, yes,” he said now. “But you’re not destitute; you have a job.”
His mother rolled her eyes at that. “Oh, so I’m supposed to spend the next thirty years working like a mule?”
Now it was Mick's turn for eye-rolling. “C'mon. You’re a receptionist at a very nice dental office.”
“And I only have that job because Sherry took pity on me! Because Sherry knows what it’s like.” Oh, Jesus, not again—the bitter saga of Sherry Martin's divorce. Mick didn't need to hear more about Sherry’s cheap, heartless ex-husband who'd forced them to split their dental practice. Two or three times hearing the story was plenty.
“Just tell me, Mom,” Mick said, his voice brusque and to the point, “do you actually love this guy?”
“Well…” she began.
“All right, enough said.”
“I'm growing to love him!” When Mick’s response was a humorless laugh, Linda smacked a hand on her thigh. “Listen, I don’t have to defend myself! I’m your mother and I expect your support!”
A few long moments of silence stretched between them. Then, for some reason, she felt compelled to add: “Assuming things blossom between Brandall and me, I’m obviously going to introduce you to him, and when I do, you’d better be nice, Mick.”