Olivia considered it a bit odd that two elderly people would want to do something traditionally reserved for young families, but she didn’t say anything. More than likely, her mother’s friend was senile and had reverted to childhood memories and this was an activity he’d enjoy.
“Have a wonderful time,” she said.
“Oh, we intend to,” Charlotte murmured.
If she didn’t know better, Olivia would’ve thought she’d seen her mother blushing.
Later the same day, she asked her daughter about it. “Have you noticed anything different about your grandmother lately?”
Justine, who was busy stirring gravy, glanced up. “Grandma? What makes you ask?”
Olivia held her infant grandson and paced the small kitchen, gently patting his back. Leif cooed at her, and for a moment, she was caught up in the sheer wonder of holding this baby close to her heart. When she realized Justine was waiting for her answer, she returned to the subject of her mother. “Oh—we had breakfast this morning and, well, your grandmother seemed…oh, I don’t know, secretive.”
“Secretive? How?”
Olivia shrugged.
“Mom, I’ve been so busy with the restaurant and with Leif that I haven’t had a chance to notice.”
“It’s nothing, I’m sure, but after last year’s cancer scare I want to keep an eye on her.”
“I do, too. It’s just that I have so much going on right now.” Justine, always responsible, was far too willing to accept blame for her shortcomings, imagined or real.
“Sweetheart, it’s not your job to be your grandmother’s guardian. Just pay attention when you do see her and we’ll compare notes.”
Justine removed the pan from the stove top and poured the contents into a gravy boat just as the doorbell chimed. Seth, who’d been putting the finishing touches on the table, answered it.
Stan stood in the doorway, holding a bouquet of flowers and a bottle of wine. “I’m not late, am I?” he asked as he breezed into the small house. “Happy birthday, Olivia,” he said, kissing her on the cheek.
“Dad?” From Justine’s blank look, Olivia could tell that Stan’s visit was a surprise to her daughter, too.
“I thought I’d crash the birthday party. You don’t mind, do you?” He smiled at Justine and Olivia.
“Of course not,” Justine said, recovering first. Seth quickly added another place setting.
“Hello, Stan.” Olivia’s response was polite and cool. She hadn’t talked to him since his less-than-subtle invitation to dinner in Seattle—dinner that included a night in a hotel room.
Justine took the flowers and arranged them artfully in a vase, which she set in the middle of the table. With Leif asleep, Olivia settled her grandson in his crib and joined everyone at the table.
Dinner—roast chicken and gravy, roasted root vegetables and salad—was wonderful, although Olivia felt slightly on edge. That passed, however, as the meal progressed. Perhaps the wine relaxed her. Whatever it was, she was soon laughing and joking with her family and it seemed…so natural. She could almost believe that she and Stan had never been divorced. Stan was his warm, ingratiating self. Funny, witty, clever in ways that Olivia had all but forgotten.
“So,” Stan said as Seth and Justine went into the kitchen to prepare coffee. “Are you going to forgive me?”
Olivia saw no point in pretending she didn’t know what he was talking about. “There’s nothing to forgive.”
He shrugged. “I was a little too pushy, I think.”
“Your problem is that you need a woman who adores you.”
He chuckled and saluted her with his empty wineglass. “You once did, and I’m hoping you will again. I adore you, you know.”
It flattered her to hear it, but Olivia was older and wiser these days. She’d once loved Stan with all of her being, but their marriage hadn’t survived the loss of their son. The divorce had battered her emotionally, and it had taken her years to recover. Even now, she couldn’t reflect on the summer of 1986 without sadness.
“I was wrong,” Stan said, lowering his voice. “I want to make it up to you.”
Make it up to her? Olivia nearly laughed but held on to her composure. “There are other women for you out there.”
“Don’t tell me you’re interested in that…that newspaper guy. Olivia, no! Anyone can see Griffin’s all wrong for you.”
“I think I’m the best judge of that.”
Stan sat back in his chair and crossed his arms. Slowly he shook his head, intimating that he just couldn’t imagine her with Jack. “He’s a loose cannon,” Stan muttered. “You realize that, don’t you?”
Olivia disagreed, but she had no intention of arguing with Stan over her relationship with another man. So she said nothing. Thankfully Seth and Justine returned with the coffee and birthday cake, and the matter was dropped.
Later that evening, when she got home after a full day of celebrating, she discovered two messages on her machine. One was from James and Selina, his wife, who’d phoned with birthday greetings. The second message was from Jack.
Olivia returned his call first. He answered immediately, as though he’d been sitting by the phone waiting for her. It was a pleasant thought.
“Hi,” he said, and he sounded thrilled to hear from her. “Where were you all day?”
“Out.”
“Yes, I know. I called six times and drove by once.”
“Jack!”
“I wanted to see you. I don’t suppose it’s proper etiquette to tell you that, but I did…. I still do.”
“It’s too late now.”
“I know.” He groaned the words. “Where were you?”
“If you must know, it’s my birthday, and I was at dinner with Justine and Seth.”
“Your birthday! Damn, Olivia, I forgot. You’ll forgive me, won’t you?”
“As long as you don’t ask me how old I am.”
He chuckled. “Don’t ask, don’t tell?”
“You got it.”
“Anybody else there?” The question was a blatant request regarding her ex-husband.
Olivia had the option of lying and avoiding any chance of another dragged-out misunderstanding. She hated to risk upsetting him just when they’d reconciled, but she couldn’t, wouldn’t deceive him. “Yes,” she admitted reluctantly. “Stan showed up. Unexpectedly.”
“Bearing gifts, no doubt?”
“A few.”
“Flowers?”
“Not as pretty as the ones you sent a while back.” Olivia had left Stan’s bouquet with her daughter.
“Candy, too?”
“No candy.”
“Wine, then?”
“Wine,” she confirmed.
He growled something under his breath. “You still want me to put on a pair of boxing gloves and fight him?”
Olivia smiled. “I never wanted you to get into a fistfight,” she said. “I just wanted you to prove you cared about me.”
“Okay,” he said. “Should I call him or do you want to do it?”
“Call Stan?” Jack wasn’t making any sense.
“I think we should duke it out, just the two of us. Man to man.”
“Jack Griffin, that’s ridiculous! Tell me you’re not serious.”
He paused, and she thought she could hear him shadowboxing in the background. He was definitely moving around.
“You could simply declare me the winner,” Jack suggested hopefully.
“I could,” she agreed, “but first you’d have to win my favor.”
Jack groaned again. “And exactly how am I supposed to do that?”
“You don’t know?” She feigned surprise.
“Apparently not, but I’ll study on it.”
“You do that.” Olivia gave a full-throated laugh. “I have a feeling you’ll find a way.”
Oh, yes, it was good to have him back in her life.
Ten
Maryellen was going back to work. She dropped her ten-week-old daughter off at her sister’s on Monday morning, the last week of October. She’d resumed a nine-to-five schedule at the gallery.
“She’ll be fine,” Kelly assured her, as Maryellen lingered anxiously at the front door.
“You’ll phone if there’s a problem?” Leaving her daughter was harder than Maryellen had dreamed possible. It was difficult enough to let Jon take Katie for his regular visitation. She’d assumed that leaving Katie with her own sister would be easier than this. Tears filled her eyes at the prospect of being away from her baby for more than eight hours a day.
“Every new mother goes through this,” Kelly assured her. “It’s hard leaving our babies, even when we know they’re getting the best care in the world.”
“She usually needs to be fed around ten,” Maryellen said, although she’d gone over Katie’s schedule twice already. She’d expressed the milk earlier and had filled several bottles.
“I know, I know. Now, get out of here before you’re late for work.”
Her sister was right, but still Maryellen hovered there in the doorway. Then, before she could change her mind about the whole thing, she turned and hurried to her car. Within a few days, dropping the baby off would become part of her daily routine. She’d considered bringing Katie to the gallery with her, but an infant would be distracting. While not openly forbidding it, the owners had been discouraging.
She hated being away from her baby for a large part of every day, hated the sick sensation it left in the pit of her stomach. Doubts haunted her, fears that she was a bad mother. She couldn’t help feeling that while Kelly was Katie’s aunt, she couldn’t possibly love her as much as Maryellen did. Despite her regrets, she knew this was necessary, and she had to face these demons sooner or later.
By ten that morning, Maryellen had phoned her sister no less than three times. Katie had slept for most of the morning, just as she normally did. During her last phone call, Kelly had told her she was warming Katie’s bottle and would be feeding her right on schedule. Maryellen trusted her sister, but she worried that Kelly might not hold the baby the same way Maryellen did. Worried that the strange environment might disrupt her routine. Worried that Katie would intuitively know she wasn’t in her own home, her own bed.
The bell chimed above the gallery door just as Maryellen replaced the receiver. Taking a moment to calm her pounding heart, she made an effort to look friendly and professional. As she stepped into the gallery’s main room to meet her first customer of the day, she managed to smile.
Her business facade crumbled the instant she saw it was Jon. She was so pleased to see him, so glad to have someone to talk to about Katie.
He took one look at her and frowned. “I thought so.”
“Thought what?” Her hackles immediately rose. Her pleasure at seeing him vanished. The last thing she needed was a lecture.
“I figured I should check up on you your first day back to work. It was hard to leave Katie, wasn’t it?”