A Turn in the Road (Blossom Street #8)

Bethanne didn’t comment. Instead, she changed the subject. “Did your father mention that he wants us to see a house this afternoon?”

“Yeah, I think that’s great, don’t you?”

Bethanne was a little startled by her daughter’s reaction. “I’m not selling the house, Annie. I told your father that when he brought up this idea, but he insisted I at least look.”

“It doesn’t cost anything to do a walk-through, does it?”

Bethanne knew Andrew would appreciate her feelings about their family home. And she’d expected Annie to display some emotion regarding it. Annie had been four when they’d moved there and Bethanne doubted she had any memories of the apartment they’d lived in before that.

“Dad emailed me pictures of the Lake Washington house, and, Mom, it’s really beautiful.”

Over dinner at Zorba’s, Grant had shown her brochures for cruises to the Greek isles, a trip they’d once anticipated for their twenty-fifth wedding anniversary. Only, there hadn’t been any anniversary and no trip. Bethanne had scanned the flyers while sipping a small glass of ouzo. The implication was that if they did remarry, they’d take one of these cruises—a second honeymoon.

Everything seemed to be moving so quickly. Too quickly for Bethanne. Grant was obviously trying to give her reasons to reconcile. He’d always been persuasive, a deal-maker, and he was using all his skills to sway her decision.

“Your father’s trying too hard,” Bethanne felt obliged to tell her daughter. “It isn’t material things I want. There’s so much more involved here.”

Annie’s eyes widened. “Mom, Dad’s afraid.” She hesitated briefly. “Were you on the phone with Max the other morning when Dad came by?”

“What makes you ask?” She’d been careful not to let Grant know she was speaking to Max. He might have overheard but she doubted it.

“Dad said he thought you might’ve been.”

Bethanne didn’t respond.

“It really threw him after the week in Florida.”

“Oh?” So all this house business had to do with Grant’s insecurities. But until Andrew’s wedding, her decision was on hold. Her first priority was seeing their son happily married. Only then would she address these uncomfortable issues.

“The cruise, the house—it’s all a bit much,” she said.

Annie smiled. “Dad means well.”

Bethanne nodded. “I know.” She kept thinking about their meal at Zorba’s. The recipes were the same as they’d been years ago, but the experience wasn’t. Grant had wanted to recapture the past and his attempt had fallen short. Neither of them had acknowledged it, though. It might not be a good analogy, but Bethanne feared the same thing would happen with their relationship. Even if they both wanted a reconciliation to work, it might not. Too much time had passed. They no longer had the same interests or, she suspected, the same values. Bethanne liked quiet evenings at home, reading and knitting. From what Grant had told her, he often went out nights, to network, meet with clients and make connections. She, too, was required to spend a certain number of evenings at work-related occasions, but more and more she preferred to be by herself or with family and friends.

Another thought had come involuntarily when Grant suggested Zorba’s. Had he dined there with Tiffany? She didn’t ask. For a moment, she’d felt a fresh stab of pain but then shoved it from her mind, determined to enjoy the dinner.

During their conversation, she’d realized that the Bethanne he wanted back was the old Bethanne, the woman who’d supported and encouraged him. She couldn’t slip into that role again, nor did she want to. She had her own business now. Grant was ambitious; so was she. Frankly, she didn’t know if there was enough room in a marriage for that much ambition.

“What are you thinking about?” Annie murmured.

Bethanne sighed. “I want it to work with your father, but I don’t know if it will. Five or six years ago, I would’ve moved to the moon if Grant asked it of me. Not anymore, Annie. Seeing this house is a waste of time. I know it and so do you.”

Her daughter didn’t say anything for a long moment. “You’re right. I do.”

Still, some part of Bethanne must have been trying to please Grant; she’d agreed to view this property simply because he’d been excited about it.

“Do you want me to call Dad and tell him you’re too busy?”

“No.” She weighed her options. Checking the time, she realized Grant was probably at his office already, waiting for her. “I’ll go. Do you want to come with us?”

Annie’s face instantly lit up. “I’d love it. Are you sure you don’t mind?”

“I’m more than sure.” In truth, Bethanne welcomed the company. With Annie accompanying her, she might be able to avoid an awkward discussion with Grant.

They drove to Grant’s office in their own cars. He greeted Annie and introduced the listing agent, Jonathan Randolph, who was going to show them the property. Annie rode with Jonathan, and Bethanne and Grant followed in his car.

“How was your day?” Grant asked as soon as they were alone.

“Frantic,” she said. “What about yours?”

“Also busy.” He glanced away from the road and smiled at her.

“You’re going to love this house,” he said as they entered the circular driveway that led to the double front doors.

Just looking at it from the outside, Bethanne had to admit this was a stunning home. “This has got to be way beyond anything you…either of us could afford.”

Bethanne understood what Grant was doing. She hadn’t been married to him all that time without knowing how his mind worked. He hoped once she saw the house she’d have a change of heart. He was counting on it.

And yet, after those same twenty years of marriage, Bethanne was astonished that he didn’t know her better. She’d never longed for things. What mattered to her were the emotions and experiences they represented. Family night playing board games with their children, or a vacation that included Andrew and Annie, meant more than a diamond tennis bracelet or a pricey dinner.

“I know you love the old house,” Grant said, coming to stand at her side. “I realize you have no intention of moving. All I want you to do is look at this place.”

Annie was already out of Jonathan’s car and eager to explore. Bethanne wished she shared Grant and Annie’s enthusiasm.

True to her word, Bethanne toured the house. She had to agree it was everything Grant had claimed and more. The views of the lake and surrounding area were breathtaking. And the inside—had she designed a dream home it would have looked almost exactly like this. A huge walk-in closet, the washer and dryer on the second floor and a deck off the master bedroom.

Grant hardly said a word as Jonathan escorted them from room to room, detailing the unique features, of which there were many. He waited until they were back in the car before he spoke.

“Well, what did you think?”

Bethanne took a moment to collect her thoughts. “You’re right. It’s perfect—”

“I knew you’d feel that way once you saw it,” he said, nearly exploding with enthusiasm.

“But—” she continued.

It was as if he hadn’t heard her. “I could see your eyes light up every time Jonathan showed us another room, especially the kitchen. Didn’t you love that huge gas stove? I have to tell you, Bethanne, I could just see you roasting our Thanksgiving turkey in that oven. Plus, the house is a steal and—”

“A steal?”

“Yes, the owner’s been transferred and is anxious to sell. The house has been on the market nearly six months and he wants it to move. He’s making double house payments, so he wouldn’t reject any reasonable offer.”

Bethanne sympathized with the owner’s predicament.

“I figure we could get the price down another ten percent,” Grant said. “Jonathan suggests, and I agree, that we go in low and be willing to dicker. Banks prefer twenty-five percent down, and I can handle that. I’ll have to sell a few of my stocks, but I feel this house might be an even better investment than what I can expect to do in the market.”

“Then you should make that offer.”

“I plan to, but living here on my own won’t mean a thing if you aren’t with me.”

“Grant, please…”

“I’m not trying to pressure you, and I apologize if it feels that way.”

“I’d rather not discuss this now, all right?”

He looked crestfallen. “Okay. I hope we can start over, Bethanne, and I thought a complete break with the past would be best.”

“I’m not saying I don’t want us to have a second chance,” she clarified, “but it’s premature to make that decision. I told Max, and I’m telling you, I want to wait until after Andrew’s wedding.”

“The old house is filled with memories,” Grant argued. “Some of them must be painful, particularly for you. The only reason I wanted you to see this house is so you’d know I’m willing to invest everything in creating a new life with you.”

“What you don’t seem to understand,” Bethanne said, speaking slowly, hoping he’d listen and understand, “is that I risked everything when you left so I could keep the house. I was the one who held our family together. I kept up the house payments and started a business. At the beginning of each month I calculated how many parties I’d have to hold in order to get the mortgage payment in on time.”

“I know the first couple of years were rocky for you.”

“Rocky?” The man didn’t have a clue.

“Okay, I can see I stepped on a hornet’s nest. How many times do I have to tell you I’m sorry?” he muttered, and she could see how difficult this was for him. Well, it was for her, too.

“So you don’t want to move and start fresh,” he said. “Fine. We won’t.”

She didn’t know if he meant they wouldn’t move or wouldn’t start over, and she didn’t ask. They drove back to his office in silence. The tension in the car was so high she almost expected the windows to shatter under the weight of it. Maybe he was right. Maybe she was incapable of freeing herself from the bitterness of his betrayal. She thought she had; she hoped she had. Apparently not.

Grant pulled into his assigned parking spot at the office and the two of them sat in the car. Neither seemed capable of moving. Bethanne hated the fact that they were fighting. When they were married, she was invariably the one who sought a reconciliation when they’d disagreed. Discord had always upset her.

“Bethanne,” Grant said after an awkward moment. “I spoke out of turn. I apologize.”

She took a shaky breath and forced herself to relax. “I do, too. I don’t know why we lashed out at each other like that.”

He reached for her fingers and wrapped his own hand around hers. “I’ll do whatever makes you happy. I thought—well, it doesn’t matter what I thought. What’s important is your happiness. If you’re still dealing with issues about me, then that’s understandable. I deserve it.”