Balancing Act, page 2
“I honestly didn’t see that from him this trip.” Helen swirled the cognac in her snifter. “Not like I did during our visit to Nashville in October. In fact, yesterday on the slopes, Drew reminded me a lot of his father.”
Genevieve nodded in agreement. “Yesterday, Drew did seem to act more like his old self, and yes, he did remind me of Andy. That man lived life big.”
“Drew will rise above these challenges, Willow,” Helen said. “I’m sure he’ll follow in his father’s footsteps.”
Willow turned toward the fire. Genevieve thought her daughter sounded a touch forlorn as she said, “We will see. In the meantime, I’m hoping tonight’s bad dream is just a blip and that Drew continues to build upon the progress he’s made while we’ve been here.”
“Well, listen to your instincts, Willow,” Genevieve suggested. “They’re good ones.”
“I don’t know about that. However, I am going to listen to them. My deaf ear is flipped to the on position.”
“Good girl.” Helen patted the seat beside her. “Now, grab a glass and come sit with us. Let’s cheer in the New Year together.”
Genevieve added, “I suggest you give yourself a generous pour. Helen convinced me to allow her to set up all of the gifts she gave the family this Christmas to ring in the New Year. They’re in the dining room.”
On her way to her mother’s liquor cabinet, Willow froze. She glanced at her mom with eyes rounded slightly in alarm. “The cuckoo clocks? All eight of them?”
“Yes, all eight of them.”
“Won’t it be glorious?” Helen beamed. “Forget ‘Auld Lang Syne.’ I can’t think of a more appropriate way to put a period on this year and say hello to the next, can you?”
Willow met her mother’s gaze, and the two women exchanged silent identical looks—semi-amused horror. Then, Willow’s expression relaxed, and she turned to Helen and smiled. “No, Auntie, I can’t think of anything more appropriate.”
Genevieve silently toasted her daughter. Then, taking a sip of the cognac, she savored the French liquor. She’d brought out the good stuff for tonight. Why not? Why save anything at this point in her life?
Ticktock to Helen and all her clocks.
Ticktock to my big six-zero.
Ticktock to being six feet under.
Genevieve tossed back the remainder of her drink, then rose to get a refill. “Less than ten minutes to go now. Anyone want to commit to a New Year’s resolution?”
“Not in this life or the next,” Helen shot back. “I gave up New Year’s resolutions at the turn of the century.”
“The turn of the century,” Genevieve repeated glumly. “That makes us sound so old.”
“Not old. Vintage? Or MCM, remember?”
Midcentury modern. Genevieve snorted and kissed her daughter on the cheek as they passed, going to and from the liquor cabinet. Then, carrying a glass of scotch neat, Willow took a seat beside her aunt and said, “I have a New Year’s resolution.”
“Oh?” Helen asked. “Do share.”
“I alluded to it a moment ago. I’m going to start listening. To my instincts. To my mother.”
Following a moment of shock, Genevieve and Helen both burst into laughter. Genevieve filled her snifter. Willow wrinkled her nose at her mother and aunt. “All right. Maybe I deserve that.”
Helen clapped a hand to her breast. “Maybe? You think? Willow, my love, you have been butting heads with your mother for a decade. She says black. You say white. She says night. You say day.”
“Well, things are changing. I’m changing. My guiding word for the year is listen.”
“A guiding word, hmm?” Helen considered the idea a moment, then nodded. “I like that. Having a guiding word for the year makes more sense than making a resolution you never keep.”
“I keep my resolutions,” Genevieve protested.
“That’s because you only resolve easy things. So what is your New Year’s resolution this year, Gen?”
“To exercise every day.”
Helen met Willow’s gaze. “She proves my point.”
“Exercising every day isn’t easy.”
“But you already do it daily. Ergo, it’s an easy resolution.”
Genevieve made an exaggerated roll of her eyes and addressed her daughter. “Have you ever met another person who actually uses the word ergo?”
“One of my professors in college used it.” Willow toasted her aunt. “Here’s to the vocabulary queen. You’ve always inspired me.”
“Thank you.” Helen added an aristocratic nod to her acknowledgment of the compliment. “Maybe I’ll make ergo my word of the year. I’ll use it once a day.”
“I think argue is more appropriate,” Genevieve observed.
“I won’t argue that,” Willow quipped.
“Traitor.” Helen exaggerated a scowl toward her niece.
“Not because you’re argumentative, Auntie—”
“Which she is,” Genevieve teased.
“—but because guiding words work better if you can act on them. Ergo”—Willow shot her aunt a grin—“choose a verb.”
“I concede the point.” Helen tapped her index finger against her lips. “Hmm. All right. I think I’ll go with climb.”
Genevieve and Willow both took a moment to consider it. “Interesting choice,” Genevieve said.
“It suits. It’s uplifting. A friend of mine likes to say that we all can use a little more skyward in our lives. I think she’s right. So this year, I’m going to concentrate on climbing to put a little more sky in my life.”
“And you said you won’t make resolutions.”
Helen gave a nonchalant shrug. “Your turn, Genevieve. Share with the class.”
Genevieve sipped her drink and considered. “I don’t know. I’ll have to think about it. Is there a rule that your guiding word must be chosen by New Year’s?”
Willow shrugged. “There are no guiding-word police.”
“I volunteer for that job,” Helen said, raising her hand. “My first policing act is to declare that yes, you must choose before the little birds coo.”
Genevieve glanced at the clock and winced. She should run upstairs in the next three minutes and grab her earplugs from her nightstand drawer.
“Ticktock, sister.”
“Oh, give me a minute.” Ticktock. That should be Genevieve’s guiding word. However, she knew if she proposed that, Helen would give her grief. She’d already picked up on Genevieve’s birthday bum-out.
“You have two minutes. It’s almost midnight.”
“Okay… okay. My word is…” Old. Decrepit. Over-the-hill. Not verbs. Fade. Shrivel. No, Helen would slap her upside the head if she rolled that out.
Genevieve would have to pick something halfway positive, or her sister and daughter would bug her the entire year.
“Ticktock, ticktock, ticktock.”
Genevieve shot her sister a look. “Murder.”
“Har har.”
“Okay.” Genevieve went with the next verb that popped into her head. “Breathe.”
“Breathe?” Helen pursed her lips and considered it, then nodded. “That’s acceptable. A bit zen-ish for you. More like something I’d choose.”
“I’m so glad you approve,” Genevieve deadpanned as the minute hand reached its zenith.
The cuckoo clocks began to chime. One after the other, not in rhythm. Not in unison. Eight of them. An entire flock of cuckoo clocks ushering in the New Year.
“Happy New Year!” Helen crowed.
Genevieve covered her ears with her hands. “I’m changing my guide word.”
“Too late,” Helen declared.
“No, it’s not too late. The birds are still screeching.”
Willow laughed. “She has a point, Auntie. What’s your word, Mom?”
Genevieve needed peace and quiet. She needed her aching, aging joints to stop screaming at her. She needed the freight train speeding toward her that was her upcoming birthday to stop blowing its whistle so loud!
She wanted the damned birds marking the time to shut the hell up.
“Muffle!” she exclaimed. “My guiding word for the next year is muffle!”
Into the silence that marked the New Year, her sister said, “Seriously, Genevieve? And here we’ve all believed that I was the one who’s gone cuckoo.”
Willow awoke on New Year’s Day to the sound of Drew picking on his sister. Oh, joy.
No surprise, really. He’d be grumpy in the aftermath of the nightmare. The best thing Willow could do for everyone was to find a distraction fast.
Quickly and quietly so as to avoid waking her mother and aunt, Willow bundled the children up and headed out. Their destination was Raindrop Lodge and Cabins Resort, the lakeside property purchased and renovated by her mother and aunt over the past year. Since Genevieve’s three-bedroom home couldn’t comfortably sleep everyone, Raindrop had served as overflow lodging space for Willow’s siblings during their holiday visit. Maybe one of them would be up early, too, and provide Drew with a distraction from his mood. If not, well, she and the kids could take a hike through the woods until the family began to gather. Today, the Prentices planned to assemble at Raindrop for a traditional New Year’s Day dinner and a football-watching party. Everyone would go their separate ways tomorrow.
Willow had mixed feelings about the ending of the holidays. She’d survived Christmas again, not an easy feat considering all the bad-marriage baggage the season ushered in with its red-and-green cheer. But once she’d soldiered through December 25, and excepting Drew’s nightmare last night, she and the kids had a fabulous time.
Honestly, Willow dreaded going home. She was happy here. The kids were happy here. On Christmas morning, Drew had said Nana’s house was the best place on earth, and he wanted to stay forever. Emma had enthusiastically agreed.
“So why are we leaving?” Willow wondered aloud as they arrived at the Raindrop property. Maybe the time had come to put Nashville in their rearview mirror.
She turned her rental car off the main road leading to the lodge and headed for the dozen or so small log cabins snuggled in the woods where her sibs were staying. Neither Jake’s nor Lucas’s place showed signs of life, but a golden glow in the window of Cabin 8 suggested that her sister was awake. Upon noting the footsteps in the fresh snow, Willow concluded that Brooke had gone on her customary morning run.
After making the loop past the cabins, Willow continued on to the lodge and pulled to a stop in the parking lot beside it. The kids bailed out and ran over to a snowdrift, where they began making ammunition for the snowball fight their uncles had promised. It was a beautiful morning, cold but clear and almost windless, with only a handful of puffy white clouds floating against a bright blue sky. Willow watched her children with joy in her heart and, for the first time, seriously considered the idea of relocating her family to Lake in the Clouds.
It was time to make a move. She was ready. The kids were ready. But where should they settle? What would be best for the children? Heading home to Texas was an option. It would do Drew and Emma good to be around their aunt and uncles. Also, their father’s parents lived in Texas. Willow had a decent enough relationship with Maggie and Tom Eldridge, though it had been difficult since Andy’s death, given they’d never revealed knowledge of their son’s sins, and Willow had no intention of cluing them in. Honestly, she liked having a few state borders between her and her children’s paternal grandparents.
Willow was distracted from her musings by the arrival of her siblings and her brother Jake’s fiancée, Tess, and the snowball fight that ensued. It wasn’t until midafternoon with the family congregated in the lodge’s second-floor media room to watch the grudge-match game between Texas A&M and the University of Texas that she had another moment to herself to think.
Halfway through the first quarter, Drew looked at his mother with puppy-dog eyes. “Will you make the cheese dip now, Mom? I’m hungry.”
“Already? We just had lunch.”
“It’s never too soon for cheese dip,” Lucas observed.
“He’s right,” Jake agreed. “Besides, it’s not a Prenticefamily football-watching party without cheese dip.”
“Please, Mom?” Emma added.
Willow surrendered and headed downstairs to the kitchen. She had just removed a glass bowl filled with melted Velveeta from the microwave when a cheer erupted upstairs. She picked out her son’s gleeful voice and rolled her eyes. The little traitor was rooting for the Aggies over Willow’s beloved Longhorns today.
As she opened a can of Rotel tomatoes, she got a little teary-eyed. She did dearly love her family. Being around them soothed a wounded spot in her soul. She wished she’d listened to her mother and moved the kids home to Texas after Andy died and before Genevieve up and moved to Colorado. They’d needed the family that Willow had pushed away. In her defense, she’d been such an emotional wreck at the time. Making any decision, much less one as big as moving, had been a hill too high to climb.
She’d been grieving. She’d been angry and afraid and ashamed. The anger and fear were bad enough, but the shame had debilitated her. She’d worn it like a pair of concrete sneakers—big sneakers, like size eleven. She’d found it nearly impossible to do more than shuffle around Nashville, much less move home to Texas. Home to her mother.
Who had been right about Andy Eldridge all along.
Willow dumped the tomatoes into the melted Velveeta, picked up a wooden spoon to stir the gooey combo, and sighed. She had yet to have that talk she needed to have with her mother. Drew’s panic attack at camp had ended any attempt last summer, and in the months since, she never found a good opportunity for it. Didn’t help anything that she dreaded the conversation like the bathroom scale following a chocolate binge.
“Well, it’s New Year’s Day,” she murmured. “A new year. A new beginning.”
She’d talk to her mother and talk to the kids. It was time to bust up those concrete sneakers and move forward with her life.
Another roar exploded from upstairs. Sounded like she was missing a good game. Willow gave the cheese dip one final stir and set down the spoon. With the bowl in one hand and a bag of chips in the other, she headed back upstairs.
In the media room, her brothers reclined in the armchairs in front of the big screen. Her sister, who liked her team to win in a blowout, nervously paced the back of the room. Tess sat between her mom and Aunt Helen, but instead of watching the big screen, the women huddled over Tess’s phone. Looking at something wedding related, Willow surmised. The big day was only three months away now.
“There you are,” Jake said, rising from his seat. “We’ve been wondering what was keeping you.”
Brooke delightedly eyed the bowl that Willow set on the snack table. “I’m going to make a pig of myself. I figure calories today are free due to all the skiing I’ve done since Christmas.”
“I agree,” Tess said. “Today we splurge because tomorrow we all start our wedding diets.”
The bridegroom paused while reaching for a paper plate. With alarm in his voice, he asked, “What wedding diet?”
“I’m going to lose eight pounds before your wedding,” Aunt Helen announced. “I have three months. I can do it.”
“I don’t want to hear about a wedding diet,” Jake insisted.
Not taking his gaze off the game, Lucas smirked. “You have packed on a few pounds over the holidays, bro.”
Shielding the action from Emma and Drew, the groom flipped his best man the bird.
“Consider it a wedding health plan, honey,” Tess said, giving Jake an encouraging smile. “You and I have been working way too hard.”
“Hey, don’t blame me. You’re the one who brought three new projects into the firm in December.”
“I know. But between work and the wedding prep, for the next few months our stress levels will be through the roof. That’s why I think a diet-and-exercise plan focused on health is a good idea for us.”
Jake scowled and returned his attention to filling his plate with chips and slathering them with dip. Aunt Helen asked, “Aren’t y’all using a wedding planner? How much prep do you have left? I’ll be glad to pitch in to help. I wouldn’t mind making a trip or two to Austin, and I know Genevieve would be happy to step up what she’s doing on your behalf, too.”
“Thank you,” Tess said. “I may take you up on the offer.”
Watching the game, Drew shouted, “Fumble!”
“Who’s got it?” Jake asked.
Every Prentice in the room shouted, “Nebraska!”
Tess looked at them like they were crazy. “Nebraska?”
Grinning, Genevieve explained. “It’s an old family joke that no one recalls exactly how it started. I’m afraid it’s the first of many you’ll encounter.”
“Mom’s right.” Willow snagged a pretzel from the snack table and added, “Welcome to the family, Tess.”
At that point, everyone’s attention returned to the game, and bickering over football resumed. One set of downs later, Tess’s cell phone rang. She checked the number and frowned. “Speak of the devil. Why is my wedding coordinator calling me on New Year’s Day?”
Lucas suggested, “Let it go to voice mail.”
All the women in the room exclaimed in protest. Tess walked toward the door as she answered the call, saying, “Happy New Year, Megan. What’s up?”
The Aggies were driving downfield when Tess returned less than five minutes later, her expression strained, her eyes wide and shining with tears. Seeing her, Jake momentarily froze before shoving to his feet, grabbing the remote, and switching off the game. Lucas protested, “Hey—”
“Sprite?” Jake asked, moving toward Tess. “What’s happened?”
Lucas’s complaint died on his lips when he, too, caught sight of his sister-in-law-to-be. He asked, “How can we help?”
“It’s okay.” Two fat tears overflowed Tess’s eyes to roll down her face as Jake reached her and pulled her into his arms. She spoke against his chest. “I’m okay. No one is hurt. I didn’t mean to scare you. I’m sorry. This isn’t the end of the world. Nothing insurmountable. I’m being silly. Emotional and silly.”
