This Time Around, page 4
“I remember they all led to where you’d hidden that bucket list thingy you made.”
“The bucket board,” he said. “Patent pending.”
She gave a small smile and Jack remembered how much bigger her smile had been when she’d found it. He’d fashioned the bucket board from a buddy’s cast-off corkboard and some leftover Christmas gift tags.
“Every year on our anniversary, we’ll write down our bucket list goals as a couple,” he’d explained, “things like ‘have sex under a waterfall’ or ‘think up names for our kids.’”
“Or, ‘start a savings account,’” she’d offered. “Maybe ‘pass the bar exam.’”
“Sure, that’s fine.”
As Jack snapped his attention back to the present, he noticed Allie wasn’t smiling anymore.
“There were other things in the box,” she said, glancing down at her lap. “Tons of paperwork. I’m not sure how it ended up with my parents’ stuff, but there it was—unpaid power bills, an old credit card bill, a third late-payment notice for your student loans—”
“Right,” Jack grunted. “Keeping track of that stuff was never my forte.”
She frowned. “There were a ton of collections notices. I never realized how many late fees you racked up and how many credit cards there were.”
“Allie, come on.” He set his mug down hard on the end table, deliberately missing the coaster. “Maybe I could have done a better job paying my bills if you hadn’t insisted on that insanely expensive apartment with the heat blasting all the time and those ridiculously expensive HOA dues to cover the on-site fitness center and the trendy zip code and—”
Paige kicked him in the nuts again, and Jack shut up. His voice had risen along with his frustration, but his daughter slept on. He took a deep breath, then reached down and stroked her hair. His little girl smiled in her sleep, and Jack felt himself go calm again.
When he looked up, Allie was staring at him. “My apologies.” Her voice was tight. “Sorry if I happened to like having nice things.”
Jack felt his blood pressure rising, but he kept his voice low this time. “And I’m sorry if I didn’t mind the romance of learning how to be broke together. Ramen noodles, cheap beer, a crappy sofa scrounged out of the landfill instead of some fancy Pottery Barn number.”
Allie glared. “I’m so sorry to have deprived you of that experience. Bedbugs and Bud Light sound like tremendous fun.”
Jack gritted his teeth, annoyed with himself for falling back into this pattern with her. Annoyed with her for being who she was and with himself for being who he was, even though he felt pretty sure he wasn’t the same guy she remembered.
But mostly he felt annoyed that he still gave a damn what she thought of him.
He watched Allie tuck a strand of hair behind her ear and remembered the feel of those silky threads between his fingers. Her dark-green eyes flickered with annoyance, and he watched her gaze drop to his hand. She stared for a long time, eyes fixed on his knuckles.
Or was she looking at Paige? At the small polka-dotted stockings cupped in his palm?
Jack cleared his throat. “I should get going.”
He shifted his daughter’s legs off his lap, and stood up. Paige grumbled in sleepy protest, but didn’t wake up. He leaned down and scooped her into his arms, deliberately avoiding Allie’s eyes. His little girl flopped like a rag doll, but didn’t wake up. How much longer would he be able to hold her like this? The thought that she wouldn’t always be this small made his chest ache.
When he turned to face Allie again, she was standing, too. Something in her eyes made him stop. It looked a lot like longing, or maybe he was imagining things.
“Thank you for having us over,” he said. “Dinner was excellent.”
“My pleasure.” She opened her mouth like she wanted to say something, then stopped. When she closed it again, Jack knew that was the end of the conversation.
“It was good seeing you again,” she said at last.
“Likewise.” He shifted Paige in his arms and started to turn toward the door. He looked at Allie again, saw her hands twisting in the side seam of her dress, saw uncertainty flicker in her eyes.
“You’re still beautiful, Allie,” he murmured. “For what it’s worth. More beautiful than you were sixteen years ago. That’s saying a lot.”
He wasn’t sure which of them felt more surprised by his words. Did her eyes look misty, or was it just a trick of light?
She didn’t say anything for a long time, and Jack stood there with his sleeping daughter in his arms wondering if he should have waited to pick her up. He’d missed his chance to hug Allie goodbye, but it was probably for the best.
“Thank you,” Allie said at last. “You look good, too. Congratulations.”
“On?”
“Your career. Your daughter. Your amazing, perfect life. Everything.”
They were the words he’d wanted her to say, the reason he’d come here in the first place. But they didn’t make him feel smug.
They made him feel hollow.
She gave him a small smile, and the hollowness filled with something warm. “I’m glad you’re doing well,” she added.
“You, too,” he said, though it occurred to him they’d hardly talked about her life at all. About what she was doing now. God, he was such a self-centered prick.
“Hey, if nothing else, it was a good chance to remember why we’re lucky we didn’t end up together,” he offered.
She gave a bark of laughter and tossed her hair. “That’s for damn sure.”
Her answer stung a helluva lot more than he expected.
The first thing Allie noticed when she stood on the front porch of the Rosewood B&B was the heavy brocade drapes. Faded and dusty, they were the same ones her grandmother had ordered from Paris at least a dozen years ago.
The second thing she noticed was the swath of tiny holes marring the cedar trim over the window. It looked like someone had jammed a kebab skewer into the wood over and over again. Allie squinted at the holes, wondering what the hell could do that sort of damage.
She didn’t realize someone was staring back at her until she heard the squeak.
“Aaah!” She jumped back, nearly knocking herself off the porch. She grabbed hold of the railing and peered through the window at a cat who peered right back with clear disdain.
“Jesus,” Allie muttered. “I didn’t see you there. Who are you?”
The cat didn’t answer, probably because it was a cat, and also because it had better things to do than converse with a thirty-six-year-old single woman standing on the porch of a B&B that looked a lot rattier than Allie remembered. The cat looked ratty, too. It was the color of an old gym sock, and had fur that stuck out in all directions. Her grandmother had always had a cat or two around, but Allie didn’t remember this one.
Bored by the human attention, the cat lifted one paw and began to clean behind a ragged ear.
“What’s wrong with your paw?” Allie stared at it, trying to remember if cats were supposed to have thumbs. This one had at least three extra digits on the left front paw, and on the back—
The door flew open and Allie tore her gaze off the cat to size up the woman standing in the doorway. “Hi.” Allie smoothed down the front of her navy sheath dress and tried to look presentable.
“Hello,” the woman replied as she studied Allie with a curious expression.
The long, dark hair she wore loose around her shoulders had a few cobalt-blue streaks running through it. Her feet were bare, and her flowy, tie-dyed dress looked like she’d been attacked with a paint sprayer. Her face bore no trace of makeup, and she had a porcelain complexion with a smattering of freckles. Allie couldn’t begin to guess if she was eighteen or forty-eight.
The woman scrunched her brows a bit and regarded Allie with a curious expression. “Can I help you?”
“I’m Allie.” She stuck out her hand, and the woman took it with a firm shake. “Allison Ross. My grandmother is Victoria Ross.” She closed her eyes, and swallowed back the wave of grief that threatened to grab her by the throat. “Was Victoria Ross.”
A pair of warm arms enveloped her, and Allie opened her eyes to find herself wrapped in a patchouli-scented hug.
“Oh my God, I’m so sorry,” the woman said. “Your grandmother was such an amazing woman. I just adored her. I can’t believe she’s gone. You must be so heartbroken.”
“I—yes, thank you.” Allie tried to spit out the woman’s hair, not sure how to disentangle herself from the hug. She’d never loved physical affection from strangers, but there was something about this hug that felt familiar and warm, so Allie relaxed and let the woman hang on for a few extra beats. “I didn’t catch your name,” Allie said.
“Oh, sorry.” The woman drew back and tucked the wild curls behind her ears. “It’s Skye. Skye Collins. I guess that didn’t show up in the email we exchanged?”
“No, just the info@rosewood address and the signature lines at the bottom—all the stuff my grandma’s web guy must have plugged in years ago.”
“Right,” Skye said. “Sorry, it’s been a little crazy around here.”
“Were you not expecting me?” Allie glanced at her watch to see it was half past five, right on the dot. “We did say Thursday at five-thirty, right?”
“Yes, of course, it’s my fault. I was studying for exams. I’m a student at the Aesthetics Institute. Hair, nails, facials, that sort of thing. I guess I lost track of time. You know how it is.”
Allie wasn’t sure she did. Punctuality had always been her forte, and she kept track of her appointments in duplicate using both her iPhone and her Erin Condren LifePlanner.
But Skye seemed warm and sweet, so Allie gave her a smile. “So you’re one of the caretakers?”
Skye’s smile seemed to falter just a little. “Oh. Well, yes. But it’s just me. I’m the only one who lives here.”
Allie frowned. “I thought my grandma said she hired a couple to look after the place.”
“Yes. Um, she did. But Brody—that was my boyfriend—he moved out a few months ago. Things weren’t working out between us and—well, anyway. It’s just me.”
“Oh. I’m sorry to hear that.”
“No, it’s fine, really. I mean, I’ve been doing my best with upkeep and everything, and Brody wasn’t much help anyway. I’m managing just fine on my own.”
Allie nodded and wished there were a way to rewind and start this conversation over. She hadn’t meant to pry into the other woman’s love life so soon after meeting her. Eager for a subject change, Allie tilted her head toward the window. “What’s wrong with that cat’s feet?”
Skye followed the direction of Allie’s gaze and laughed. “Felix? You mean the extra toes? He’s a polydactyl. They all are. Come on inside so you can meet them.”
“Them?”
But Skye was already walking through the foyer of the historic West Hills home, her bare feet slapping on travertine floors that looked clean, but more weathered than Allie remembered. She hesitated, then followed Skye into the parlor. She stopped on the threshold of the arched doorway and looked down at the rose-printed carpet. She remembered how she used to hop from flower to flower while her mother shushed her and her grandma laughed and said, “Oh, let her be a little girl, Priscilla.”
Allie looked up to see Skye standing in the middle of the room. She held an orange tabby cat cradled in her arms, and two more cats—one black and one gray—stood on the back of the sofa, one of them batting at Skye’s elbow with a paw that looked like an oversized catcher’s mitt.
“Oh my God,” Allie said.
Skye laughed and set down the cat, who gave a growl of displeasure before wandering off. Tossing her hair, Skye scooped the gym-sock-colored cat off the windowsill and looked around the parlor. “Isn’t it great? Vicky had the cat playground built about three years ago so they’d all have somewhere to play. It’s a little extravagant, but it’s what she wanted.”
Vicky? Cat playground?
Allie looked up to see an intricate network of ramps and sisal-covered walkways lining the top edges of the walls. There was a cat door that appeared to lead out to the sunroom, and a bay window with a birdfeeder tacked to the other side. Another cat sat perched in a corner, its left ear looking like someone had bitten off the tip.
Allie looked back at Skye, trying to piece everything together. None of this was making any sense, nor was the fact that she had no fewer than three mutant-pawed felines twining themselves around her ankles. She stared at the cats, trying to figure out if these were some of the ones she’d already seen. Good Lord, how may were there? A black-and-white one looked up at her and gave a plaintive meow.
Allie looked back at Skye. “Cats,” she said, wetting her lips as she realized how moronic she sounded. “How many cats are there?”
“Let’s see, there’s Matt, Luna, Sassy, Ferrell, Kenny, Barabbas, Maestro, Maggie, Boo, Marilyn, Felix—”
“And they’re all—what did you call them?”
“Polydactyl. Extra toes. Yes, every single one of them.”
“And they belong to you?”
Skye cocked her head to the side, her expression somewhere between amused and perplexed. “No, of course not. They’re your grandmother’s. She just hired me to be the caretaker.”
“Of the B&B,” Allie said slowly, still not understanding. “Taking reservations and cleaning rooms and—”
“Oh dear.” Skye frowned and set the cat down. The feline scampered across the carpet and out into the foyer, its baseball-mitt paws skidding across the travertine. “So Vicky didn’t tell you?”
“Tell me what?” Allie struggled to remember someone—anyone—daring to call her grandmother Vicky. She’d always been Victoria or Grandma, but Vicky?
“She hasn’t run this place as a B&B for years,” Skye said. “Said she didn’t have the time or the energy anymore. She turned it into a cat sanctuary about a year ago.”
“A cat sanctuary? Like—for cats?” Allie grimaced, knowing she sounded like an exceptionally dense child, but this wasn’t adding up. “I mean she was always into animal advocacy, but I didn’t realize—I mean, she never said—”
“I did sort of wonder why no one from the family came by to see it.” Skye gave a sympathetic head tilt, and Allie knew what was coming next. “She told me about your parents—about the whole prison thing? I guess I figured you all had your hands full.”
Allie swallowed hard, trying to understand. “She never wanted me to visit her here after I got older. And then when she moved into assisted living, I used to take her out to lunch all the time. I always offered to bring her here to see the old place, but—”
She trailed off, hating where that thought was taking her.
She didn’t want me to know. She knew I’d tell Mom and Dad, and she knew they wouldn’t approve, but she went and did it anyway and made sure we wouldn’t know until she was gone.
There was something utterly heartbreaking about that. About her grandmother feeling a need to hide her own act of charity or impulsiveness or whatever this whole cat thing was.
Skye had gone quiet, seeming to sense Allie’s need to process. When she finally spoke, her voice was soft. “It started with only a few cats, but she took in a few more,” she said. “Then it turned out a couple of the originals weren’t spayed or neutered. It’s mostly under control now, and I have a vet come in every few months to make sure they’re all healthy.”
Allie nodded, still numb. “I mean, I guess I can kind of see why she’d do it. My grandmother loved cats, and she always had one or two, but—”
“Not fourteen?”
Allie blinked. “Is that how many there are?”
Skye nodded. “Vicky left enough in her will to keep them fed and cared for at least for a little while, but of course I’ll be leaving as soon as I graduate.”
“What?” Allie shook her head. “You’re leaving?”
Skye smiled. “Well, I wasn’t planning to live here forever. This is your place now.”
“My place,” Allie repeated, too dumbfounded to form words of her own.
“I know it meant a lot to your grandma for you to have it,” Skye said. “She wanted you here.”
Allie surveyed the room and wondered how long it had been since the sofa was cleaned, since the walls were repainted, since the floors were scrubbed or resealed.
And wondering how she’d gone from being Allison Ross, budding lawyer, potential wife and mother, to Allie Ross, instant crazy cat lady.
Jack took a step toward the door, then hesitated and turned back to his mother. “You’re sure you’re okay with this?”
His mom smiled at him from the mostly empty living room of the three-bedroom house Jack had rented for the next couple months. “Sweetheart, of course I am! I’m just happy to see you two again. It feels like it’s been ages!”
“It’s been three days,” Jack pointed out. “But I really appreciate you watching her on your first day here.”
“Nonsense,” she said. “You’re going through all the trouble and expense of moving me out here and setting me up in that nice new place. The least I can do is watch my granddaughter every now and then.”
The granddaughter in question had run down the hall to put Louise’s suitcase in the guest room, which is where she’d be staying until all her furniture arrived and her new place was ready. Jack had wanted her to wait until he had her all set up in the posh apartment he’d rented for her at a nearby retirement village, but his mom had insisted on coming early. She’d missed them too much since they’d left California, and the loneliness had gotten the best of her after only a few days.
The thought of his mother alone sent a small surge of rage through him. It was like that anytime he thought of his father walking out thirty years ago, but he tamped it down. Now wasn’t the time for old grievances.
“Grandma!” Paige came bounding down the hall like an excited puppy, her long, dark braid bouncing behind her like a tail. “Want to see the dance routine I’ve been working on?”
