The Street Singer, page 17
“Rusty?” He turned at her voice, raising his eyebrows in question. “Thank you. For this and for coming last night.” She turned back to Jimmy. “I feel bad leaving you, but I just came to pick something up. I have dinner plans in town.”
“You go on and git. We’re fine.”
Rusty’s phone rang, and he retrieved it from his pocket. Trisha heard only one side of the conversation but knew something was wrong. Rusty descended the ladder and walked to the summer room. When Trisha heard Adda’s name, she followed him.
“Listen, this is what I want you to do. Keep your door locked and don’t answer it for anyone but me. I’m on my way, but it will take me close to an hour. If you have to go out for any reason at all, call me first and I’ll stay on the phone with you.”
Rusty appeared calm, but his words alarmed her. “What’s wrong? Is she OK?”
He slid his phone away. “Yeah but Frank showed up. She only did one hour because he sat staring at her the whole time. She went back to her room and stayed there. After a few hours, someone knocked. She didn’t answer, they tried the doorknob. It unnerved her and she’s flustered. Could have been the manager or anyone, but she’s nervous. I’m going in to calm her.”
“Should I come? I can change plans.” She imagined Adda alone and frightened.
He took her hands in his. “Don’t worry. I’m just going to talk to her. He wants her scared.”
“What about the restraining order?
“Just filed it yesterday. He must not have received it. If they couldn’t locate him, they couldn’t serve it.”
“We can still bring her here.” Trisha looked around at the disarray.
“Not until you’re living here.”
Rusty still held onto her hands. Trisha needed to keep him at arms’ length. She freed one hand, then the other. She gave his arm a gentle squeeze, thanked him, and withdrew her hand. The light left his eyes, and she fought the urge to embrace him.
Rusty took a step back, his shoulders slack. “She’ll be fine, honey. You go have a nice dinner.”
~*~
Grant picked up Trisha at the apartment. She wore a floral skirt with a green scoop-neck top. He walked over and touched the fine chain necklace she wore. With his lips pressed together, he hissed. “It would have looked nice on this.” He dropped his hand and turned toward the door. “You ready?”
“I’ll wear it after the wedding. It doesn’t seem right until then.”
He stiffened as he opened the door. “Well, we’ll just wait. I’m getting used to it.”
Grant’s parents had been seated at the Whitmore. They ordered wine and were looking at the menu when Grant and Trisha arrived.
Grant’s father stood and held the chair for Trisha. Trisha had always loved the Whitmore. It had casual elegance and excellent food. She would enjoy the evening if she weren’t seated across from her future in-laws. She had only met them a handful of times over the past three years. They treated her with courtesy but never relaxed their reserve.
Mr. Ramsey wore the practiced smile of a politician. “You look lovely tonight. You’re going to be a beautiful bride.”
She flashed a polite smile. “Thank you.”
Grant looked at his menu. “The filet is their specialty. But Mother, I imagine you want the Chilean sea bass.”
“I certainly do.” She smiled smugly at Trisha. “He knows me well.”
“And Trisha, I suppose you’ll want the salmon?”
She had the menu opened, reading it. “Perhaps, but I’m looking.”
Grant’s head tilted toward her. “Although I can’t imagine why you’d want salmon when you could have sea bass.”
Trisha didn’t respond but ordered blackened salmon with crawfish creole sauce.
Once they ordered, Grant’s mother turned to Trisha, patting her hand. “Let’s talk about the wedding, dear. I know you have that girl as your maid-of-honor.”
“Julie,” Trisha interjected.
“Yes, that’s right. But I’m thinking, either Jennifer or Stephanie would be best to say a few words. They know Grant better, and of course they’ll be your future sisters-in-law. Philip and one of the girls could stand together for the toast. Do you have a preference who you would like to ask?”
“Julie’s going to do it. I’ve already asked her.”
“I’m sure she’ll understand when you explain. Our guests won’t even know her. Jennifer and Stephanie are both well spoken. We’re not sure Julie could…present herself in the same manner.”
It took a moment for Trisha to understand what she’d heard. Julie had her own manner of speech. She had a tendency toward hyperbole and exaggerated emotion. They couldn’t know that unless Grant had told them. Had they prepared this conversation ahead of time?
Trisha pulled her shoulders back and lifted her chin. Making direct eye contact, she answered her future mother-in-law with a slow, determined voice, “Julie will be doing the toast.”
“But dear, don’t you think …”
She leaned forward. “I want Julie to do it.”
The waiter arrived with a basket of bread for the table. Trisha sat back but watched Mrs. Ramsey, her eyes steel flints.
Mr. Ramsey broke the silence. “I hear you’re interning on a civil suit. How’s that going?” He took a warm slice of crusty bread and passed her the basket.
“It’s progressing. I’m not able to talk about it.” She passed on the bread and handed the basket to Grant.
“Of course, my dear. But are you enjoying the work?”
Am I enjoying it? Working with Rusty? Worrying about Adda?
“I’m learning so much. The practical experience is helpful.”
“Grant said you might be switching from family law to corporate? That provides many more opportunities for advancement.”
Trisha shot a look at Grant. He refused to meet her eyes.
“No, sir. I’m better suited for family law. The experience from this suit is applicable in many ways.”
Salads arrived. Trisha said a silent prayer of thanks and a plea for help getting through this dinner. Mrs. Ramsey still seethed but broached the topic of the wedding once again.
“We’re so sorry about your grandfather. Who will be walking you down the aisle?”
Trisha glanced in Grant’s direction. “That’s something I’ve been thinking about. I have some ideas but want to talk with Grant about them.”
Mrs. Ramsey looked confused and turned from Trisha to Grant. “Well, can’t we talk about them now? This seems like the perfect time since we’re here together.”
Heat rose to Trisha’s face.
Grant pulled at his collar and looked down at his salad.
Trisha jabbed her fork into her own salad. “I’m still collecting my thoughts. I’m not quite ready.”
“Well Trisha, that’s where the term brainstorming comes in. Four heads are better than one. I think it would be nice if Philip walked you down the aisle.”
Trisha set her fork down and dabbed at her mouth with the linen napkin. “I’ll take that into consideration and let you all know when I decide.”
I’ll decide since Grant’s a coward.
~*~
Trisha kicked her shoes off back at her apartment. They had both remained silent during the ride home.
Grant’s jaw was set. “Did you have to be so snippy with my mother?”
Trisha swung around. “Your mother already had her wedding. This is mine!”
He ran his hands through his hair. “They’ve been a big help to us, and you’re starting off on the wrong foot. You’ve got to learn a little give and take.”
Trisha stepped toward him. “And you need to have a little backbone. Do you always cower to her?”
He narrowed his eyes. “I don’t cower to her. I try to keep the peace. A lesson you obviously haven’t learned.”
“Go home. I’m tired.” Right now, all Trisha wanted was to be alone.
Grant’s hands went to his hips. “Who is walking you down the aisle?”
“No one. I’m walking alone.”
His arms flailed out, chest height. “You can’t do that.”
Arms crossed, Trisha drilled him with her eyes. If he shrank before his mother’s steely eyes, she’d give him a dose of hers. “I can, and I will.”
Grant turned and slammed the door behind him. Trisha walked over and flipped the lock.
Fine. She need to check on Adda anyway. She glanced at the clock. Nine thirty. After taking a series of deep breaths, she hit the button set for Rusty.
“Hi.” He would know it was her from his caller ID.
“How’s Adda?”
“She’s OK. Sleeping now,” he whispered.
“Rusty, where are you?”
“I’m at Adda’s. She talked until she exhausted herself. The door locks from the inside or with a key. I can’t leave and have the door unlocked. I don’t want to wake her.”
Trisha pictured the tiny, windowless space with nothing but a canvas folding chair. Rusty couldn’t even rest his head on the back of it. “How about if I come, and you can go home to rest. I’ll bring myself something more comfortable to sit in.”
“No, I’ll be fine. I’ve slept in worse places. How was your evening?”
At that moment, Trisha felt no sense of loyalty. “Painful. And don’t gloat.”
“Me? Gloat?”
Trisha could almost see the playful light in those blue eyes. “His mother tried to bully me. But I was spunky. You’d be proud of me.”
“I always am.”
A warmth filled her, unlike the heat that rose with anger earlier in the evening. “Are you staying there all night?”
“Maybe. She’s out pretty soundly.”
“Good night, Rusty.”
“Good night, sweetheart.”
They hung up, and Trisha curled her legs up on the sofa. The thought of Rusty trying to sleep in that small chair played on her mind. He couldn’t even stretch out on the floor. All of a sudden, an idea came to her.
Trisha folded the lounge chair from her patio and loaded it in the back of her car. When she reached the Mendino at ten, she had no plan on how to get it in there. She didn’t want to go to the parking garage and walk alone at night. Pulling her car to the curb in front of the Mendino, close to Adda’s door, she called Rusty.
“Hi, again.”
“I didn’t wake you, did I?”
“No, is something wrong?”
She smiled to herself. “No, but would you step out of Adda’s for just a moment. I’m out front.”
“Why?”
“Just come.” Excitement bubbled up with her surprise.
He hung up, and she saw him open the door. He sprinted over to her, standing behind her car. “What are you doing here this late?”
She lifted the trunk and pulled out the chair and a blanket.
He took the chair from her. His eyes softened, his head tilted.
“You did this for me?”
In answer, Trisha leaned forward, brushed the hair back from his face, and placed a soft kiss on his cheek.
“Good night, Rusty.” She got back in her car while he stood watching.
Halfway home, Trisha ignored a text message while driving. At home, she locked the door behind her and opened her phone to see the text.
I’m lying here warm and cozy. Thank you. By the way, you’d love my mother. She defines kindness. Sleep well.
23
Trisha arrived home from church and checked her phone. She’d accidentally left it behind, and after several hours it had accumulated a missed call from Grant and two texts from Rusty.
The first text contained a picture—a selfie of Rusty and Adda leaving church. Her pulse caught in her throat when she saw their smiling faces. Under the picture, Rusty wrote, I had delightful company at church today.
Trisha closed it and opened the next text. Did you?
She frowned and hit the message button to make it disappear. Why did he always do that? She switched to her phone icon and returned Grant’s call. No answer. Trisha looked around the apartment at all that needed to be moved. She would make a run to the farmhouse. She should be back in time to connect with Grant and his parents.
She filled her trunk and backseat with boxes. A laundry basket filled with books waited, but when she went to move it, she couldn’t budge it. Emptying half of them, she carried the basket out to the car and then brought the rest of the stack in two trips. On the road to the farmhouse, the phone tucked deep in her handbag began ringing. Trisha glanced at the vibrating purse but decided against digging it out. Once she reached the house and began unloading the car, she forgot all about the call.
One final walk-through to see what Jimmy had finished, and she’d be on her way. When she passed through the dining room, she saw a gift basket, tied with green gingham cloth and gathered with ribbon at the top. A card with her name peeked out, its corner tucked inside the ribbon. Trisha flipped the light on and sat at the table, pulling it closer. Freeing the card from the top, she slid it from its envelope. It had no signature, but there was no mistaking the sender. Congratulations. Well done, Counselor.
Each item nestled in mint green tissue. One by one, she opened them until the basket was empty. A box of ginger tea bags and a jar of raw honey. A mug with a scripture she loved. The LORD your God is in your midst, a mighty one who will save. He will rejoice over you with gladness; He will quiet you by His love; He will exult over you with loud singing. Zephaniah 3:17. How had he known she loved that scripture?
As she unwrapped the next piece of tissue, the scent of lavender tickled her nostrils. Lavender soap and a scented candle. She’d once told him lavender was great for stress relief.
Beneath the soap and candle, green tissue paper folded around a DVD. Gone with the Wind. She laughed when she opened a miniature replica of a bongo drum. A little note on top said, “Remember the music.” A CD of Adaline’s Greatest Hits rested near the bottom.
Pressing her fingers along the next item, Trisha couldn’t venture a guess. She unfolded the paper to find two magnets, each about four inches long. Holding the pair of magnetic flip flops, she tried to get the connection. When she turned them over, she saw the writing on each. “Soulmates.” One had her name, the other had his.
The last item was in an envelope. She opened it and pulled out a certificate for two tickets to Les Misérables at the Charlotte Theatre. The enclosed card had a phone number and confirmation number. “Tickets on hold. Call to schedule your date. If he won’t go, you know how to reach me. Does he know your favorite things?”
The necklace with the wrong initials forged from gold and diamonds. Grant didn’t know her taste in jewelry. He didn’t even know her middle name.
Trisha pulled the phone from her purse. Only then did she remember the missed call. It was Grant. Let him wait. She would call Rusty first to thank him.
“Hey Trish. How’s the visit going?”
Warmth filled her at the sound of his voice. “I haven’t seen them today. I’m at the farmhouse. Rusty, thank you for my surprises. How did you remember all of those things?”
“Like I said, you can learn a lot when you care enough to watch.”
Trisha began placing each item back in the basket. She held the cup and turned it in her hand.
“I get most of it, things I mentioned or we talked about. But I never mentioned the Zephaniah scripture. How did you know I love that? And don’t say lucky guess.”
He laughed. “No luck at all. Just careful observation.”
She laid it gently in the basket. “Observing what? Where?”
“Save the questions for court. Did you remember I’m leaving in the morning?”
“Yes, I plan to spend time with Adda. Is she OK? She’s not frightened?”
“No, she’s fine. We had a good day today. Went to church and then out to lunch. She should be home napping.”
“Use the term ‘home’ lightly. I hope you get some good leads in Nashville. When you’re back, we need to talk about getting her out of there.”
“Short trip. Just an overnight.”
Trisha inhaled the aroma of the candle before setting it in the basket. “Call me if there’s anything to report.”
“I’ll do that.”
She lingered for a moment, not wanting to hang up, yet they both had places to be.
“I’d better go. Thank you again. Be safe.”
They hung up and Trisha looked at her phone and the missed call from Grant. She slid it back in her purse. She’d call him from the apartment.
~*~
When Trisha returned to her apartment, she discovered Grant pacing her floor.
He bolted across the room to meet her, the corded muscles of his neck revealing his anger. “And where have you been all day? I’ve been waiting here over an hour.”
Trisha startled. “Grant, you scared the daylights out of me. I didn’t see your car. What are you doing here? Where are your parents?”
“They decided to go home since you had no interest in spending time with them.”
They now stood face to face. “That’s not true. I planned to see them this evening.”
“What about brunch? We tried to reach you.”
“You never invited me to brunch. You said ‘we’re going into town for brunch.’ That didn’t include me.”
“You’re splitting hairs here, Trisha. You know that included you.” His voice rose with each word.
“No I did not. I thought you were taking your parents out. Otherwise, you’d have asked me.”
Grant ran his hands through his hair and sat down.
Trisha sat on the arm of the sofa. “I’m sorry. Did they really leave?”
“Of course they did. You weren’t exactly welcoming.”
“I said I’m sorry. Grant, your mother, she’s so…controlling. How can you take that?”
He rubbed his eyes, and then he shook his head.
“I don’t know, Trish. It’s all I’ve known. And she’s my mother. I just keep the peace.”
Trisha walked around and joined him on the sofa. “You know, a peacemaker is better than a peacekeeper.”
