Between Rains, page 9
He’d be gracious, of course. Act like the consummate professional he was known to be. Still, there would be markers he’d call on later. Returned favors as a payback for his willingness to move past the way Judith had so quickly dismissed him. Maybe a director title.
So far, no contact.
He pulled the phone out again, slipped onto the internet, and checked the Dow.
“Hey,” Diane’s voice pulled him from the phone. “I hope I didn’t keep you waiting too long.”
He abandoned his phone and looked up. She’d brushed her hair back into a ponytail and had put some color on her lips. He was unsure why, exactly, but the thought lifted his spirits.
“Hey,” he said, wishing he’d made a quick trip to the restroom and cleaned up a bit as well, at least ran a wet paper towel over his face to clean off the dried sweat.
He stood and pulled out her chair. She slid into it and thanked him. “It’s been a while since I’ve been here,” she admitted, taking in the place. “I’d forgotten how much I love it.”
“Me too. Can I get you something to drink?” He motioned for the waitress, who hurried over to take their order.
“I’ll have a bourbon, straight up.” He looked across the table at her. “I hear the rum mojitos are good here.”
She shook her head. “I don’t drink anymore.”
“Oh.” Her answer gave him pause. “Well, something else?”
She smiled at the waitress. “I’ll have a coconut spritzer, with a twist of lime.” When the waitress left the table, she turned to him. “I suppose you heard I had a time of it last year. My choices, bad choices actually, well—they caught up with me. I got to the end of that wild journey and discovered I had a drinking problem. Thanks to my mom and daughter’s intervention, I saw the light. I subjected myself to a brief rehab stay, and I attend AA meetings regularly. So far, I’ve stayed sober. A fact I’m very proud of.”
He immediately grew concerned. “I’m sorry. I can change my order—”
“No, no—it’s okay. I can be around alcohol. In fact, it’s part of my journey to health—learning to not avoid circumstances, but move through them without tumbling into an emotional abyss.” She must’ve seen the relief on his face because she immediately added. “I’m good. Really.”
Rhett quickly considered this. How the woman across the table from him had struggled with addiction and had beat the beast. He admired that.
Just as quickly, a thought formed. Jared had done the same—or so he claimed. Why couldn’t he extend a similar level of admiration toward his brother’s effort? He brushed the thought from his mind, focused on Diane. “You have a right to be proud of moving forward like you have.”
She fingered the folded linen napkin on the table before her. “Well, it’s nothing you do alone.”
Another thought formed. Hadn’t his mother claimed Jared attended the AA meetings as well? Did Jared and Diane know each other—perhaps confided their struggles, and the cause, in those meetings? While he’d never attended Alcoholics Anonymous meetings himself, he’d seen them enough on television and knew the way attendees seemed to dump their darkest secrets—confidentially, of course. In fact, wasn’t the fact you were even there kept confidential? Diane wouldn’t likely tell him if Jared attended the meetings with her, even if he asked. So, he didn’t. Instead, he changed the subject. “I don’t need to look at the menu to know I’m going to order a bowl of Henson’s clam chowder.”
Diane’s lips drew up in a tiny grin. She, no doubt, recognized his tactic and went along. “Not me. I’m in the mood for some fish.”
The waitress appeared with their drinks. She took the menus she’d folded under her arms and placed them on the table.
As promised, Rhett didn’t bother to open his. “I’ll have a bowl of the clam chowder.”
“Bread with that?” the waitress asked.
“You bet.”
She looked to Diane. “Do you have any questions?” Then, leaning forward, she confided, “I highly recommend the grouper, freshly caught this morning down off Fisherman’s Point. It’s poached, then flash sauteed with garlic, white wine, capers and wild mushrooms.”
Diane lifted her brows. “Wow. That sounds delicious. Sign me up.”
Rhett reached for his bourbon. He took a sip, then moved the glass in a slow circular motion to run the bourbon through the chipped ice. “So, it’s been a while.”
“Yes,” she agreed. “We definitely need to catch up.” She took a sip of her spritzer. “You first.”
He smiled at her. “What do you want to know?”
“Everything,” she urged. “Tell me everything.”
“Well, I’ve been living in the Midwest,” he told her. “I worked for a private equity fund in Chicago.”
“Past tense?” she asked.
“Huh?” Only then did he realize what he’d said. “Oh, no. I—I’m still there. Uh, just on a sabbatical.” He spilled about his concern for his dad, something he rarely did. It wasn’t his style to spread his family business around. “We have an appointment at the Brain Institute at Oregon Health Sciences University. From what I’ve read, the team is one of the best in the country when it comes to frontotemporal dementia and related disorders.”
“I’m so sorry,” she said. “I had no idea.”
“Yeah, we’re not making the news widely known,” he told her. “As you can imagine, Pop would have my hide if he thought I was discussing his medical issue with anyone.”
She shrugged. “Smart of him. People like to talk.”
Rhett nodded. “Yeah, they sure do.”
She looked at his hand as he lifted his glass to his lips a second time. “No ring. You’re not married?”
Rhett shook his head. “I got engaged once. She broke it off when she discovered how little time I had to invest in a relationship.” He gave a nervous laugh before admitting, “Ha, didn’t even have time for a dog.” He took a long draw off his bourbon. “One of several terminated relationships.”
Surprisingly, his comment made her laugh. “You talk about the women in your life like they were business deals.”
He laughed too. “Well, now you know why the women in my life always came to their senses and moved on.” Rhett found himself feeling self-conscious. In most situations, he’d divert the conversation to his career accomplishments, carefully detail how he’d begun working fresh after graduating college as an entry-level financial analyst. He’d enrolled in Loyola and obtained a master’s in finance while doing double duty climbing the corporate ladder. He’d toss out his impressive resume, reciting his accolades and progression into senior-level positions. At cocktail parties, he’d often regale his audience with anecdotes of how he’d pulled one deal after another out of the toilet and modestly let it slip how much money he’d made the firm.
Somehow, he instinctively knew none of that would impress the woman sitting across from him. If the stories he’d read were true, she’d lived in that world. Money would not have its normal compulsory glitter effect. Nor would the fact he’d finally been able to purchase his coveted Audi R8 Spyder and pay cash.
Rhett couldn’t cling to any of his typical crutches, and it surprised him how freeing that felt.
The waitress reappeared at the table with their food. Rhett placed the napkin across his lap and scooped a big bite of soup into his spoon, held it in the air. “How about you?” he asked before taking the bite.
Diane spread her napkin across her lap as well. “I can’t believe there’s much I can tell you that you haven’t seen in the news,” she said, lifting her fork.
“I only follow financial news,” he answered. “So try me.” One day she was gone. He hadn’t known what happened, but he’d sure missed seeing her in the halls and around town after school.
“Well, wow. Where do I start?”
“How about at the beginning?” he urged, before taking another bite.
Over the next minutes, she confided that she’d had a little-known relationship with Craig Anthony and found herself pregnant. “I felt so foolish,” she admitted. “And scared. There were options presented to me. Some good, some bad. In the end, I elected to take off and quietly leave town before anyone found out. In large part, I wanted to protect my mom from the disgrace. Society at large may have socially progressed. That said, Pacific Bay was, and perhaps still is, cemented in a sense of morality that doesn’t include sleeping around without being married. At least not out in the open. Especially not back then.”
“Oh, I’m not sure that’s true,” Rhett argued. “Those morals didn’t seem to stifle the activities of the guys I hung with in high school.”
“It was different for the female gender,” she reminded. “At the very least, I knew my mom would have a fit. Frankly, I wasn’t up for the judgment I knew I’d suffer—from her, and everyone else.”
Rhett’s heart sank to hear that. True, small towns could be brutal in their attitudes of self-righteous indignation when someone fell from grace. He also knew the extent of compassion the town often portrayed, especially to one of their own. Yes, they’d have been shocked. There would have been whispered chatter about the matter for a number of months. In the end, gossip would have quieted, and Diane and her child would have been folded into the community—remaining a treasured part of the fabric of the town. Hadn’t they done just that for his brother? He was sad to learn she’d chosen to run.
“What did you do then?” he asked.
Her eyes crinkled in laughter as she began. “Well, I climbed on the merry-go-round called marriage, moving from one shiny painted horse to another, until finally the music quit playing and I was forced to climb down and walk on my own two feet.”
“Come again?”
“Husband number one was Garrison O’Keefe. He owned a conglomerate of movie theaters. I really loved him, or so I thought. Sadly, he turned out to be gay. Left me for a guy named Kevin.”
She scooped a piece of fish onto her fork. “Husband number two was Andrew Michels. He swept Stacey and me off to Maui, where we lived for a little over a year until he found a younger island girl and dumped me.” She took the bite of fish and chewed while continuing to talk. “Jay Hawkins was my third husband. He was a spoiled rich kid from Pasadena who inherited his daddy’s commercial real estate business. He paid for these.” She pointed to her chest. “And paid for hip liposuction before moving on to a young starlet who appeared on The Bachelorette. He not only gave that blonde tart a rose, but endowed her with her own float in the Rose Bowl Parade the following year.”
She saw him staring at her chest and grinned. “What? You think I suddenly grew boobs after I graduated?”
Embarrassed that she caught him looking, he pulled his attention to his empty glass of bourbon and motioned for the waitress to bring him another.
“And, finally—husband number four. The real gem of them all. I met Richard Park while attending a party for volunteers put on by his campaign office. That’s when he ran for Laguna Beach city council. He won, of course. I was terribly impressed.”
Diane took another bite and grinned over at him. “There you have it. Diane Jeffers’s husband parade.”
“Did you love them?”
“Oh, yes,” she admitted. “All of them. Or, at least I thought I did.”
Curiosity got the better of him. “And now? Is Craig Anthony—?”
“Oh, goodness no!” she quickly said. “Craig is Stacey’s real father. A fact he only learned once I moved back. We’re friendly, but not really friends. Too much baggage, I suppose.”
Rhett nodded, surprised at the relief he felt at her confession that she and Craig were not in any kind of relationship. “So, what now?”
“Now, I simply enjoy my daughter. I’m forming a renewed relationship with my mother. We’re becoming friends—something I never thought I’d be able to say. I’m learning to live in the moment, not in the past and not in the future. I try to stay present and I’ve made a commitment to wring every sweet drop of joy out of this gift we call life.”
He noticed, then, that tears had formed. “Diane, you’re crying.”
“Yeah, I suppose I am,” she said, in that calm, lovely voice. She wiped at her eyes. “Can’t help it. I get a bit emotional when I think of where I was—and where I now am.”
On instinct, Rhett reached across the table for her hand and gave it a squeeze. “I wished we’d known each other better back then. Maybe I could have been there for you. Regardless, I’m glad we’ve reconnected,” he told her. He meant it. Somehow, he knew he’d found a friend.
Given what was likely ahead with his dad, his family, his job—well, he was going to need one.
13
The morning of Wylie’s doctor appointment dawned with an overcast sky. Clouds hung low over the bay and spat at Rhett and his folks with occasional droplets through a light fog as they made their way out to the rental car.
“I still don’t know why we have to make a trip all the way to Portland when we’ve already seen a doctor,” Grace said over her shoulder. She shook her head and tucked herself into the back seat.
“Mom, we’ve been over this,” Rhett reminded as he closed the door behind her. He climbed into the driver’s seat and turned on the ignition as Wylie entered the car from the opposite side. “Dr. Michaels is a specialist. He’s led a team of highly respected researchers at the Brain Institute. He’s considered the best of the best.”
“I’m not sure he can add to what we already know,” his mother muttered.
The drive to Portland took a little over two hours. Rhett drove his folks and Jared and Leila followed in Jared’s pickup. Wes had stayed home with the boys, his cooperation secured by Rhett’s offer to pay for pizza delivery and a six-pack.
The parking lot was full, which caused Rhett to have to circle around hunting for a spot, even at this early hour. He found himself getting insanely aggravated on the third pass, especially when his mother kept pointing. “There, son. There’s one.” Then she’d sigh, “Oh, never mind. It’s taken.”
Finally, he spotted a van with its rear lights on, indicating an intention to back up. Rhett’s jaw stiffened as he pulled to a stop and waited, giving the guy plenty of room to back up. Seconds later, there was no movement. Rhett laid on the horn.
“Honey, have some patience,” his mother quickly admonished.
It took everything in Rhett to remain quiet. Finally, the slow-poke pulled from the spot and Rhett was able to ease his rental car in place.
The Oregon Health Sciences University lobby was buzzing with activity. A long granite counter was located at the back of the large area. The wall behind the counter was decorated with stone and a calming waterfall fell into a water feature.
Several patients and their families lined up in front of the counter, waiting for directions and instructions on how to check in for their appointments. Rhett tucked his jacket over his arm and led his folks across the shiny floor to their place in line.
“How long do you think this will take?” his mother asked, her voice filled with apprehension.
“How long what will take?” Wylie asked, his expression confused.
Rhett scowled. “Your appointment, Pop. Remember? We’re here to see Dr. Michaels?”
His dad lifted his chin. “I remember.”
Rhett wasn’t so sure he had remembered. Twice this morning, he’d had to mention the appointment to his dad. Once, when he’d pulled on his mucking boots and headed across the lawn to the oyster beds like it was a normal workday.
Now that Rhett was aware his dad was struggling, he saw a lot of evidence. He forgot to tie his shoe and nearly tripped over the string in the kitchen. His pop paused on the way down the hallway, unsure which door led to the bathroom. Rhett opened the refrigerator door to find Pop’s reading glasses on the shelf next to the carton of milk. He left the front door open on numerous occasions. All minor, but growing evidence that Rhett had made the right decision making this appointment and forcing the issue.
The lady behind the counter called them forward just as Rhett spotted Jared and Leila sitting in the waiting area. How had Jared beaten them in?
His mother took a look at his expression and leaned over to his ear. “He must’ve found a spot before we did.”
Rhett slid his folder across the desk to the woman. Inside were all the important insurance papers she’d need. He’d done all he could online beforehand, but some things would only be accomplished with proper identification and such.
Minutes later, they were all set. He led his folks over and sat with them near where Jared and Leila were waiting.
“Not sure why Jared had to take the day off for this. I don’t like leaving the operation with no one there,” his dad said, leaning over with his elbows on his knees.
“Everything’s fine, Pop,” Jared assured. “Alfredo is in charge.”
Alfredo Munoz had been their line supervisor for over a decade. He was capable, dependable—qualities Rhett knew his dad respected.
Wylie nodded his approval.
Grace took out her bag and pulled some knitting needles and yarn. She jabbed the needles together, casting on several stitches. “I still believe the diagnosis from Dr. Cannon in Astoria was just fine. We really didn’t need to all traipse all the way to Portland to hear what we already know.”
This time Leila spoke up. “It can’t hurt, Mom.”
Rhett gave his sister an appreciative nod.
Jared folded his arms across his chest. “Yeah, can’t hurt. Besides, it’ll make Rhett feel better.”
“What do you mean by that?” Rhett demanded. “What do you mean it’ll make me feel better? It should make all of us feel better. Dr. Michaels is the most respected expert in this field. He’ll be able to assess Pop and assure all of us we’re doing all we can to make sure—”
His mother’s eyes narrowed. “You’ve told us, Rhett. We’re here. Let’s just get all this behind us.”
The sharp reprimand from his mother gut-punched him. Yes, he knew she was against further evaluation. Over and over, she’d made her position on the matter clear. She was likely scared to find out what was ahead. If she’d looked on the internet like he had, the information could be grim. For that reason, he forced himself to let the hurt go. She was afraid, that’s all.
