The Second Time Around, page 14
“I miss her too.” Helen had fully adopted Smith as her own, legally and emotionally. She was an amazing woman. “And I forgive you. You are a great father to me and to Tommy. Let the past go. Stop carrying any guilt.” He chuckled. “And we both know I don’t want to start bringing up all the reasons I have to apologize back.” Smith had not been the most obedient teenager. “We’re at a good place now, you and I. And Tommy too. Let’s focus on that.”
“Thank you, son. I’ve got to go, but come by the house sometime. I feel like I haven’t seen you in a while.”
Smith was currently avoiding the entire Emerald Bay neighborhood. “Yeah. Okay. I’ll see you soon.”
“I love you.” Dad clicked off.
Smith cleaned up breakfast. Those words from his father felt nice. They warmed his chest like hot chocolate when he was a child. He guessed he would never be too old for kindness from Dad.
He thought of the impending holidays. Who said you must have a fancy meal on Thanksgiving? They didn’t need decorations and homemade pie. They could do it grunge style, in their sweats, with bags and bags of chips and nonstop football. It sounded perfect.
Chapter 20
BANKS
Banks lined up his shot and swung. The golf ball sliced to the right and disappeared into the trees.
“Mulligan.” He pulled another ball from his pocket. He always came to the tee prepared.
Roger chuckled but didn’t say anything. He was meticulous about his scorecard whereas Banks didn’t fill his out.
He drove his next ball straight onto the fairway and pumped his fist. A lucky shot. He was getting more of those lately. They climbed into the cart. Roger drove.
“Did you hear they’re going to build a new mall around here?” Roger asked.
“I haven’t heard that.” Banks usually had good intel on that stuff. His brows pulled together. “Where?”
Roger’s lips twitched. “Somewhere between your ball and mine.”
He scoffed. “Funny. You could use a trip to the mall. Your clothes need an update.” It wasn’t even a good comeback.
Roger gave him a smug smile; then he wiggled bushy brows. “How’s it going with Clara?”
“It took you seven holes to gather the courage to ask me.” He didn’t want to talk about her. But he kind of did too. “It’s Claire.”
Roger’s thick lips curved into a dangerous grin. “Raven told me that Claire had really nice things to say about you.”
Banks’s pulse rose. “She did? What did she say?”
Roger tossed back his head and roared out a laugh.
Banks scowled, horrified he’d sounded like a teenager. “I didn’t mean it like that.”
Roger laughed harder.
“Screw you.” He climbed out and got his seven wood.
Roger stayed in the cart. “You know, it’s okay to like her.”
Banks swung and missed. He glowered at his friend. He breathed out, lined up, and hit it well, nearly to the green. That calmed his nerves. He walked with dignity to the cart. “So, do you and Raven have any Thanksgiving plans?”
Roger rolled his eyes. “Fine. Don’t tell me what it’s like to come home to her every day.”
Banks’s neck got hot despite the cool weather.
“But you’re depriving me of some fun entertainment.”
“I feel so bad for you. And there’s nothing going on. Truly.”
Roger looked him over. He frowned. “How disappointing.”
“You’re telling me.”
Roger grinned. “There’s my man.”
Banks laughed. It felt so good to laugh. “I need to thank you for these Thursday mornings. You’ve saved me. Literally.”
“Why do I feel like there’s a but coming?”
“I can’t do every week anymore. I’ve cranked up my workload at the office again, and things are good. Can we move to once a month?”
“Works for me. But don’t tell Raven. I don’t want her to suddenly think I’m available Thursday mornings.”
Banks chuckled. He leaned back and let the sun dance over his face. There were some perks to being wifeless. Untethered.
They ended after nine holes, and Banks went back to his office. He’d meant to get home in time to put Tommy to bed, but in the end, he walked into his house after 10:00 p.m. The kitchen was clean, the family room picked up. Claire was in her favorite chair by the windows. The lamp was on, highlighting her beauty. She clicked off her phone.
“Sorry to be late tonight.”
“Was it a good day?”
“It was. We acquired a company that I’m excited about. Lots of upside.”
“Congratulations. That’s great.”
“Thanks.” He dropped his jacket over the back of the couch. “How did everything go here?”
She stood. He wanted her to sit back down. Stay with him a while. “Great. We went to the park after school and got sandwiches together, so there’s no dinner for you. Sorry about that.”
“I ate at work.”
“Tommy left that drawing on the counter for you. He fell at school and scratched up his knee, and he said Kyle was a ‘poop-poop face.’ So there’s that.”
“Oh, to be five again.”
She smiled. He really didn’t want her to leave. She took three steps toward the door.
“What are you doing for Thanksgiving?”
She stopped. “My college girls, Indi and Edith, are coming home, and Mona and Millie too. We’ll just be here. Traditional meal and all that.”
“That sounds really nice.”
“What are you boys going to do?”
“Same.”
She looked him over. Her eyes softened. “First holiday without Helen.”
He nodded, his throat suddenly too tight to speak.
“I’m sorry, Banks. That’s really hard.”
He looked at the blackness outside the windows, the weight of his responsibility hitting him. “Halloween was my one holiday. Helen did such a good job with all the other ones. I haven’t even tried to find her Thanksgiving box.”
“You don’t have to be her. It’s okay to make new traditions.”
He really wanted Claire to walk over and hug him. “I just don’t want to disappoint Tommy.”
Claire opened her mouth, closed it.
He held his breath, hope clutching him like a giant fist.
“Would you and Tommy like to join us?”
Yeeeesssss. A secret thrill ran down his spine.
“It’s nothing fancy. I’m not festive—it sounds like Helen was—but it might be a nice distraction instead of being here without her. I can guarantee mashed potatoes and pie.”
He didn’t even pretend to say no at first. He looked her in the eyes, sure she could see his gratitude just by looking at his pitiful face. “Thank you. The three of us would love to.”
She jolted a little when he said three.
“If Smith is welcome too.”
“Yes, of course he is.” Her face went tight. “That will be great.” Her tone sounded off, but he wasn’t about to probe further and mess up this invitation.
“I’ll look forward to meeting Indi and Edith and seeing Mona and Millie again.” He was meeting her children. This felt like a move in the right direction.
Her brows pinched together briefly before she smoothed them out. She strode over to her shoes and jacket. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”
“Good night, Claire.”
After she’d left, he pulled out his phone and texted Smith. Great news. Problem solved. We’re going to Thanksgiving dinner at Claire’s house with her daughters.
Three little dots indicated that Smith was typing. Then the dots went away, and no reply ever came.
Chapter 21
CLAIRE
Claire rolled over and checked her phone: 5:32 a.m. Thanksgiving. She’d gone to sleep thinking about all the things she needed to do today and woken up still mentally ticking up and down the list. Indi and Edith were sleeping and would be for a while. The three of them had stayed up late last night, giggling and unfairly judging people on TV. One of their favorite activities.
Claire put on sweats and sneakers and went outside for a walk. She needed to clear her head and her heart. It was wonderful having the girls home. Claire loved the noise, the warmth. But it wasn’t the same as before they’d moved out. It would never be the same. They’d grown up. And left. They returned now as visitors, not residents.
Indi had two new piercings on the ridge of her ear she hadn’t bothered to tell Claire about. Apparently, she’d meant to send a picture and plum forgot. And Edith was no longer a virgin.
Claire had felt so betrayed hearing about it a month after the fact. Edith even used the L-word when talking about this Tyson boy. Claire took solace in the fact that Edith and Indi talked to each other every day. They had each other. They didn’t need her; they were doing great.
The house was still silent when she returned. She made a pot of tea and started on meal prep for the dinner they’d be having at 3:00 p.m. She’d made the pies yesterday and put together bouquets of fall foliage as centerpieces. She looked at her oval table—a tight fit with seven chairs. If she added candles, would it look less rustic and simple? But she needed the space for the dishes. She pulled the brussels sprouts from the fridge. Stop worrying about it. It was just the Sextons. They’d be having takeout if she hadn’t invited them.
After Claire had washed and sliced the mini cabbages and scrubbed the potatoes and assembled the stuffing, Indi waded into the kitchen.
She rubbed her eyes and yawned. Her hair, usually a rich brown but now dyed an ebony black, hung wildly around her narrow shoulders. She wore a tank top that was too see-through to skip the bra. “Smells good in here, Mom.”
“Good morning, honey.”
Indi slumped onto a counter stool, her big eyes droopy.
“There’s tea in the kettle.”
“Coffee?”
“I forgot you switched teams on me. You’ll have to dig it out of the cupboard and make it.”
“Edith will want some too.”
Coffee reminded Claire of Stevie. He’d drink it all morning, until he switched to drinking something else in the afternoon . . . or late morning.
“What are we doing today?” Indi asked.
“I’m making Thanksgiving dinner. You remember the Sextons are coming over at three?”
Indi rattled around the cupboard. “Oh, yeah. Do you mind if I go surfing with some friends this morning?”
“No. That’s fine.”
When the rich scent of coffee permeated the small house, Edith appeared. She’d inherited Stevie’s curly hair and his gray eyes. Edith was a beauty. Indi wordlessly handed her little sister a steaming mug.
“Why are we doing this so early?” Edith asked. “It’s a holiday.”
Claire looked over her shoulder at her youngest daughter. “It’s nine thirty.”
“Like I said.”
Claire chuckled. “I only have five and a half hours until company will arrive expecting a feast worthy of this day.”
“What’s the big deal?” Indi blew over her cup. “Isn’t this the kid you babysit all the time?”
“Yeah. You’re right. It’s not a big deal. I just want it to be good.”
“You always make it good.”
“Thanks, Indi.”
“Can I have a piece of pumpkin pie for breakfast?” Edith asked, tugging the pie across the counter toward herself.
An immediate refusal popped to Claire’s tongue, but she swallowed it away. Indi was right; she was making too big a deal out of this, and the last thing she wanted was for her daughters to get suspicious. “Sure.”
Edith grinned.
Claire handed her a knife. “Happy Thanksgiving, baby.”
Edith put her arm around her mother. Claire melted into the touch, the familiar smell of her little girl. “It is good to be home.”
The sweetest thing she could have said. As far as Claire was concerned, Edith could have all four pies for breakfast if she wanted.
The girls lounged for a while before they left for the beach. Claire puttered around, setting the table, straightening the bookshelf, cooking, dusting. Mona and Millie showed up at one fifteen. Claire still hadn’t showered.
Mona, however, was dressed for dinner with the president. She’d put a couple of tiny braids down the side of her dark hair and loosely curled the rest. She had on more makeup than usual and a flouncy midthigh-length floral dress.
She sent her daughter a knowing grin, but inside, Claire’s guts had turned to scrambled eggs. “I see you got my message about Smith coming.”
Mona set Millie down in her baby carrier by the couch. “Since you won’t set me up with him, I’ll have to do it myself.”
Was it too late for Claire to cancel on the Sextons? Fake sick? Yes, it was. Banks had confirmed just ten minutes ago. But she could do her own hair and makeup. She didn’t have to wear sweats like she had last year. “I was just going to hop in the shower. I’ll be back in a few.”
“Where are Indi and Edith?”
“The beach. They wanted to surf. They’ll be back soon.”
“Annoying,” Mona said. It sounded like jealousy.
Claire knew how it felt to be stuck at home with a newborn while her friends were out playing. Mona huffed onto the couch while Claire slipped back to her room. She showered, blew out her hair, put on makeup, and dressed in tight black jeans and a burnt-orange blouse. She left the top two buttons undone. She eyed herself in the mirror and decided she looked very good for a widowed grandma.
All three girls were in the front room when she emerged.
“Whoa, Mama,” Indi said. “Hot damn.”
Claire flushed.
“Who is this guy again?”
Claire hated that an image of Smith hung in her mind, and she had the urge to gush about his attentive kindness and sexy smile.
Mona gave Indi a sideways grin. “He’s handsome and rich and widowed. And he’s totally into Mom.”
“What?” Claire frowned at Mona. “How could you possibly know that?”
“Please,” Mona said. “Look at you. The old man must be drooling all over himself.”
“I’m going to take that as a compliment.” But Mona’s words did not sit well with Claire.
Mona turned to her younger sisters. “And his son is a total hottie. And I’m claiming him.”
“You can’t claim him.” Indi said it, saving Claire from having to.
“Isn’t he like thirty?” Edith asked. “That’s so old.”
And Smith had seemed so young to Claire. But he wasn’t really, was he? He didn’t act like her daughters with their changeable life plans and naivete. He was steady, observant, and responsible. There was maturity in his manner and fine lines around his eyes when he grinned.
“That’s enough.” Claire slashed her hand through the air. “There will be none of this talk when our guests are here. Banks is my employer, and I know you all like the paychecks I get, so I expect you to use your manners. Also, Tommy is five, and he listens to everything, so watch your words.”
Indi grinned. The tiny piercing in her nose twinkled. “So, no talking about pricks and dicks.”
“Or bleedings and needings?” Edith added with wicked delight.
Claire did not tell her daughters they were witty. They already knew too well. She pointed to Indi. “And you must wear a bra.”
“Picky, picky.”
“Go get showered.”
Indi giggled as she disappeared down the hall. Claire marched into the kitchen. This dinner was a terrible idea.
The doorbell rang at 3:08.
“I’ll get it.” Mona set Millie on her blanket on the floor and dashed to the door. Before opening it, she smoothed out her dress and fluffed her hair. When she pulled it open, a cool breeze gusted in, making her dress dance. Mona beamed. “Hello.”
Claire was coming up to the side of the door. She couldn’t see the Sextons yet. Just Mona’s bright face. Youth and vitality. She didn’t want to follow that act.
“Hello, Mona. I’m Banks, and these are my sons, Smith and Tommy.”
“I remember.”
Claire came up behind Mona as her daughter stepped outside and gave them all hearty hugs. Smith’s eyes caught hers over Mona’s shoulder, and Claire felt a jolt down her core when he didn’t look away. Dammit. “Come in.” She stepped aside in case they thought she was going to hug them too. She was not.
“Smells divine in here.” Banks held out a bottle of wine to her. “Thank you so much for having us.”
“Yeah,” Smith muttered. “It’s really nice of you.” His tawny hair was combed back from his angular face. He wore dark jeans and a cream sweater that made him look disturbingly dapper.
Tommy wrapped his arms around Claire’s hips and inhaled the scent of her shirt.
“Hi, honey.” She softened. She was suffering through this for Tommy. Her little boy. It would be worth it.
Edith and Indi appeared, and she made introductions, trying not to notice if Smith took any special notice of them. He was polite and charming. Impossible to tell.
“Come on in. Make yourselves at home. Dinner is almost ready. Give me five minutes. Mona, maybe you can take Tommy over to play with Millie.”
“It’s time for her nap,” Mona said to Tommy. “You can help me put her down.” He followed, full of interest.
Claire turned her back on her guests and strode to her kitchen.
“Can we help?” Banks asked, following.
“Cool house,” Smith said, looking at it with the eyes of someone who knows.
“Thanks. It’s small and old, but it’s home.”
“I love the design details.” His gaze snagged on the tiled fireplace. “The floor plan of this main area is great. It’s hard to find open family rooms in these older homes.”
“Stop trying to sign her as a client,” Banks said.
“I’m not.” He frowned at his dad. “I was just saying it’s a nice space.”
“Thank you, Smith.” Claire handed Banks a basket of rolls. “Would you please take this to the table?”
He took it and turned away. She might need to put on another layer of deodorant. They hadn’t even sat down, and she was already overheating.
