Goody Two Shoes (Invertary Book 2) (27 page)

“Hey, I was watching that!”

“As thrilling as that show must have been, it’s time to quit watching TV. It’s time to step up and behave like a man.”

Darkness swept over his father’s face. “Watch what you’re saying, son.” It was a low, rumbling warning.

Josh didn’t care. “I’m done with this. You look like a hobo and you smell worse. You’re making everyone miserable and you’re screwing up your life. It has to end.”

“Or what?”

Josh felt a muscle in his jaw throb. “You don’t want to know what.”

“Are you threatening me?”

“If that’s what it takes.”

His father threw up his hands, making empty chip bags flutter to the floor. “This has nothing to do with you.”

“I’m your son and I’m fed up watching you screw up your marriage, blaming everyone except yourself. You need to sort this out.”

His father surged to his feet with a roar. “How? How can I sort this? You’re so bloody brilliant, you tell me.”

Josh resisted the urge to negotiate with his fists. He had to remind himself this was his father.

“Suck it up and be what Mom wants. That’s how. You were that guy once. You can do it again. Let go of whatever is making you a mean-tempered son of a bitch and show the woman you love her.”

His father stepped into Josh’s space. His nose inches from Josh’s. Fury emanated from him.

“I can’t be the man she wants me to be. That man is gone. All that’s left is an old man. I’ve always been too old for her, but now there’s no hiding it.” His face went purple. “I’ve been waiting for this day to come. The day when she decided she was too young for me and went off to find another man.”

Josh took a step back. “Is this what this is about?” Josh shook his head. “Mom isn’t looking for another man.”

“She spent eight hours on the flight over here chatting up a guy in his forties. I saw it. Flirting like I didn’t exist. It was just a matter of time.”

“If that’s what you think, why don’t you stop fighting her on the divorce and cut her loose.”

“Because I love her!” The bellow was so loud it made the photo frames on the wall shake.

Life seemed to seep from his father, and he sagged back onto the couch.

“I can’t be the man I once was. I’m sixty-seven, son. I’ll never be that man. Your mum is only fifty-five and she looks years younger. She deserves better. She deserves someone who won’t keel over and die at any minute. I should let her go. I know that. It’s all I think about. I tried. I moved out of our bedroom in the hopes it would be easier to let her go. I saw the writing on the wall years ago. The day I woke up sixty and your mum was still in her forties, I knew the end was coming. I looked at her then, full of life, barely middle-aged and married to an old retired man.” He looked up at Josh, his eyes glassy. “I thought with some distance I could let her go, but I can’t. I can’t let her go and I can’t be what she needs, either.”

The anger evaporated from Josh as he slumped into an armchair. “Mom doesn’t want a younger man. She wants you. She doesn’t care how old you are. She loves you.”

“We don’t want the same things anymore.”

“No, you’ve convinced yourself that you don’t want the same things anymore. Somewhere along the way you’ve talked yourself into thinking that you’re old and you can’t do the things you want to do. It’s a load of crap.” Josh rubbed a hand over his face. “You guys should never have sold up the business and retired. You haven’t done any of the things you said you’d do when you weren’t working. All you’ve done is sit in the house and wait for the end. I should never have bought you the place in Florida.”

His dad smiled sadly. “We thought it was what we wanted. House on a golf course, days in the sun. It was the dream.”

“Obviously it was the wrong dream.”

They sat in silence for a while. Each of them deep in thought.

“Mom loves you, Dad,” Josh said at last. “She doesn’t want someone else, she wants you. You need to stop acting like you’re at death’s door and live life with her. You might be in your sixties, but you’re healthy and fit. You don’t look half bad, either. Give her a chance. She’ll compromise. She doesn’t care what you do as long as you do something together. You’ve got to listen to me on this. I know it’s the truth.”

His dad gave a faltering smile. “How come you know so much about women?”

“I learned at the feet of the best.” His dad’s eyes shot up. Josh barked out a laugh. “Not you. Hell, really not you. I’m talking about Sinatra, Dean Martin, Harry Connick, Jr., Sammy Davis…”

His dad inclined his head in agreement. “I still think you’re making a mistake marrying Caroline.”

“Maybe if you stopped being such a bastard and made an effort to get to know her you would think otherwise.”

“Maybe,” his father conceded. “You know, it may be too late with your mother. I’m not even sure what to do, and if I did, I’m not sure it would work.”

“You’ve got to try, right? Maybe you should talk to someone about your age issues?” Josh said.

“You mean like a shrink?” His dad chuckled. “I don’t think so. I don’t need anyone screwing around in this head.” He tapped his temple. “No, what I need are some ideas on how to win your mother back. I tried flowers, I tried cooking for her. I’m out of ideas.”

He looked around as though an idea would present itself to him, and then he grinned slowly. “I think I know just the place to start.” He gave Josh a look filled with glee.

Josh shook his head as he pulled himself out of his chair. “How about you start by putting your pants back on? That would do us all a favour.”

The dress fitting at the castle had morphed into an impromptu hen night. Kirsty had called her mother so that she could see Caroline in her dress. Her mother came to the castle bearing cake. She then called the rest of the women in her knitting group, and they all descended on the castle. Helen was in her element—she kept saying how much she loved entertaining, and to prove it she unearthed music, made snacks and had Kirsty run to the pub to get more champagne and supplies for cocktails.

By eight o’clock, Caroline was buzzing. She wasn’t sure how much champagne she’d had, because it was like drinking lemonade, and she was thirsty.

“Take a look around,” Kirsty said in her ear as the group of predominately older women fought over where to serve the food. “This is us in twenty or thirty years.”

Caroline put her head on her friend’s shoulder. “If that’s the case, I need to make more friends. You need a large group to cause this much chaos.”

“Don’t put the ice cream there,” Kirsty’s mum wailed.

Caroline and Kirsty burst out laughing.

“Thanks for agreeing to be my maid of honour,” Caroline said.

“I’d have broken both your legs if you asked anyone else.”

“Even Elaine?”

“Elaine is nearly nine months pregnant. I’d like to see her in a bridesmaid’s dress.”

“There is that.” Caroline took another gulp of her champagne, and her head began to swim.

“Right,” Helen announced, “everyone eat and then we’ll sort out Caroline.”

“What?” Caroline said as Kirsty grabbed her arm and led her to the kitchen table. “What do you mean sort me out?”

“The pictures in the magazines.” Kirsty’s mum rolled her eyes.

“I don’t understand.” Caroline’s head was filled with candyfloss. Lovely, fluffy candyfloss. “How can we fix it?”

“Well…” Heather was wearing her Knit Or Die T-shirt, and the words swam in front of Caroline’s eyes. “The first thing we can do is get rid of all of those grey suits you wear and buy you some decent clothes.”

“We need a shopping trip!” Jean squealed with delight. “Let’s go to Glasgow. Tomorrow. Kirsty can show us the good places to shop. We can have lunch. It will be great.”

Everyone except Caroline cheered. “I have clothes. I don’t need more.”

Although there was plenty of food on the table—mini-pies, finger sandwiches, cheese balls, amongst other things—Caroline decided to start with cake. She piled her plate with a slice of each of the cakes available. Usually she watched how much cake she ate. She was always telling herself that discipline was important. That there was such a thing as too much of a good thing. Control. It was all about control. As she reached for her champagne to wash down a mouthful of decadent chocolate fudge cake, she began to think control was seriously overrated.

“What we need to do”—Shona pointed a fork at Caroline—“is burn your wardrobe. That way you won’t be tempted to wear that stuff again.”

“That’s not a bad idea,” Kirsty said through a mouthful of cake.

“What’s wrong with my clothes?” Caroline demanded.

Everyone stopped eating and stared at her. If it wasn’t for the compassion in their eyes, the looks she was getting would have been offensive.

Kirsty’s mother leaned over the table and patted her hand. “Caroline, we all know that you didn’t have a lot of money to spend on clothes over the years, and you’ve done brilliantly. But now it’s time to splash out and get some new clothes. The magazines are being mean about you, but they do have a point. A pretty girl like you shouldn’t be wearing grey all the time. You need a new look.”

“But I don’t want to be different.” Caroline felt slightly panicked.

“Not different.” Kirsty hugged her. “Still you, only with some pretty dresses and a splash of colour. Don’t worry. I’ll make sure you get things that suit you. It isn’t a makeover; you don’t need to panic. It’s just shopping.”

“And lunch,” Jean reminded everyone.

“I
am
beginning to hate the grey suits,” Caroline confessed as the women grinned at her. “The domino boys tried to convince the wedding planner that the colour scheme for my wedding should be naval grey.”

The women laughed so hard they had to hold on to the table to stop from flopping over. Caroline grinned at them. “Fine, we’ll burn my suits.”

A cheer went up.

Caroline got into the spirit of things. “We’ll burn all of it. I have money. I’ve only had myself to look after these past few years. I can afford a new look.” She surged to her feet. “Let’s start a bonfire.”

Kirsty tugged her sleeve. “Aren’t you forgetting something?”

Caroline stared at her blankly.

“The clothes, honey?” Kirsty said.

“Oh yeah.” She brightened. “I’ll get Josh to bring them over. Who’s got a cell phone with Josh’s number in it?”

Helen dug hers out of her bag and dialled the number. Then she handed it over.

“Hey, Mom.” Josh answered the phone in the middle of rustling up some sandwiches for him and his dad.

“I am not your mother,” Caroline said in his ear, making him smile.

“Caroline, baby, what’s up?”

“I need you to bring all of my clothes to the castle.”

Josh’s heart skipped a beat, maybe two. “Are we moving in?” He almost did the Snoopy dance at the thought of a room with a door.

“No. We’re having a bonfire.”

He looked at his phone as a cheer went up in the background. “What’s going on?”

“Give me that,” someone said. “Josh, this is Kirsty. I invited my mum and her knitting group to the castle—we’re eating and drinking cocktails, and as soon as you get here we’re going to set fire to Caroline’s clothes. Got it?”

“Yeah,” Josh said, because he wasn’t sure what else to say.

“And tomorrow we’re all going to Glasgow to go shopping.”

“Girl trip,” someone shouted.

Now it was beginning to make more sense. “Has Caroline been drinking cocktails?”

“No,” Kirsty said.

Josh’s eyes narrowed. “Has Caroline been drinking at all?”

“What does he want to know?” Caroline said.

“He wants to know if you’re drinking,” Kirsty whispered loudly.

“Is it bad if I am?” Caroline whispered back—equally loudly. “Tell him it’s none of his business.”

The phone was passed again. Josh leaned against the kitchen counter as he waited to see whom he’d talk to next.

“Caroline may have had a glass or two of champagne,” his mother said. There was a pause. “Maybe three or four.”

“I’ll be there in half an hour,” Josh said through a grin.

He dug a couple of bin liners out from under the sink and headed for the stairs. If Caroline was drunk, this was something he wanted to see. He glanced into the living room to find his dad had, thankfully, put his pants back on. He took two more steps before he backtracked. His father was lying on his back on the couch reading a romance novel.

“You’ve lost your mind, haven’t you?” Josh asked with resignation.

“Go away. I’m doing research.”

“Research?”

His father scowled at him. “These books are full of how women expect men to behave. I’m getting ideas for winning your mother back. Now go away.”

Josh shook his head and climbed the stairs. Once in Caroline’s room, he set about putting her clothes in the bags. She hadn’t been specific about what clothes she wanted to burn, so Josh loaded up everything expect the two dresses he liked and one set of lavender lingerie that he thought was cute. Then he went back downstairs, fished Caroline’s phone out of the kitchen drawer and called the only cab in town to take him to the castle.