Reunion in October (The Calendar Girls Book 2) (27 page)

Oh, boy. She knew about Desiree’s visit to the E.R.? And that I helped Desi lie to her about her whereabouts? Terrific. She’d probably brought me a box of venomous snakes as a gift.

How had she found out? Had Josh told her? Putting his own spin on my actions to make me more a villain than a victim of legalities and hospital policy?

“Is it okay if I come in?” she asked.

Crap. I flushed with shame. Way to add to the woman’s animosity: leave her on my porch like an unwanted salesman. “Of course. I’m sorry.” Opening the door wider, I ushered her into my den. She stepped inside and stood near the cocktail table, the beautiful gift still in her hands.

“I’m sorry about Desiree,” I began again, but she cut me off.

“Please. Let me explain.” Her smile reminded me so much of Josh, my knees practically buckled.

“Would you like to sit down?” I swept a hand toward the sofa. Part of me hoped she’d decline and leave quickly. Another part of me hoped she’d sit because if she continued to smile at me, my legs would give out and I’d collapse in an emotional heap on the carpet.

“Thank you, but no. I won’t take up your time for too long.” 

I took a deep breath and locked my knees.

“I don’t know
exactly
what you’ve done for Desiree. And I don’t want to know. Teenagers are such complex creatures, especially girls.” Her laughter illuminated her porcelain face. “I’ve learned a lot with my older daughters—mostly through the mistakes I made. I know Desiree doesn’t understand that I was once a teenager like her. She would never trust me with her secrets, afraid I would punish her. But every teenager needs an older woman to confide in, someone who’ll listen without judgment and guide her to make smart choices.”

Well, on that score Mrs. C. and I agreed.

“I’ve been hoping she’d confide in one of her sisters, but...” She shrugged. “She chose you. And I’m grateful. So is my husband. We know you’ll do your best to keep her safe and smart. You won’t betray her confidence so she’ll trust you.” Holding the gift with both hands, she presented it to me in a formal manner. “This is to show our appreciation for your willingness to take on this responsibility.”

I accepted the package from her. How could I not? But when I started to pull the ribbon, she stopped me.

“You must not open the gift in front of me.” Rising, she bowed her head. “Korean tradition.” She headed toward the door, but paused in the foyer. “You’ll come to our Halloween party, right?”

I frowned. “I’m sorry. I can’t.”

“Nonsense. Of course you can. I’m inviting you.”

“I’m working that night,” I told her.

She nodded. “Tell me honestly. If you didn’t have to work, would you have accepted my invitation?”

I shook my head.

“Because of Josh?”

My gaze flitted around the room. I couldn’t look her in the eye when I lied. “Not really.”

“Uh-huh. You know, teenage girls aren’t the only ones who need an older woman to talk to. What happened with you and my idiot son?”

“Nothing. We’re just not...” What could I say? I opted for, “...compatible.”

Her forehead pleated with worry lines. “Who told you that?”

“No one. No one had to tell us. We had an argument that made our differences obvious.”

“So one disagreement, and you no longer care about Josh? After all the years he pined for you, and all the trips to your hospital to get you to notice him?”

“He did
not
pine for me.”

Her gentle laughter mocked my denial. “The very first night you babysat for us, I checked on my children when we came home. Josh was wide awake, waiting for me. He told me, ‘Someday, I’m going to marry Francesca.’”

Well, rub my head and call me Bunny
. “He was eight years old the first night I babysat,” I argued. “I was his first crush, that’s all.”

The knowing smile never left her face. “He always knew you were the girl for him. One thing I can tell you about the men in this family: They don’t give their hearts to just any woman. Once they fall in love, it’s for good. Josh fell early, but he fell forever.”

Was that another Korean tradition? Did Josh have to marry the first woman he crushed on? Even if he was a little boy at the time? And his crush was his babysitter?

“I hate to break it to you, but I think Josh might have changed his mind.”

“No, he didn’t. He just doesn’t know how to reach you and make things right between you.” She wagged a finger at me, making me feel like
I
was eight. “Do you have any idea how miserable he is right now? Imagine that. My Joshua. My sunny boy who was born laughing hasn’t cracked a smile since last week. And I’m guessing you haven’t, either. He goes to work, he comes home, runs out the door again, comes home and collapses into bed, exhausted. All so he doesn’t have to think about how much he misses you. Is that what you’re doing? Is this what you both want? To be alone and miserable? To leave my son alone and miserable? When you could be happy together?” She gestured for me to bend closer, and when I complied, she kissed my cheek. “Think about it, Francesca. And enjoy your gift.”

I waited until her car had pulled away before I brought the package into the kitchen and removed the lovely wrapping. Nestled inside the box on a bed of cotton were seven crisp hundred-dollar bills.

Talk about trying to buy my affection! Couldn’t the Candoleros have given me a nice bottle of wine? What was I supposed to do with seven hundred dollars? Did they still consider me their babysitter? Or was this supposed to be a dowry? I remembered a friend who’d gone to a wedding for a couple from Thailand. She’d told me about scads of money and jewels paid to the bride’s family, called a bride’s price. Did Korea have something similar?

Totally confused, I turned on my laptop and looked up Korean gift traditions. Within a few minutes of Internet-surfing, I understood a little better. Money was the quintessential gift in Mrs. C.’s culture. Seven was a lucky number. And alcohol was a no-no as far as gifts went for women. Okay, then. She wasn’t trying to buy a bride for her son or a counselor for her daughter.

For kicks and giggles, and because now my curiosity burned brighter than the sun, I also looked up Korean courtship traditions. Just as I feared: after one date, it was assumed a couple was in a committed relationship. Awesome. And even better, it was perfectly normal for the guy in the relationship to seriously pursue his love interest from Day One.

I supposed I should have been grateful Mrs. C. hadn’t shown up with a wedding dress.

Why hadn’t I Googled all this information before agreeing to that first date with Josh?

A few facts didn’t fit, thank God. Josh had never held my purse in public, which I might have paid seven hundred dollars to witness. So far, we’d avoided wearing matching t-shirts. And I hadn’t sent him chocolates. Yet. Should I?

But I had to wonder. Her comment about how miserable Josh was and how he didn’t know how to reconnect with me. Surely, he realized he could just call me and say, “I’m sorry. I was wrong.”

Unless he didn’t think he was wrong…

Aaargh! Three weeks ago, I’d had a normal life. Now, all of a sudden, I was enmeshed in some Candolero game of Telephone, wanting to talk to Josh, but only hearing from the females in the family. I closed my laptop and finished getting ready for work. At least I had somewhere to go to keep my mind off Josh. And his family.

Chapter 19

Emily

When we turned onto my block, my stomach flipped. While still at the corner, I spotted the sleek, late-model sedan in my driveway—my in-laws’ rental car, no doubt. I inhaled a shaky breath.

Sam’s attention veered from the road to me. “You okay?”

My throat closed up. I nodded. Tremors racked my limbs. Despite my doctor’s advice and the meds administered at the hospital, my heart hammered against my ribcage.
Breathe. Count to ten
.
You can face her.

Sam pulled behind the sedan in my driveway, and my mother-in-law opened the front door.
Oh, boy. Here we go
.

I stumbled up the stairs and came face-to-face with the dragon lady.

“Emily.” Her pursed lips and narrowed eyes clearly communicated her anger. She looked past me to Sam, who stood behind me. “I see it didn’t take you long to find another man to replace your husband.”

My face burned. Embarrassed or not, too many years of swallowing my tongue kept me silent under her direct assault. But I’d forgotten about Paige who lurked behind Sam.

“And a woman, too,” she said with a bright smile. “Apparently, Em’s flexible that way.” She shoved out her hand. “Hi, Mrs. Handler. I don’t know if you remember me. I’m Paige Wainwright.”

For the first time since I met her twenty years ago, my mother-in-law sputtered. “Paige?”

“Yes,” I said, finally finding my voice—and my nerve. “And the man with us is Sam Dillon, chief of police and my
boss
.”

Sam nodded. “Mrs. Handler. Nice to see you again.”

I half-expected to see her melt into the floor like the Wicked Witch of the West. Okay, not really. It was more like a wish than an expectation.

Too bad, she switched to Glenda the Good Witch instead. “Sam. How nice of you to help Emily right now. But then you always were a very polite young man.”

“Thank you, Mrs. Handler.” Sam nudged me with a gentle elbow jab to my side. “Em, why don’t you gather your stuff?”

“I’ll help,” Paige interjected on the next breath. “Come on, Em.” Grabbing my hand, she pulled me past my mother-in-law. “Upstairs?”

“Yes.” I let her lead me up the stairs before I took the front position and drew her into the master bedroom. Once there, I closed the door.

“God, how can you stand that woman?” Paige asked me in low tones. “I remember her making my mother cry. She’s always been so joyless and sanctimonious. If she were my mother-in-law, I’d have skedaddled a long time ago. Shoot, I probably would have changed my name so she couldn’t find me...”

Her voice faded as the memories punched me in the chest. My kids’ school pictures, in all varieties of smiles from straight and perfect, thanks to orthodontia, to gaps in baby teeth, surrounded a wedding photo of Roy and me. The words he spoke in the hospital room echoed inside my skull.
I never cared what my mother said about you. In my eyes, you were always perfect
. My knees wobbled, and I gripped the tall oak dresser for support. “I don’t think I can do this.”

Paige stepped closer and wrapped an arm around my shoulder. “Em?”

I sagged into her, leaning all of my weight on her slender frame. “What kind of mother leaves her kids? What kind of woman leaves her
family
?”

She didn’t answer my question. Instead, she chucked two fingers under my chin and lifted my face so that we were eye-to-stern-eye. “Do you still love Roy? Enough to stay with him? To fight for him? Even against his vile mother?”

My jaw dropped. “What?”

“Now you know how bushwhacked I felt when you asked me about Sam.” She laughed. “Do what I did. Take a minute. Close your eyes. Don’t look at this room or what emotions it evokes. Then answer me from the gut. Do you still love Roy?”

I closed my eyes, inhaled and exhaled a dozen times. I counted to ten. Did I still love Roy?

The first images that came to mind were my kids, of course, but I forced my brain to push them away. Roy, I insisted to myself.
Think about Roy.
I squeezed my eyes tighter, focusing my memory on the day we met—my first day at James Madison High School. I was an incoming naive freshman, searching for Room 312, and a sophomore told me that it was in the “new wing.”

“Just go through that exit door,” the pretty blond cheerleader said. “It’ll look like you’re outside, but it’s actually an atrium. On the other side will be another door. Go in through there, and you’ll find Room 312 about two doors down.”

So I listened and wound up locked outside near the maintenance area. I pulled on the door I’d just walked through, but it wouldn’t budge. I pounded with my fist, but no one heard, or if they did, they ignored the stupid freshman who’d fallen for their joke. Panic overwhelmed me. I had two minutes to get to class, and I was on the complete opposite side of the school’s main entrance, the only open doors on campus.

Just as I was about to walk around the building, tears nearly blinding me, a big handsome guy ran up to me from the track. “Fell for the atrium scam?”

“Uh-huh.” I probably looked totally pathetic, but Roy just smiled.

“Don’t feel bad. They got me with it last year, too. Come on.” He jerked his head toward the building’s garage. “I know how you can get back in and still get to class on time.”

“I don’t even know where I’m going,” I whined.

“What class are you looking for?”

“Mrs. Quinn. World Civilizations. Room 312.”

“You’re in luck,” he said. “You’re actually close.”

I sniffed. “Really?”

When his grin widened and he said, “Yeah, really,” I fell in love. Roy had rescued me that day. As dumb as that sounds, it was exactly what I believed. From that moment on, he became my champion, through all the days of tears and turnips. When had I stopped thinking of him that way?

“Em?” Paige’s voice shook me back to my present situation.

I swallowed a sob and threw back my own version of her response. “Yes, I still love him. Enough to stay with him—here, or in purgatory, if that’s what it takes.” I drew in a deep, painful breath. “But...”

“But...?” she prompted.

“But I don’t know if he still loves me.”

“Then I guess it’s high time you find out,” she replied while squeezing my shoulders. “So you pack a bag and leave for a while. A little time apart, and you’ll either know you’ve reached the end, or figure out how to put it all back together. Take it from me. If I’d have stayed here, I doubt I ever would have known how much I love Sam. Of course, I don’t recommend you wait as long as I did to wake up, though.”

Sixteen years? God, no! I didn’t want to go sixteen
days
without Roy. Or even sixteen more hours.