A Turn in the Road (Blossom Street #8)

A Turn in the Road (Blossom Street #8) Page 29

“How did the conversation go?” Bethanne didn’t want to appear too eager, but judging by the look on Ruth’s face, she already had her answer.

“We agreed to meet before the reunion to talk.”

“Oh, Ruth, that’s wonderful.” Bethanne was pleased for her and grateful that the conversation had gone well. She’d wondered if Ruth would find the courage to contact Royce—and hoped she would.

“I talked to Jane, too.”

“Is everyone excited about the reunion?” Annie sank back against the pillow and yawned.

“Yes, and everything seems to be coming together nicely,” Ruth said, her eyes bright. “Jane told me they have the high school gym for the dinner and dance, just the way we did for the senior prom. She heard from Jim Maxwell and Alice Coan. They’ve been married for fifty years now, so it’s a double celebration for them.”

“Do you remember your senior prom?” Annie said, studying her grandmother.

Ruth laughed. “I doubt I’ll ever forget it.”

“Were you with Royce?”

“Oh, yes,” she said dreamily.

“It must’ve been so romantic.”

“Hardly.” Ruth shook her head. “Actually, it was one of the worst nights of my life.”

“Grandma, how can you say that? What happened?”

Ruth pulled down the covers and sat on the edge of the bed. “It’s quite a story.”

“Tell us,” Bethanne urged.

“Well…I might have mentioned that Royce’s parents didn’t have a lot of money. The Jamesons sold everything they owned for the opportunity to purchase an orange grove. Unfortunately, for the first couple of years the crops didn’t meet their expectations. Royce worked with his brothers and parents, but there never seemed to be enough money.”

“Did purchasing the grove pay off over time?” Bethanne asked. She hated the thought of that kind of effort going unrewarded.

“I believe so, but not while Royce was living at home.”

“What happened at the prom?” Annie asked again.

“Oh, yes, our senior prom.” Ruth smiled as she said it. “Royce asked me, and naturally I said yes.”

“Naturally,” Annie echoed.

“He couldn’t afford to buy me a corsage for the dance, so his mother did her best to make me one from orange blossoms, but it just wouldn’t stay together. Not wanting to offend her, Royce took the corsage she’d made but when it fell apart he bought me a plastic rose.”

“He bought you a plastic rose for the prom?” Annie sounded incredulous.

“Annie,” Bethanne said, “that was all he could afford.”

“Did he wear a tux?” her daughter asked, despite Bethanne’s caution.

“A tux?” Ruth repeated. “My heavens, no. He had on his Sunday best, but it wouldn’t have mattered to me if he’d been in his coveralls. He was still the handsomest boy in his class.”

Annie stared at her, clearly fascinated by this glimpse into a life so different from her own.

“He picked me up in this vehicle they used in the groves. It didn’t have a top, although it might have at one time.”

“Oh, no,” Annie gasped. “Can this get any worse?”

“I’m afraid so. It rained on our way to the prom.”

“No!”

“Oh, yes, and until you see rain in Florida, you haven’t seen rain. The drizzle we get in the Pacific Northwest can’t compare.”

“And you were in your prom dress?”

She nodded. “With my hair all done up and my new chiffon dress. I arrived at the prom looking like something that had crawled out of the Everglades.”

“Oh, Grandma.”

“Royce felt terrible.”

“The poor boy,” Bethanne said, picturing the nightmarish scene. She couldn’t imagine anything else going wrong.

“And yet Royce was wonderful about everything. He wiped the streaming mascara from my face and kissed away my tears.”

“He must have been drenched, too.”

“Oh, for sure, but he didn’t care about himself. All he wanted was to make the night special for me, and he’d tried so hard.” She smiled wryly. “We didn’t end up going to the prom, of course. He took me home and went back to his own place to change, then we spent the rest of the evening watching TV.”

Bethanne hadn’t met Royce yet, but she liked him already.

“Do you think he’s changed much over the years?” Annie asked.

“I don’t know about him,” Ruth said, “but I have.”

“We all change,” Annie said, sounding mature. “Because of the things that happen to us.”

Bethanne nodded. She’d changed since Grant had left their marriage. Changed in many ways, some of which she was only beginning to understand.

Soon afterward they turned off the light. It wasn’t long before Ruth’s steady breathing told Bethanne her mother-in-law was asleep.

Annie lay on her back, then shifted onto one side; she seemed unable to find a comfortable position. Something was bothering her and Bethanne guessed it was directly related to Vance.

“Have you heard from Vance lately?” Bethanne whispered. Annie had mentioned him only once since he’d left for his European adventure.

“Sort of,” Annie muttered, and bunched up her pillow with unnecessary force.

“How do you sort of hear from someone?”

“He sent me a text, which I ignored, and then he emailed me, but I haven’t answered that, either,” she said. “He told me he arrived safely and that he’s having a wonderful time. Well, good for him. He doesn’t need to rub it in.”

“But you’re having a good time, too,” Bethanne reminded her. “And you met Jason in Vegas, didn’t you?”

“Right.” The word was full of enlightenment. “I should let him know I’m not sitting at home pining after him.” She scrabbled for her cell phone on the nightstand, and although the room was dark, immediately started scrolling down her emails.

Annie paused and sent Bethanne a look of deep satisfaction. “There’s another email from Vance.”

“Oh? What did he say now?” Bethanne raised herself up on one elbow.

Annie seemed inordinately pleased. “That he’s miserable, homesick and sorry he ever left Seattle.”

“How does that make you feel?” Bethanne asked.

Annie’s returning smile was answer enough.

Nineteen

Grant Hamlin sat in his recliner and stared at the television. If anyone had asked him about the program, he couldn’t have said what he was watching. All he could think about was Bethanne.

He was losing her.

Even now, he couldn’t believe he’d told their daughter to leave Bethanne to her own devices, to let her reach her own conclusions. He’d said what he knew he had to say, as a parent and as a man who loved his ex-wife. But the words left him feeling ill. Yes, he wanted Bethanne to make the choice that was right for her—but he wanted that choice to be him.

What he’d told Annie was true. He loved Bethanne. Tiffany had come between them, but he’d let her do that. He took complete responsibility for his mistake. He hadn’t started out looking for an affair but he’d obviously been open to one. Tiffany had seemed vibrant, exciting, ambitious, and Bethanne, by comparison, had been…dull, mired in the tedium of domestic life. It appalled him that he’d been so blind, so selfish. He’d lost interest in their love life, too. Still, the affair had begun innocently enough. An office lunch that lasted nearly two hours. A simple kiss at a Christmas party. By Valentine’s Day, they were meeting in hotel rooms and Grant had the sexual stamina of a teenager. Perhaps not surprisingly, that changed shortly after they were married.

In retrospect, he knew it was unconscionable that he’d abandoned his family; walked away without a qualm or a doubt. And yet, he’d done exactly that.

At the time Grant had convinced himself he was lucky to escape when he did. He’d told himself that because Andrew was about to graduate from high school and Annie would join her brother in college the following year, neither child needed him any longer. How wrong he’d been to underestimate his children’s need for their father.

Grant rubbed the back of his neck. He’d quickly recognized his mistake in marrying Tiffany. And to compound the humiliation, she’d decided he’d been a mistake—too old, not successful enough, not as sexually adventurous as she wanted. The end of their marriage hadn’t come soon enough. After Tiffany moved out—oh, what a godsend—he’d been too embarrassed to approach Bethanne.

By then she’d started her business and it had taken off. Watching from the sidelines, he’d been impressed and astonished by how well she’d done.

In the past couple of years, Grant had eased his way, carefully, cautiously, back into his family’s life. Annie had accepted him without question. Andrew was a different story. His son wasn’t as willing to put the past behind them. Eventually, Grant hoped, Andrew would see that he was genuinely contrite and trust him again.

At least Andrew wasn’t openly antagonistic. He remained cool and withdrawn. Grant didn’t blame his son for being wary; it was what he deserved and he knew it. Andrew was his mother’s son for sure.

Thinking about him, Grant went into his small office in the sparsely decorated condo and reached for the phone. He checked his watch. It wasn’t quite nine. A bit late, but not too late to call Andrew. He had to look up the number—a sad commentary all on its own.

Andrew answered as if he’d been holding his cell. “Hello.”

“It’s Dad.”

“Anything wrong with Mom or Annie?” Andrew asked immediately. “Or Grandma?”

It hurt that Andrew assumed a phone call from Grant could only mean an emergency. “No. They’re in Branson, Missouri.”

“Last I heard they were in Vegas.”

“Yes, they arrived in Missouri this afternoon. Your grandmother took Annie to see Andy Williams.”

Andrew snickered. “I bet she loved that.”

“Not so much, I’m afraid.” He inhaled softly. “Listen, has anyone said anything to you about those bikers they met along the way?”

“Max and Rooster?”

He was shocked that his son knew their names. “What have you heard?” He felt guilty pumping Andrew for information. But what else could he do? He’d advised Annie not to spy on her mother or try to influence her. That nobility was costing him now. He felt at a real disadvantage, being miles away while this Max character was right there on the scene.

“Mom called a couple of days ago and told me about the car breaking down and how these bikers stopped to help her.”

“How come you know their names?”

“Mom told me.”

He wasn’t exactly free with his information. “Did she mention that she met Max and Rooster in Vegas?”

“She might have.”

“I see.”