Twenty-Four
They stayed in New Orleans another day, and after a leisurely drive, got to Vero Beach late Monday afternoon. Bethanne hadn’t heard from Max. She’d toyed with the idea of contacting him, but had resisted.
For now.
“I can’t believe how much everything’s changed,” Ruth kept repeating as they made their way into town. On the drive down Route 60, she’d pointed left and right, shaking her head at what were once orange groves as far as the eye could see, but were now mostly housing developments and suburban sprawl.
“Call Royce,” Annie said when they reached their hotel and had unpacked.
Ruth paced the room, nervously rubbing her palms. “You think I should?” she asked, looking at Bethanne. “I mean, so soon? We just got here.”
“You said you would,” Bethanne reminded her.
“Grandma,” Annie groaned. “He’s waiting to hear from you. Now call him!” Annie commanded, gesturing at the room’s phone.
Ruth glanced uncertainly toward Bethanne, who nodded her encouragement.
“Okay... I will,” Ruth declared, sounding more like a schoolgirl than a mature adult, “but if this turns out badly, I’ll blame the two of you.” She fixed them both with a shaky glare.
“It won’t, I promise,” Annie said with utter confidence.
Bethanne watched discreetly as Ruth sat on the bed and punched in Royce’s number from a slip of paper in her purse. She held the receiver to her ear, clenching and unclenching her fist. In the silence Bethanne could hear the phone ring, followed by a man’s voice answering.
“Royce, it’s Ruth,” she began, her own voice fluttering with anxiety. She rushed on. “My granddaughter thought I should let you know we made it here safely. We’re in Vero Beach at the hotel the reunion committee recommended.”
While Bethanne couldn’t hear what Royce said, she saw from Ruth’s reaction that he seemed pleased to have heard from her. Ruth hunched over, and Bethanne could see her smiling.
“Sure—but my daughter-in-law and granddaughter are with me. All right. Uh-huh...that would be very nice.” She looked at Bethanne and Annie, who stood with their hands clasped as they awaited the outcome. “Okay, yes...that’s very thoughtful. We’ll see you soon.” Ruth hung up the phone.
“Well?” Annie asked expectantly. She and Bethanne were staring at Ruth.
“He wants to take us all to dinner,” Ruth said.
“All of us?” Bethanne asked to be sure she understood correctly.
“His grandson is with him, and he’s bringing him along for you to meet.”
Annie smiled, clearly intrigued by this unexpected turn of events. “Was he happy to hear from you?”
Ruth blushed. “I think so,” she said.
“Told you,” Annie crowed, collecting a fresh set of clothes and heading for the shower.
“I need to change, too.” Ruth looked down at what she was wearing. She brushed an invisible speck of dirt from the front of her blouse. “I don’t know if I’m ready to see Royce again,” she muttered, her forehead wrinkling.
“Yes, you are,” Bethanne insisted, amused and deeply touched at the sight of her mother-in-law in such a state.
Ruth immediately started riffling through her clothes, searching for the perfect outfit in which to rendezvous with her high school sweetheart. With both Annie and Ruth occupied, Bethanne grabbed her cell and stepped out onto the patio, closing the sliding glass door carefully behind her. The waves breaking on the beach were hypnotic, and the ocean breeze dispelled the intense heat and humidity of late afternoon.
Sitting in one of the patio chairs, Bethanne punched out Max’s cell number. She had no idea if she’d reach him. If she didn’t, she’d leave a message.
Max picked up on the fourth ring, just before the call went to voice mail.
“Max...it’s Bethanne.”
“Bethanne.” His voice was low.
“Where are you?”
“On the way to California.” He paused. “Are you in Florida yet?”
“We arrived about thirty minutes ago.”
“Is Grant there?”
“Not yet. He’s meeting us later.” She didn’t want to think about Grant right now. “How are you?”
“Miserable.” He laughed hoarsely.
“Are you really?” Bethanne hugged the phone tighter.
He muttered something under his breath. “You don’t need to sound so happy about it.”
“I can’t help it. I’m feeling exactly the same without you.”
“How was New Orleans?”
“We ate beignets at Café du Monde yesterday morning. Last night we listened to jazz on Bourbon Street. After that, I ended up drinking some wicked alcoholic concoction in a hurricane glass. It knocked me for a loop.”
“You three didn’t get into any trouble, did you?”
“None that I care to mention,” she joked. “I’d always heard that New Orleans was famous for its food, and it was fantastic.” She found herself chattering on. “Annie talked Ruth and me into trying a mint julep—”
Max snorted in amusement. “Were you able to walk back to the hotel afterward?”
“No...” Bethanne giggled. “We had to get a taxi.”
She paused as their laughter died away, then said quietly, “I wish you’d been there.”
“I do, too,” he told her. “Maybe one day we’ll go back together.” Grant had said that, too... Just then, Annie opened the sliding glass door, wearing a sleeveless summer dress Bethanne had never seen before. She must have purchased it in Branson.
“I need to go,” Bethanne said hurriedly.
“I’m glad you called.”
“I am, too. Give my best to Rooster.”
As she ended the call, she experienced a piercing sense of loss. Instead of feeling better, she felt worse.
“Was that Max?” Annie asked.
Bethanne nodded.
“Dad called,” Annie continued. “His flight landed on time and he’s on his way to Vero.”
“Okay.”
“Grandma suggested he join us for dinner,” Annie said, leaning against the glass door.
Bethanne’s voice was cool. “What about the conference? Won’t he be missing that?”
Annie shrugged. “You’ll have to ask him.”
For a moment, Bethanne wondered if there even was a conference. It had certainly come up very conveniently.
“Aren’t you going to get ready for dinner?” Annie prompted.
Reluctantly, Bethanne stood up and prepared to go back inside the room.
“Mom,” Annie murmured, putting a hand on her arm. “Grandma’s pretty nervous about seeing Royce. You might want to help her.”
“How am I supposed to do that?” Bethanne searched Annie’s face.
“I don’t know. You always managed with me.” Annie smiled.
“But... Ruth isn’t my daughter.”
“Pretend she is.” Annie glanced over her shoulder. “Someone’s got to do something. She’s pacing back and forth, and I’m afraid if she sprays on any more cologne she might set off the fire alarm.”
Sure enough, Bethanne found her pacing the length of the room, pausing only to gnaw on her cuticles.
“Give me fifteen minutes,” she told Ruth.
“Fifteen minutes for what?”
“To take a quick shower and change clothes.”
“Then what?”
“Then I’m taking you to the bar.”
“I can’t let Royce find me in the bar!” she cried.
“Yes, you can.” Bethanne adopted her firmest parental tone. “Now, don’t argue with me.”
Ruth stared at her like a forest animal caught in the headlights of an oncoming car.
Shortly thereafter, Bethanne escorted her to the lounge, which was a cozy, unpretentious place, with an old-fashioned wooden U-shaped bar and a few mismatched tables and chairs. A cheerful bartender took their drink order. Bethanne asked for two glasses of white wine, which were brought to the table a few minutes later.
Ruth took one sip and nearly coughed her lungs out.
“Are you okay?” Bethanne pounded her on the back.
Ruth shook her head vigorously.
“What’s wrong?” Bethanne asked, startled.
“Royce just came in,” she whispered, while she dug in her purse for a tissue to wipe her eyes.
“Where?” Bethanne scanned the dimly lit room.
Ruth nodded toward the tall, silver-haired man who’d just slipped onto a bar stool with his back to them.
“Are you all right?” Bethanne whispered.
Ruth seemed paralyzed with fright. “I don’t know if I can face him.”
Bethanne was surprised to see Ruth’s hands trembling.
“I hurt him so much...” she began in a broken voice that Bethanne had never heard before.
“Ruth, you were young... I’m sure he’s gotten over it—”
Ruth cut her off with a sharp shake of her head. “He might have, but I’m not sure I ever can.” She sat for several minutes, clutching the now-tattered wisp of tissue. Then, as Bethanne watched, she slid out of her chair and squared her shoulders.
Bethanne gave her a smile of encouragement.
Ruth walked up behind Royce and placed her hand on his shoulder.
Royce whirled around. His face registered shock. For a long moment all they did was stare at each other. “Ruth... Ruth, is that really you?”
“Have I changed so much?” she asked, taking a step back, as if dreading the answer. She pressed her fingers to her lips, seemingly on the verge of tears.
“No, no...” He blinked, apparently to clear his vision. “You’re even more beautiful now. More beautiful than I remembered.”
“Royce...” she said, then faltered.
They embraced wordlessly, then he took Ruth’s face in his hands as he gazed down at her.
Just then, Annie entered the bar, having updated her Facebook page with photos from the road. Taking in the reunion between Ruth and Royce, she broke into a huge smile and gave Bethanne a thumbs-up.
Royce’s grandson, Craig, was the next to arrive; shortly after he joined the party and introductions were made, Bethanne noticed that he and Annie fell into animated conversation. Royce and Ruth hardly looked up, drowning in each other’s eyes.
Leaning back in her seat, Bethanne savored her wine and surveyed the scene. In a few days’ time they’d fly home to Seattle and Bethanne would return to her regular life, but she wouldn’t be the same woman. The trip had changed her. It had changed them all. The three of them had grown close, sharing their secrets, confronting their fears. And despite some moments of tension, they’d come to understand and support one another in new ways.
She was so immersed in her thoughts that she almost missed Grant’s entrance. He walked into the bar and glanced around, brightening when he saw her. To her surprise, Bethanne felt a surge of affection. Tall and lean, Grant still cut a striking figure, and his energy was palpable. They’d been a good match—partly because Bethanne had always been content to remain in the background, his silent partner in more ways than one.
His smile was electric, transforming his entire face. As he started toward her, she was reminded of his ability to make people feel they were the sole focus of his attention. Over the years, she’d heard many of his colleagues talk about his charisma and its effect on clients. He obviously still had it.
Ruth spotted her son before he reached Bethanne and pulled him over to make introductions. Grant caught her eye and winked, but when the three couples sat down together, he was trapped on the other side of the table. After sharing a bottle of wine, they all left for dinner at the restaurant beside the hotel.
The Ocean Grill boasted an interesting assortment of wrought iron, stained glass and other collectibles. While they were being seated at their table next to the window, Grant wangled a seat next to Bethanne. Outside, the surf roared against the sand and groups of tourists walked the beach, waves crashing at their feet.
Bethanne felt Grant’s hand touch hers beneath the table. “I’ve missed you,” he murmured.
She gave him a fleeting smile but kept her eyes on the menu. The truth was, he’d been in her thoughts more than she wanted to admit. Despite her reservations, his familiar presence brought back the glow of happier times. Grant slipped comfortably into his role as father and son—something that Max, for all his intensity, could never do. She studied him as he chatted effortlessly with Royce and Ruth, full of high spirits and completely at ease. Grant was family, and that was difficult to ignore or dismiss.
The wine flowed as the evening progressed, and Bethanne relaxed. At Royce’s urging, she ordered the pompano with apricot sauce and found it outstanding. As was typical, Grant and Annie both ordered the same entrée—the stone crab claws—which they ate with gusto.
After dinner Annie and Craig went for a walk along the beach. Royce and Ruth did, too, leaving Grant and Bethanne alone at the table. Bethanne stirred her coffee, suddenly self-conscious.
“I brought you something,” Grant said.
“From Seattle?”
“Not exactly.” He reached inside his dinner jacket and took out a small wrapped package.
“You don’t need to buy me gifts,” she protested, although she couldn’t suppress her curiosity. Grant had always been a generous and original gift-giver; it was one of his talents. He never once forgot an anniversary or her birthday, and outdid himself from year to year in the extravagance and thoughtfulness of his presents.
“I wanted you to have this,” he said as she untied the bow and removed the paper.
The instant she saw the box, Bethanne knew.
Nestled inside was the button she’d seen in the antique store in New Orleans. Annie had obviously mentioned it to him; he must have ordered it that same night.
“Do you like it?”
“Very much,” she breathed, recalling the story about the soldiers and their sweethearts.
“Every time you look at that button,” he said, his head close to hers, “I want you to think of me.”