As Ryan descended the stairs and ran her hands through her hair one more time, she wondered—no, hoped—that Ben’s family wouldn’t be able to tell they’d just fooled around. There was no way they could know for sure, but even a hunch might cause them to judge her unfairly. Though truthfully calling it unfair wouldn’t be accurate. She’d seduced these people’s son under their own roof. At this point they had the right to think what they wanted about her.
As they rounded the corner toward the kitchen, she saw Beverly cleaning up what was left of the dinner. “Let me give you a hand,” Ryan said, already heading toward where Ben’s mom was putting the leftovers in glass containers.
“That’s sweet of you, but you don’t have to.”
“It’s the least I can do after you fed me and gave me a place to stay for tonight.” Ryan was aware that the phrasing of her comment made it sound like she was homeless—which, now that she thought of it, she was. At least technically speaking. “I’ll do the dishes,” she said, hoping to keep the conversation going.
“If you insist,” his mother said with a warm smile. “Most of them can go right in the dishwasher. The two larger serving dishes I’ll do by hand when I’m done here.”
Ryan’s eyes shot to Ben, who had one of those little partial smiles. She knew what he was thinking because she was thinking the same thing. It was killing her not to do all the dishes by hand.
Ryan got to work, rinsing the silverware and plates and placing them in the dishwasher while Beverly finished packing up the last of the leftovers.
Ben had managed to snag a roll before it made its way into the Ziploc bag.
“Well, are you going to help? Or are you just going to stand there and eat?” His mom’s tone was serious, but the way she slapped his shoulder with a nearby dish towel told Ryan she was probably at least partially kidding.
“Is that an actual question or your way of telling me to help?”
His mom cocked her head to the side and looked at him. “Actually neither. Your father and brother are out back.”
Ryan guessed the simple statement was his mom’s way of telling him to get out of her kitchen and leave the women alone, but Ben made no move toward the door until his mom added, “Natasha left while you two were upstairs.”
“’Kay” was all Ben said. He finished the last bite of his roll and then grabbed a beer from the fridge, seeming content to hang with them in the kitchen. It wasn’t until he caught a glimpse of his mother’s glare that he headed toward the French doors that led to the expansive deck and pool area. Ryan knew that Natasha’s departure only made the situation slightly better for Ben.
“So how was the tour of the house? I’m assuming Ben showed you everything. You were up there for a while.”
Ryan focused on arranging the silverware so it would fit nicely in the rack. She couldn’t bring herself to look Beverly in the eye. How the hell was she supposed to answer that? She’d been gone at least fifteen minutes and had barely seen anything but Ben’s room and the hallway. “Yeah. I was looking at all of Ben’s trophies and team pictures.”
Beverly let out a soft laugh, and when Ryan’s eyes finally met hers, she looked lost in thought. “I have all the good ones,” she said. “I keep them hidden so Ben can’t destroy them.”
Ryan shut off the water and leaned against the counter. “That horrible, huh?”
“Well, I think they’re adorable. But Ben has a different opinion. When he was in middle school, he was smaller than most of the kids in his grade. He had these big teeth that stuck out. With ears to match,” she added. “He finally grew into those and got braces.”
Ryan was trying to picture little boy Ben with buck teeth and big ears, but she couldn’t imagine anything other than the Ben she knew. And that one was perfect. The thought occurred to her that the Ben who Beverly was remembering was perfect in her eyes too. “Are those in the albums you’d keep stashed away until he brought a girl over?”
Beverly settled herself against the island opposite Ryan and thought for a moment. “Actually, no. He was always pretty self-conscious in high school—even though he had no reason to be. He was as handsome then as he is now. But I never wanted to embarrass him.”
“That’s nice of you.” She knew some mothers who lived to embarrass their kids. It was nice to know that Beverly wasn’t one of them.
“I thought so,” she replied. And then, “So now that our little Ben is all grown up, I think he can handle a little teasing. Don’t you?”
Ryan could feel her eyes light up with excitement. “Definitely. Now where are these pictures you speak of?”
Beverly looked more excited than Ryan did, if that was possible. She held up a finger and said, “I’ll be back in a moment.” She left before Ryan could even reply with a nod.
When she returned a minute or so later, she had several photo albums in her hands. “I’ll fix us some tea first,” she said. “How do you take yours?”
“Just lemon,” Ryan said, thinking she was right—rich people really do love tea. “Thank you.”
After putting the water on and getting out the teabags and lemon, Beverly set the albums on the kitchen table and opened the cream one first. The first thing that struck Ryan was how normal the album looked. It wasn’t any sort of fancy scrapbook, and it didn’t appear to be professionally made. Just hard pages with sheets of flexible plastic over a sticky surface. It reminded her of the ones she used to look through at her grandmother’s.
Beverly didn’t say much as Ryan began turning through the pages. It looked like most of the pictures were taken when Ben was around four or so. There were photographs of Ben and David sitting on the floor on Christmas morning, wrapping paper surrounding them as they smiled in their matching reindeer pajamas. “He was so cute,” Ryan said. “And his teeth aren’t that big.”
“That’s before his baby teeth fell out. Once his new ones came in, it was a different story.” Beverly rose when the kettle started whistling. “Those are in the green album.”
Ryan knew she would be looking at that one next, but she didn’t want to close this one yet. There was a kind of magic in looking at childhood pictures. She loved the way the photos themselves showed their age, the edges curved and the color muted.
When Beverly returned, she handed Ryan the cup of tea she’d made for her. Ryan took a sip and tried not to wince when the hot liquid hit her tongue. She probably should’ve waited a minute or so first. “Is this a different house?” Ryan asked.
“It is. You’re very observant.” Beverly gave her a warm smile. “We moved to this one when Ben was six.”
“He never told me he lived anywhere before this one,” she said. Though it occurred to her that he’d have no reason to.
“It was only a few miles away from this one. I don’t think Ben remembers much about it. Well, other than the treehouse in the backyard that Steven built for him and David.” She pointed out Ben’s grandmother—her mother—who she said had passed away when Ben was in eleventh grade. “The boys loved her. All the grandkids did. She used to carve apple slices into shapes for them and make bets on Go Fish with dimes and nickels.”
The mention of the card games caused Ryan to remember her own grandmother, who would play War with her for hours at a time. The thought made her smile inside.
“It was hard on the boys when she passed. Especially because my brother had died a few months prior. She was relatively healthy before she lost her only son. He was the baby in a family of four girls and six years younger than my youngest sister. Ben was named after him actually.”
“I had no idea. I’m so sorry. It must have been such a difficult time for everyone.” Ryan wanted to ask what happened, how that happened to someone who would’ve been so young at the time. But it wasn’t her place. Beverly had already shared so much with her.
Ryan turned to look at Beverly when she felt her hand squeeze her shoulder. “It was. But we got through it. People survive much worse.” Her lips were tight as she gave Ryan a small smile that was somehow comforting. For a woman who seemed so independent, so assertive and strict, Beverly’s maternal instincts were equally as strong.
And as the two sat, Beverly continuing to tell her family’s story while Ryan flipped through the years of Ben’s childhood like cards in a deck, Ryan realized that the gap between her upbringing and Ben’s was closing with every passing page. It didn’t matter how much money they had or that their family was still intact. The Williamsons’ road hadn’t been paved with gold either. Theirs had bends in it too—twists and turns and forks that left them wondering if their path had been the right one.
As Beverly closed the last of the albums, Ryan had an overwhelming sense of rightness. That despite all the bumps in her own road, this right here was exactly where she was supposed to be.