Chapter Three
“This is your grandmother’s house?” Alisha asked Rachelle, as her jaw dropped in shock. The building rose up above its ocean backdrop like a mansion in an old movie. Its stone facade, as impressive in length as in height, boasted more windows than Alisha could count at a first glance. How many bedrooms would a place like that have? Alisha could only imagine. “Why did you mooch half my lunch through high school?”
Rachelle looked much less impressed by the building, but she chuckled. “Because my mother was a health food nut who didn’t believe in sugar. And you had Twinkies.”
“Something I knew you’d thank me for one day,” Stephanie said cheerfully from behind her daughter as she stepped out of the car. “I’m still waiting.”
Spencer joined them with his youngest sister, Nicolette, by his side. “Am I the only one who would rather be dragged across cut glass and then doused in lemon juice than go inside?”
Despite the delicate sundress she wore, Nicolette raised her arms in a pose that a weight lifter might use to show off her muscles. “Alone we are weak against the evil queen, but together we are strong.”
Stephanie shook her head at her youngest. “Your grandmother is not evil. She’s just . . . particular.”
Nicolette made a face. “Five bucks says I’m the first one she insults. It might be Rachelle, though, who needs to put on weight.” Her tone mimicked her grandmother’s. “Spencer, when are you going to get a real job?”
“Stop, Nicolette,” her mother chastised gently.
Rachelle chimed in, “Mom, are you sure you want to come in? Didn’t she say you were not welcome in her home?”
With a sigh, Stephanie looked up at the large wooden entrance. “That was a long time ago. She’s eighty, and no matter what she says, she’s family. Plus, she means well. Try to translate everything she says to, ‘I care about your well-being.’”
Nicolette put an arm around her mother. “I’ll be fine unless she says something rude to you.”
Spencer nodded in agreement. “It’s a deal breaker for me as well. Inheritance or no inheritance.”
Alisha lagged behind the group.
Stephanie turned and looked from her son to Alisha. “Are you two really in love? Tell me you’re not engaged because of that ridiculous letter you all received from her lawyer.”
For a moment Spencer’s expression resembled a deer caught in the headlights of his mother’s gaze. Alisha slid beneath his arm and smiled brightly. “Of course it got him to pop the question, but I’ve loved Spencer for as long as I can remember.” That was true. They’d gone on vacations together, fought and made up a hundred times over. She was grateful every day that he, along with the rest of the Westerlys, was part of her life.
Stephanie smiled, but there was concern in her eyes. “Alisha, you’ve always felt like one of my daughters. I can’t imagine a better wife for Spencer, but I want to make sure the two of you are doing this for the right reasons. Money doesn’t make life easier. It comes with its own problems.”
Spencer hugged Alisha to his side. “We know what we’re doing, Mom.”
As she carefully watched her son’s expression, Stephanie asked, “You love her?”
Spencer nodded.
Nicolette chuckled. “Talk about awkward if he said no.”
Rachelle joined in. “I never imagined you two together, but now that I see it—it works.”
Alisha tensed. She didn’t mind lying to their grandmother or hedging the truth around the rest of them, but Rachelle seemed to have forgotten that it had been her who had originally suggested they marry. Alisha had laughed it off at first, then considered it more seriously when Spencer had shared how his company needed the capital. She was tempted to take Rachelle aside, shake her, and remind her that none of this was real. It was like a play, and she was only saying the rehearsed lines.
There were no sparks between her and Spencer, and she wondered how the others couldn’t see that. If he kissed her, she doubted it would feel any different than the time she kissed Grayson Teal during the high school play they’d both won starring roles in. Grayson had been attractive, too. It hadn’t repulsed her to kiss him, but it hadn’t been exciting, either.
The door of the mansion opened and a man in a dark suit called to them, “Mrs. Westerly will see you now.”
Spencer looked down at her and mouthed, “Thank you.”
Alisha smiled up at him. “Glass and lemon juice?”
He shuddered against her. “You’ll understand when you meet her.”
His arm dropped away, and they all made their way toward the entrance. As they did, Spencer lowered his voice and donned that of an old woman. “Spencer, sit up straight. How do you expect to be taken seriously if you slouch? You shouldn’t play football, you know. It causes brain damage. If you’re going to stay in a public school, you’ll need every bit of your wits or you’ll never make anything of yourself.”
Alisha coughed back a laugh. “She can’t be that bad.”
Nicolette piped in. “Just wait. I hope you brought your cloak of confidence with you. If not, we’ll carry whatever is left of you and your self-esteem back to the car after lunch.”
Stephanie and Rachelle led the way into the home while Alisha, Spencer, and Nicolette trailed behind. Had they been there for any other reason, Alisha would have exclaimed in wonder at the grand foyer and the stairway that flanked it. An entire party could be hosted right here without any need of the rest of the house.
Beside them, the butler said, “Please follow me to the parlor.”
The room they entered was every bit as awe-inspiring as the entrance had been, overlooking a grassy lawn that led to the ocean. Spectacular. Everywhere Alisha turned there were antiques, expensive cloth wallpaper, and woodwork so intricate it belonged on a museum tour. Alisha was glad she’d worn one of her best dresses. She felt as if she were about to meet royalty.
Even if it’s an evil queen. She smiled a little nervously and reminded herself that the buildup was likely far worse than any grandmother could actually be.
Everyone stayed standing, although there were seats available. They seemed equally apprehensive. Even Stephanie’s cheerful chatter was strained.
The woman who entered the room wasn’t at all imposing in stature. Alisha guessed she stood only as high as Stephanie’s chin, but she had the air of someone important. It bothered Alisha that the family she loved so much seemed to wilt in her presence. All laughing stopped and an oppressive silence hung over them for a long moment.
Stephanie was the first to speak. “It’s so good to see you, Delinda.”
“Yes,” the old woman said without a shred of warmth. “Why are we standing about? Sit.”
They all took their seats like obedient children, following her command so mechanically that Alisha and Spencer forgot to sit together. Delinda sat in an uncomfortable-looking formal chair and turned to the butler. “Michael, have the tea and sandwiches served in here. And quickly—my granddaughter looks as if she’s wasting away. You do feed your children, don’t you, Stephanie?”
The butler slipped out of the room.
Stephanie opened her mouth to say something, but closed it instead and merely smiled. Rachelle said, “I’m twenty-eight, Grandmother. I feed myself now.”
Delinda looked her over. “You’ll never find a husband if you don’t fill out.”
“I eat fine,” Rachelle answered, her tone lowering as her temper rose.
Alisha intervened quickly, “Your home is beautiful, Mrs. Westerly. The view of the ocean is absolutely stunning.”
Delinda’s attention snapped to her. “Thank you. You must be Alisha Coventry.” She looked her over from head to toe. “May I see your ring?”
Alisha stood, walked over, and held out her left hand. When the older woman’s perfectly manicured hand gripped hers, Alisha was suddenly aware of the fact that her nails were unpainted and hadn’t seen a professional in months. The half-carat diamond on her hand was far outshone by the mammoth stones in Delinda’s rings. “I wanted something simple,” Alisha said.
“Apparently,” Delinda answered and dropped her hand. “Spencer, my mother’s engagement ring or her mother’s would be much more suitable.” She waved a hand at Alisha as if dismissing her. “Of course, they would have to stay in the family if anything happened between the two of you. Do be smart enough to protect them for future generations.”
Spencer straightened in his chair. “Thank you, but the ring I bought Alisha is good enough.”
Delinda shook her head sadly. “Good enough? Spencer, when will you stop settling for the first thing that comes along?”
A rush of heat flooded Alisha as Delinda’s gaze fell on her again with clear meaning. Alisha almost told her what she thought of her, but caught Stephanie’s eyes and swallowed her anger. Today isn’t about me; it’s for them. I thought I was patient, but if Stephanie actually translates shit like that into kind words, she’s a saint.
The entrance of a woman rolling in a serving tray provided a temporary reprieve.
Between bites of her sandwich, Nicolette said, “Grandmother, happy belated birthday.”
Delinda’s chin rose. “A person doesn’t turn eighty every day. You could have celebrated it with me had your mother passed along my invitation to you.”
“She did—” Nicolette began, but Delinda waved a hand as if she didn’t believe her.
“No matter. You’re here now. Are you still trying to make a living as a photographer? In my day it was a profession, but now everyone has a camera in their phones and all they do is snap photos of themselves. What do you even do with all those pictures?”
“I publish them in online magazines. One shot is even on display at the Boston Museum of Fine Arts.”
“Everything is art nowadays, isn’t it? Well, good for you. I know most of the board of directors at the museum. It’s nice to see they’re taking care of my family.”
“It’s there because it won an award—”
“So Alisha and I are getting married next weekend,” Spencer interrupted. “Family will be invited of course, but we’re having a small ceremony.”
Alisha choked on a piece of bread. When Spencer had said something similar to Brett, it had sounded like a joke. This time he was serious.
Delinda’s attention once again riveted to Alisha. “Is there a reason for the rush?”
Her meaning wasn’t missed by Spencer, who flushed. “We simply don’t want to wait.”
After blinking a few times, Delinda rose to her feet. “Stephanie, would you mind walking with me to the library? I’d like to have a word with you.”
Stephanie rose to go with her. Her children were instantly at her side.
“Alone,” Delinda said with a tight smile.
“Of course.” Stephanie shot them a look that said stay. “We’ll be right back.”
Spencer stepped in her way. “Mom—”
Stephanie gave his arm a pat. “I’m fine. Why don’t you show Alisha the garden? In fact, why don’t you all go out into the sun for a moment? It’s a beautiful day.” She forced a smile, then followed Delinda out of the room.
In the absence of their grandmother, a laugh of relief started with Rachelle and was echoed by the rest. “We shouldn’t have let Mom come. Why doesn’t she just tell her off?”
“Why don’t we all?” Nicolette asked, then, turning to Alisha, said, “Are you okay?”
“Of course,” Alisha said and meant it. The old woman’s opinion of her didn’t matter, but she felt for the rest of them. “How did you all end up so nice?”
Spencer looked toward the door. “Because my mother was wise enough to remove us from this toxic world.”
Rachelle made a face. “And still you want to be rich.”
“It’s not about being wealthy. It’s about having a successful company,” Spencer protested. “Money doesn’t have to corrupt you.”
“It’s power that corrupts,” Nicolette interjected. “Isn’t that what they say? ‘Absolute power corrupts absolutely.’”
“You’d have to ask Brett,” Spencer said, then seemed to regret his slip.
Alisha shook her head with sadness. Even though she’d practically grown up in their home, she’d been insulated from this part of their lives. The more she entered into it, the more she felt sorry for them.
Abuse came in many forms; it didn’t need a bruise to leave damage. She still cringed when she heard a man raise his voice in anger. Her father’s fists never came first. No, the vitriol that came from his mouth preceded his physical rage. Sarcasm. Degradation. Then the bruises. She couldn’t let Stephanie face whatever Delinda was spewing any more than she could have stayed hidden when her own father had gone after her mother. “My hands are sticky. Do you mind if I find a place to wash them and meet you all in the garden? I can find my own way.”
“I could use the fresh air,” Spencer said.
“Me, too,” Rachelle said. “Come on, Nikki. Alisha, there’s a washroom off the main foyer to the left. Do you want me to go with you?”
“No. I’m good, really. I’ll see you outside in a few.”
Brett left his car in his grandmother’s driveway and strode toward the house. The front door opened as he approached it, and the butler welcomed him. “We weren’t expecting you, sir, but it’s a pleasure to see you.”
“Thank you, Michael. Is my mother here?”
“She’s in the library with your grandmother. Would you like me to announce you?”
“No, I’ll see myself in. Who else is here?”
“Your mother, Rachelle, Nicolette, and Spencer. Most are out in the garden.”
“Did Spencer bring his fiancée?”
“He did, sir. Seems like he chose well. When she smiles, it’s genuine, if you know what I mean.”
“I do. That’ll be all, Michael.”
“Of course, sir.” With that, he faded into the background as all staff there did. Grandmother ran a tight ship.
Brett heard his grandmother’s voice from the library and headed that way. As soon as he’d heard that Spencer was officially presenting Alisha, he decided to intervene. His younger siblings didn’t know how to deal with the matriarch of the family. She acted like a petulant child at times, testing the limits of what she could get away with, but she wasn’t nearly as strong as they believed her to be. All they needed to do was stand up to her. He’d meant to arrive before them and speak to his grandmother first, to ease the way for them, but a business call had delayed his departure from the office. He saw his mother leave the library, looking upset. His father’s words came back to him. “She deserved better.” He cursed himself for being late.
He had just changed direction to go after his mother, hoping to hell he knew what to say that would alleviate whatever his grandmother had said, when he saw Alisha slip into the library. He was at the door swiftly, but hung back, more than a little curious to see if his brother’s fiancée revealed a less savory side of herself.
“Mrs. Westerly,” Alisha said in much the same tone she’d used with him days earlier. “May I speak to you for a moment?”
“You look flushed. Is the house too warm for you? I’ll have Michael turn on the air.”
“I’m not too warm. I came in here because—”
“Yes?”
“I don’t like the way you speak to your family, and I’m hoping you don’t know how hurtful the things you say are.”
Brett let out a silent whistle of admiration. His grandmother’s cheeks reddened. He would have stepped forward, but Alisha was doing exactly what he’d hoped his siblings would one day do. If she actually married into the family, things would go smoother for her if she stood up for herself. He stayed, though, prepared to bring it to a stop if the conversation turned ugly.
“Who are you to have an opinion about anything? You should sit back and be grateful my grandson is marrying you at all,” his grandmother said.
Brett saw the steadying breath Alisha took. “See, that was cruel and unnecessary. But you’re wasting your time if you think you can intimidate me. I’m here because I love the people out there. They are the nicest, most giving souls probably ever born. They’re a lot nicer than I am, or you are, and they don’t deserve the way you treat them. Those are your grandchildren. You’re supposed to love them.”
“And I do.” His grandmother’s tone was haughty.
“You don’t seem to. Everything you say is a little dig. Can’t you celebrate anything they do?”
“If you celebrate mediocrity, you plateau at mediocre. I want better for them. My family didn’t get to where we are by cheering our children to second place.”
Alisha shook her head and expelled an audible breath. “Life isn’t a race you win or lose.”
“That’s exactly what people say who’ve never come in first.”
Scenes from Brett’s life flashed through his mind as he connected his grandmother’s philosophy to his father’s. And his own. Nothing but the best was of any value. It was a core belief he’d always held without realizing it, and now he saw its source. He thought about how he’d spoken to Spencer, how he often spoke to his siblings, and didn’t like how much of what he said sounded scripted. How did I never see it? He stepped forward to end the conversation he didn’t want to hear more of, but stopped when Alisha began to speak again.
“If you truly believe that, I feel sorry for you and for them, because you will never know how amazing your family is. They are second to none. Rachelle is shaping future generations one class at a time. Nicolette is capturing real moments that touch the people who see them through her lens. Spencer is brilliant, and he’ll succeed at whatever he does. And Stephanie provided them the confidence to be whoever they wanted to be. They love her. I love her. I hope you were kind to her just now, because if you weren’t, then you may very well lose your grandchildren over it.”
“You don’t need to tell me how wonderful my grandchildren are. I’m proud of each and every one of them.”
“Don’t tell me,” Alisha said in a softer tone. “Tell them.”
She turned and her eyes widened as she saw Brett standing in the doorway. He almost said he was proud of her, that she’d found a way to put into words what he was only just discovering himself. He opened his mouth to speak, but she rushed by him without meeting his eyes. He would have followed her, but it wasn’t his place to applaud or console her. Instead, he’d handle the other end of the issue.
“Brett.” His grandmother’s happiness at seeing him lit her face. She shook her head as if to erase the last few moments. “Leave it to Spencer to want to marry a woman like that.”
Brett closed the distance between them and took the hand she held out to him. His love for her didn’t stop him, however, from saying, “I agreed with everything she said. I saw my mother leaving you. She looked upset. What did you say to her?”
His grandmother dropped his hand and fanned her face. “You know how sensitive she is.”
“What did you say?”
Just as he knew she would, his grandmother softened beneath pressure. “I told her that my goal is to bring everyone back together, and to do that I’m willing to forget what she did to my son.”
Brett pinched the bridge of his nose. “I’m sure that went well.”
With a loud sigh, his grandmother said, “Don’t blame me. This is Alessandro Andrade’s fault. He suggested I speak to her.”
“I’m sure that’s not what he suggested you say.”
His grandmother’s eyes narrowed like a child being told something she had no argument against. “Do you know how many of my grandchildren came to my eightieth birthday celebration? Not one of them. Alessandro was here with all the Andrades. He said if I forgave Stephanie, things would change. He was wrong. She wants nothing to do with me.” She sighed and took Brett’s hand in hers again. “How can you and I get along so well, but everything I say to my other grandchildren is taken as an attack?”
Brett and his grandmother had always been blunt with each other. In a dry tone he said, “They’re nicer than we are. They say supportive things to each other. Leave each other feeling good about themselves.”
She laughed. “You make me sound horrible.”
Giving his grandmother’s hand a gentle squeeze, he said, “I’m beginning to think we are.”
“Well, at least you include yourself. I asked my mother once why she picked apart everything I did. She told me the greatest gift a parent could give a child was to have high expectations for them. Children these days stop pooping their pants and they think they deserve a gold medal. That’s not reality. I only push the ones I love.”
I agree and have done the same, but where has it brought our family? “I understand that, Grandmother, but if something doesn’t change, you may end up dying alone.”
His grandmother gasped. “You’re awful.”
He smiled. “I get it from you.”
A reluctant smile stretched her lips. “You do, I’m afraid.”
“Is there hope for either one of us?” he joked, more serious than not.
Still holding his hand, his grandmother said, “Oliver always knew just what to say to make people feel better. I see him in you.”
“Me?” Brett asked, not too sure he appreciated the comparison. Especially now that I know how my grandfather died.
“And your father. Dereck worshipped his father. He was so much like him when he was younger. Always laughing. Seeing the bright side of everything. Your mother’s betrayal made Dereck so unhappy he lost himself, and he’s never found his way back.” Delinda had never believed her son had cheated on his wife. Dereck’s protests that the dissolution of his marriage had been his fault had fueled Delinda’s distrust of Stephanie.
As Brett listened, he understood his father’s decision to keep his grandfather’s dark secrets to himself. There would have been no benefit to destroying his grandmother’s version of her husband. “We need to talk about the letter you sent everyone. You realize Spencer took it to heart.”
“Good. Alessandro says his family was healed when his nephews and nieces found love. He thinks the same could happen with us.”
Brett put an arm around a woman who needed him more than he’d ever realized. “That’s what the marriage clause is about? How many glasses of wine in was Alessandro when he gave you this advice?”
She rolled her eyes. “It worked for them. I’m giving it a try.” She waved a finger at him. “Who knows, even you might finally settle down. Then maybe you’ll come around more.”
He smiled at her gently. “I don’t need your money.” He guided her toward the door. “But I will try to get here more often. At eighty, you’re already living on borrowed time.”
His grandmother swatted at him and laughed. “I intend to live to one hundred.”
“Good,” he said. “Now, we’re going to find everyone else, and you will be nice. Keep all of your helpful advice to yourself. Say things like, ‘That’s great’ and—”
“Bravo,” his grandmother said with forced enthusiasm.
“We’ll work on your delivery,” Brett said as they entered the foyer.
Michael met them. “Pardon the interruption, but it seems that there was an emergency somewhere that required everyone to leave.”
“They’re gone?” Delinda asked and slumped against Brett.
“Yes,” Michael answered simply.
“Thank you, Michael,” Brett said.
“Will you be staying for lunch?” Michael asked.
Normally, Brett would have declined, but the more he learned about his grandmother, the more he felt sorry for her. She was living by a stern philosophy her parents had passed down to her, and there she was, after a life of being doted on, alone and confused as to how it happened.
No different than his father.
No different than me.
“Would you like me to, Grandmother?”
A smile returned to her face. “I would. I would like it very much.”
A short time later, Brett bit into a lobster salad sandwich and encouraged his grandmother to tell him another story of what life had been like before his grandfather had died. The way she glowed as she spoke of that time made him smile, but he was also sad for how it had all turned out.
He wished he’d met his grandfather.
Would he be the weak man Father described or the loving paragon Grandmother remembers?
Could a man be both?