Chapter Thirteen
“Crazy day, huh?” Peter stroked my hair.
I pulled the sheet around us and sighed against his bare chest. “What did we agree to?” The better question was how did I get talked into it? The man who I shared my bed with and his father were the main culprits. Two good men full of unrealistic ideals and a desire to keep their family together.
“I told you once you started picking out plants you would be throwing house parties.”
I groaned at the lunacy of it all. “Don’t expect edible cookies anytime soon.” Except Sam had specifically marked a recipe in her new cookbook for me. It was one of Peter’s favorite breakfasts, blueberry bake. Sam promised me it was Delanie-proof. I meant to prove her wrong someday and burn down my house while attempting it. Maybe I should do that tomorrow, then we couldn’t have Sam’s and Reed’s reception here.
Peter laughed while continuing to stroke my hair. “I think Dad’s right; this is a good thing.”
I lifted my head to meet his eyes, which I could barely make out in the dark. “You really think so?”
He nodded. “Don’t you?”
I thought for a moment. “I can’t shake the feeling that . . .”
Peter brushed my hair back. “That what?”
“Something doesn’t feel right about it. I’m sorry, I’m just having a hard time believing that all of a sudden your mom wants to be my friend.”
Even in the dark I could see the warmth emanating from his eyes. No judgment or disappointment.
“I understand that, but I think Sam eloping has shaken her up.”
“Maybe.”
“Delanie, thank you.”
“For what?”
“For allowing the small glimmer of hope a chance to grow.”
I wasn’t sure how hopeful I was, but I didn’t want to dash Peter’s hope. My head fell back on his chest. “The timing of this could have been better. I have to get those chapters to Chad this week.”
“Dad said he would come and oversee the backyard, so you shouldn’t have to worry about that. The house should be pretty quiet until Friday.” Peter wanted to take care of our backyard, but he needed to help James this week with their biggest client, the town of Clearfield.
“I won’t be able to work in my office.”
“That’s probably a good idea. You can work in bed like you used to.”
It was my favorite spot, but it wasn’t all that great for my neck and back. My new setup was much more ergonomic. “Don’t say that out loud or your mom will start telling everyone I make all my money in bed.”
He chuckled. “Not many people can say they’ve made millions from bed.” He got me to laugh.
“True. Maybe someday I’ll write a book titled, How to Make Millions on Your Serta Mattress.”
“Sounds like a best seller. Speaking of which, I checked the New York Times today.”
I froze. “You’re not supposed to.”
“So, you don’t want to know?”
I thought about it for all of two seconds. “Tell me.” I squeezed my eyes shut.
He hugged me tight. “Congratulations, baby. Number one.”
For some reason I felt guilty for being happy about it or relieved that it was doing as well as my previous books. It made me feel like I wasn’t an impostor. Was it ridiculous I felt almost ashamed that I was successful and liked it? I kissed Peter’s chest. “Thank you.”
“I’m proud of you.”
“You give me my best material.”
“I do enjoy that, but that’s not the only reason I’m proud of you. You quietly do so much good, including putting up with my crazy family.”
“I like most of them. I’m even looking forward to meeting Mimsy’s lover,” I teased.
“Do you think she’ll bring him to the reception?” He sounded alarmed.
“I forgot to tell you—when you went out to talk to James, she called him. They have a hot date for Saturday night, but your parents will have to drive them. Giovanni had his licensed revoked in 2002 for drag racing, so he says.”
Peter groaned.
“How’s James?” Sam and I had both noticed Avery’s reaction and we tried to get her to talk, but she played it off.
“He’s troubled.”
“About what?”
“He wouldn’t say. Told me to mind my own business.”
Ouch. That was harsh. “I’m sorry.”
“That’s James for you. We ended up tossing around a football, talking about the Cubs’ chances for going to the World Series this year.”
I didn’t know much about baseball, but from all the yelling they did during the games, I was going to assume their chances were low this year. “Do you think they are having a rough patch in their marriage?”
Peter thought for a moment. “I don’t think so. Avery’s his world. She has been from day one.”
“Hopefully whatever it is will get better soon.” I yawned, exhausted from the day.
Peter kissed the top of my head. “Sleep well. We have a big week ahead of us.”
I had a feeling big wasn’t going to be an adequate adjective.
~*~
Monday started out good with congratulatory emails from Chad, Joan, and Fiona. Chad’s email wasn’t entirely friendly, more like snarky on steroids.
You don’t want to see me become a thirstbucket. That isn’t going to be pretty for anyone, especially for you when I crash your love nest and make good on my earlier threat of babysitting your butt all day long. So get me those chapters. By the way, congratulations. You make me proud. Love you.
The love really oozed off the screen there. It was a good thing I had learned to speak New Yorker and knew that thirstbucket meant desperate or I would have been wasting more time looking up New York slang words like I had had to a few years ago. Sometimes I honestly felt like I lived in a different country than my New York friends.
I took a deep breath, flexed my fingers, ready to start shaking things up with the appearance of Mr. Black’s mistress, who felt that discretion had gone out the window with his passing. With her would come the unraveling of the secrets Laine desperately wanted to protect Hunter from. I had barely gotten a few lines in when our doorbell rang. I wasn’t expecting Joseph until 9:00 a.m. and it was 8:30. I climbed out of my bed, my office for the week, and hurried downstairs.
Joseph beamed brightly at my door. “Sorry, I’m early.” He held up a bakery bag and a drink carrier with two steaming, lidded cups. “I thought we could have breakfast together. Peter mentioned you loved kolaches.”
What was there not to love about puffy warm bread filled with fruit? I smiled at Joseph. He wore a look reminiscent of a teen boy who on a hope and a dare knocked on the girl of his dream’s door. It was very sweet. Any annoyance I had from being interrupted evaporated.
I hardly knew how to respond. I wanted to tell him how touched I was and that I’d dreamt of a moment like this with a father. All I managed to get out was, “Thank you. I do love kolaches.”
Joseph didn’t seem to care or notice my greeting wasn’t as heartfelt as I wished it to be. He came right in and I led him to our couch. We hadn’t invested in a table yet. We should at least get some stools to go around the island. Sarah had not so subtlety suggested that, which made me not want to do it, but perhaps she had a point. Peter and I would probably still eat on the couch, at least until we had . . . Were we ever going to have a baby? Maybe the universe was punishing me for . . . her.
I shook myself out of my thoughts and sat next to Joseph, who handed me a warm cup. “You like green tea, right?” He’d obviously talked to my husband.
“It’s my favorite. Thank you.” The warmth from the cup had nothing on how I felt toward Joseph at this moment. “I hope you didn’t have to go out of your way for all this.”
The twinkle in his eyes said he did, but his curled lips said he wasn’t going to own it. “It’s been a while since I’ve had a good kolache.” That was a nice way to spin it.
“I’ve never had a bad one.” I grinned.
Joseph laughed while handing me my favorite—raspberry filled. Peter was definitely behind this.
We silently indulged in bliss for a moment. No need to talk when you could eat a kolache. That could be the motto of the bakery.
“How’s work?” Joseph attempted small talk. I liked it. It was a good place to begin.
I tossed my head from side to side. “Busy. Lots of deadlines, but I can’t complain.”
“You write for some internet company, right?”
I nodded, thankful that was true. Well, it wasn’t really an internet company, but I knew what he meant. Besides, less specifics were better for me. “I’m working on a piece now about human trafficking in the U.S.”
It was another thing I was behind on. I made a mental note to ask Fiona if she could get me an interview with a group out of Utah that was waging a war on child trafficking. I’d run across them in the minimal research I’d been able to do.
Joseph’s eyes widened. It wasn’t normal small talk, or even pleasant. “Is that a big problem?”
“Unfortunately, and you would be surprised how much of it happens in our own backyards.”
Joseph swallowed hard. “That’s got to be tough to write about.”
“It’s frightening, but it’s the only way to bring it to light so we can hopefully end it.”
He tilted his head and studied me as if he were taking inventory, maybe reevaluating. “You sound like you wouldn’t mind leading that charge.”
“I hate to see any child suffer. I try to do what I can, where I can, but it seems so insignificant.”
Joseph took a swig of his coffee and downed his kolache in two bites. “You’re a good woman.”
“I try to be. But I have a lot to work on.”
“Don’t we all?”
“The exception could be Peter.”
Joseph laughed a booming laugh. “I hope you haven’t placed my son on a pedestal, because believe me, in marriage it isn’t pretty when the pedestal crumbles. And it will. Peter has his faults like everyone else.”
“Well, he doesn’t like sushi.”
Joseph’s laughter continued to fill my family room. “Can’t say I blame him there.” He turned more thoughtful and rested his large hand on my bare knee. Today was one of those rare days I wore shorts instead of a skirt. “Delanie, can I give you some advice?”
I nodded.
“Don’t do Peter or yourself the disservice of believing he is better than you.”
My eyebrows shot up.
Joseph gave a knowing smile. “I’ve noticed the way you look at my son. The way you both look at each other with those blinding stars in your eyes. I’m grateful he’s found someone who loves him as much as you do, but don’t forget he’s a man. Speaking from experience, we tend to do and say stupid things from time to time. And sometimes the better we are, the bigger our mistakes tend to be.”
I leaned back against the cushions of the couch, letting that ominous piece of advice bounce around in my head. There was some truth there. I could even see it in my imaginary friends I’d been writing for the last few years. But it was hard to imagine Peter doing more than leaving the toilet seat up or forgetting my birthday, which I wasn’t all that sentimental about anyway.
Joseph patted my knee. “I didn’t mean to worry you. Peter is a good man. I know. I raised him, and sometimes I thought he was abnormally good. Kind of wish Reed got him into more trouble on occasion. But from what I’ve observed, you’re good for him. And if you don’t mind me saying, I hope you both get into a little trouble together. Every relationship needs its ups and downs.” He stood up and stretched his back. “Now it’s time for this old man to get to work.”
I stood up too, still trying to process our conversation. “Thank you for breakfast.”
“It was my pleasure. Thank you for being willing to invite some trouble into your life this week.” He gave me a wink.
“Yeah,” I sighed.
“Sometimes the only way to fix things is to shake all the pieces together and see what new configuration you get out of it. If that doesn’t work, you keep trying until you get the right one.”
“Sounds painful.”
“Yes. Always.”