Chapter Eight
“I hope I’m not calling too early.”
I looked at the clock on my computer—7:00 a.m. I had been awake for over two hours. My imaginary friends had decided it was time to play. Peter had been gone for an hour already. He and James had to finish the Finley job today. I rubbed my tired eyes. “You can call anytime.”
“I might take you up on that someday,” Sam said.
“I hope you do.”
“You’re sweet. I’m calling to apologize.”
“For what?”
“I hope you understand the reason why we didn’t tell anyone about getting married wasn’t because we didn’t want you there, but—”
“Sam,” I interrupted, “you don’t need to explain yourself or apologize. Believe me, I’ve been there. There is something to be said for it only being the two of you and Cody.”
She sighed happily. “It was perfect.”
I thought the same thing when Peter and I eloped. “I’m happy for you all.”
“Thank you,” she sounded relieved. “It happened so fast. One moment we were joking about it, and the next, we’re heading down I-55 to a map dot of a town with the cutest courthouse where no one knew who we were. And it’s been kind of nice keeping it to ourselves while we adjust to our new roles.”
“What does Cody think?”
“In light of his father’s asinine decisions, I think it’s been a nice distraction. Reed is the dad I always wanted for him. So much so, I’ve teased Reed that he only wanted to marry me for Cody.”
“I highly doubt that by the smile that’s been on his face for the last few weeks.”
“You noticed.”
“I told Peter that NDA had been signed, sealed, and given a big stamp of approval.”
Sam laughed. “You are observant.”
“It wasn’t hard to tell. Your brothers are just pretending you’re an eternal virgin.”
“That would be my mother’s wish.” She paused. “That was the other reason I was calling. I’m so sorry about the way Ma treated you last night.”
I shrugged to myself. “It was to be expected.”
“No one should expect that. And you certainly don’t deserve it, even if you are keeping naked photos of yourself locked in your attic,” she teased.
We both laughed.
“By the way, thanks to you, my husband—” she took a moment, “that’s still so weird for me to say—is begging me to get some boudoir photos done now. He’s going to call Peter this morning to ask him where.”
My poor husband. “That should go over well.”
“Reed only wants to give him a hard time; he knows you weren’t serious.”
“It wasn’t my finest moment.”
“Are you kidding? It was brilliant. Reed and I had a good laugh over it.”
“I’m glad someone did. Thank you for your heroics last night.”
She playfully scoffed. “Well, I’m not sure I saved anyone’s day. I probably did more damage than good. But we’d been waiting for the right moment to disappoint Ma, and—”
“You didn’t think anything could be worse than her son posing for nudes?”
She half snorted, half laughed. “Something like that. Unfortunately, I didn’t account for how disappointed Dad would be.”
“I’m sure he understands.”
“Be that as it may, I won’t soon forget the moisture in his eyes or when he whispered, ‘I was looking forward to walking you down the aisle again.’”
Ouch. I felt that in my gut. “Oh.”
“‘Oh’ is right. And I feel bad that I’m sure he had to put up with Ma ranting to him all night long.”
I had no doubt that had happened.
“She’s already left me a dozen messages this morning,” Sam lamented, “but I haven’t been brave enough to listen to them yet.”
At least my mother-in-law never called me. I wasn’t even sure if she had my number. “I don’t envy you.”
“I truly am sorry about Ma. She holds tightly to her ideals, as if they are the only ones that exist. It’s not you. It was her expectations for Peter.”
I was confident it was me but didn’t voice it. “I don’t think anyone expected me, especially Peter.”
“For him, I think you exceeded his expectations. He found his real calling with you.”
Sam always knew what to say. She had this mothering quality to her that I wished to have and needed more than she knew. She reminded me of another mother who appeared years ago when I needed her; unfortunately, it wasn’t Cat. It certainly was never going to be Sarah. And I wondered if I would ever respond to Sam’s mothering the way I wanted to. It meant the world to me, but as much as I craved it I didn’t know how to take it, internalize it, and return it without awkwardness.
“I think at this rate he’ll be calling for a refund.” See? No thanks or warmth.
“Never.”
I hoped that was true. “The real question is are you accepting Weekend Musings’s offer?” Deflection at its best.
She took a deep breath in and let it out slowly. “Yeah. I think I am. Is that crazy?”
“I think it’s terrific.”
“I’m going to need your help.”
“I don’t think so, but regardless, I’m here for you.”
“You always have such great tips. Did you take a class in college or something? I need one.”
I swallowed down all the lies I could tell and thought carefully about how I could tell the truth. “I did take several journalism classes in college.” It was my first love, but it also got me into some trouble; no need to bring that up. “And my work runs workshops on how to ask good questions to net the best answers.”
That was all true. I had even attended some via Skype, but where my real knowledge came from were all the endless interviews I had done through my assistant. Obviously, I only answered questions that wouldn’t reveal anything about me personally. Autumn Moone, on the other hand, was highly sought after and several news outlets wanted the scoop on her and Hunter Black. The less we gave them, the more they wanted. Just another strategy of my publisher.
For Sam, it was the opposite—the more she gave people access to her thoughts, the more they demanded. She struck a chord with women, whether married, sidelined, or single. We could all relate to trying to figure ourselves out, being looked over at times, or even looked at in the wrong light. Didn’t we all feel like we didn’t belong in some way? Sam had a talent for making women feel like they weren’t alone.
“I need some of those workshops.”
“You’re going to be great. You’re a natural. Just keep it real.”
“If I was going to keep it real, I would show up PMSing in yoga pants without my roots done.”
“It’s not a bad idea.” I laughed.
“It would probably make for a short-lived TV career.”
“I don’t know. I think it might work, actually.”
“I’ll keep it in mind. I better go. My guys are headed off for practice.” She sounded so happy saying that.
“Congratulations again.”
“Thank you.” There was such heart behind her words. I wanted to be like her when I grew up.
Back to work for me. I turned to my screen. An evil mother moment was on tap. Unfortunately, I had some raw material from the previous night to work with. Laine too was getting a visit from her least favorite person, making her question whether she really wanted a relationship with Hunter or not. In her heart she knew the answer. Like me, I would have married Peter even if I’d met his mother first, though it would have better prepared me. And I would have suggested another place to live. At the time it made sense to move here because he had employment right away with his dad, and Peter longed to be with his family.
I loved Laine’s spirit. I could see myself using this line in the future. How your ovaries ever produced such an amazing person, I will never know.
How many times had I thought that about Sam, Peter, and on occasion, James. Joseph’s gene pool must be strong. Thank goodness.
In an odd turn of events, my phone vibrated, and Joseph’s name flashed on my screen. I wasn’t sure he had ever called me. The only reason I had his number was because Peter insisted I program it into my phone for emergency purposes. It was sweet on my husband’s part, but I’d lived in some mean parts of Phoenix, as he well knew, and there wasn’t a street in downtown Portland I hadn’t walked. If I had to be tough, I could be. I’d taken down a two-hundred-fifty-pound police officer in a self-defense class back in college. But I appreciated the chivalry Peter exuded on my behalf.
My heart did a hiccup before answering. Maybe Peter was having an emergency. Why else would Joseph call me? I answered in heart-pounding haste. “Hello.”
Joseph cleared his throat. That wasn’t good. Characters in my novels only cleared their throats when something unpleasant was about to roll off their tongues.
I curled my bare legs under me, waiting for the worst, but then thought I should probably be running to get dressed out of Peter’s T-shirt. Showing up half-naked at an accident or hospital would only make the situation worse. This was the way of a writer’s brain.
“Delanie, how are you this morning?”
He wouldn’t ask me that before wrecking my life, right?
“I’m . . . good.” Please let it stay that way.
“Good. Good. Good.”
His nervousness, as well as the dead air that occurred after the brief exchange, was making me nervous.
“How are you?” I thought I should ask.
“Good.”
I should have guessed his response. If this conversation was being typed out, my editor would have redlined the repetitious use of the word good.
It was a shame all our conversations had to be so strained. I didn’t know how to have real conversations with my own father. Ron was good at one-sided conversations, and only called once a quarter when an alarm went off in his phone reminding him to call me. It was sad but true. At least Joseph had asked how I was. Ron would have plowed right into all his magnificent accomplishments or a travel log of a recent trip he and Cat had been on. Our last call consisted of a recap of Venice. It sounded like a lovely place to visit.
Joseph cleared his throat again. This time it didn’t make me plan out Peter’s funeral in my head. That was good, because that scenario mainly consisted of me fighting with his mother after telling her that I was putting World’s Best Lover on his headstone. But that was only after she tried to hijack the arrangements. I was just going to die first. It would be easier that way.
“I had a brief look at your backyard last night and I have some ideas. I was wondering . . . I mean, I was hoping you could come to the office today and we could go next door to the nursery to pick out some plants and trees.”
My feet dropped back to the floor. This was most unexpected. Was Sarah there waiting? A nursery was a good place to bury a body. Not like I had thought about it. But I made a note just in case—you know, for my book.
I was at a loss for words. “Uh . . .”
“Are you busy?”
My editor, Chad, was saying, Del,—everyone in New York called me that—don’t make me get my butt on a plane to come babysit you. You owed me ten chapters yesterday. You may be the darling of the literary world and of my own world, but don’t think I won’t slap you upside the head. Love you.
I was still working on chapter five. You couldn’t and shouldn’t rush creativity. Besides, I had recently moved. Not to mention I had a crazy mother-in-law. And I wasn’t getting pregnant and trying not to think about it. I had more good excuses lined up if needed. Believe me, they would be. I expected a call or an email from Chad any second.
“I would enjoy your company,” Joseph added while I bargained with Chad in my head.
Would he really? “What time should I be there?”
“Would nine work?
“Yes . . .”
“Are you sure?”
“Yes,” I repeated firmly, but I wasn’t as sure as I sounded. This was a new one for me.
“Great. See you then.”
I ended the call and immediately texted Peter. Did you ask your dad to invite me to the nursery this morning? I got up and left Laine waiting for a response from her formidable opponent, Mrs. Black. Neither were happy with me. Mrs. Black was anxious to put Laine in her place and Laine was past caring what she thought and ready to fight back. They had been battling in my head for hours now, but they would have to wait. I had my own war to wage and I needed all the allies I could get. Not that Joseph would choose me over Sarah—I would never expect that—but maybe if we could take our “relationship” out in the open, Sarah might back off some. Maybe? Probably not, but one thing Peter had taught me is that there was hope in this world.
While I was brushing my teeth, Peter texted back. I didn’t. Are you going?
I spit in the sink and rinsed it out before responding. I’m meeting him at nine. Are you sure you didn’t put him up to this?
I promise. His promises were always sure.
In that case, what should I do? I’m not exactly the right person to be picking out foliage that if left in my incapable black thumbs would die a cruel and unusual death. You’ve seen what I’ve done to food.
You’re hilarious and gorgeous.
Thank you, but you’re not helping.
My phone vibrated.
I put my husband on speaker while I threw my hair up. “Hello.”
“Are you getting domesticated on me?”
“I don’t think that’s possible.”
“I don’t know, once you start picking plants it’s all downhill from there. Before you know it, you’ll be throwing dinner parties and baking edible cookies.”
“Excuse me.” I smiled to myself. “You’re not funny.”
“I know you’re smiling and thinking about the time you mistook corn starch for flour.”
“See what you know, I was thinking about the time I tried to make caramel popcorn and the caramel turned out more like molten lava and I forgot to take the plastic wrapper off the microwave popcorn package before nuking it.”
Peter’s gut splitting laughter rang loud and clear. “That was epic. We needed a new pot and microwave anyway.”
“I think it’s safe to say I won’t be turning into the domestic goddesses my sisters-in-law are. Now, please help me.”
“First of all, you can do anything you set your mind to. And second, you’ve got this. You know what looks good together. It’s no different than giving input on a cover design or website. My dad can guide you on what grows best in our area and what plants do well in the shade or sun.”
“Are you sure you don’t want to come? This is our home.”
“Baby, you make it home for me. That’s all I care about.”
I paused doing my hair. I never thought I would enjoy a sappy man, but his sincerity got to me. “I love you, Peter Decker.”
“I know. Enjoy your time with my dad. And maybe go easy on the black flowers.”
“Is that a thing?” I admired my favorite black nail polish on my fingernails.
He chuckled. “Have my dad show you the black pansies and black dahlias.”
“I will.” Now I was a little excited about this excursion.
“I need to get back to work.”
“I’ll see you later, and FYI, if Reed calls, don’t answer.”
“Why?”
“Take my word for it and thank me later.”
“Will do. Love you.”
I took a deep breath and got ready to do something I never thought I would do. I wasn’t talking about buying plants, though that was shocking too.