Chapter Twenty-Seven
THE BREWSTER INN was a modest, pleasant-looking inn, located on the corner of a residential and commercial street in the heart of Brewster. Wednesday afternoon, Blue walked through the white picket fence, and he followed a slate path through beautiful gardens toward the front door of the inn. He had no doubt that Lizzie had had her experienced hands on the pretty plantings. He sensed her creative style in the varying heights and variety of flowers and shrubs. Thinking of Lizzie renewed his determination to set things right between her and her father. He’d never met the man, but all night he’d thought about what Lizzie had been handling alone for so long. It was time she got the support she deserved, and if there was a shred of a chance that talking to her father would help, then he’d make the effort.
He knocked on the door, thinking about how this probably wasn’t the best way to get to know his girlfriend’s parents, but so be it. He wasn’t about to watch her suffer for one more second. She wasn’t alone in this endeavor, no matter how her father decided to handle the situation, and he wanted her to know that every step of the way—though Lizzie had no idea he was making this visit.
A slim woman who couldn’t have been more than five feet tall, with silky dark hair and the same upturned lips as Lizzie, answered the door. She smiled, and deep dimples appeared in her cheeks.
“Hello,” she said with a curious look in her hazel eyes.
Blue saw Lizzie in twenty years in the woman’s face, heard the same sweet tone in her voice, and his chest tightened knowing that Lizzie’s mother was pitted between her daughter and her husband.
“Hi, Mrs. Barber?”
“Yes.”
“I’m Blue Ryder, Lizzie’s boyfriend. I was wondering if I could have a moment of your time. Actually, I was hoping to speak with both you and your husband.”
“Lizzie’s boyfriend?” Her smile widened as she stepped toward the porch and lowered her voice. “I’m sorry, I didn’t know she had a boyfriend.”
It didn’t surprise Blue that Lizzie hadn’t mentioned their relationship, given what was going on between her and her father and her parents’ conservative nature. But that didn’t mean the omission didn’t sting. That fueled a different type of fire in Blue, who came from a more open and accepting family. He wished that no matter what was going on in her life, she had the support of her family, the way he always had.
“That’s not surprising,” he admitted. “You can call her if you’d like. I’ll be happy to wait here.”
Her eyes traveled over his face for a moment, as if she was deciding if he was trustworthy. She smiled and stepped back, indicating for him to come inside. “That’s not necessary.”
She led him into a parlor that reminded Blue of his grandmother’s house. An Oriental rug covered dark hardwood floors, and the furniture looked as if it had been there for thirty years, though it was not frayed or marred in any way, simply dated. The sofa was covered with a burgundy and cream striped fabric, and the cranberry-colored wing chairs were patterned with diamonds. An antique china cabinet stood in the corner of the room, and an old-fashioned wooden desk sat between two large windows on the far wall.
“I’ll go get my husband. Please excuse me for a moment.” Mrs. Barber walked down the hall, and he heard her ascending the wooden stairs he’d seen from the foyer.
Blue noted the literature on the coffee table, Inns of Cape Cod and Gardens of New England. He tried to imagine Lizzie growing up in this house and what it might have been like for her. His house had always been loud and busy, a stark contrast to the silence of the inn. Then again, there weren’t six children running around the inn. His parents’ home tended to be quieter now, too, although their house still vibrated with the energy of the rambunctious Ryder family even when they weren’t all there.
He turned at the sound of heavy footsteps approaching. At six three, Blue had about an inch on Lizzie’s father. Wearing a blue and white striped button-down and tie, with cropped brown hair that was graying around the temples, Mr. Barber looked more like a city businessman than a man who ran a cozy inn. Nonetheless, the middle-aged man had a commanding presence, with perfect posture, wide, square shoulders, a thick barrel chest, and dark eyes.
“I’m Vernon Barber. My wife tells me that you’re Lizzie’s boyfriend?” He lifted his chin and looked down his nose at Blue. The vee between his brows was so deeply set, Blue thought it might be ever present and not simply caused by his surprise visit. His stern lines contrasted with his wife’s softer presence in her jeans and a pretty knit top.
“Yes, sir. Blue Ryder. It’s a pleasure to meet you, and thank you for taking the time to speak with me.” Blue shook his hand, not at all surprised by the firmness of the man’s grip.
Vernon motioned toward a chair. “Please, have a seat.”
“Can I get you something to drink?” his wife asked.
“No, thank you, Mrs. Barber. This will only take a few minutes.” Blue sat in a wing chair as they settled into the sofa across from him.
“Margaret and Vernon, please,” she said with a kind smile.
Blue’s eyes caught on the bookshelves behind the sofa, and he realized that he hadn’t seen a single family photo. His family had photos on nearly every wall. He reminded himself this was their place of business as well as their residence, which gave him a mild sense of understanding even though his father and siblings had plenty of family photos even at their offices.
“How is my daughter?” Vernon crossed one ankle over his knee and leaned back with his hands folded neatly in his lap.
His use of my daughter rubbed Blue the wrong way. It felt like he was distancing himself from her.
“Lizzie is doing well, despite the issues between the two of you.” Blue paused, waiting for a reaction, knowing he was plowing in like a bulldozer, but he had a feeling that was what this man needed. “She’s one of the strongest women I know.”
Margaret smiled and sat up a little straighter. Vernon’s facial expression remained unchanged as he nodded in acknowledgment.
“Lizzie has always been very strong-willed,” Margaret said.
Maybe that shouldn’t bother him, but it did. Strong-willed was different from strong. He was beginning to understand what Lizzie had grown up with and what she was currently up against, and it only endeared her toward him more. She was even stronger than he’d imagined.
“I realize that you don’t know me, and maybe it’s not my place to speak for Lizzie, but I am in love with her, and I’m hoping we can find a way to bridge the gap that’s come between you.” Blue hadn’t planned on going there with this conversation. He’d planned on simply trying to make peace with her father and to get him to understand what a generous person and skilled businesswoman his daughter was, and that she didn’t deserve to be dismissed by him. But Blue didn’t work that way. He’d always been led by his heart, and this was no different.
“Blue, I don’t think this is a conversation I want to have with you.” Vernon rose to his feet and looked down at his wife, who pressed her lips together and remained seated. “Margaret?”
“I want to hear what he has to say,” she said as she reached for his hand. “And I wish you would, too.”
Vernon crossed his arms over his chest as Blue rose to his feet and met the formidable man eye to eye.
“Thank you, Margaret,” Blue said gently before turning his full attention to Vernon. “Sir, I don’t have a daughter and can’t claim to know what it would feel like to know that my daughter hosted a show like the one Lizzie does.” He felt the need to say the name of the show, to show her father that he wasn’t bothered or embarrassed by it. “But my girlfriend, your daughter, a woman whom I adore, a woman whom I never imagined would do something like this, is in fact the Naked Baker.”
“And you apparently have no issues with that.” Vernon’s voice was dead calm and clearly meant to be intimidating. “You’re probably one of those guys who watches that show, along with a dozen of other pornographic shows on the Internet.”
Blue’s eyes never wavered from his. “I see your ability to misjudge is not restricted to family members.” He wasn’t about to defend himself to this man. He had tunnel vision—clear the way for a reconciliation for Lizzie—and it was obviously going to be an uphill battle. But Blue wasn’t one to give up. He had to believe that if Margaret had stayed with this man all these years, he must have some redeeming qualities as a father and as a husband, and Blue hoped to unearth at least some of them.
When her father didn’t react to his comment, Blue continued speaking. “I wonder, Vernon, are you aware of what your daughter does besides this webcast?”
“She’s a florist,” he said with an air of boredom.
“And?” Blue cocked a brow at his brief, cold answer. He could tell by the way Margaret was fidgeting in the same fashion Lizzie did when she was nervous that she was biting back a response. Or maybe suppressing the desire to nudge her husband into saying more.
“Let me share with you what I’ve learned about Lizzie,” Blue said proudly. “Did you know that after working a ten-to-twelve-hour day at the flower shop—the flower shop that she managed to open and run successfully on her own—she takes flowers to the cemetery and leaves them on the headstones of people whose graves go untended?” He noted the quizzical look in her father’s eyes and softened his tone. “Sometimes she takes them to the assisted-living facility, or the firehouse, or the police station. She’s also been known to hand flowers out to strangers as they pass by the shop after hours.”
Blue shifted his eyes to her mother. “And did you know that the things she bakes for her show go to the homeless shelter? That’s right, at six thirty in the morning, with a full day ahead of her, she takes it upon herself to deliver the freshly baked goods to those who need them.”
“I didn’t know that,” her mother said wistfully.
When her father still didn’t respond, Blue said, “And the show she’s created? She works on that late at night most days, after she’s gone to the homeless shelter, worked a long day at her flower shop, and delivered flowers to whomever she thinks needs them the most.” In an instant, Blue decided not to try to explain to Lizzie’s parents how successful her webcast had become or that she was in talks with a major network to sell the rights. He didn’t get the sense that her success made a difference one way or another, and who Lizzie was had nothing to do with her success. If her father couldn’t see how caring, how selfless, and how incredibly generous his daughter was, it was his loss.
To his surprise, Vernon’s shoulders dropped a hair. If Blue hadn’t been watching for clues of the man softening, he might have missed it.
“Lizzie is a savvy businesswoman, but more importantly, she’s the most generous person I know.” Blue slid his hands casually into his pockets and shrugged.
“I just thought you should know, and I’m sure you already know that the money she earns from the webcast goes directly to Maddy’s school expenses. She doesn’t keep a penny for herself, even though that means she pays a higher tax rate on her earnings from the flower shop.”
He held a hand out to shake Vernon’s, and Vernon’s mouth opened, as if he was going to say something, but as Blue shook his hand, the man remained silent.
This conversation is nowhere near over.
Blue kept his thoughts to himself as he took Margaret’s hand between his and thanked her for taking the time to speak with him. He took a step toward the door, unsure if he’d made a difference or not, and before walking into the foyer he said, “Thank you for raising such an amazing daughter. She was so determined to put her own social life aside in order to fully concentrate on earning enough for Maddy’s education that she refused to go out with me for an entire year—what she didn’t know was that I would have waited ten, if that’s what she needed to feel safe.”