Life and Other Inconveniences(95)

“You never called. You never visited. You didn’t even send a Christmas card.”

“It was her move.”

“No, Gennie. It was yours.” His voice was neutral for once, not accusatory. Also, he called me Gennie, and no one had ever done that. “Especially after what you said to her. You owed her an apology. Still do.”

“You’re right.”

“Why didn’t you do anything?” he asked. He was looking at me intently now.

He was finished with his sandwich, and I was nearly there as well. I took another bite, not eager to have this conversation. I’d have to make grilled cheese sometime. Mac had gotten inside somehow, but not without rolling in the grass first; his pale gold coat was tinted with green. I gave him a bit of crust, since he’d tried to save me, the dear thing.

“You gonna answer?” Paul asked.

“I’m not as good as you,” I said quietly. “I’m too proud. And, I’ll admit, I was embarrassed. She was eighteen years old, and we’d talked about unwanted pregnancy, and—”

“Did it ever occur to you that the pregnancy was wanted?”

I jerked a little. “She had her whole life in front of her. A wonderful life, Paul, with every opportunity waiting for her. Education, travel, whatever career she wanted, all the money in the world—”

“She wanted someone to love, Genevieve. And she wanted someone who’d love her back.”

Oh, the endless judgment! “I did love her.”

“Yeah, right. She was the burdensome child of a woman who committed suicide and the son you didn’t care about. You were ashamed of her.”

“I was not!” I barked, slamming my fist on the counter. It hurt considerably. “Granted, she was the daughter of a troubled woman, and Clark isn’t exactly the son one dreams of having, but I loved Emma. I took her in and did my best, Paul Riley, and how dare you accuse me otherwise! The real problem was my best wasn’t good enough. I knew that. I’m half-dead inside, and I have been for fifty-five years. I did my best, damn you, and when she went back to you, her real family, her perfect grandfather, I could hardly beg her to come back here, could I?”

My heart was pounding, and I felt slightly ill. I couldn’t believe I had said all that out loud, and to this man of all people.

Paul looked at me a long minute. “Feel good to get that off your chest?”

“Oh, for heaven’s sake. It’s time for you to go. Thank you for pulling me out of the water.” I stood up, and so did he.

“I like you better when you’re not so fuckin’ polite.”

Then, shockingly, he kissed me. Briefly, just long enough for me to feel the warmth of his lips and the scrape of his scraggly beard.

“See you around,” he said, and then he left, his footsteps loud in the quiet house.

The kiss hadn’t been long enough for me to judge its quality.

Still . . .

He’d kissed me.

Greenish Mac woofed and wagged.

“Would you like a treat?” I asked, petting his big, damp head.

The other dogs heard the word from their various locales and came running, and so I doled out pieces of bacon that Helga made each morning just for them.

Then I poured myself a glass of dry Riesling, took the bottle with me into the conservatory and sat in the big leather club chair, my feet on the matching ottoman.

I had been kissed. At the age of eighty-five, no less. And, in retrospect, kissed rather well.





CHAPTER 28


    Emma


In mid-July, Genevieve hosted her annual neighborhood bash. If ever a property was meant for such a party, it was Sheerwater.

She’d been a little quiet this past week; not sick, but a little inside herself. Uncharacteristically peaceful, too, which made me suspect something was up. But the party cheered her. A tent was set up on the lawn, and caterers had been hired to provide all the food except for dessert, which Genevieve allowed the guests to bring. Riley invited her brothers and Rav, and they chased each other around with the other kids from the neighborhood.

Miller came, too, with Tess. His in-laws were invited as well, and when I introduced myself to them and said I’d known Ashley a little, Mrs. James started to cry and had to go in the house, Mr. James at her heels, giving me a baleful look over his shoulder.

“Well, crap. Sorry about that,” I said to Miller.

“It’s not you,” he said. “Tess, please stop kicking Daddy.”

“Tess, do you want to go swimming?” I asked.

“I hate swimming,” she said.

“Okay. Well, I’m going swimming. You can watch if you want.”

“I love swimming,” she said.

“She actually does,” Miller said with a slight smile.

“Come with me, princess. Miller, we’ll see you at the pool. Why don’t you get a drink first and maybe some food? We have to change, right, Tess?”

“Yes, Daddy. You go away now.”

His faint smile dropped, but he handed me the backpack with Tess’s stuff.

It was awfully nice, her sticky little hand in mine. Brought back all the wonderful memories of Riley as a little one, when we always held hands. It was something I never took for granted. Truth was, we still held hands, and God, I was grateful.