Enright Family Collection (88 page)

“I think she really is, Zoey.” Laura blew her nose in the tissue. “She just dotes on Ally, and Ally is just fascinated by her.”

“That’s because Delia
swoops,”
Zoey realized that her own eyes had filled up without her knowing it, and she wiped them on the sleeve of her sweatshirt.

Laura laughed. “What?”

“My brother’s soon-to-be daughter, Corri, who is seven now, said that Delia
swoops,
like the character in a book she had read. Maybe Ally sees Delia that way, too.”

The two women giggled together, holding the moment and feeling that first brick slide into the foundation of a relationship that was meant to last a lifetime.

“My mother never swooped,” Laura told her. “She is a much more deliberate person than Delia seems to be.”

“Oh, Delia is deliberate, all right,” Zoey told her. “Don’t let that carefree facade fool you. She rarely leaves anything to chance, and she is rarely caught off guard.”

“She gives the impression of being so nonchalant about everything . . . I guess I have so much to learn about her. About all of you.”

“Well, I’m looking forward to getting to know you, Laura.” She thought back to Ben’s words the day before, about doors opening in. “Tell me about your mother. And you mentioned that you have a brother. I want to hear about him. And about growing up in Bishop’s Cove. My—
our
—soon-to-be sister-in-law, India, grew up in a shore town, too. In New Jersey. I think you’ll like her. But I don’t want to keep you from work. . . . I guess you have to get back to the inn and start the luncheon preparations.”

Laura laughed.

“I have a cook. Actually, I have three cooks that I hired for different purposes.” Laura lowered her voice, as if confiding a secret. “I’m a lousy cook, Zoey, and I hate it.”

“What a coincidence!” Zoey laughed. “I hate to cook too!”

“I know. I watch you on TV and cannot help but think how alike we are in that respect.”

“You know, I’ll bet we have other things in common, Laura.” Zoey gave Laura a little squeeze. “Let’s walk down to those rocks and see what that fisherman just reeled in. It looks like a big something. And then maybe we can take the long way back to the inn and you can give me a little tour of Bishop’s Cove.”

Delia stood on the front porch watering the hanging baskets of fuchsia that Laura had hung just days earlier from the hooks around the roof line. It was turning into a fine day, sunny with just the faintest hint of breeze,
warm but not yet humid. She hummed an old tune, the title of which escaped her. It was driving her crazy. She hummed the same part over and over, trying in vain to come up with the right words that would give away the name of the song, but it seemed hopeless. The sound of laughter from the driveway interrupted her train of thought, but one glance over her shoulder at the source of the merriment and the tune was forgotten.

I must be hallucinating,
was her first thought. She went to the end of the porch, and watched the two beautiful dark-haired girls as they strolled, arm in arm, up the drive. Her left hand reached out to steady herself against one of the pillars, and her breath caught in her throat.

Laura and Zoey. Laughing and talking like . . . like
friends.
Maybe not quite like sisters, but certainly like friends.

Delia’s right hand flew to her mouth and she covered the sob so that no one would hear. She had been so afraid that these two parts of her life would never come together. She knew she had been wrong not to tell Zoey and Georgia sooner, but it had been so damned
hard.
And until she had gotten to know Laura, how could she have asked her other children to accept someone that she, herself, did not know?

“Mom.” Zoey stopped dead in the drive and looked up onto the porch where her mother stood with tears streaming down her face. “I . . . um . . . stopped in early and you were gone so Laura and I had coffee on the beach. . . .”

“It’s a beautiful day for that.” Delia sniffed.

“Give me your cup.” Sensing that Delia and Zoey might need a few minutes alone, Laura took the mug from Zoey’s hand. “I’ll get you a refill. Delia, would you like a cup?”

“Yes, darling. That would be nice. Why not bring a pot out here on the porch and we’ll sit in these lovely wicker chairs” Delia’s eyes never left Zoey’s face.

“So, you came back,” was the only thing Delia could
think of to say as she watched Zoey climb the porch steps.

“I needed a little time to think it through, Mom.” Zoey embraced her mother.

“I don’t wonder that you did. I’m just amazed that you’re back so soon.” Delia’s words were soft against her daughter’s neck.

“At first I was angry that you had kept this hidden for so long, that there was this big part of you that I knew nothing about. But something that Ben said made me realize that this was not about me and you. At the heart of it, it’s just about
you.
It’s about you finding a piece of yourself that’s been missing for a long time. It must have been so hard for you, Mom. I’m sorry that I wasn’t able to help you somehow, through all of this.”

“Oh, sweetie, there was nothing you could do. When I made up my mind to find Laura, I didn’t know what I would find. If I would like her—if she would like me. But once that decision was made, I promised myself that I would do my best to get to know her before I tried to bring her into the family.” Delia sank into the nearest chair. “I don’t know what I was expecting, but I don’t think I expected her to be quite so . . . so . . .”

“Terrific?” Zoey offered.

“Terrific works, sweetie. Terrific works quite well.” Delia smiled, knowing the worst had passed and she hadn’t even been there to witness it. She sat on one of the wicker sofas and motioned for Zoey to sit in the opposite chair, never letting go of her daughter’s hands. “Once I started to get to know her, I really did want to bring her to Westboro, but I was afraid of moving too fast. So I thought I’d talk to Nicky first.”

“How long has he known?”

“For about a month.”

“That long?”

“I’m sorry, sweetie, but I needed to take this slowly.”

“How did Nick react?”

“At first? Much as you did. I think it’s safe to say he was similarly stunned.”

Zoey thought back to the previous Sunday morning, to the gentle way her brother had ministered to Delia in the garden.

“Laura said she met Nick.”

“And was totally charmed by him. As anyone would be. Nick is one in a million, Zoey. I still sometimes wonder that I have raised such a son.” Delia’s face lit up momentarily, then became somber once again. “But I should tell you that both Nick and India are insisting on having Laura at the wedding.”

“Really?” Zoey frowned, wondering what that might mean for Delia. “Is she going to come?”

“Laura is very concerned that I would have to spend Nick and India’s wedding day making explanations about who she is.”

“Well, she may be right, Mom. Her presence is certain to cause talk.”

“Which it will, whenever the truth becomes known, and it will have to be dealt with.”

“True. But I think the question is, do you want to deal with it at Nicky’s wedding?”

“I don’t want my past to overshadow their day. Nick and India deserve this special day, and I have told them so. Nick, however, feels very strongly that Laura should be there.”

“How do you feel about it?”

“It would mean the world to me to have all of my children there, Zoey, and damn what anyone would have to say about it.”

“Then we should do whatever we have to do to see that Laura is there, Mom.”

“The lemon poppyseed cake is warm. Jody just took it out of the oven a few minutes ago.” Laura stepped onto the porch with a tray holding a carafe of coffee and a small cake sprinkled with powdered sugar. She set the tray down on a small table and said, “And you want to see that Laura is where?”

“At Nick and India’s wedding.” Zoey leaned over to nab a slice of warm, fragrant cake.

“I don’t think that’s a good idea.” Laura shook her head.

“Sit, darling”—Delia patted the seat next to her on the small settee—“and let’s think this through. Nick and India would both like you to be there. And frankly, nothing would please me more.”

“Delia, people will be talking.”

With a wave of her hand, Delia swept away Laura’s protests. “Regardless of when they find out. I don’t really give a damn. My first concern was Nick, and he is adamant that you be there.”

“You don’t know how Georgia will feel.” Laura poured coffee with hands that trembled just a little.

“I will see Georgia on Thursday. I would be very surprised if she didn’t show up on your doorstep, much as Zoey has, to ask her own questions and make her own connection with you.”

“Zoey, how do you feel? Will you be embarrassed by my presence?”

“No. Mom and Nick are right. Family is family. I know you have your own family, and I think you need to decide if you can integrate us all, one into the other. But if it’s up to the Enrights, we’d like you to be at the wedding.”

“Thanks, Zoey. I’ll think about it.”

“And of course, that includes Ally. I’d like to get to know my niece, too.”

“Now, about Matt . . .” Delia sampled a small piece of cake.

“Matt is . . . having some problems with this, Delia,” Laura said in a soft voice. “I’m sorry.”

“Who is Matt?” Zoey asked.

“Matt is my brother. My mother and father adopted him when I was about twelve. Matt was four at the time and a positive holy terror.”

“Matt is disturbed by my presence here, Zoey. He wishes I’d go away and stay away.”

“That’s a bit more bluntly than I would have phrased it, but accurate. I think Matt feels threatened somehow
by all of this, that somehow I’m betraying our parents.” Laura looked pained. “And nothing could be further from the truth.”

“I understand that, darling, and I think that, over time, Matt will come to understand as well. Give him time, Laura. Maybe he’s afraid of losing you into a family where he feels he has no place. Though God knows there’s room for him too, if he chooses.”

Zoey laughed. “Mom, you should have had about twenty children.”

“If things had worked out differently, I might have. As it was . . .” She spread her hands out in front of her, a gesture meant to imply that the choice had been taken from her. “And that’s another issue we need to deal with, Zoey. Your father.”

“Not today, Mom,” Zoey told her. “Today is not a day to talk about absent fathers or brothers with a chip on their shoulders. Today is a day for the three of us.”

“That’s a lovely thought, sweetie.” Delia kissed Zoey’s cheek and turned to Laura, and asked, “Darling, you didn’t by any chance see that box of Godiva chocolate I had last night?”

“I think you left it in the front hallway. Would you like me to get it?”

“If you don’t mind. Then perhaps we’ll just settle in for a chat . . . just us three.”

Chapter
22
 

“Hi, Wally.” Zoey cupped her hands to call across the lawn from the mailbox where she set about pulling out the morning’s mail from the mailbox. “Don’t you just love Saturday mornings?”

“Why, yes, I do.” He nodded and puffed on his pipe. “But seeing as this is Wednesday . . .”

“To most people it’s Wednesday. To people like me, who are off two days in the middle of the week and work on the weekend, today is my Saturday.” She sorted absently through the mail as she walked toward him across the grass.

“I see.” Wally puffed a little more. “And what have you planned for this ‘weekend’ of yours?”

“Not sure. Mr. Conley and his crew will probably finish working on the bathroom early this morning—can you believe it?—so unless I want to spend the day coughing up plaster dust and wheezing, I guess I’ll have to find something to do out here. Maybe I’ll prune or something.”

“Might be a good day to clean out those flowerbeds and get yourself over to the nursery to buy your plants.”

“Have you been talking to my mother?” she asked accusingly, her hands on her hips as she directed a suspicious glare at Wally.

He held his hands up in a gesture proclaiming innocence and laughed.

“Well, it just so happens that I thought about putting in a few things.” Zoey flipped nonchalantly through the catalog featuring discounted linens that sat on top of the mail pile.

“Really? Well, then, you’ll let me know if you need a hand.”

“Sure. Thanks. But I think I’ve got it covered. I appreciate the offer.”

“Well, I’ll be spending much of the day over at my son’s house. Promised the daughter-in-law that I’d help her rototill her vegetable garden this afternoon. Then, later this afternoon, I’ll be watching my grandson play baseball. Little League, you know. But if you need me, you can give me a call.”

“Thanks, Wally. I’ll keep that in mind. You have a good time today with your family.”

Actually, Zoey looked forward to a day spent alone—inside or out didn’t really matter to her. As long as the carpenters and the plumbers were still working their magic on the second floor, she’d be content to work in the yard. It was a glorious June day, a day of china blue sky dotted with big fluffy clouds, a day of sweet outdoor smells and soft bird songs. After the emotional turmoil of the past week, such a day was to be treasured.