“Yes. That’s exactly what you do. You wait.
We
wait. And whether at Nan’s or here, we get ourselves a lawyer of our own.” Her daddy reached for her hand, pulled at her until she moved back to his side and curled into his lap. He stroked her hair as he jerked a chin toward the phone in the entryway. “Mary, call Nan right now. Let her know what’s going on. I’ll contact a lawyer tomorrow. And I’ll take some money out from savings.”
“Daddy, no!” Annie sat up and regarded him in dismay.
He gave her a squeeze. “Yes. Why do you think I’ve been working overtime on weekends? I’ve been saving the extra. We really haven’t needed it, knock on wood, and I figured it would come in handy sooner or later. I guess it was sooner, huh?”
“I don’t want you to use savings, Daddy. Not for this. I wouldn’t feel right, letting you do this.”
“You’re not letting us. We’re doing this because we want to. All of us,” he emphasized. He caught her quivering chin with one big hand and raised her troubled eyes to his.
Annie frowned in confusion. “What do you mean, ‘all of us?’”
Sissy answered in her soft, shy voice. “It was Mark’s idea. We’ve all been saving. We started right after Hank was born. Just in case there was trouble.” She blushed. “I sold things on eBay. It was fun.”
“I waitressed for a while, over at Morgan’s.” Susan named a tavern between Thompkin and Hanover Corner. “I saved all my tips. If we didn’t need the extra, then Hank would have a decent nest egg for college.”
As Annie’s eyes widened in surprise, Sissy hastily added, “Mark did short-order cooking at this eatery right outside the base. Danny caddied for a while at that fancy golf club in Weston and sent in his tips, too. Frankie and Bobby sent money. I’d bet we have almost five thousand dollars, maybe more. We called it the ‘Hank Fund.’”
Her mama added, “Aunt Nan has money set aside, too. With her contribution, we have more than enough for a good lawyer. You’re not to worry, honey. We’ll let those Quincys know exactly who they’re up against.”
Her daddy massaged Annie’s back as she burst into tears. She wiped her streaming eyes and met the determined gazes of her family, one by one. Mark winked at her. Susan dashed away her own tears and affirmed, “Hank belongs to all of us. Whatever we have to do, that’s what we’re going to do.”
In the informal parlor adjacent to her study, Ruth sipped the last of her herbal tea. She’d permitted herself a lazy day, comfortable in her casual pantsuit, her hair loose on her shoulders. Compiling a list of prospective wedding guests was a perfect task to while away an afternoon.
Tomorrow Janice and Catherine were expected for luncheon, and she anticipated getting a large chunk of the initial wedding preparations out of the way. She still had to push Travis in the correct direction and have him propose to Catherine. Ruth wasn’t without feeling. She understood that a sensitive and romantic girl such as Catherine would expect Travis to ask her while down on one knee, and not informed by the prospective groom’s mother that a wedding would take place in under a year.
To that end, she was determined to make it happen. The birthday party, scheduled only four days away, would be public enough to assure Travis’s compliance. If she played it cleverly enough, Ruth would make the announcement herself during the party.
A sound in the outer foyer caught her attention. She hurriedly rose from the carved secretary desk. She recognized those footfalls: Travis. The boy had an irritating habit of disappearing for hours, just when she needed him to sit down and listen to her. Ruth knew he did it purposely. She also knew he’d walk right by her and not bother to come in. He’d rush through the house to see his father, but he’d never done the same for her.
It didn’t matter. She wouldn’t let it. Her hide was tougher than that.
“Travis, I wish to speak with you.” She stood in the parlor doorway and observed the way her son stiffened his shoulders as soon as he heard her voice. She pushed down the twinge of hurt at his attitude, and remained calm as he turned and faced her with a smooth, blank expression.
Oh, she read his thoughts so easily. The last thing in the world he’d want would be a chat with his mother. The subtle lift of his chin, the chill in his eyes, told her better than words just what her own son thought of her. She watched him take a deep breath, and she tensed, in spite of her determination to present a placid, unaffected front.
“Mother, I don’t have time right now. I have plans, and I’m running late.” Travis took a step toward the stairway as he spoke.
Ruth’s eyes narrowed. He was lying, she could tell. Well, he wouldn’t get away with it. They had much to discuss, and she wanted everything settled this evening, with no more avoidance. She crossed her arms and stared him down. “I’m sure there’s nothing on your schedule more important than what we need to discuss. I’m prepared to give you fifteen minutes to freshen up. Then I expect you in my study.”
“I can’t. I told you, I have plans.” Another step toward the stairs.
She had to concentrate to keep the anger from her tone. “And whom do you meet that would be more important than time spent with your mother?”
Oh, shit.
Travis shoved both hands in the front pockets of his jeans as they clenched into fists. He despised these little power plays. Lately they’d increased, and his level of patience was just about gone. He searched for a name he knew his mother would accept, and of course only one came to mind.
“I have a date with Catherine. We haven’t seen each other in a while.” He was lying through his teeth. He’d forgotten when Catherine had told him she’d be back in Thompkin. He figured she’d already made it in, since she was meticulous to a fault and would want to give herself plenty of time to settle in and “prepare” for whatever the hell his mother and hers planned for them.
He wanted to tug on his own hair in frustration. It was bad enough he’d now have to spend the evening with Catherine when all he wanted to do was see his dad, then grab some time alone and think about Annie and Hank.
His mention of Catherine had his mother beaming. She walked swiftly toward him with her hands outstretched, and grasped at him when he didn’t reach for her first. Giving his shoulders a squeeze, she said, “Well, how wonderful. I had no idea you were seeing Catherine tonight. Her mother never said a thing about it during our chat earlier today.”
Yeah, I’d just bet she didn’t
. Travis pulled away from his mother slowly, so as to avoid the standard pout she usually gave him when he dodged her outward signs of affection. With a vague nod in her direction, he climbed the stairs, reluctance in his every step.
Now he’d have to call over to the Cabot Estate, request a date from Catherine, fill an evening with whatever he could, when the only thing in the world he wanted was to have Annie in his arms. Morose, he shut himself inside his suite and flopped on his bed.
The day’s revelations left him depressed and aching. Worried, too, that Annie would take off again. She’d given him her word that she’d get in touch with him soon so they could talk. She’d also lied to him for two years. How could he trust her? How could he be sure she’d let him see his son again?
With an oath, Travis took out his new cell phone. He punched in Catherine’s number and tried to think of something to do with her. Something very unromantic.
Catherine rushed around her bedroom, trying on and discarding outfits, while her mother sat on the edge of the bed and chattered about china patterns and the advantages of Wedgwood over Sevres.
“Mother, for heaven’s sake, it’s only a date. It’s not as if we haven’t gone out before.” Catherine felt jittery with nerves, and her mother didn’t help matters any. She wriggled into a deep blue sheath and gauged its overall effect in the full-length mirror.
“Not that dress, darling. Nobody wears linen until after Memorial Day. And this is much more important than just a date, Cathy. Why, it’s the first time Travis called you of his own accord—” Her mother pressed her fingers over her mouth as if realizing the significance of her words.
Catherine turned to her with a thunderous frown. “What did you say? What do you mean? What have you done, Mother?” The three sentences shot out like bullets.
“I haven’t done a thing. I don’t know what you mean.” Her mother got to her feet and backed away. “I have a few things to do. Enjoy your evening.” She made a dash for the door, but Catherine was faster. Dress still unzipped and barefoot, she barred the way and confronted her mother, whose sudden flush reddened her cheeks.
“Tell me right now, or I swear I’ll never see Travis again under any circumstances. I mean it, Mother.” Catherine crossed her arms and waited.
With a sigh, her mother trudged back to the bed and sat down. Flinging her hands out in entreaty, she blustered, “Now, Cathy, it was for your own good. I could see how much you love Travis. Haven’t I always tried to give you everything you want?”
Frustrated, Catherine groaned. “You can’t go around giving love where there isn’t any! You can’t invent something that isn’t there. And you can’t force someone to feel what is impossible for him to feel. Just because Travis chose to call me without his mother’s knowledge and permission doesn’t mean he’s ready to fall on his knees, flip a ring out of his pocket, and shove it on my finger!”
While her mother sat in shock, Catherine yanked off the linen dress and wrapped herself in the chenille robe at the foot of her bed. She tied the sash, then reached for her phone and started punching in numbers.
“Who are you calling?”
She met her mother’s suspicious gaze with a deceptively bland expression. “I’m canceling the date. I don’t believe I want to see Travis tonight.”
With a gasp, her mother slapped the phone out of Catherine’s hand. “Are you out of your mind? You have him calling you, Cathy, willingly. His mother had nothing to do with it this time. I feel badly at my own duplicity, but think about it. I had nothing to do with it, either. Travis wants to see you. Here’s your chance, and you think to toss it away out of some silly anger against two mothers who only want your happiness? I don’t understand you.”
Catherine whirled away from the reproach she saw on her mother’s face. She’d perfected the expression over the years, using it whenever she wanted Catherine to bend to her will. She loved her mother dearly, but the woman was a relentless steamroller. And without doubt, she could get to the heart of the matter in a hurry.
Yes, she wanted to marry Travis. She was probably desperate enough to take him knowing he did not, could not, love her in return, at least not as long as his heart still belonged to Annie Turner.
But could she marry him without telling him he was a father, if indeed he didn’t yet know Annie had given birth to his child? Could she cash in on his mother’s single-minded determination to have Catherine herself as a daughter-in-law?
She just didn’t know. And this continuous pushing made it more stressful for her.
“Are you listening to me?” Her mother grasped her arm and shook her. Catherine blinked and pulled her arm away. Picking up the discarded linen dress, she wriggled into it, and then presented her back, silently demanding to be zipped up.
“No, you should really wear that dark green cashmere I bought you—”
Catherine sent one narrowed glare over her shoulder. Her mother pressed her lips together and said no more.
Dressed at last, Catherine slipped on her shoes while her mother drifted around the bedroom, looking as if she badly wanted to speak. Another firm glare from Catherine kept her silent. She picked up the clutch purse that matched her dress and caught her mother’s eyes. “I don’t know what time I’ll be home. But I want you to stay off the phone with Ruth, do you understand? I am teetering on the edge of my patience, and I promise you, Travis is right there with me, on the edge of his. You have
got
to let us work things out—whatever there is to work out—between us. For God’s sake, no more meddling.”
Ignoring the self-righteous huff behind her, she marched down the stairs and out the front door. She let loose a huge sigh of relief at finally being alone. Butterflies threatened to revolt inside her stomach, her usual reaction when she anticipated seeing Travis.
This time, she needed to decide whether or not to say anything to him about what she knew.
And whether or not to speak of it to Ruth.
Travis drove through Thompkin, noting the clusters of people downtown on a weeknight. The last thing he wanted to do was escort Catherine around when he knew how many busybodies milled about. People would have them engaged and picking out china patterns, for Christ’s sake. He made a quick turn, took a side street, and caught Market Avenue, out of town.
Next to him, Catherine sat quietly, hands clasped together, staring out the side window. Aside from a soft greeting, she hadn’t spoken. Travis stole a quick glance at her calm face.
He cleared his throat, and she turned toward him. She parted her lips to speak, hesitated, and then offered, “Travis, you don’t have to take me anywhere. I know your mother has been putting pressure on you, and I figured you only asked me out to get away from her, um, interference. Really, I don’t mind.”
“Catherine, no. I called because I wanted to. Although I will admit, getting away from my mother is a side benefit. I sure can’t lie about that.” He grinned when one side of her mouth turned up in a brief smile. “I thought we’d drive to Weston, maybe stop at Maison for dinner. I’m not exactly dressed for it.” He indicated his casual shirt and black denim jeans. “But they’ll probably let us in.”
“I’d rather have a pizza. I’m not in the mood for fancy. When I’m home, I never get to eat pizza because Mother thinks it’s a peasant’s meal.”
“Yeah, that sounds familiar. But Martha makes a mean pizza and she’ll bake one once in a while just to piss my mother off.” He downshifted and caught the expressway outside of town, heading toward Weston.
“Your mother is a wonderful woman, Travis.” There was no censure in her voice.
“No. She isn’t. She’s cold and manipulative and bitter and unbending. She’s given me nothing but grief since I was twelve years old, and the only buffer I ever had against her, my dad, is now—unaware.” He swallowed painfully. “Gone.”
“Travis, no.”
“Yes. And my mother has just taken over. You know what it’s like. You have a mother who rolls right over your wants and choices, don’t you? I’ve seen Janice Cabot in action. At least your mother genuinely loves you and wants you to be happy.”