Matt’s mouth hung open. He was speechless. If there was one thing about the Lacoumette men, they would die before they’d live off a woman. “You’re making this up.”
She gave him a rather patient smile. “I could not make it up. I fell for a singer because he had what I thought was a beautiful voice and I believed that once he saw how happy I could make him, he would never want to leave me again. Oh—he would write music and play music, but our love for each other would come first. That was the lie I told myself. There was one part of the equation I hadn’t taken into consideration. He didn’t love me.”
“You married him when he hadn’t even said he loved you?” Matt asked.
“Of course he said it,” she said. “He said it all the time, along with a lot of beautiful things. Sometimes I even heard them again and again in songs he wrote. He was extremely romantic. But he didn’t mean them. He’s a poet, Matt. A dreamer. A liar.”
“And you left him?”
“Sort of. I left after he told me he just couldn’t do it—that whole traditional marriage and family thing. He sat me down, told me how wonderful I was, how he didn’t deserve me—boy, wasn’t that the truth. And he said it just wasn’t for him. No wait, he said it wasn’t his scene.” She took a sip of her wine. “I thought he’d change his mind, come around. He didn’t. I know you know, Matt. That I lost a baby to SIDS.”
“How do you know I know?”
“Because everyone knows. It’s kind of strange—I thought that might be terrible, having everyone know. But it’s not. It’s easier, in a way. Because I don’t have to explain to anyone that yes, I have baggage. Heavy baggage. My newly pregnant friends are so careful—they try not to talk about their happy new pregnancies too much. I wish they didn’t have to guard my emotions like that. But it’s so thoughtful, don’t you think?”
“I’m sorry, Ginger. Sorry for your loss. Yes, Peyton told me. If she hadn’t, I don’t know how I would have guessed. You seem...” The sentence trailed off.
“Normal?” she asked. “Catch me some early, early morning when I wake up from a dream and can’t breathe. Or maybe on a sunny afternoon when I wonder if he’d be walking yet. Or in a store when I see something that would look so cute on him.” She took another sip of her wine. “Or maybe, take a look at me having dinner with a beautiful man I can never be more than friends with because my track record is...just...too much. I don’t even make sense to myself. What was I thinking?”
“You have to remember, my track record sucks, too,” he reminded her. “How long did it last? Your marriage?”
“About three years.”
He smiled. “I made it seven months. I didn’t fall for a singer but I did fall for the prettiest girl in the biology department. She was a part-time model. Completely self-absorbed. She thinks farming is inconvenient, dirty and boring. We have completely different values.”
“Maybe we should introduce her to Mick. He’s anything but boring.”
“Wait a second. Mick?”
“My ex. Mick Cantrell. His real name is Edward—he changed it to Mick because he thought it was sexier.”
“You’re kidding, right?” he asked. He dunked another chip. “I should’ve known better. Hell, she told me she didn’t want to be a farm wife.”
“And Mick told me being a husband and father wasn’t his scene.”
“I hope you’re not still in love with him,” Matt said.
“I don’t think I am. Not only wouldn’t I give him another chance, he doesn’t want one. But don’t give me any credit for being smart there—just look at what I put up with first. But you? Are you still...?”
He shrugged. It would be terrible to lie to her. “Some days,” he said. “When I have those days that I don’t understand why everything went to hell. My hours were terrible before we got married and I thought we were happy. She was the one who wanted to be married so bad it made her teeth ache. Why the hell would she marry me? I was the worst person for her to marry. And now she wants to have coffee. Or drinks. She wants us to be friends, to get over it, even try again...” He shook his head. “Aw, God, don’t tell Peyton that, please. I don’t want to talk about that with my family.”
“I’m not going to say anything to anyone about this conversation. But can I say one thing? It’s good to have someone like you to talk to.”
He reached for her hand. “We have some things in common. But Ginger, once we’ve gone over the details of all this crap in our rearview mirrors, we’re going to talk about other things.”
She squeezed his hand across the table. “Like what?”
“Like, can you still make little houses? Do you read anything I might like? Is there time in your life for adventure? Would you have a dog? Or a cat? Or a bird? Are you sensitive to insect bites?”
She laughed at his questions and the twinkle in her eyes was back that fast. “Do you have a dog?”
“We have working dogs, a bunch of ’em. I don’t even know how many. They’re mostly with George—they mind the sheep. There’s a golden and a black Lab around the orchard—they hunt and keep predators away from the chickens. There are no animals in the house.”
“Well, I want a dog in the house,” she said. “On the bed, in fact. And on the sofa! I want a good old happy dog who looks at me with sad loving eyes no matter how late I get home...”
“And dog hair in the soup.”
“And dog hair in the soup,” she agreed, laughing.
He lifted his beer. “You’re all right, Ginger,” he said before taking a drink.
The conversation blessedly turned from bad marriages and other catastrophes to family humor—what her brothers did to her miniature people and houses, what his sisters did to him. Peyton and Ginny were older and tried to dress up the little boys like dolls and make them play roles as their babies. He had her laughing hysterically at the tales of ten people and one bathroom. She told of the fun game her older brothers had of tossing her back and forth, until someone missed and she broke an arm. Matt told of numerous fractures on the farm, all from doing things they were forbidden to do, like swing on the rope in the barn from the loft to the ground.
They had each driven their own vehicles to the restaurant so that when Ginger went home Matt could just head north to his apartment. He walked her to her car and stood with her right outside the driver’s door. He put his forehead against her forehead. “For the first time in a long time, I’m a little bit happy. Because you’re my friend,” he said.
“Me, too. Will you do something for me?”
“Sure, Ginger. What do you need?”
“When you get home tonight will you give me a call? Just so I know you made it without problems. I promise not to keep you on the phone.”
“Sure,” he said. He looked at his watch. “I’ll be waking you up in about four hours.”
When he called her, it was already after eleven. And then they talked for two hours.
* * *
Thank God for Ginger, Grace thought for the millionth time. She was in charge of the flower shop while Grace was at the new house preparing a nice dinner for her mother and Mikhail. And sadly, she was hoping that Winnie would prove to be too fatigued to be argumentative, demanding or feisty, because there were things she had to be told right away.
Oh, how she hoped her mother liked the house. They’d all worked so hard.
Troy had gone to the airport to fetch them. Winnie and Mikhail had come by private jet. She was standing in the kitchen when she heard the garage door slide up, the hum of the Jeep as Troy pulled in and she went to the kitchen door. She saw Troy get out and go around to the passenger side. He lifted Winnie into his strong arms and carried her into the house.
“We’re here,” he announced to Grace. “Let the party begin!”
And Winnie, God bless her, blushed and slapped at him. “Stop it, Troy! My partying days are long over.”
Grace kissed her cheek while Troy still held her very capably. “I’m so glad you’re here. How do you fee
l?”
“Oh, you know. Just always so tired.” And then she looked around the great room and kitchen. “Very nice, Grace,” she said.
And Grace felt every tight muscle in her body relax. She was surprised she didn’t sink to the floor in sheer relief.
Troy put Winnie on her feet then helped her to the chair near the open French doors, facing the ocean, and Grace pushed the ottoman over, lifting her feet up. Winnie shrugged out of her wrap while Grace sat on the ottoman and pulled off her mother’s shoes. She held Winnie’s feet in her lap and gently massaged them.
“You used to do this for me when I had a long day of skating,” Grace said.
“Seems so long ago now,” Winnie said.
“You’ll want to see the rest of the house but we’ll take it a little bit at a time. It’s actually a large house, but everything you need is on this floor. I’ve cooked us a little dinner...”
“I’m not very hungry, darling,” she said.
“I have a little soup if you’re tired and don’t want much to eat. But I hope you have enough energy to hear some news. It’s going to be a little exciting around here soon—and we’ll try to keep it manageable with regard to your health. We’re going to get married, Mama. We want to get married anyway but we’re going to put a little rush on it because I’m pregnant.” She covered her belly with one hand. “Due around Christmas.”
Winnie looked up and over her shoulder at Troy. “You do realize she’s never been in a relationship before, don’t you?”
Troy’s eyes shone. He gave a nod. “She’s very good at it,” he said.
“And she obviously knows nothing about birth control,” Winnie added.
“Or I don’t,” Troy suggested.
“I’m just going to let all that go,” Grace said. “It won’t be flashy, Mama. I think we’ll get married on the beach, right in front of the house, as soon as possible. School is out soon. While you’re still up and about and can enjoy it if you squeeze in a good nap. Troy’s family will come but I think they’ll stay in town, maybe at his apartment and my loft above the store. I promise to keep your stress low.”
“My dress,” Winnie said. “You’ll want my dress!”
Grace shook her head. “It’s not necessary. I’ll find something much simpler.”
“My dress is simple. We can take off the train and pitch the head gear. I hated that head gear anyway. My mother insisted on that. You need something more your style. But the dress is one of a kind.”
“I wouldn’t want to get sand and sea all over it...”
Winnie laughed, and her face looked bright. “Why not? Did you think I was going to use it again? Now, if it’s the matter that you don’t really like it...of course we’ll alter it. I don’t care what you do to it, but if it can work for you in any incarnation, it’s yours. Before you decide, look at it. I’ll have it sent.” She looked around. “This is a nice little house, Grace,” she said.
“We have the downstairs,” Grace said. “It’s large enough for me, Troy and a baby. And the top floor—two bedrooms and a small bath—perfect for Mikhail.”
“Excellent,” he said. “I might stay day or two.”
“Maybe we should get the luggage inside and then toast the new house,” Troy suggested.
“Excellent,” Mikhail said.
“Troy, darling,” Winnie said. “Before you do all that, is there a chair on that deck out there that could accommodate me? If it’s warm enough, of course. Could you take me out there first?”
“Of course,” he said. “Gracie, can you pull the cover off that chaise?”
“Absolutely,” she said. Then she added, “Troy, darling.”
Troy scooped Winnie up in his arms and carried her to the deck, gently placing her on the chaise.
“My daughter was definitely thinking of me when she let herself love you,” Winnie said. “I think I’ll be very happy while you’re around.”
Troy winked at Grace.
Flirt! Grace mouthed back.
“And my phone,” Winnie demanded. “Who has my phone?”
Mikhail took it out of his pocket and handed it to her.
“Virginia still works for me, doesn’t she? Because I have things for her to do.”
“You know she still works for you, Mama.”
The luggage was brought in, unpacking was accomplished, drinks and tapas were served. The sun was beginning to set, making the beach and the deck bright. Troy put out the awning to provide a little shade. Winnie tried the soup Grace had on hand but though she claimed it was delicious, her trembling made it a messy dish. Grace made her a new plate—very small portions of roasted chicken, scalloped potatoes, steamed asparagus—just a few bites of each. The others loaded up their plates and enjoyed chocolate cheesecake from Carrie’s deli. Troy, Grace and Mikhail carried their plates to the table outside while Winnie balanced a tray on her lap and enjoyed the sound of the waves and the sinking of the sun. Troy showed her the corner where an outdoor hearth would be built and described the activity on the beach in the summer and fall. He explained all the neighbors and his job three doors down at Cooper’s beach bar.
“I’ve asked Virginia to send my dress,” Winnie said. “You can do anything you want to it—it’s yours. Rip it up or store it away and forget about it, I don’t care. And I asked Virginia to make arrangements to reserve that condo in Bandon for your family. It’s the least I can do—I’ve contributed nothing to my only daughter’s wedding. Shall I send a jet for them?”
“Oh, Jesus, no!” Troy said in a panic. Then more calmly he took Winnie’s hand in both of his and said, “Winnie, best not to flash too much around here. People won’t know how to act. My family in particular—they aren’t used to a lot of material wealth. It might make them nervous. It might make them not themselves.”
“Is the condo all right?” she asked, suddenly concerned.
“It’s not necessary,” he said. “Thank you. But we have room for them in town. My parents and brother will be fine in Grace’s loft and my sister and her family will be very comfortable in my apartment. They’ll be close to the beach and this house. But I promise I won’t let them overrun you or tire you out.”
“I’m such a burden,” Winnie said. “I hate being a burden!”
“You’re no trouble at all, Winnie. I don’t want you to worry. It’s a real pleasure having you here. We’re living in your house, after all.”
Winnie turned her eyes to Grace. She smiled. “I think you did all right for yourself here, Grace. This boy is just what we need.”
It was still early when Winnie was settled in bed. Since there was no staff or nursing help, she had her cell phone handy and could call Grace’s cell phone if she needed water, or to get up to use the facilities, anything that required assistance. Winnie thanked Troy a hundred times. And Mikhail retired to a room that boasted a very fine flat-screen with a satellite connection and access to all sorts of entertainment.
The house fell quiet before nine and Grace crawled into bed, content that she’d done a good job. She placed her cell phone beside the bed so she could hear if her mother called. Then her fiancé crawled in beside her. Naked.
“Winnie thinks you’re a nice boy,” Grace said, laughter in her voice.
He pulled her close. “That’s good. Let her think that. That will make life easier on you than if she knows the truth.”
“That you’re just a dirty bad boy?”
“Excellent,” he said, affecting a Russian accent. “We toast that!”
* * *
Matt’s curiosity was piqued. He’d never heard the name Mick Cantrell, but that didn’t mean anything. He wasn’t into music to that degree. Now, if you asked him the name of the head of the Arizona State University Research Farm, he had that. Or even the name of the PhD in Australia studying and publishing on biological farming. And of course he probably knew every Oregon botany PhD publishing in the state. And he was up to speed on environmental policy, growing sustainable food in the US and many o
ther subjects.
He was not up-to-date on rock stars.
He researched Mick Cantrell and found a website and many hits on Google. It appeared he was a minor star. He had a lot of pictures posted on his website and Facebook page, a few showing him on stage with a huge audience, but on his events schedule there weren’t too many listings. His bio made him sound like Bruce Springsteen—he played to thousands, had several CDs, wrote songs for major stars... Matt had heard of the stars but not the songs. But what had Ginger said? He did sell some songs but they never made the charts.
It appeared his gigs were mostly around the Pacific Northwest and he happened to be playing in a Portland nightclub in a week. On a Saturday night.
“What are you up to this weekend?” Matt asked Ginger during one of their phone conversations.
“I’m going to be busy with the shop,” she said. “Grace’s mother has arrived, there’s a fever in the air as they try to pull together a wedding in just over a week. Troy’s family will descend on the town and everyone will be busy. I’m going to do as much as I can to free Grace.”