They set out at about one o’clock on Sunday. The resort was a beautiful place with lodges, cabins and rooms, not to mention fine dining and gorgeous facilities that could be reserved for everything from weddings to business meetings. There were three golf courses and it was expensive. People traveled from all over the country to stay there. And they liked Grace’s flowers. They didn’t use her all the time, but when a guest had a special function that required flowers, they recommended her. She billed the resort and they paid promptly.
She had the unit number for the cottage where the flowers were to be delivered and she knew her way around the country club. As they drove through the property, she had to slow for a couple of deer crossing the road.
“Cottage?” Troy asked.
“I know,” she said, laughing. “I looked it up online. Living room, four bedrooms, galley kitchen, fireplaces in every room, plus four bathrooms. And a view.”
“I’d kill to live in a house that big,” he said.
She backed up to the unit. “You take one, I’ll take one and we’ll go back for the other two. Try not to gawk too much.”
“It’ll be hard.”
She was proud of the flowers she’d put together—lilies, orchids, bird of paradise, roses, baby’s breath and greenery. She balanced her arrangement on one hand and rang the bell. Troy waited right behind her with his flowers. In a moment the door opened. Grace looked into the blue eyes of Winnie Dillon Banks and dropped her floral arrangement. The ceramic dish shattered and water splashed on her jeans, but the flowers stayed in a lump because she had fastened them into the base with tape.
“Mother!”
“Izzy,” she said smoothly.
“Holy shitballs,” Troy said.
There stood the indomitable Winnie, small like Grace, ivory skin, black hair and red lips. She could double for Snow White. Except for the expression, which was not sweet. No, he couldn’t see Winnie singing to the birdies in the forest. But she was so beautiful. And she radiated power.
Troy noticed that Grace began to tremble a little. She must feel so vulnerable in front of her mother.
“Please come inside, Izzy,” she said. “I’ll arrange for that to be cleaned up.”
“What are you doing here? Why?”
“I need to see you. Talk to you. You can send your helper away. I’ll make sure you have transportation.”
“He’s not my helper! He’s my boyfriend! What the hell is this? Why didn’t you call me, tell me you were in the area?”
“Because you wouldn’t have seen me,” she said.
“Precisely. Because I am dead to you, remember?”
“Look, I take it back. I take it all back. Izzy, you have to give this a chance. I only want to help you!”
“Fine. You’d be helping by acting like a normal mother. That means you communicate. You call and ask if I’m available to visit with you. And if this is about returning to professional skating, there’s no need to waste your time.”
“I only want what’s best for you. I want you settled! Let me help.”
“I am settled!”
“Working in a flower shop!”
“My flower shop, my business, that I built on my own!”
Grace stooped and began to pick up the flowers, sans ceramic dish. She stood, holding most of the arrangement, and kicked the broken pieces off the walk and into the bushes. “Where do you want this?”
“The patio?” Winnie said, standing aside.
Grace walked in and Troy followed her. Winnie tried to stop him by holding out her hands for the flowers he carried. “I’ll take that,” she said.
He ignored her and put them down on the first available surface, the small breakfast table.
A woman stood near the patio doors. She was around fifty, very short reddish-brown hair, casually dressed in slacks and a sweater.
“Thank you, Virginia, you can go back to what you were doing. And you can leave us, young man. This business is between me and my daughter.”
“I’m not leaving,” he said.
“Just tell me what you want, Mother,” Grace said when she came back from the patio.
“I’m not comfortable talking in front of a stranger.”
“Oh, forgive me, Winnie,” Grace said. “This is my boyfriend, Troy Headly. He came with me to help me deliver these bogus flowers. You might as well spit it out because I’m going to tell him everything we say to each other anyway.”
Winnie sank into the nearest chair. “I thought we could have a conversation.” She appeared to be near tears. “You’re all I have left.”
“That isn’t my fault. I’m done skating, I haven’t changed my mind about that.”
“There are other options. I get emails and calls all the time. You could report on the competitions. CBS or ESPN would take you to the Games! You could coach! You could consult! Hell, the committee would be thrilled to have you! There are so many things...”
“No,” she said. “No, no, no. I’m done. I don’t want to coach, don’t want to push young girls the way I was pushed! I don’t want to report on the sport, critique and label figure skaters the way I was labeled. I don’t want to consult or serve on any related committees.”
“But you still skate!”
Grace was stunned. How did she know? “For pleasure, to keep in shape, and that’s all. I don’t want to skate professionally or work in the industry.”
“But why? It’s what you know!” Winnie said pleadingly. “It was our life!”
“Because I don’t love it enough to give so much of myself. I’m very grateful that I had such wonderful opportunities, but it’s time to move on. I’m retired from that life. I have a new life.”
Winnie stood. “You’ll have children,” she said, her voice shaking a little bit. “A daughter. She’ll be born with it, like you were. Will you forbid her?”
“If I’m lucky enough to have a daughter someday, I’ll support her, but I’m not going to ride herd on her twenty-four hours a day. I’m not going to expect her to live out my dream. I’m going to tell you for the hundredth time, the only way we can communicate is if you give this up!”
“Are you really happier, Izzy? Living in a tiny room over a flower shop, toiling seven days a week to make centerpieces for people you don’t even know? You have a legacy. Your time is nearly up—if you wait many more years, these opportunities will dry up and you’ll be forgotten!”
“Only if there’s a God,” Grace said. She whirled around and left the house.
Troy just watched her go, not knowing what to do. When Grace came back with another floral arrangement, he caught on. Of course, even though this was a ruse, she would leave the flowers and the resort would pay her and bill Winnie. She put her large and beautiful arrangement on the coffee table and went back to the van.
It was as if his feet were glued to the floor. He was mesmerized by Winnie, dressed in a silk pantsuit in a rose color, complete with jewelry that was daunting. Diamonds on her fingers, gold on her wrists. When Grace said her mother was rich, he really couldn’t make a mental picture of it, but he was getting there now. It wasn’t just the clothing or the classy digs she could easily afford, it was the power she thought she had. Winnie speaks and the world comes to heel.
He had no experience with the wealthy. At least not that he was aware of. There were business owners in town who must be doing well. Cooper was building houses on the hill, so he must be pretty set. Cliff owned the restaurant and a goodly share of the marina, so he had heard.
Grace looked very much like her mother, but he couldn’t imagine her becoming this person. Grace was soft and loving; she wasn’t controlling or manipulative. Not his Gracie.
Grace came back with the final floral arrangement. Tears were running down her cheeks. She put it down on the coffee table besi
de the last one. Then she looked at her mother. “I know what you’ve done, you know.” Winnie stiffened as if slapped. She was clearly stunned by this statement, or maybe by the tears. “You placed an order for flowers that you knew I wouldn’t be able to resist and asked for them to be delivered on Sunday, when the shop was closed, when I had no delivery help so I would be forced to come to you. Why, Mother? Why couldn’t you just love me for myself? Why did you only love me for the gold medals?”
“Izzy, why do you act like it was a curse? We conquered the world!” Winnie said. Her expression was pleading. No, it was yearning. “Because of your skill, the training the other athletes couldn’t afford, because of the dedication, the commitment I made to training, travel, everything you needed to get to the top, we had the dream. My parents didn’t care. They paid the bills but never believed in me the way I believed in you. But together, we did it! We were the most powerful mother and daughter in women’s figure skating in the world! It meant everything to me. I couldn’t do it, but with my help you could.”
Grace shook her head sadly. “I’m so sorry for you, Mama,” she said quietly. “I love you, but I’m never going to change my mind.”
“All right, then!” Winnie shouted. “Stay. Send him away, stay awhile and let’s just talk.”
Grace shook her head. “Maybe some other time. Sometime when you haven’t tried to trick me or back me into a corner.”
Grace turned and went back to the van. Troy followed, slowly closing the door as he left the cottage. My God, he thought. No wonder Grace couldn’t trust anyone. The people who should be most protective and devoted, like her mother, used her. He caught up with her just as she was getting in the driver’s side.
“Let me drive for you, babe,” he said, reaching for the keys.
She wiped at her eyes. “No. Thank you, but no. I’m fine.”
He hurried around to his side, buckling in. “Well, that was pretty terrifying,” he said. “I think I understand now.”
She gave a little hiccup and had to wipe her eyes again. She started slowly driving away from the cottage. “Poor little rich girl?” she asked.
“I think Winnie is the impoverished one. She has no idea all she lost.”
“If you win gold medals in the end, you’re not allowed to complain about how hard life is. It’s self-pitying. Winning is hard and the cost is high. Even if you throw in a bad reputation, a lawsuit, constant pressure, a couple of stalkers, a kidnapping and—” She stopped talking. Then she slammed on the brakes. Troy braced a hand on the dash just before hitting his head. She turned wild eyes toward him. “Shit!” she said. Then she threw the car into Park, unbuckled, got out and ran down the street, back to the cottage.
Troy was too shocked to move for a moment. Then he jumped out and followed her, leaving the van abandoned in the middle of the road, still running. He chased her right to the cottage. Grace barged in without knocking. Her mother sat in the chair.
“My God,” Grace said. “How could you do that to me? Are you really that selfish?”
“Grace, what’s going on?” Troy asked.
“The note,” she said, but she looked at Winnie, not Troy. “She sent it. To scare me so I’d come home.”
Winnie didn’t respond. She raised her chin defiantly.
“Are you really crazy? As in, need-medication crazy? Or have you absolutely no shame? Your only child? The child who gave you what you wanted, you would do this to me? I was terrified!”
“Nothing happened, did it?” Winnie said.
Grace shook her head. “I think it might take me a lifetime to recover from you.”
“I gave you everything! I gave you my whole life!”
“Well, I’m giving it back to you. Leave me alone.”
Grace turned and marched back to the van. Troy had to jog to catch up.
“Okay, I am driving,” he said, pushing her around to the passenger side of the van. “You’re really in no shape.”
She didn’t argue with him. She silently stared through her window while he navigated the winding road out of the resort, past woods, oceanfront, golf courses and three large clubhouses. He didn’t say anything and heard the occasional sniff coming from her side of the van.
“All right, look, lots of people have crazy families,” he finally said. She didn’t respond. “Most, I think,” he added. “In fact, as dysfunctional goes, most families have bigger and tougher issues than a rich mother who pushed you to win gold medals. So, your heart is a little broken, but you’re an adult and can decide for yourself how you want to live your life. Think about what some people deal with—death, divorce, abuse, addiction, all kinds of dark secrets. Your mother pushed you and had her own agenda but she never physically hurt you, right? It’s emotional abuse, I get that, but, Gracie, honey, you’re okay. You’re better than okay. You have your head on straight, you’re a good, kind person, you know what’s really important in life. So she’s a pain in the ass. You don’t have to deal with her if you don’t want to. And if you do want to, demand your boundaries. You know?”
She turned to look at him. “Do you?” she asked. “Do you have dysfunction in your family?”
He laughed. “My immediate family seems reasonably sane. Or maybe we’re just used to each other. We lived on a shoestring. Paycheck to paycheck. We got by. It turned my mom into a really good money manager. But in the extended family we have some real interesting characters. My dad’s dad was married five times. If you knew him, you’d find that hard to believe—there’s nothing all that special about him. My dad has twelve siblings, none of them full siblings, all halfs and steps. Some of them are real losers—money issues, chronically unemployed. One’s a scam man—we give him a wide berth. They’re always looking for handouts—makes my dad crazy. One of my mother’s aunts is a hoarder and the other one keeps cats. Like twenty or thirty cats. We visited them both exactly once. I think there are some serious mental health issues at work there. There’s one of those ‘funny uncles’ somewhere in the family tree—he was not allowed to visit. I’m told my maternal grandfather smacked around my grandmother—my mother said it could get pretty nightmarish when she was a kid. She said if my dad ever raised a hand to her she’d just shoot him. I take it he never did. My dad is kind of a big, handsome, sweetheart of a guy—I guess he inherited the side of my grandfather women fell in love with, but he’s managed to be married only once. My mom, though, was married for a very short time when she was real young. Married for a year or something. She divorced her first husband. She never liked to talk about it. I don’t think I even knew until my sister, Jess, got married at nineteen and my mother lost her mind, terrified that Jess was headed down the same path. Jess is fine. My mom didn’t marry my dad until she was thirty.”
“But you had a normal childhood,” she said.
“Well, I guess. I don’t appear to be scarred. I don’t have any medals, either. And I’ve never been to Russia or China.”
“It wasn’t what you think. It was work.”
“I know. I’d love to see your passports sometime. You’re going to think about this for a while and you’re going to realize you can deal with her now. She didn’t love you enough and she was selfish. She neglected you in ways that still hurt, but you’re whole and strong. You’re all right. You won’t be like that. Because of that experience, you’ll be a completely different kind of mother.”
“You sure about that?”
“I’m confident. But I want to suggest one thing. It’ll be hard because right now you’re bruised. I suggest you think about all the things you had. You’ve been putting a lot of focus on what you didn’t have. Your mother doesn’t love you the right way, but she loves you.” He reached across the console for her hand. “You have a chance to write the script here, Gracie. You write the life you want. In fact, I don’t really get it—you’re completely sane. How’d that happen with
that prima donna of a mother?”
“Years of therapy,” she said. “It was sports therapy, but you can’t dump the phobias and anxieties and neuroses without some good old-fashioned counseling. And there was Mamie—sweet, loving Mamie. She worked for my mother and she coddled me.”
“That explains a lot,” he said.
“I don’t want to do all the things that I, on the receiving end, couldn’t bear.”
“I understand completely,” he said.
“I want an ordinary, happy life,” she said. “I am not lazy.”
“I like your life,” he said. “I like the life you envision.”
When they finally got back to town, Troy drove the van into the alley behind the shop. No need to park in the front of the store anymore—there was no danger from the mystery man of the note. His Jeep was back there anyway.
“Troy, I think I need some time alone,” she said. “I hope you understand. I feel pretty pathetic right now.”
He leaned toward her and gave her a small kiss. “Don’t work this too long, honey. Lots of people have superannoying mothers.”
“I know. But I need a little time. And there’s no need to worry that anyone is threatening me.”
“Let’s at least talk later,” he said. “I’ll call you.”
* * *
Troy didn’t have to think about it long. He went back to his apartment, cleaned up and changed clothes and drove back to Bandon. He entered the resort property on a guest pass at about six o’clock. There was no answer at Winnie’s cottage and he asked himself where she might be. He drove around a little bit, thinking. There were five restaurants on the property—a couple of clubhouse restaurants and then fine dining. He went to the one with the view of the ocean.
The maître d’ greeted him. “I’m here to meet Mrs. Dillon Banks,” Troy said smoothly as if this visit was planned.
“I wasn’t aware she was expecting a guest. This way, sir.”