Return to Tradd Street

  I tried not to think where all the money had come from to pay for the party, despite Jack’s label of “blood money”—referring to Marc’s well-publicized high-six-figure advance for his book. It was all too beautiful, and too poignant, for me to want any negative emotions to cloud this sweet good-bye.

  I had changed into my red maternity dress, belting it in the middle so that it would fit better. Everything else in my closet was still a little tight, and Jack seemed to appreciate the neckline of this dress and the way my new lactating bustline filled out the bodice.

  Jack and I moved among the guests, brushing up against each other often yet seemingly accidentally, our eyes finding each other across the room with an odd regularity. We both knew enough of the guests to feel included, and if it hadn’t been for the constant reminders that this was as much a going-away party as a rehearsal dinner, I might have actually enjoyed myself.

  We had just been seated for dinner—Jack and I at each head of the main table—when Nola appeared at the dining room door, beckoning to me. Jack saw her, and we both excused ourselves with the insistence that the meal continue as planned, then moved to join her in the foyer.

  “Are JJ and Sarah all right?” I asked, already taking a step toward the stairway. It was then that I noticed the couple hanging back in the vestibule, looking very self-conscious and uncomfortable.

  “Irene? George?”

  The Gilberts stepped out into the foyer, holding hands and looking pretty much the same as when I’d last seen them, with jeans and matching T-shirts. “We’re so sorry to bother you—we didn’t know you were having company.” Irene looked behind me toward the dining room, where the babble of voices and the smell of food wafted out to us. She returned her gaze to me. “But it was important we speak with you today—without lawyers.”

  Jack and I exchanged a glance before I said, “Why don’t we go into the parlor and sit down . . . ?”

  Irene shook her head. “No. We just want to say what we need to say.”

  “Which is . . . ?” Jack prompted.

  George put his hand around his wife’s shoulders and she sent him a look of gratitude. Turning back to us, she said, “George and I have been doing a lot of talking between each other, our extended families, and our kids. But it comes down to this—New York is our home. As beautiful as this house is, and how great Charleston is, it doesn’t matter. It’s not our home. And I can’t see us ever really feeling at home here.”

  My heart began to sink as I guessed where this conversation was heading. I wanted to stop them before they dangled that unreachable fruit in front of me, but I stood there and listened anyway as my last chance to hold on to the house was lost.

  Irene continued. “We were hoping that we could come to an agreement, an offer of fair market value for the house, minus all of your own money you’ve put into it. We’re assuming, of course, that you want to stay here.”

  A large knot seemed to be blocking my throat, prohibiting me from speaking, so Jack stepped forward. “We’re grateful for your generosity. Of course we want to stay here. But I’m afraid that our finances are . . . limited at the moment, and we would be able to offer only a fraction of what it’s worth.”

  “Did I hear correctly? That this house is for sale?”

  We turned to see Marc, dark and elegant as always, approaching us.

  “Because if it is, I’d like to make an offer.”

  I felt the hors d’oeuvres I’d already consumed threaten to return, and if they did I would make sure they ended up on Marc’s brightly polished Italian shoes.

  Irene and George turned to Marc, their collective gazes taking in his expensive tailoring and shiny shoes and both seeming to find him lacking.

  “No,” Irene said. “At least, not yet. Melanie has been living here and taking care of this house for a while now. And she and Jack have two babies and a teenager. Our own boys will be out of the house in just a few short years. I think that this old house would like to hear the sounds of little children again.”

  Marc smirked. “Almost as much as I’m sure you’d like to hear the ching-ching of money landing in your bank account. What sort of figure are you talking about here? Because poor Jackie-boy is out of work right now, and Melanie is in a sort of holding pattern. Last time I checked, the market value of this house was in the middle seven figures. I’m sure they’re not lying, saying they couldn’t afford it, even if they did want it.” He sniffed. “Which, if you ask anybody, Melanie definitely does not. Not so long ago she’d tell just about anybody that she hated old houses.”

  Jack took a step toward him, his hand already in a fist. I tugged on his arm, pulling him back. Forcing a smile, I addressed the Gilberts. “You are very kind to make this offer. And if we could afford it, could somehow scrape together enough money, we would do everything we could to hold on to this house.” My voice broke and Jack put his hand on my back, letting me know that he was there. “But the truth is, we can’t.”

  “Great,” Marc said, stepping forward to hand Irene a business card. “I’m in the middle of my rehearsal dinner right now, but call me in the morning and we can talk.”

  Nola, who I’d forgotten was still there, stepped forward and yanked the card from Irene’s hand and shoved it back at Marc. I was too shocked to reprimand her for her manners, and even more surprised by what she said next.

  “What would be fair market value?” she asked Irene.

  Irene looked at Jack and me for approval, but we just shrugged, not knowing where Nola was heading with her question.

  I was proud of Nola when she didn’t blanch at the figure Irene gave her. Instead, she thought for a moment and turned to me. “And how much of your own money have you invested in the house?”

  I told her, still too surprised to question her motives.

  She looked up at the ceiling as if doing a mental calculation. “Okay. Great. We can do it. It won’t be an all-cash offer, but I can do about seventy percent down and then get a loan for the rest. If you can wait a couple of days so I can get approved and find a good interest rate, then I think we might have a deal.”

  “Now, wait just a minute,” Marc said, stepping forward.

  Nola turned on him. Stabbing a finger in his direction, she shouted, “Back off! I know how to hurt a man where it counts. So either be quiet or suffer the consequences.”

  Marc stared at her, stunned, and very wisely kept quiet.

  Jack spun Nola around and held her by her shoulders. “Nola, sweetie, what are you doing?”

  She shrugged. “I’ve got the money. I just sold the new song to Jimmy Gordon, and Apple bought the rights to ‘My Daughter’s Eyes’ for a new commercial. The money’s not in my account yet, but it will be soon. I’m sure we could make it work.”

  I shook my head. “No, Nola. That’s your money. For your college. For the rest of your life. This has nothing to do with you.”

  She looked as if she’d been struck. Pulling away from Jack, she stalked toward me. “Nothing to do with me? I haven’t lived here for long, but it’s the only home I’ve ever known. And I’ve got a baby brother and a baby sister now who deserve to grow up here. And you, Melanie. You took me in and have been a mom to me from the first moment you saw me, no questions asked. You never made fun of my clothes or my makeup. You accepted me as I am, and helped my real mom find peace. If I can do this for you, and for my dad, it will be only a tiny bit of thanks for all that you’ve done for me.” With her fist, she angrily wiped away a tear. “I really want to do this. What use is money unless you can use it to help the ones you love most?”

  That was the closest she’d ever come to saying that she loved us, and I thought my heart would expand until it burst. “Nola. I don’t know what to say.”

  “Then say yes. Please. I don’t want to live anywhere else but here. With you, and Dad, and JJ and Sarah. This is our home.”

  Jack cleared his throat, his voice thick when he spoke. “All right, Nola. If you’re sure. But only as a loan. We won
’t accept your help any other way. We’ll sit down with our lawyers tomorrow and work out terms. All right?”

  She nodded, her arms crossed over her chest as if she were trying to hold in all of her emotions. Despite our knowledge of prickly teenagers, both Jack and I enveloped her in a hug, and she didn’t even fight back.

  Jack turned to the Gilberts. “Is that acceptable to you?”

  Irene had tears in her own eyes. “Absolutely. We’ll make it work, and our lawyers will make sure it’s all legal.” She smiled broadly. “I think this is how it’s supposed to be.”

  I nodded, then hugged her tightly. “Thank you,” I said, turning to George and hugging him, too. “Thank you both. I don’t know what else to say.”

  George smiled. “Then we’ll say good night and let you get back to your party. We’ll see you tomorrow.”

  Feeling like a spirit with my feet barely touching the ground, I walked them to the front door. I opened the door and George stepped out onto the piazza, but Irene held back, giving me a quizzical look. “Do you believe in ghosts?” she asked.

  I coughed. “Yes,” I said. “I think I do. Why?”

  “Because I think the house might be haunted—but by a nice ghost. A maternal ghost. Every time I come here, it’s like someone’s hugging me. But it still doesn’t feel like my house. It feels like a house I like to visit, but not live in. I hope the ghost understands that.”

  “I’m sure she does,” I said, smiling softly.

  Irene raised an eyebrow at the word “she,” and returned my smile. “I think this house was meant for you and your family, Melanie.”

  “Me, too.” I said good night, then closed the door behind them. Turning around, I saw that Jack and Nola were practically beaming, while a very unhappy-looking Marc just turned on his heel and headed back toward the dining room.

  “So,” said Nola. “Are you totally happy now?”

  I thought of my sweet, healthy babies, of my renewed relationship with my parents, my friendship with Sophie, my beautiful daughter Nola. The house—our house. I was about to give a resounding yes when I stopped, hearing Louisa’s voice in my head. Listen to your heart and remember that sometimes when you think you have lost everything, you have won your heart’s desire.

  Maybe it was necessary to believe you’d lost everything before you found out how much you really had. I still had my pride, clung to it like a baby clings to his pacifier. Maybe I had to give it up to win the one thing I needed to make my life complete.

  “No,” I said, surprised at the word coming from my lips. I turned to Jack. “Jack, I love you. I think I’ve loved you from our first date, when you made me wear a bib and eat barbecued shrimp. I love you despite how crazy you make me, how much you laugh at my Mellie-isms, and because of how much you love all three of your children. I just need to know one thing. Do you love me, too?”

  His eyes widened, his mouth opened wider—not the reaction I’d been hoping for—and I felt my expanded heart begin to stutter and shrink back to normal size.

  Jack stretched out his hands toward me, palms up. “Are you really asking me that? Of course I love you. I’ve loved you since you slammed the door in my face on that same first date so you could mess up your hair and make yourself more casual after I told you where I was taking you for dinner.”

  He rubbed his hands through his hair as he did when he was agitated. “I love you despite your charts, and your spreadsheets, and your vanity about wearing reading glasses. For crying out loud, Mellie, I sold my Porsche and bought a minivan. If that doesn’t say ‘I love you,’ then I don’t know how else to say it.”

  We were facing each other now like two chess players in a tournament, each unsure whose turn it was.

  “Dad, seriously? You’ve never actually told her that you love her?” Nola smacked herself in the forehead. “Just say it already so everybody can get back to dinner.”

  We both looked over her shoulder to see that a small crowd had gathered in the dining room doorway.

  Jack stepped forward and took my head gently in his hands. “I love you, Melanie Middleton. And I always will.” He pressed his forehead against mine. “Marry me, Mellie. Please tell me you’ll marry me for real this time.”

  I looked into his eyes, and felt my heart do that squishy thing again, as I imagined it always would when Jack was near. “Yes, Jack. Yes.”

  He pressed his lips against mine, bending me backward, and I kissed him back, our arms wrapped around each other as if we were trying to become one.

  “I think I’m going to hurl,” Nola said, but if she did we couldn’t tell, since all the members of the rehearsal dinner—except for two, I guessed—had exploded with applause.

  CHAPTER 34

  My mother finished adjusting the veil on my upswept hair, then stepped in front to admire her handiwork. Her eyes were moist as she inspected me, her own veil already affixed firmly in her thick, dark hair. “You look beautiful, Mellie. And incredibly happy.”

  “That’s because I am. I have Jack, and the children. And this house. If you’d asked me three years ago what would make me happy, I don’t think I would have thought a husband, three children, a dog, and a house would be anywhere in my answer.”

  “Yes, well, it comes with growing up. And I’m so proud of how you’ve turned out.”

  She picked up my grandmother Sarah’s pearls and placed them around my neck. The pearls glowed in the light from the bedroom window, a gentle reminder of the strong Prioleau women who’d worn the necklace over the years.

  “Are you sure you don’t want to wear them, Mother?”

  “No, dear. I’ve already worn them—the first time I married your father. It’s your turn now. And then you keep them for Nola and for Sarah when it’s their turn.”

  I smiled up at her reflection, then stood next to her as we studied ourselves in the mirror. We both wore knee-length, cream-colored dresses, with short Belgian lace veils. Sophie had found the veils in a vintage clothing store and seen the Susan Bivens name embroidered inside. It was her gift to us, a reminder of how the past touches the present in the most unexpected ways.

  “You look beautiful, too, Mother. And happy.” I swallowed, trying not to allow tears to wreck my eye makeup. “I’m so glad you and Dad are back in my life.”

  My mother faced me, smoothing the hair on my forehead. “We are, too. Does this mean I’m officially forgiven for all my past sins?”

  “There’s nothing to forgive. Everything you did was to help me. I should be asking you to forgive me for being such a jerk when you first returned. I was wrong, and I’m sorry.”

  She hugged me, the smell and feel of her bringing back to me the memory of her I’d carried with me all of my life but had tried to forget. I breathed her in now, creating a new memory of the day we both got married for the second time.

  Holding her at arm’s length, I said, “You once told me something that I don’t think I appreciated at the time. You said, ‘If you wait until everything’s perfect, until all your differences have been settled and all the stars have aligned just right, then you miss your chance at happiness.’ I didn’t believe you then. Maybe I had to come close to losing everything first to find out you were right.” I gave her a lopsided grin. “Why didn’t you tell me I was being an idiot about Jack and so many other things?”

  Her smile matched my own. “Because sometimes the hardest lessons are those we have to figure out for ourselves.”

  A brief tapping came at the door, and Sophie entered the bedroom. She still glowed like the moon, still looking like she was only three months pregnant, even though it was only a week before her due date. Despite previous threats to make her wear something outrageously formal and non-Sophie-like to my wedding, I’d instead told her to wear the togalike dress I’d worn to her wedding, telling her she’d be more comfortable. Birkenstocks peeked out from under the dress—white, of course—and I smiled to myself.

  Two small black-and-white puppies—wedding gifts from Rebecca??
?scampered through the door with her, followed more sedately by General Lee. The puppies rolled to a halt at our feet while the older dog barked to show he was in charge.

  “Your dad’s wearing a hole in the Aubusson carpet, and everybody’s been seated in the garden. Looks like it’s showtime.”

  “Are the babies already with Chad?”

  Sophie nodded. “Yes—JJ’s sleeping in the pram and Nola’s getting Sarah to sleep. She really has a special touch, doesn’t she?”

  “She’s a pretty special girl,” I said, not able to put into words exactly how special she was to me. “Did you make sure to sit Dr. Wise and Detective Riley together? I have a hunch about those two.”

  “I did,” Sophie said. “Apparently Dr. Wise also comes from a huge family, with hundreds of nieces and nephews. Last time I saw them, they were comparing pictures.”

  “Perfect. Maybe if I stop seeing dead people, I can turn to matchmaking.”

  Sophie raised her brows. “Really, Mellie? It took you how long to figure out that you and Jack were made for each other?”

  I laughed, then turned to my mother, taking her arm. “You ready?”

  “Are you?”

  “Yes,” I said. “I really am.”

  Sophie placed the puppies in the crate at the foot of my bed, then followed behind us with General Lee in her arms. She’d insisted that he’d want to be at the wedding even if he couldn’t be in it. I hadn’t made him wear a bow tie. His new stature as a father held too much dignity for that kind of frivolity. “I’ll see you out there. I need to make sure Chad is managing both babies okay. And I guess I should make sure Jack doesn’t make a run for it.” Sophie winked, then gave me an impulsive kiss on the cheek before heading down the stairs ahead of us.

  My father waited at the bottom of the steps, his eyes alighting on my mother first. “You’re even more beautiful today, Ginnette, than the day I married you the first time.”