Santa Cruise Page 8

  “Guilt?” Rachael let out a big laugh. “That, too, is not in my DNA!”

  Amy chuckled. “OK, girlfriend. I don’t have a lot of time. Spill. What went down last night at the club? Pooches and other furries await.”

  “You are a wonderful person, you know that?” Rachael said with admiration.

  “Aw, that’s sweet. Thanks pal, but . . . so?” Amy was anxious to find out how the evening with the hoopla of her mother’s announcement had gone.

  “Oh right. The big reveal. It was kinda meh. I noticed that Mr. Charm was getting very cozy with one of the waitresses. Then your mother quickly glided over and hooked her arm in his.”

  “Interesting.” Amy stopped what she was doing and paid closer attention.

  “Yeah. The woman was a little older than us, but she seemed to know Rusty pretty well; she was making googly eyes at him. Your mother was very reserved, but I could tell that she wasn’t thrilled. I know that look.” Rachael had known the Blanchard family most of her life, so she was quite adept at sensing Dorothy’s moods and body language. “Later that evening, I saw Lloyd Luttrell take her aside and speak to her.”

  “Yes, he did.” Amy pulled on her sweatshirt. “He called me after the shindig and told me he will be taking her to lunch this coming week.”

  “¡Mucho gusto!” Rachael replied. “I wonder how she’ll take Lloyd’s advice.”

  “My mother always liked Lloyd as a person and a lawyer. She said he was a true gentleman.”

  “I agree. He actually gives lawyers a good name,” Rachael said. “And he’s handsome, too, in that ‘silver fox’ kind of way.”

  Amy snickered. “Don’t you go getting ideas about him.”

  Rachael laughed. “Be serious. If anything, I go for the younger type.”

  “Yeah, and look how well that’s turned out.” Amy gave a chuckle.

  “Oh stop,” Rachael prompted. “I’ve decided to turn over a new leaf.”

  “Looking for gardeners now?” Amy couldn’t help it. Rachael had given her a big opening.

  “Very funny. You might want to try doing stand-up comedy if this biotech thing doesn’t work out,” Rachael chided.

  “Ha. Ha. Listen, I’ve gotta dash. Two hundred four-legged, OK, a few three-legged critters are waiting for me. Love ya!”

  “OK, chica. Love you, too,” Rachael replied. “See you soon.” She hit the END button on her cell phone.

  Rachael poured herself another cup of coffee. She thought about all the teasing she had been getting from her friends. Maybe she needed to reevaluate her approach. What was it that kept driving her to have a boyfriend? Any boyfriend. Was she that insecure in her personal life? She surely didn’t lack confidence in other areas. Why was she so hell-bent on having a partner? Not that there was anything wrong with having a significant other. Maybe that was the word that was missing. “Significant.” It was as if she were trying to fill a void in her life. She was deliberating about her motives when Ryan came into the kitchen.

  “Hey, Mom. Sorry about last night.” Ryan was an astute child. He knew it was out of character for him to have a temper tantrum. He had outgrown them. Or so everyone thought.

  Rachael patted the stool next to her. “Come. Sit. Tell me in more detail what happened.” Ryan climbed up on the stool and looked down at the floor. Rachael picked up his chin. “It’s OK, honey. I won’t be mad.”

  Ryan hesitated a minute and looked up. “I think Dad was having an argument with Vicki.”

  “Oh?” Rachael was intrigued. “Were they arguing in front of you?”

  “No. They were in the bedroom, but I could hear yelling.”

  “What were they saying?”

  “I couldn’t hear many words, but I think Vicki was slamming drawers or something.”

  “You must have caught a few words, no? You’re a good catcher on your baseball team.” Rachael was trying to be reassuring and gentle at the same time.

  “She said a few bad words.” Ryan looked down at the floor again.

  “I see. Do you want to tell me what those words were? You don’t have to say the word, just the first letter is OK. I know you’re a good speller.”

  “He called her the ‘B’ word and said she was being selfish.”

  Rachael thought that wasn’t too far from an apt description. “Do you know why?”

  “I think she wanted to go to a party or something.” Ryan shrugged. “But Dad said he couldn’t go.”

  Rachael realized that the fight was about Ryan. Vicki loved to spend Saturday nights with her friends at a gin joint in the next town, and having Ryan at the house was cramping her style.

  “So why did your father ask you to go to bed early?”

  “Vicki locked herself in the bedroom. Dad was trying to talk to her through the door.” Ryan heaved a big gulp of air.

  “It’s OK, honey. You can tell me anything.” Rachael was encouraging and calm on the outside, but on the inside, she wanted to strangle Greg. And Vicki. That was one of the stipulations in the custody agreement. No arguments or disruptions during visits. “Then what happened?”

  Ryan shrugged. “I went into the hallway to ask Dad if I could watch a movie, and he told me to go to my room.”

  “Well, that wasn’t very nice.”

  “I guess.”

  “Then what happened?” It was like pulling teeth. “I promise I won’t get mad.”

  “I went to my room and started to play a video game. I guess the noise was bothering Vicki.”

  “And?” More extractions.

  “She said the ‘S’ word.”

  “How?”

  “She said she was sick of hearing that ‘S’.”

  “I see. So what did your father do?”

  “He came into my room and told me to turn it off.” A tear ran down Ryan’s cheek. “Mom, I didn’t mean to make everybody mad.”

  Rachael put her arm around her son. “I know, honey. Sometimes grown-ups get mad at each other and take it out on other people.”

  “But I didn’t do anything wrong.” Ryan started to cry.

  Rachael hugged him closer. “That’s right. You did nothing wrong. So tell me, when did you have your temper tantrum?” She smiled at him.

  Ryan shrugged again. “I was getting bored, so I took my video game and went under the covers. I didn’t think she could hear me.” Ryan paused, looking a little sheepish.

  “Go on.”

  “Then Dad came into the room and saw what I was doing and started yelling at me.”

  “What did he say?” Rachael’s blood was boiling at this point.

  “He said, ‘I thought I told you to turn that thing off.’ But he used the ‘F’ word.”

  Rachael was so angry she could spit. “OK, sweetie. I don’t want you to worry about any of this. Eat your breakfast and go play whatever game you want.” She wiped his tears, kissed him on the top of his head, and ruffled his hair.

  He gave her a big hug. “Thanks, Mom.” He wiped his nose on his sleeve. Rachael shot him a look. “Oops. Sorry.” He pulled a small step stool next to the kitchen sink and began to wash off his shirt. Then he washed his hands and held them up. “OK?”

  “OK.” Rachael gave him a warm smile. She realized it wouldn’t be too long before he didn’t need that step stool anymore. He could almost reach the single-lever faucet now.

  Rachael counted to ten to cool her jets. She was furious with Greg. When Ryan sat down to eat his breakfast, she left the room, picked up her phone, and began to dial Greg’s number. Then she thought better of it and dialed her mother’s phone number instead. Rachael had decided to pay the couple a personal visit.

  “Hello, dear,” her mother said. “Everything all right?”

  “Hey, Mom. Everything’s fine.” Rachael didn’t want to get her mother involved. She wasn’t a fan of Greg’s to begin with. “I need to run an errand. Can you come over for about an hour and look after Ryan?”

  “Of course. But isn’t he supposed to be with Greg and what’
s-her-name?”

  “Vicki.” Rachael kept calm. “Yes, but something came up, and Ryan’s here. He’s eating breakfast, then he’s going to play a game, and I thought it would be easier if you came by.”

  “What happened? Why isn’t he with Greg?” Rachael’s mother was like a dog with a sock in its mouth. When it came to Greg and Ryan, she wanted no stone left unturned.

  “Long story. Well, not really. I’ll fill you in when I get back.”

  “OK, dear. I’ll be over in a few minutes.” But she wasn’t going to let go just yet. “Are you sure everything is all right?”

  “Yes, Mom. Everything is fine,” Rachael fibbed, but she was going to make sure everything would be fine in the future.

  “I’ll see you in a bit.”

  “Thanks, Mom.” Rachael ended the call and ran to her room to get dressed. She didn’t want to look like a disheveled divorcée. The more together she looked, the better she would feel. She wanted Greg and the missus to know just how serious she was. Serious, yes. But anger was something she would have to keep at bay if she wanted to make her point. It had taken a long time for Rachael to realize that no one pays attention to your words when you’re screaming at them. She pulled on a pink cashmere sweater, leggings, and a pair of boots with a two-inch chunky heel. It dawned on her that maybe she was insecure because of her diminutive stature. It had never occurred to her that she might be compensating for something she perceived as a flaw. Interesting. She took a good long look at herself. That would be the end of any such thoughts from now on. She was fit and attractive. Smart, funny, and successful. No man could make her feel any differently. She was the master of her destiny. At least when she was given the choice. Everyone always had options. Sometimes they weren’t ideal, but there was always a choice. She slicked her hair back to a stylish pixie. Thinking of Amy’s hair, she wondered how she would look with a wild color. Nah. Even though she was a dancer, she still had a business to run in a very upscale community. She had to deal with overbearing dance moms and senior citizens. It was important to maintain the decorum of a thoughtful professional. She could always tint her hair for a recital if she wanted. The doorbell rang, signaling her mother’s arrival. Rachael swiped on red lipstick and slipped on a pair of pearl stud earrings. She took another look. Perfect for the mission she was about to embark on.

  Ryan answered the door. “Hello, Lee-lee!” That was the nickname Ryan had given her when he was little. No one knew where he got it from, but it stuck. And Rachael’s mother thought it was cute. As much as she loved being a grandmother, she wasn’t keen on the words “Grammy,” “Granny,” or “Grandma.” “Lee-lee” was fine with her.

  “Hello, Ryan.” She bent over to give him a hug. “Your mom told me you were playing a game.”

  “Yes! I beat my own score!” Ryan was pleased as punch with himself.

  “What are you going to do next?”

  “Try to beat myself again,” Ryan said with delight, and ran back upstairs. The house was a two-story colonial with two bedrooms on the second floor and a bonus room that opened up to the kitchen area with a railing. Ryan could have friends over and Rachael could monitor them without being a helicopter mom. It gave the appearance of privacy to the kids but she could hear everything that went on. The master bedroom was on the first floor adjacent to the living room, which afforded her some privacy. Whether she wanted some quiet time or she wanted to “entertain” the boyfriend du jour. But she was incredibly careful and selective. Only once had she had a man spend the night at her place, and Ryan was at his father’s that particular evening. Rachael may have been boy-crazy, but she was one heck of a mother hen when it came to protecting her son from anything that could cause him confusion or harm.

  Rachael went into the kitchen, where her mother waited patiently for an explanation. “Hi, Mom!” Rachael gave her mother a peck on the cheek. “Thanks so much for doing this.”

  Mary-Jean Newmark gave her daughter a suspicious look. “You’re welcome. So what is this all about?”

  “I have to run an errand. Shouldn’t be too long.” Rachael grabbed her tote bag, keys, and headed toward the door.

  Her mother got up from the stool and blocked Rachael from moving any further. “I know you too well. You always spend Sunday mornings reading the paper and having your favorite coffee. What gives?”

  “There was a little kerfuffle with Ryan and his father last night.” She put her hands up. “Before you get a knot in your panties, Ryan is fine, but I am going to have a chat with Greg.”

  Rachael tried to get past her mother but to no avail. “Mom, please. Let me go do this, and I promise I will fill you in when I get back.” She looked her mother straight in the eye. “Please, Mom. While I still have my wits about me.”

  Her mother stepped aside. “OK, but I am holding you to your promise, young lady.”

  Rachael gave her a salute. “Yes, ma’am!” She scurried out the door before she lost her nerve, or before her mother could try to stop her again.

  Rachael hopped into her SUV, took one more look in the mirror, and said aloud, “You got this, girl.” On the way to Greg’s, she rehearsed what she was going to say. And she was determined to remain calm and collected no matter what Greg might try to throw in her face. He had no room to talk. He married Vicki five minutes after the divorce was final. Or so it seemed. But one thing was for certain. There were rules when it came to Ryan, and if Greg couldn’t stick to them, then there would be new rules, and Greg wouldn’t have a whole lot to say about them. She appreciated how important it was for a son to have a relationship with his father, but Greg needed to act like one. Any issues he had with Vicki should be dealt with beforehand or afterward. Not in front of her son. That was it. Simple.

  She took several deep breaths as she approached the driveway of the small cottage Greg shared with Vicki. One of the other rules was that Ryan have a designated bedroom since he was supposed to spend one night a week there and every other weekend. It wasn’t Ryan’s fault the house was small enough to hear everything going on. Greg was lucky he had a roof over his head. And that was only because of Ryan. Otherwise, Greg would never see his son.

  Rachael checked the mirror one more time. She turned off the engine and proceeded to the front door, where Greg was waiting. “What are you doing here?” His tone was tense.

  “Good morning to you, too.” Rachael was cool. “Got a minute? We need to talk.”

  Greg closed the door behind him and stood on the front porch. “What about?” he asked gruffly.

  Rachael took another breath to remain calm. “The fact you have to ask is ludicrous, but it doesn’t surprise me.”

  “Always the pleasant charmer.” His sarcasm wasn’t lost on her.

  “Please, Greg. Can we have a civil conversation?”

  “That would be a first,” he said, sneering.

  Rachael shook her head. “As they say, ‘there’s a first time for everything.’ This is about our son. Your son. Can we please be civil?”

  Greg folded his arms across his chest. “If you insist.”

  “Ryan was very upset last night.”

  “You’re telling me.” Greg snorted.

  “Maybe that’s because you were very dismissive?” Rachael asked calmly, waiting for him to explode.

  “Look, he . . .”

  Rachael immediately interrupted him. “He did nothing, from what I understand.”

  “Who you gonna believe? An eight-year-old who has a vivid imagination?” Greg was as ornery as ever.

  “Let me see if I have this straight. You and Vicki didn’t have a fight, she didn’t lock herself in the bedroom, and she didn’t complain about Ryan’s playing his game?”

  “I told him to stop. He defied me.”

  “What did you expect him to do to entertain himself?” Rachael was proud of her demeanor. Very matter-of-fact and at a normal volume. But the words inside her head were screaming, You imbecilic peckerhead! “You didn’t put on a movie for him to watch. You
sent him to his room, then you got angry with him, which seemed to be displaced aggression.”

  “Wow, listen to you, Dr. Phil.” Greg was goading her, but she wasn’t taking the bait.

  “You had an argument with Vicki, and she was being unreasonable. So you took it out on your son.”

  “Oh, is that how it went?” Greg eyed her.

  “Pretty much. Tell me where I’m mistaken.” Rachael folded her arms in turn.

  “What happens between me and Vicki is none of your business.”

  “Thank goodness for that.” Rachael stepped back. “Here’s the deal, Greg. This is your one and only warning, so pay attention. If I ever have to rescue my son from a hostile environment again, it will be supervised visitation going forward.” She looked up at him. “With my mother.”

  Those words alone made him blanch. He was about to argue with her but thought better of it.

  “Understood?” Rachael maintained her stare.

  “Got it.” Greg turned on his heel, went back into the house, and slammed the door.

  Rachael walked back to her car with the biggest grin on her face. That was probably the most civil conversation she had had with him in, well, she couldn’t recall. She was enormously proud of herself and couldn’t wait to share this with her mother. Mary-Jean would be so proud of her daughter.

  Chapter Ten

  Two weeks later—mid-December

  Santa Clara

  Amy’s phone chimed the sound she had assigned to her mother’s phone number. It was Beethoven’s Fifth. Dada-da-dum. She was anxious to find out if her mother had lunched with Lloyd the week before. And if she had, would she share it? The answer came quickly.

  “Hello, Mother.” Amy sounded cheerful.

  “Hello, dear. How is my little girl?”

  Amy held the phone away from her ear and looked at it quizzically, wondering who this delightful person on the other end could be.

  “I’m fine, Mother. Are you OK?”

  “I’m as right as rain.” Dorothy was uncharacteristically jolly.

  Amy rolled her eyes, anticipating another “Wonderful World of Rusty” story. “Glad to hear it. What’s new?”