Hugh’s behavior grows more belligerent by the day, his exuberance over his forthcoming inheritance a thing of the past. He pounds on her bedroom door late at night, calling her vulgar names and berating her for refusing to sleep with him. She’s embarrassed for him. The girls hear everything he says. But Laney is powerless to stop him. If she comes out of her room, she fears he’ll attack her.
His drunken tirade lasts longer than usual on Thursday night. He rants and raves until after midnight when he finally retreats to his bedroom. Thirty minutes later, Laney is whispering to Bruce on the phone when there’s a light tapping on her door.
“I have to go. Someone’s at the door. It must be one of the girls.” Laney hangs up on Bruce and goes to the door. Grace is standing in the hallway with tears streaming down her face.
“Oh, honey. Come in.” Laney takes her by the hand and pulls her into the room, locking the door behind them.
“I’m scared, Mom. I don’t understand why you don’t just divorce him. You’ve been sleeping in the guest room for over a year.”
“It’s complicated.” Laney leads her daughter over to the bed, and they sit side by side on the edge of the mattress. “I’d hoped your father and I could work things out, but he refuses to go for counseling. Things have gotten so bad, I don’t see any way to save the marriage.”
Grace snatches a tissue from the box on the nightstand and swipes at her eyes. “Good! You’ve accepted it’s over. Now kick him out of the house before he hurts you. Or us. Some of my friends’ parents are divorced. It’s not that big a deal.”
“The problem is the timing.” Laney angles her body toward Grace. “Your father received some devastating news on Sunday. Your grandfather has cancer, sweetheart.”
Grace clamps her hand over her mouth. “Oh no! Poor Granddaddy. Is it bad?”
“I’m afraid so,” Laney says in a solemn tone.
Grace looks at her with terrified blue eyes. “Is he gonna die?”
“I think so, sweetheart. But we should still pray for a miracle.”
Letting out a sob, Grace falls onto her side and curls herself into a ball. Laney spoons her from behind, cooing encouraging words that everything will be okay when she’s far from sure it will.
Grace’s sobs eventually subside, and they drift off to sleep. When Laney’s alarm goes off at six thirty on Friday morning, she reaches across her daughter to the nightstand, hitting the snooze button on her phone.
A small voice beside her says, “Please tell me it was a bad dream, that Granddaddy isn’t dying.”
Laney snuggles closer to her daughter, sniffing her strawberry shampoo. “I’m sorry, sweetheart. It wasn’t a dream.”
“Can I stay home from school today?”
Laney props herself on one elbow in order to see her daughter’s face. “You don’t want to miss your big game in Charlottesville this afternoon.”
“Who cares about the game?” Grace says sniffling.
“Your teammates and coaches. You’re the star player. They’re counting on you to lead them to victory.” Laney rolls out of bed and comes around to Grace’s side. She pulls back the covers. “I know you’re upset about Granddaddy, but I promise you’ll feel better once you’re at school with your friends.”
Grace pushes herself to a sitting position. “Can I tell Ella?”
“Let’s keep this between us for now. I’ll make sure your father talks to her over the weekend.”
“Okay.” Grace gets to her feet and moves toward the door. “At least I understand now why Dad is so upset.”
Laney holds her tongue. Hugh should be ashamed of himself. He’s an adult. There’s no good reason for him to behave like a lunatic.
* * *
Hugh’s bedroom door is still closed when Laney leaves for work. She spends the morning creating bouquets and displaying them in her new iron rack on the sidewalk in front of the shop. Attracted by the display, customers leaving Delilah’s Delights stop in to purchase a bouquet.
Laney chats them up as she processes their credit card charges. Many are hosting dinner parties tonight, while some simply want to brighten their kitchens. All are thrilled to finally have a local source for fresh flowers. They take her business card and promise to call with flower orders for special occasions soon.
By lunchtime, all the bouquets have been sold, and she puts together more. By three o’clock, every stem in her cooler is gone.
A delivery van from Flower Fanatics arrives around five o’clock with her flowers for this weekend’s wedding, and she spends an hour getting organized for tomorrow morning’s work.
Laney has nowhere she needs to be until eight o’clock when she picks the girls up from school. She’s avoiding home, where she might run into Hugh. With time to kill, she goes upstairs to the small apartment. She opens all the windows in the living room to clear out the stuffy air. Sitting down on the sofa, she rests her head against the cushion and closes her eyes. She replays her conversation with Grace last night. Her girls are terrified. The three of them can’t continue living in that house with their deranged father and husband. While it’s not ideal, they can live in this apartment until they find something more suitable.
Hearing the crunch of gravel in the back alleyway, Laney gets up and walks to the window, surprised to see Bruce climbing out of his truck. She calls out to him, “Hey, there. What’re you doing here?”
He holds up a bottle of champagne. “We’re celebrating. Can I come up?”
“Sure. Use the door on the left. It should be unlocked.”
Seconds later, footfalls on the steps precede Bruce’s appearance in the doorway.
“What’re we celebrating?” she asks, taking the champagne from him.
“Your new business. We can’t let the occasion go unrecognized. And since you refuse to have an official grand opening, I had to take matters into my own hands.” He removes a portable speaker from his back pocket. “I even brought tunes.”
“Cool!” While he connects his phone to the speaker, Laney searches the kitchen for glasses. On the top shelf of a cabinet, she locates two dusty stemless champagne flutes. She rinses the glasses, and Bruce pops the cork.
“To Laney’s Bouquets,” he says, touching his glass to hers.
Laney giggles. “Thank you! Things are going well. I sold two batches of bouquets today. If I’d had more flowers, I could’ve sold more.”
They drag chairs near the front windows where the cool autumn air is drifting in. Like a married couple, they take turns sharing news of what happened during the day. They’ve gotten to know each other well during their late-night phone calls. She’s at ease with him in a way she never was with Hugh, but she warns herself to be careful. She has already fallen hard for this man. Her life is too complicated to act on those feelings.
When he moves to pour more champagne, she covers her glass with her hand. “I can’t. I have to pick the girls up at school soon.”
When an old Barbra Streisand song plays from the speaker, Bruce pulls Laney to her feet and into his arms. They dance in front of the window, gazing into each other’s eyes. Their bodies fit perfectly together, and when he kisses her, she doesn’t stop him. Their chemistry is powerful. This is where she’s meant to be. But not like this. Not as secret lovers.
She pushes him away. “I can’t do this, Bruce. Not while I’m still living with Hugh.”
Bruce runs a hand through his auburn hair. “I’m so sorry, Laney. I didn’t mean for that to happen. I can’t control myself where you’re concerned.”
“I need you in my life. But friendship is all I have to offer for now. Maybe for a long time to come. If and when I finally get up the nerve to leave Hugh, I can’t just jump into a relationship with you. I need to be alone to sort myself out.”
Frustration crosses his handsome features. “You’ve been sleeping in your guest room for over a year. Isn’t that the same as being alone?”
Laney considers this. “I guess so. But I have to think of my girls. They’re going to need time to adjust.”
He takes her hands in his. “I’m willing to wait as long as it takes, Laney. I’m crazy about you. You’re my person, and I’m afraid of losing you. You need to leave Hugh. I’m terrified something bad will happen to you in that house.”
“I’m getting close, Bruce. I just need a little more time.” Laney takes their glasses to the kitchen, washing them out with soapy water and placing them on a paper towel to dry.
When she returns to the living room, he’s standing at the window, staring out. “I hate to bust up this party, Bruce, but I need to leave to pick up the girls.”
“Of course. Are you okay to drive?”
She smiles at him. “I’m fine. I only had the one glass.”
They leave the apartment together, and Bruce walks her to her car. “I’m here for you, Laney. Call me anytime, night or day.”
“I will. Maybe I’ll see you tomorrow at the vineyard.” She kisses his cheek, gets in her car, and drives off toward the school.
She arrives as the bus is pulling up. The team lost their game, and the girls say little on the way home. When she unlocks the door, Ella and Grace dart up the stairs, and Laney starts up after them.
Hugh’s voice booms down the hall, stopping her in her tracks. “Laney! Get in here.”
She freezes as she considers her options. She could ignore him and continue up the stairs. But she hasn’t eaten since breakfast, and she’s starving. He’s in the room with the food, and she refuses to be a prisoner in her own home. She retraces her steps down the stairs.
Hugh, with feet apart and arms folded over chest, is waiting for her at the end of the hallway. “Where have you been?”
“At the shop, getting ready for the wedding tomorrow,” she says, brushing past him.
He follows on her heels into the kitchen. “Are you having an affair?”
“I am. A love affair with my flowers.” She opens the refrigerator and removes a plastic container of cold pasta salad.
He spins her around. “I’m not kidding, Laney. Don’t you dare make a fool of me.”
She keeps a straight face despite her racing mind. There was no one else in the apartment. He couldn’t possibly know about Bruce. This is his obsession du jour. “I’m not having an affair, Hugh.”
He narrows his deep blue eyes. “Swear to me.”
She places her right hand over her heart. “I swear. I’m not having an affair,” she says with a clean conscience. An innocent kiss doesn’t constitute an affair.
Hugh runs a finger down her cheek. “Let’s start over, babe. I’ll give you whatever you want. Nicer car. Bigger house. I’m hoping we can move into Dad’s house after he’s gone.”
Laney has often dreamed of being mistress of Love-Struck Vineyard. The mansion is fabulous, but the price of having to stay married to Hugh is too great.
“Our problems are too deep-seated to work through on our own. We need marriage counseling.” Laney says, shoveling pasta salad into her mouth.
“Rekindling our sex life would be a good start.”
Laney levels her gaze on him. “Sex was never an issue. Your complete disregard for what’s important to me is the problem.”
“What could be more important than our family and our home?” he says, close enough for her to smell his rank whiskey breath.
“Nothing is more important than my girls, but my business is a close second.” She returns the container to the refrigerator and slams the door shut.
“I don’t understand. Why do you need to work when I’ve given you everything you’ve ever wanted?”
“It’s not about material goods, Hugh. I need to be productive. I’m an artist. I need to create.”
He snorts. “You call stuffing flowers in a vase art?”
“There you go again with your condescending attitude.” Laney fills a tumbler with ice and water. “Your late-night drunken tirades have to stop. You’re scaring the girls.” She starts out of the room and turns back around. “By the way, Grace already knows about your father’s medical condition. But you need to tell Ella tomorrow.”
Laney bolts up the stairs, expecting him to follow, but is relieved when he doesn’t. Sitting on the edge of her bed, she inhales and exhales deeply until her breath steadies. Hugh will never understand her, never accept her desire to make something of herself. She’s fighting for her sanity, fighting for her future. She’s no longer uncertain, no longer afraid. She needs to stop dragging out this unhealthy situation and start divorce proceedings. But she must be smart about it. She needs a plan.