Petra drove up to Astoria by herself on Friday night, singing loudly to all the boy-band, teen pop-sensation music that she was ashamed to admit she owned. But nothing else would do right now. She couldn’t risk crying to Patsy Cline and running her rental off the highway.
The car smelled new and she was glad to be away from the city. But in the static silences between songs, she felt herself gripped with an overwhelming sadness that even the brassiest synthesizers and sunniest choruses couldn’t dispel.
It was normal to feel a little off before your mom’s wedding, right?
She pulled into the parking lot of the bargain bed and breakfast she had booked for two nights. No one knew that she had left town already. Her sister and the girlfriend were set to arrive tomorrow morning. They would all meet Jim Morrison’s kids and have lunch together on the porch. Not a lot of people had been invited to the wedding, which suited Petra just fine.
Her mother had said Petra could wear anything she wanted. Lisa had also said something about Ian, and Petra told her in a choked voice that he wasn’t coming. Then her mother had said something else, which Petra didn’t catch, but sounded suspiciously like an oath, and she hung up the phone. Lisa Lale never swore or hung up on people. It was kind of great that she’d started and Petra hoped it would happen many times again when she was more in the mood to appreciate it. Petra supposed she had Jim Morrison to thank for that one, too. That, or bridal nerves.
The chatty innkeeper led her up the stairs to a room with a huge canopy bed and large walnut wardrobe. The bathroom had a claw-footed bathtub, the kind of thick, fluffy white robe that was always way too long, and, best of all, towel warmers.
It was low season, so it hadn’t been horribly expensive. She didn’t care about money anymore. What was the point when she didn’t have any?
Petra had the night planned. She would soak in the tub and paint her fingernails. Then she would read a book until she was sleepy, and her evening would be perfect and uninterrupted. She just wanted to go missing for one segment of time. In a clean room with linen that smelled like lavender and brand new soaps, she could pretend she was someone with a whole heart.
The problem was that this room looked perfect for sex. Too bad she wouldn’t be getting any of that again for a while.
• • •
The day sparkled like a diamond (although not like the diamond in her mother’s ring, Petra noted, because that one forever had a disturbingly jaundiced cast) and threatened to become one of those unseasonably warm days that had people shucking off their clothes indecently, believing that spring had arrived, perhaps even summer.
Jim Morrison and Lisa had decorated the porch with tulips, pots and pots of them, until the place looked like a Dutch postcard. There was a white tent off to the side and chairs already set out. Jim Morrison greeted her at the door with a kiss on the cheek, a blueberry muffin, and a mimosa, and told her to go up to her mother. Ellie and girlfriend had not yet arrived.
Everything was perfect.
Jim Morrison was possibly perfect.
Petra had to admit, she was warming to him. After all, he made Lisa happy, he had bought up her favorite flowers, and Petra suspected that the orange juice in her drink was fresh-squeezed and the champagne was real champagne. (Not that she was able to tell this sort of thing. Ian would probably have known.) And if Jim Morrison were indeed Dr. Evil, then the weather machine that he had invented was working splendidly. She raised her flute in a toast and downed the entire glass.
Lisa scrunched her eyebrows and cleared her throat a little nervously.
“Relax, Mom, I won’t suck down too much alcohol. But you have to admit, it’s really delicious.”
“I’m not having any,” her mother said.
“Oh dear God, you’re not pregnant at your wedding, are you, young lady?” Petra trilled laughter. Hmmm, maybe she had already had too much to drink. Petra set the flute down on the nightstand and took a big bite of blueberry muffin.
Her mother had laid out three suits on the bed and she was walking around, picking them up and holding them to herself and putting them down. She peered at herself in the full-length mirror and wrinkled her brow.
“You look great, Mom. Any one of those colors will be nice on you.”
“I had the hairdresser come yesterday, and I slept with a scarf tied around my head. It was very uncomfortable. I have dark circles under my eyes.”
“Do you have a makeup person, too?”
“No. Should I?”
She looked so chagrined that Petra moved to soothe her. “Don’t worry. I was kidding. Again. Ellie will know what to do. I hardly see the circles. If you hadn’t said something, I’d never have noticed.”
Her mother began to pace and Petra wished for an entire pitcher of mimosas.
At least the room was gorgeous. Jim Morrison had installed his bride-to-be in a huge room at the back of the house. Sunlight poured into two gabled windows and a set of French doors opened out to what her mother said was a rug-shaking porch. Petra liked that. In summertime, there were probably wonderful views of trees and green lawns and hills. Maybe if she played her cards right, she could house-sit one weekend. It was beautiful but comfortable, and it spoke of the kind of old money that she’d never had. In a place like this, she would never contemplate sadly the fact she’d never have sex again; it was just not something she’d care to do while she was in Jim Morrison and Lisa’s house, anyway.
“I just can’t decide,” Lisa was saying helplessly. “Which one makes me look nonthreatening and yet respectable?”
“I didn’t think that was the statement that brides generally wanted to make.”
“His children at lunch,” Lisa moaned. “I just want them to like me.”
Petra almost told her that the suit would be the least of Lisa’s worries. Luckily, Ellie slammed through the door and burst into her mother’s arms.
“You look beautiful,” Ellie wailed.
“No, I don’t,” Lisa bleated back.
They erupted into noisy sobs. Petra sat on the bed, careful to avoid the suits. After a moment, Ellie disentangled herself from her mother and slid next to Petra. “Oh, Petey,” she said, snuggling into her, “I missed you so much.”
Petra laughed and kissed Ellie on the cheek.
“Missed you, too. Where’s Jenna?”
“She’s eating muffins, drinking mimosas, and salivating over Jim Morrison’s Jim Morrison poster. I think it’s like heaven on earth for her right now.”
“Where are you staying tonight?”
“Oh, I think we’re all bunking here, right?”
Ellie looked at her mother for confirmation.
“I’m not,” Petra said.
“You could stay here.”
“Aren’t Jim Morrison’s kids also staying? That would be like a weird slumber party. I’ve got a great room at the bed and breakfast in town. Or, I mean, I hear it’s a very nice place.”
“C’mon, it’ll be cozy,” Ellie said.
The mention of Jim Morrison’s kids had sent their mother pacing again. She was wringing her hands and scrutinizing her outfit choices again. She muttered under her breath.
“What did you say to her?” Ellie asked in a low voice.
“What? I’ve been perfectly nice. Okay, I made one crack about her being pregnant at the wedding, but it was more of a lame joke than a bitchy zinger. Besides, you’re the one who was more recently freaked out about Mom getting married.” Petra rose from the bed and said loudly, “I think we need some dance music to put us in the mood. Plus coffee. I’m going to go downstairs and see what I can find.”
She shut the door behind them and closed her eyes.
She was…okay. Considering her mother was getting married, her sister was blaming her for imagined ills, and her own heart felt shredded. They still had to get through lunch with Jim Morrison’s kids—her new stepbrother and stepsister, she reminded herself. They were both in college. She glanced at her jeans and boots. They’d do. She didn’t want to look overly formal but was her outfit too casual?
She cut herself off before she could go any farther down that rabbit hole of self-doubt. She was already older than all of the other kids. Her poise and confidence would have to pull her through—or more mimosas. Plus, it wasn’t as if they had to like her.
They probably wouldn’t.
Low expectations were so refreshing sometimes. So were mimosas. She hurried down the stairs and almost ran smack into Jim Morrison.
He was also wringing his hands. Cute. It looked like he had learned a few tics from Lisa. It must be love. “How is your mother doing?” he asked.
“She’s fine. Worried about her outfit. Outfits, I should say. Wedding nerves.”
He shot her a sidewise glance. “Did you two manage to talk? I hope that there wasn’t too much anxious chatter. This is, after all, a joyful occasion.”
Why was she receiving warnings from everyone? She deserved to get drunk at this point, dammit.
“I was a cheerful little earful,” she said. “Now why don’t you tell me all about my new step-siblings?”
• • •
Lacey and Laird Morrison arrived about an hour later. They were arguing when they climbed out of the car. Petra had been having a surprisingly good time with Jim Morrison and Jenna. Jenna wanted to become an orthopedic surgeon and had spent the time grilling Petra and Jim Morrison about medical school, the hours, specialties, money, and patients. Privately, Petra thought Jenna was probably a little too laid-back to be a physician. Kid was definitely smart enough, and she had good grades, but she needed that extra kick of aggression and anxiety. Or maybe she could become a shrink.
Jim Morrison had been in the kitchen with the caterers until his kids arrived. As soon as he heard their car in the drive, he shot out and the lines in his face deepened.
Interesting.
Jim Morrison was hard to ruffle, but his kids clearly knew how to do that. Lacey Morrison was pretty, with soft, light hair and eyes. She had a big bag of laundry. Laird Morrison was golden-haired, golden-eyed, and just plain gorgeous. He seemed to know it. He unloaded a surfboard.
Petra had seen the pictures throughout the house, but most of them had been taken when the kids were young. She was curious to know what their mother looked like.
Laird moved lazily behind his sister and leaned the board against the side of the porch.
“You can’t leave that there,” Jim Morrison said shrilly.
It was the first time she’d heard him lose his mild, professional tone.
The twins hugged their father perfunctorily.
“I was going to bring it to the shed,” Laird said. “It’ll be fine out here for a while. Guests aren’t due till six, right?”
“Five,” Jim Morrison snapped. “Five o’clock.”
He seemed to remember himself, and introduced Jenna and Petra to his children.
Laird eyed Jenna’s Sailor Moon T-shirt then transferred his gaze to Petra’s modest chest. She resisted the urge to kick him and asked the twins about their ride up. Jim Morrison pushed them indoors.
“I thought we’d eat in the dining room. That way we won’t disturb anything for the ceremony. Just a simple sandwich buffet.”
“Where’s your beautiful bride-to-be?” Laird asked.
“And your sister?” Lacey said to Petra. She displayed a set of even white teeth.
“I’ll go get them,” Jenna said, springing up.
Great.
“Maybe you guys would like to go get settled. I can help Jim Morrison set out lunch,” Petra volunteered.
“Oh no. It’s our house, our dad,” Lacey said. “Our job.”
She flashed another tight smile then reached to get her laundry bag. The swinging motion knocked a few tulip pots over. She didn’t bother to right them.
Lisa appeared downstairs in the blue suit, which was a pretty color. It should have made her eyes look bright. Instead, her gaze darted tensely between Laird and Lacey and Jim Morrison.
Well, at least it was nice that Petra wasn’t considered the troublemaker anymore. If anything, she wondered if Lisa had had the same words with Jim Morrison about his children that he had with Lisa about Petra.
Jim Morrison had managed to regain his normal tone, although his eyes looked strained. He kept one hand on Lisa at all times, probably to steady her, but it almost looked like he was keeping her from flying off into a nearby bush and hiding. He tried to get her to eat, but she just shook her head. Laird made a none-too-subtle crack about delicate flowers, and Ellie hissed at him like an angry mongoose. Lacey laughed. Jenna held Ellie back, and Petra suddenly wished Ian were there to smooth things over.
Because that’s what he did. Beautifully. More than that.
Sadness closed around her suddenly, like a clamshell.
It was funny, she thought, sipping a glass of water. Her mother and sister were unhappy right now, but at least they had people to hold their hands. The tulips waved outside on the porch and Laird and Lacey weaved in and out of the conversation like a pair of stinging bees. Here was her mother so brave, trying once again to find love, and her sister being soothed by the gentle hands of her girlfriend. The whole blond group of them already looked like a family. Even though anger and tension and argument swirled all around her, Petra felt very still and very alone.
She looked at them, dry-eyed, and she wished she had done things differently.
• • •
People were gathering on the lawn. Laird had forgotten to move his surfboard, although it did look rather beautiful leaning there, its red and white stripes blending with the brightness of the tulips. In any case, Jim Morrison was too busy and too worried to notice. As for Laird, he had disappeared somewhere and Petra knew better than to touch someone else’s board.
She went to get a bottle of water for Ellie and a sandwich for her mother. It would be bad business if her mother passed out during the ceremony. It didn’t matter if she got crumbs on her wedding dress.
The caterers were in the kitchen, pulling pans out of the oven. They had covered the granite countertops with trays in varying stages of being assembled. The dining room beyond had also been co-opted. It was a good thing that lunch had broken up so quickly—Petra was still not sure what had been said—because it seemed like every single space on the cabinets, in the refrigerator, and even on the floor, was occupied and humming and warm with activity.
She took a step back. Probably best to leave them alone.
But as she moved, she saw out of the corner of her eye a tall man in a charcoal suit approaching her. Her heart zoomed up, then went plunging down into her shoes.
Ian.
• • •
She looked calm and beautiful. He had never seen her in a blue dress before. It brought out the soft duskiness of her skin. It skimmed her shoulders and breasts and draped lovingly around the curve of her bottom. But an embroidery pattern of leaves and branches unfurled around the skirt, making her look like a cool winter scene.
Only her eyes said something different. She looked at him, tired and sad. He wanted to pull her to him and enfold her in his arms, but he didn’t want her to run away. Instead, they just looked at each other.
“Jim asked for advice about a last-minute caterer. Then, he and your mother wanted me to come,” he said.
“That was nice of you.”
“Not particularly. I wanted to see you.”
He was going to say more, but she held up her hand. “I need to get something for my mom. She hasn’t eaten all day. And maybe some water.”
Ian nodded and flagged down the woman in charge. He smiled and said something in her ear and within minutes, she produced a plate with hors d’oeuvres and two squat water bottles. Petra thanked her and Ian, and he nodded. “I’ll find Jim, then,” he said. “See how he’s holding up.”
He watched her walk down the hallway and curled his fist. He was stupid. Of course she wouldn’t want to talk to him at her mother’s wedding. She was probably feeling terrible about the whole thing. She would be busy through the night, chatting with guests, shaking hands, and catching up with old friends. She was exhausted and unlikely to be charitable. She had hardly reacted when she saw him. She hadn’t even bothered to say hello, or touch him, or kiss him.
A kiss would have been nice.
He straightened his collar. He had no ammunition to beg for a second chance. Nothing had changed. He still had the cat. She still, obviously, didn’t trust him. At least he’d left town for a week and hadn’t had to worry about choking on a furball in his sleep. Kevin had arranged for a delighted Penny to sit with Snuffy, although she had strict orders to change her clothing if she went to visit Kevin afterward.
But he had worried about Petra for this day. Even as he sped along the road, he’d thought of Petra. He thought, too, of his father and all the travel and the neglect. He thought of his mother. He considered all the mistakes they had made and how much he hadn’t wanted to end up like them. He had gone to see his relatives earlier in the week, and it wasn’t terrible. He had expected epiphanies, closure, seraphim and cherubim, earthquakes and floods. Something. But all he felt when he cleaned out his aunt’s eavestroughs, or helped his uncle change the oil of his Chevy, was the heavy ache of missing Petra. As he drove around the winding highways along the coast, he remembered himself as a teenager, and all the things that he had wanted to do with his life. Despite the mess of his parents’ marriage, he had wanted to find a home, and love. Now, it seemed, he had gone in exactly the opposite direction. He had nowhere to live, and the only woman he would ever want didn’t want to speak to him. At this moment, he was worse off than his mother and father.
He promised himself that he wouldn’t let her go without one last chance to say his piece.
In the meantime, he probably needed a drink.