Hadley opened the front door, coffee mug in hand. The morning sun was beautiful, almost blinding. The street in front of her had been cleared of all traces of last night’s party. So much so, it all felt like a distant dream.
Oddly, what stood out most was her conversation with George Linderman. He’d grown into his large-sized features and his stocky build now seemed both muscular and agile. Anyone meeting him today would never guess he’d been the target of much teasing and bullying when he was young.
“I’m going to sit out here for a while baby girl. I’ll leave the door open. You can call me if you need me.”
Madison didn’t reply. Still in her PJs, she was sitting cross-legged on the sofa, absorbed in Elmo’s World on Hadley’s iPad.
According to all the advice Hadley read on the internet, it was okay for a three-year-old to spend up to one hour a day watching educational programming on the computer or TV, as long as they were supervised.
Well, today she was supervising from the porch.
Hadley sank into one of the two wicker chairs and sighed. The day was already warm. She could feel the sun on her bare toes and smell the nearby forest in the air.
She took a sip of her strong, black coffee. So good.
Her mother had loved having her morning coffee on the porch weekend mornings. “Come sit out here with me,” she would say to Hadley, but Hadley always had something better to do.
Chat with her friends. Listen to music. Or roll over in bed and sleep for another hour.
Hadley gazed at the empty chair beside her. She would exchange almost every day she’d spent with Luke if she could have more time with her mother.
She wanted her mom now. She wanted her so bad.
I’m sorry I was such a lousy daughter.
At least she’d had a chance to tell her mother this before she died. To tell her she loved her. That she was sorry. That she’d been a good mother and a good person and that she was going to be missed.
Hadley had been there to feed her mother, to brush her hair and rub her feet in those last, pain-filled weeks. They’d talked for hours every day, sharing stories from the many years they’d lived apart, with only brief phone calls and infrequent visits connecting them.
Her mother had filled her in on all the news from Tangle Falls and Hadley had confessed to the rocky relationship she’d had with Luke and to the life she’d cobbled together in Victoria for her and her daughter.
But what was a month of love compared to all the years she’d been absent?
When her mother said, “I didn’t want to worry you, but I’m very glad you came,” Hadley felt as if her heart was being ripped from her chest. A better daughter wouldn’t have needed to be told her mother was gravely ill. She would have known, because in her regular visits and phone calls, she would have noticed the pounds and the hair dropping, the new gray cast of her mother’s skin.
What Hadley hadn’t realized during those weeks of vigil was just how much she was going to grieve when it was over. How the pain would be physical as well as mental. That she would cry as she never had for Luke. She’d thought that because she’d been on her own so long, and gone through the loss of her father already, that she would be fine.
But she’d been a baby when her father died. His loss had been slight, compared to this.
Hadley brushed away her tears with the back of her hand. That was when she noticed a scrap of something small and colorful wedged under the welcome mat.
She set down her coffee and lifted the corner of the burlap mat.
It was a friendship bracelet, woven from embroidery thread, the kind they used to make when they were in grade school. This one had a Halloween theme, orange and green jack-o’-lanterns against a black background.
Who had put this here? And when? It looked new, in perfect condition. She was pretty sure it hadn’t been under the mat yesterday.
Someone had put it here either last night, after she came home from the street party, or early this morning.
Absently she slipped the bracelet over her wrist, then tightened the knot. The idea of a friendship bracelet was to give it to a friend who would then make a wish and wear the bracelet until it finally wore out. The day it fell from your wrist was the day you would get your wish.
My wish is for Madison. That she will always feel cared for and loved and wanted…
“Hadley!” A man on the other side of the street waved at her. He was dark haired, tall and lean, with well-groomed facial hair. “We were looking for you last night. Did you go home early?”
After assuring herself that her daughter was still absorbed in Elmo’s World, Hadley left the porch and ventured out to the lawn.
Behind the man, a little girl on a bicycle with training wheels called out, “I’m doing it Daddy! Watch me!”
After a smile of apology, the man turned to his daughter and told her what a great job she was doing. “Let’s take a little break, okay? I want you to meet someone.” He took her hand and led her across the street, leaving the bike on the opposite sidewalk.
By now Hadley had figured out who he was. What she didn’t know was how she felt about meeting him. Her sensible half knew it was vital to make a good first impression. But the other half—the half that usually dominated her decision-making process—wanted to kick him in the balls.
“You may not remember me. We were just kids last time we met. I’m Jeff Bombini. Your cousin.”
Up close, Jeff was the picture of affability. Warm eyes, broad smile. No hint of apprehension at all. Maybe he didn’t know his father had cheated her mother out of her share of their great-uncle’s inheritance?
Her mom, widowed very young, had worked hard all her life raising a kid on her own, yet she’d made time to look after her uncle Frank after his wife died. She’d driven him to medical appointments, cooked him meals, even cleaned his house.
Yet, after Frank was gone and the will was read, who had inherited the million-dollar estate? All of it? Jeff’s father, Anthony.
Hadley commanded her feet to stay firmly on the ground. “I heard you moved your family here. Quite a change from Vancouver.”
“A good change. The pandemic was harsh, but at least we learned what was really important in life. Family. Community. Simple things. Am I right?”
Hadley nodded, though in her head she was making a different list. Food, roof over your head, health care.
“Sorry, forgot to introduce my daughter, Amber.” He put a hand on the little girl’s shoulders.
“Hi,” Amber said, with a friendly smile. Hadley was impressed with her confidence. Of course, Amber was a few years older than Madison. Hadley was worried about Madison’s shyness, concerned that she was doing something wrong as a parent. Her memories of herself as a kid was having kick-ass confidence. Maybe Madison would grow into that.
“Nice to meet you, Amber. My daughter Madison is inside. She just turned three in April.”
“Crazy that we’re neighbors,” Jeff said. “Dad will get a kick out of that when I tell him.”
Hadley wondered if that was true. “Do Uncle Anthony and Aunt Cecilia still live in West Vancouver?”
“No, they bought a place on Salt Spring Island. And a boat. In the fall they sail down to the Baja Peninsula and spend the winter there.”
“Sounds nice.” She struggled to keep the resentment from her voice, but it wasn’t easy. Not once had Denise been able to afford a tropical holiday. How was it Anthony—and Jeff—didn’t feel the injustice of that?
“By the way, I should have said this earlier, but I’m awfully sorry about your mom.” He offered the condolence like he was ticking an item off a to-do list.
She simply couldn’t say thanks, the polite, expected response. If he really was sorry, why hadn’t he visited when her mother was in the hospice? Why hadn’t his father? Hadley had seen no flowers or gift baskets from that side of the family amid the offerings from friends and neighbors. Not even a thinking of you card.
It wasn’t possible they hadn’t known. Anthony had close ties with many people from Tangle Falls. According to her mom, this included Henri LaPierre. Surely Henri would have told him his sister had terminal cancer. No doubt before Hadley herself had figured out the reason her mother was no longer answering her landline.
While Hadley pondered a response to his insincere expression of condolences, Jeff was already moving on.
“Why don’t you and Madison come for dinner tonight? You can meet Carly and my son. And Amber and Madison can get to know one another.”
It would have been incredibly satisfying to tell Jeff to go to hell. To call him—and his greedy, self-obsessed father—out on her mother’s behalf.
But she couldn’t afford to do that.
“Sounds great,” she said. “What can I bring?”