Dinner was late, but it wasn’t Margot’s trip to the airport that caused it. The mother of Matthew’s playdate had wanted to show her a quilt she was making and was so eager to chat that Margot couldn’t get away. Panic had risen inside her as the other woman continued to drone on about the various kinds of patterns she used and how she was thinking about selling her work online, but Margot had learned not to let on that she was under so much pressure. Someone who wasn’t in her situation wouldn’t understand, and making Sheldon “look bad” was a cardinal sin.
Fortunately, Sheldon arrived home even later than she did. He said “someone” had dropped by the office and held him up for a few minutes. He didn’t say who, which was what made her guess.
“Was it Cecilia Sonderman?” she asked.
He was washing his hands in the kitchen sink—something she’d asked him not to do many times.
“Yeah.” He sent her a sharp glance. “How’d you know?”
Cece had been sniffing around for a couple of months now, and Margot could tell Sheldon was flattered by the attention. She suspected he also enjoyed the opportunity to try to make her jealous, because he was the one who’d let on that Cece was still interested in him. He threw it at her whenever he did something that upset her—to let her know there were other women waiting in the wings, she supposed. It should’ve galled her that his high school sweetheart, who’d only recently divorced her husband and moved back to town, was seeking him out. But as far as Margot was concerned, they couldn’t fall in love fast enough. Then maybe he’d be distracted when she left. Perhaps Cece would even be decent enough to try to talk some sense into him. Let her go. Let her live her life. You’ve got me...
Or maybe Cece would become the next victim of his demanding and controlling nature. Margot was tempted to warn her that he wasn’t what he appeared to be—she felt bad for any woman who might fill her shoes—but she couldn’t take the risk. Not when it could get back to him and blow her chance to leave.
Cece would have to look out for herself; she had no business making a play for a married man in the first place.
“Just a guess,” she said mildly.
“We’re friends. That’s all. Nothing’s going on.” He sounded defensive even though there’d been no accusation in her voice.
“Of course.”
He gave her a funny look. Maybe he was surprised by her naivete. Or maybe he could tell it wasn’t naivete—that it was absolute indifference. But she’d done nothing to make an issue of his tardiness or the reason he’d been late, so even he seemed hard-pressed to find a reason to get angry over their latest exchange.
“Are you hungry?” she asked.
“Starving.”
“Good. I’ve made your favorite meal.”
He seemed slightly perplexed again; no doubt he knew he’d been awful to her of late and didn’t deserve special treatment. “Shepherd’s pie?”
She’d also made a pot roast. He liked both. Had he said pot roast, she would’ve served it to him and saved the shepherd’s pie for tomorrow. The past two days she’d been doubling up on the cooking and planned to freeze the extra. She was trying to get ahead so she could spend some time with her family, especially her mother, before she had to escape and eke out a new life. “Yep.”
“Sounds good.” He sat at the head of the table and read the news on his phone while she got the kids in their seats and the food on the table.
“How was work today?” she asked as she took his plate and dished up a generous portion of shepherd’s pie—originally her mother’s recipe.
Sheldon barely glanced up from his phone. “It was okay.”
“Anything happen?”
Irritated that she continued to interrupt him, he scowled. “Was something supposed to happen?”
She’d been looking for an opportunity to tell him Gia was in town, but he’d only complain about the gas money she’d spent driving to Sioux City, so she wasn’t planning to volunteer that she’d been involved unless he specifically asked. Let him think their father had picked her up—or that she’d taken an Uber. “No,” she said, backpedaling. “I was just...asking about your day.”
“I got to go to Nathan’s!” Matthew piped up, eager to talk even if his father wasn’t.
Not to be outdone, Greydon joined in, “And I got to go to Jimmy’s!”
“Great. I’m happy for both of you.” Sheldon pointed at their plates. “Now quit playing with your food and eat.”
Matthew scowled at the small mound of pie Margot had dished up for him. “I don’t like this.”
“It’s good for you.” Sheldon shoveled another huge bite into his own mouth. “Eat it.”
Their oldest son slumped in his seat. “I hate green beans!”
The look that entered Sheldon’s eyes caused the hair on the back of Margot’s neck to stand on end. So far, he hadn’t treated the boys too badly. Although he was stern and demanded to be obeyed, he reserved the worst of his temper for her.
But as Matthew got older and tried to establish his own will, she could see that changing. It was one of the things that gave her sufficient motivation to leave, despite the sacrifices she’d have to make. Sheldon refused to be challenged by a woman or a child. If she didn’t do something to change the future, she could see Matt one day being on the receiving end of the badgering and belittling she had to endure—and that was if Sheldon didn’t break down and do worse.
“There are kids just like you starving in Africa,” he said. “Be glad you got something to eat.”
“Just eat everything around the beans,” Margot muttered, hoping to defuse the situation. But all that did was draw Sheldon’s attention to her.
“Don’t undermine my authority,” he snapped. “If I tell him to eat something, he’d better do it.”
Matthew flinched at his father’s steely tone. “What happens if I can’t?” he asked, worry filling his eyes.
“You’ll sit there until you do,” his father pronounced.
“I’ll eat them for you!” Greydon, who looked almost like a clone of his older brother with thick dark hair and big brown eyes, demonstrated how much he liked them by picking one out of his mashed potatoes and stuffing it into his mouth.
Sheldon arched an eyebrow at Greydon. “Matthew will eat his own.”
What Sheldon was demanding wasn’t exactly Machiavellian. There were worse punishments than sitting at a table until you’d consumed four green beans. Knowing it was best to support her husband when she could, Margot nodded. “Your father’s right, Matt. It can’t be that hard to choke down a few beans.”
“If I throw up, it’s not my fault,” he grumbled.
Margot hoped that wouldn’t happen. Sheldon would interpret it as a voluntary act—a refusal to obey—and punish him by taking away something he loved, like saying he couldn’t play baseball this year. She and the boys wouldn’t be around long enough for baseball season, but Matt didn’t know that, so it would definitely upset him.
Hoping to give her son a chance to come to terms with eating all his dinner, she reached over and smoothed the hair out of his eyes while changing the subject. “I was thinking we’d have pot roast tomorrow. Does that sound good? Everyone likes pot roast.”
Her husband was once again focused on his phone and didn’t seem to hear her. At least, he didn’t respond—but then he jerked his head up and pinned her to her seat with a baleful glare. “Did you know your sister’s in town?”
Margot lowered her eyes to her plate as though intent on taking her next bite. “She let me know she was coming. Who told you she was already here?”
“My mother has a friend who quilts with her. She stopped by your folks’ place to drop off a pumpkin pie. Said Gia was there.”
“It’s about time Gia came home,” Margot said, mostly as a deflection. “I’ve been after her for months.”
“Aunt Gia?” Matthew perked up, but Sheldon didn’t give her the chance to respond.
“She thinks she’s pretty cool flying that helicopter into the wilderness,” Sheldon said. “She loves her business so much I’m surprised she’d leave it.”
“Backcountry Adventures closes for four months every winter,” Margot explained.
“Not during hunting season, it doesn’t.”
“She has a partner, right? He must be covering for her until the first of November.”
“That means she might be here for a while? A couple of weeks, at least?” He didn’t sound pleased.
“I’m not sure what her plans are, exactly. You know Gia. She hasn’t spent much time in Wakefield since she left—just a few days here and there a couple times a year. But with Mom being sick...that could change things.”
“She doesn’t care about your mom or she would’ve been here a lot more over the past months,” he said matter-of-factly. “I bet she doesn’t stay a week.”
Margot hoped her sister would stay a lot longer than that. She couldn’t disappear if Gia didn’t stay, and that worried her. Gia could be so mercurial. She refused to be caged in by the expectations of others—by anything, really. Margot had always envied her that and wondered why she was built so differently. “You could be right.”
“Knowing her, she has plans to go skiing in Canada or to take pictures of the North Pole next week,” he said.
Sheldon had never liked Gia. Their first argument had taken place at the wedding, because he’d gone to the barn with his friends and gotten drunk instead of showing any interest in his bride. Gia had taken one look at Margot’s tear-streaked face and marched outside to tell Sheldon he was being an insensitive jackass, that he should come in and whisk his new wife away so they could get on with their honeymoon, and that had turned into a shouting match during which Gia had said a bit too much.
His family still blamed her for “ruining” the wedding. Even Margot had bought into that argument—to a point. She hadn’t wanted Gia to make a scene. But Gia was Gia. And it had really been Sheldon who’d ruined the wedding. Had he been treating her right, Gia wouldn’t have felt the need to get involved.
Margot carried some resentment over how unconcerned he’d been with making their wedding special. It should’ve been the one time she came before his friends. She wished she’d paid more attention to the warning that night turned out to be. She and Sheldon had muddled through their first two years, trying to figure out how to get along. He’d had a temper even then, but Margot had blamed most of their problems on the stress he was under. Since he was determined to live a very traditional life, he refused to let her go to work, which meant he had to make a living on his own. And his parents had started demanding more and more of his time as he took over the business.
Their relationship did get better while she was going through the fertility treatments that had eventually given them two children. But after Greydon was born, Sheldon grew busier and busier—and more successful at work. Soon, his parents’ opinion began to matter a lot more to him than hers, and not long after that, he seemed to quit trying to be a good husband altogether. Now when she suggested marriage counseling, he shut her down immediately. He claimed counseling was bullshit and never worked.
Margot believed he just didn’t want to hear anyone else, especially a professional, tell him he was in the wrong. He wasn’t willing to change.
Margot took a drink of her water. “We’ll have to see.”
“I hope you don’t plan on spending too much time with her,” he said. “I certainly wouldn’t want you acting the way she does.”
A shot of adrenaline brought up her heart rate. “People will think it’s weird if I’m not there for my mother. She’s dying of cancer, Sheldon. And I can’t stipulate that Gia not be around when I go over.”
He rolled his eyes. “I’m not saying you can’t visit your dying mother,” he said, his voice oozing irritation.
Margot reiterated the most salient part of what she’d said. “But Gia will be there.”
His chair scraped the floor as he stood up to help himself to seconds. “Like I said, probably not for long.”
Gia could be pretty protective. She was the fighter in the family. And that was exactly what Margot needed right now. Hopefully, her sister wouldn’t let her down. “I’m sure you’re right,” she mumbled, and was relieved when Sheldon got a call. Although he didn’t leave the table—he didn’t care if they had to sit and listen to his conversation—he sat with his head hanging down over his food, kneading his forehead while he talked. Then Greydon dropped his fork and scrambled off his chair to get it, so she popped Matthew’s green beans into her mouth.
“Mom!” Matt whispered, shocked by this tiny defiance.
She smiled as she pressed a finger to her lips—and he shot her a relieved smile in return.
When her parents turned in—her mother needed all the rest she could get—Gia wasn’t ready for bed. It was only nine o’clock, eight o’clock in Idaho, and she didn’t usually go to bed until eleven or twelve.
She spent some time planning out the meals she wanted to cook to give her father a break and provide her mother with a more varied menu. Then she logged on to social media because she was interested in catching up with some of the people she’d known in Wakefield. Usually, she was too busy and too far away to be concerned with what her high school friends and former classmates were doing, but now that she’d be here for a while, she wanted to let Ruth and Sammie and any other members of the Banned Books Club who were still in town know she was visiting. The next few months were going to be rough; she needed to figure out a way to give herself a break now and then and provide relief from the heartbreak that lay ahead.
She hoped to spend some time with Margot, too. Her sister had seemed different today, more open and reachable than ever before. But if being with Margot meant seeing much of Sheldon, Gia knew she wouldn’t be able to bear it.
A ding signaled that she’d received a text. Sammie had responded to her message of a few minutes earlier.
I’m so sorry about your mom.
It was painful seeing her tonight. So much has changed since I was here last summer.
I’ve noticed that Margot has been pretty subdued lately. I was afraid that meant things weren’t going well.
My mother being so sick has been hard on her.
Gia had already figured out that having a front-row seat to her mother’s illness wasn’t going to be easy on her, either. It might even be more excruciating for her than it was for Margot. Margot could at least feel good about her relationship with their mother. Gia had never been able to connect with Ida in a meaningful way, and it made everything worse to see the opportunity to build a stronger relationship in the future disappear.
I feel terrible for both of you.
Thanks. Want to get together for lunch or dinner tomorrow?
That sounds good.
Should we have Ruth join us?
I bet she’d love to come. I see her at spin class. I could talk to her tomorrow morning.
I can text her. She shouldn’t be in bed yet. But if she comes, we’ll have to make it dinner or drinks after. I don’t think schoolteachers get much of a lunch, do they?
If we want to do lunch, we’d probably have to go there and eat in her classroom.
Not quite what I had in mind.
To avoid the clumsiness of continuing to text, Gia called Sammie, and they decided on drinks so Gia’s parents would be in bed before she left the house. Then Sammie asked if she was currently seeing anyone, and she said she wasn’t, even though Mike had talked her into waiting until she got back to make a final decision about their relationship. He was hoping she’d miss him and change her mind, of course, but she already knew she was more comfortable backing away.
Sammie indicated she was dating the same on-again, off-again boyfriend she’d had for years—a concrete contractor—and said her only sibling, a brother whom Gia had briefly dated in high school, had moved to Hawaii to become a surf instructor. Sammie was a little disgruntled that he was so far away because their father had shingles, and she’d had to take several months away from her own job working as a paralegal for two attorneys in town to help him keep up with his soybean farm.
“What do you think of getting the Banned Books Club together while you’re here?” Sammie asked as the conversation was winding down. “We could meet at the elementary school in Ruth’s class.”
“The chairs there are tiny—for third-graders,” Gia replied. “We should plan a night out at a restaurant or something.”
“Want me to send a group email inviting everyone to The Jukebox for a meal and drinks?”
“That sounds like fun.”
They decided on a week from Saturday to give everyone enough notice so that even some of those who’d moved away might be able to come back.
“You’ve got the list?” Gia asked, making sure.
“The one I’ve been using every Christmas, but—” there was a slight pause “—what about Cormac Hart?”
“What about him? We haven’t been inviting him to our Christmas parties.” Gia had taken him off the list long ago. She knew there was no way he’d ever want to hear from her.
“I know, but he still lives in town and might hear about this one. Seems kind of mean to leave him out. I mean...he didn’t do anything wrong.”
Gia gripped her forehead as she talked. “He hates me, Sam. He thinks I was lying.”
“But you weren’t. Maybe he’s come to realize that.”
“I doubt it.” Gia would never forget the day Mr. Hart was fired. Cormac had approached her right after, at her locker, red-faced, red-eyed and livid. He’d said some terrible things and hadn’t spoken to her directly since, but she could remember his smoldering gaze as she sat in the witness box, testifying against his father...
“What’s he doing these days, anyway?”
“Mr. Hart or Cormac?” Sammie asked.
Just hearing the name of her former teacher made Gia’s stomach churn. She’d thought so highly of the handsome, distinguished English chair. Generally, she refused to talk about him, tried not to remember how everything had been turned on its head. But if she was going to be in Wakefield for any length of time, she figured she should find out for sure if he was still around. “Let’s start with the father.”
“I don’t think you were here long enough to see all the fallout after the trial. I assume your family told you, though.”
“We don’t talk about it.” They did even more than not talk about it—they studiously avoided any mention of the parties involved, which was why Gia knew absolutely nothing.
“Got it. Well, I’m sure you remember that he was sentenced to quite a bit of community service, and he also had to register as a sex offender? That made it pretty hard for him to get another job.”
Gia flinched. “That wasn’t my fault.”
“I’m not saying it was—just letting you know why it is that nowadays he runs the tractor store at the far end of town.”
Mr. Hart was capable of doing so much more. He’d been one of the most intelligent people she’d ever met. He’d been an excellent teacher, too. Which was part of what made the whole situation so sad.
But she wasn’t the one who’d betrayed his trust. “Does he still live down the street from my parents?”
“You’ve never asked them?”
Gia could hear the surprise in Sammie’s voice. “I told you—we don’t talk about him. I wouldn’t be talking about him now except I need to know what land mines remain—and where those land mines might be.” She also didn’t want to remind her parents, who she felt hadn’t supported her the way they should have.
“He’s no longer down the street. He and his wife lost that house about a year after you left.”
It’d been repossessed? Gia was glad she hadn’t heard that. Over the years, she’d felt bad enough about what had happened. It wasn’t as if Mr. Hart’s wife or children had deserved any punishment.
“Some other family lives there now,” Sammie was saying. “But Cormac lives right behind you.”
Gia had been lounging on her bed while she talked, but at this she sat up. “What’d you say?”
“Cormac bought the house right behind you.”
She blinked, staring at nothing, remembering the house Sammie was referring to. She knew it almost as well as her own. Leslie, her childhood bestie, had lived there until she and her family had moved to Des Moines when she was in the fourth grade. Gia and Leslie had been so close Leslie’s father had installed a gate so they could go back and forth between the two houses without having to walk all the way around the block. “But...how could Cormac afford a house like that?” she asked. “It’s nice. I mean, it doesn’t have a pool and hot tub like this one, but...it’s almost as big.”
“The same way you own a helicopter, I guess,” she said with a laugh.
“I have a loan on that. And I have a partner who helps make the payments.”
“I’m sure Cormac has a loan on his house, too. No partner, though—of the personal or business kind. But I doubt he needs any help. Since old man Tomlin retired, Cormac’s the only veterinarian in town. I think he does pretty well for himself.”
“He never married?”
“Not yet, despite a string of girlfriends in his twenties and one or two—so far—in his thirties. There isn’t a single woman in town who doesn’t have her eye on him.”
“Including you?” Gia was mostly joking, so she was surprised by Sammie’s response.
“Including me,” she admitted with a laugh. “You should see what he looks like these days. He’s freaking hot. And he’s nice, too.”
Gia bit her bottom lip as she considered this information. She didn’t want to think about the good-looking or nice parts. She was focused on his close proximity. “Is he with anyone now?”
“No. He hasn’t had a girlfriend for a couple of years, at least. As I said, a lot of women have tried to change that, but he seems to be too preoccupied with his clinic, his dog and enjoying the single life.”
She got up and peered out her window. There were a few trees in both yards that’d grown enough to partially obstruct her view, but she could see light spilling around the blinds on the ground floor and found it odd to think that Cormac was in Leslie’s old house, watching TV or working on his computer before bed. “What made him buy the house right around the block from my parents?” she asked. She was mostly talking to herself, but Sammie attempted to answer.
“Maybe he got a good deal.”
A shadow passed in front of one of the blinds, causing Gia to step back. Unless he had a guest over, that was him right there. But just because he lived so close didn’t mean she’d bump into him, she told herself. Having him around the block was far better than having him down the street where she’d be more likely to drive past while he was pulling in or out of his driveway, doing yardwork, washing his vehicle or whatever. Chances were he wouldn’t even realize she was back.
Except that someone would probably tell him. The scandal that had erupted her senior year, his junior year, had shaken up the whole town...
“G?”
Gia drew her mind back to the conversation. “What?”
“Do you want to invite him to the Banned Books Club get-together or leave him out?”
Gia sank onto her bed. She understood that Cormac wasn’t responsible for what had happened. He and the rest of his family were victims of what his father had done as much as she was. But with her mother so ill—and having to face more than enough as it was—she preferred not to have any interaction with him. “Leave him out.”