“Is Mark all right? My father?” Frantic questions fired faster than Amanda could stop them. Why in the world was her mother-in-law standing in the lobby of Palacio del Grande? She knew Marianne’s job as a secretary at Lubbock Community College didn’t pay enough to send her to Mexico on a flight of fancy. “How did you get here?”
“Slow down, dear.” Marianne patted Amanda’s shoulder in a movement both condescending and irritating. “Not to worry. We’ve got plenty of time. Why don’t you go get changed out of your beach clothes, and then we can visit in that darling little restaurant back there?”
Amanda fingered the edge of her floral dress, purchased at a shop downtown. Not beach clothes. She nodded and escaped to her room. In the steaming shower, the scalding water soothed her fears, for the moment. She made up her face and pretended Marianne’s appearance at the hotel was a welcome event and not an impending sign of disaster.
In Antiqua Grill they sat across from each other, old enemies with bright smiles. Marianne in her traveling outfit, still starched in spite of the humidity. A suitcase at her feet.
Checking in?
After ordering a cup of hot tea, Marianne shooed the waiter away. She glanced at Amanda as if she didn’t know where to start and fiddled with the sugar packets. Flicked the edges, then shook it in the tea.
Ninety-eight degrees outside and the woman’s drinking Earl Grey. Amanda sat quiet, waiting for the Queen to pounce on the pawn.
Marianne obliged. “As for your first question, Mark is fine. He’s held up beautifully.”
Amanda winced at the knife in her stomach.
Marianne must have noticed her expression. “No, let me rephrase that. I don’t want to get started off on the wrong foot.”
They’d danced on the wrong feet since day one. Why change the steps now?
“You asked how I got here. Your mother and I have been in contact.” At Amanda’s raised eyebrows, Marianne nodded. “I know that surprises you, but we mother hens tend to cluster when our chickens wander. And since you hadn’t called her…”
Amanda thought of her mother as less a hen, and more a drill sergeant, ordering her troops in line. Apparently, the woman had gotten strategic and enlisted Mark’s mother behind Amanda’s back.
“Katy has kindly provided the, ahem, means for me to come visit you. She’s been busy”-Marianne colored prettily-“with your father at the lake house.”
“Yes, I know. Since Dad’s heart attack, they’ve been second-honeymooning.” Strangely, Amanda didn’t feel angry at her mother’s interference. After all, Katy Thompson carried control as comfortably as a Chanel tote. More than that, she loved her daughter. Somehow, sending Marianne to the rescue seemed a sweet gesture, however bizarre.
Family. Maybe it looked different than her childhood dreams of happily-ever-after, but she’d been blessed with a family after all. Twisted and strange perhaps, but they were hers.
“Well, I wouldn’t know anything about second honeymoons.” Bitterness pinched Marianne’s features, then passed away.
Amanda remembered. Mark had told her about Doyle, left and gone with the busty blonde. “I’m sorry.”
“Not your fault. Not mine either, of course. Just bad luck, I suppose. Bad luck and poor choices.”
Amanda wasn’t sure whether to agree or try to defend Marianne’s marital history. She decided on a vague “Hmm.”
“I thought,” Marianne went on, “maybe I could help with that. The voice of experience and all.”
Bracing herself, Amanda prepared for a tongue lashing of the in-law kind. She wondered if she had time to order a stiff drink from the bar before the onslaught.
“From Doyle… the divorce… Mark has this-how should I phrase it-tremendous sense of duty” Marianne began.
Ah. Mark as perfect son, Amanda as lousy-ruiner-of-Golden-boy’s-entire-life. A well-worn theme.
“I suppose you’d call it duty. Honor, perhaps. Toward me, the church. You.” Marianne turned the teacup in her hand, sunlight reflected off the silver rim. “I think his honor didn’t know what to do when… when he didn’t cope with things quite as perfectly as he’d hoped.”
The surprise, the second major one of the day, nearly knocked Amanda from her chair. “What do you mean?” That, for once, something is not all my fault?
“With the baby.” The cup clicked against the saucer, the delicate china ringing high and clear.
Amanda’s ears rang with it. The baby.
“Having it too soon,” Marianne continued, “and then, not at all.” Her hands fluttered, drawing Amanda’s gaze. “He reacted poorly.”
An understatement, but Amanda would take what she could get. After all, none of them had known what to do. Yet somehow, everyone had turned to Mark, including Amanda. They’d all expected perfection, not understanding he had a grief of his own to work through.
No wonder he fell short. With the pedestal they placed him on, he’d had so far to fall.
She nodded, staring at a tiny chip in Marianne’s pale pink manicure.
“I did as well. Amanda, I’m sorry for not being there for you. And for Mark.” Her gaze, round brown eyes, rested on Amanda. Like a bird, still and unwavering.
“Thank you,” she managed. And meant it.
A slender bridge stretched between them.
“Actually, Mark has been a mess.” At flight once again, Marianne lit on the silk flowers in the table arrangement, twisting the stems to her liking. “I’ve talked to him more now than ever before. He misses you, terribly.”
Amanda’s heart leaped, bringing quick tears to her eyes. Mark was a mess. Over her. Not Courtney. And he missed her. Terribly. She liked that part the best.
“I miss him too,” she admitted. “In fact, I’m heading back to Potter. Tomorrow.” She’d take her joy and face the morning. No matter what.
Intent on the bouquet, Marianne shook her head. “No.”
“Excuse me?”
“It’s not the right time, dear.” Marianne frowned as she sought perfect placement for a peony.
“I think it is. I’m ready. I know what I’ve done wrong and how we can work on things.” Well, maybe she hadn’t gotten the how’s all figured out, but at least she wanted to try.
“Mark’s not.”
“Not what?” Amanda bristled, tempted to yank the daisies from her mother-in-law’s hands and shake her.
“Ready.”
“But you said he missed me, and that means he still loves me so he has to be ready.” As she rose from the table, Amanda’s knees shook. So did her voice. “I’m going to call him-”
“Oh, you don’t want to do that. I’ve spoken with him myself, frequently.” Marianne pursed her mouth. “Give him more time. As much as your little… home away from home has done you good, I think the solitude has helped Mark too. Leave him be, a few more days.”
“What do you mean it’s helped him?” Amanda sank back down, hoping she wouldn’t start crying.
“You know, spreading his wings.”
“In what way?” Familiar jealousy hummed in her throat. In a flying-into-the-arms-of-another-woman way? But she’d sooner shrivel up and die than ask Marianne if Mark the perfect son was sleeping with the president of the Ladies’ Guild. She wouldn’t surrender that kind of ammunition. Especially not to her mother-in-law.
“Nothing to worry about. I’m sure he’ll tell you all about it when it’s time. But for now, allow him his space. Trust me.”
Trust you? I’m not sure I even like you. “But what am I supposed to do? Wait in limbo? No, don’t answer that.” Amanda thought about Mark, and the waiting she’d forced upon him.
“That’s why I’m here.” Marianne tilted her head to the side, tiny pearls shining at her lobes. “The entertainment committee has arrived!” She reached across the table, careful of the cooling tea, and squeezed Amanda’s arm. Girlfriendish. “What shall we do first?”
“I don’t exactly feel like-”
“Nonsense.” The comrade tone disappeared in an instant. Instructive Marianne back in full force. “I’ve traveled all this way and I want to see Laguna Madre. Everything, the shops, the sights-”
“There’s really not much-”
“Well, let’s start with that ocean out there. You’ve got a nice color to you.”
Unbelievable. Instead of the usual zinger, an actual compliment from Queen Bee.
“Courting cancer, no doubt, but when in Rome…,” her mother-in-law remarked in a sing-song. Finished mangling the flowers, she stood from the table and tugged a polka-dot bathing suit, complete with granny skirt, from the nearby bag. “Shall we?”