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Two Months Later
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ONE OF THE FIRST things Delaney did to make the house feel like home was set up her aluminum Christmas tree, complete with ornaments and four-color rotating light wheel. Closing the door after a visit from her sisters and a few neighbors, her gaze fell to the pattern across the carpet that the afternoon sunlight hitting the shiny branches had created. It immediately brought a smile to her lips.
“If some women can become eccentric cat ladies, there’s no reason why I can’t be an eccentric Christmas tree lady,” she told Thursday. Taking center stage on the glittery tree were the two ornaments Varik had given her, hanging right next to the similar Norwegian figurine ornaments that had belonged to her grandmother. She couldn’t help but smile each time they glinted in the daylight, catching her gaze.
A short while later, Delaney was on the phone with her mom. “The more I get used to it, the more I like small town living,” she said as she brought plates and coffee mugs to the kitchen sink.
She licked a couple of crumbs from her fingers as she spoke. “Laila, Reen, Annalise, and two other women just left. You’ll be jealous when you hear what they brought me on this bright, sunny Saturday afternoon.”
It didn’t take much coaxing from her mom for Delaney to report, “A pan of fresh baked triple chocolate brownies, a basket of warm marionberry muffins, and a plump sour cream streusel coffeecake. And guess what? Nevan made one of his special Irish pork pies just for me.” She listened as Astrid asked about her younger brother. “He’s doing great. Nevan’s Irish Pub is always packed...and, no, Mom, he doesn’t have a girlfriend yet,” Delaney chuckled, “but he’s very popular with the ladies—of all ages.”
“Is his pork pie with that scrumptious bazillion-calorie lard-crust-pastry wrapped around it as delicious as I remember?”
“I couldn’t help sampling it as soon as everyone left earlier. Mmm, outrageously good,” Delaney assured. “Nevan’s customers are crazy about it.”
“Uh-oh...between your sister’s baking, your brother’s pork pie, and all the delicious goodies from the townspeople, your waistline is in dire danger.”
“I know!” Delaney laughed at her mom’s perceptive words. “Thank God I found the pair of elastic waist jeans I packed because I’ll need to wear those soon if I keep eating this way. This afternoon they even brought their own thermoses full of Griffin’s good, strong coffee to share. The only thing missing was you to share it with, Mom.”
It was a perfect lunch, with her sisters and the other women staying a couple hours sharing interesting tidbits about Glassfloat Bay and its inhabitants. During The Roger Years, with her standoffish ex preferring to socialize as little as possible, Delaney had missed the opportunity to cultivate many friendships. It was so nice to have her friendship status changing.
Opening her refrigerator, she stood staring at the contents, dumbfounded. It would take some creative placement to fit more food in there. Along with those stretchy jeans, she was going to need a bigger refrigerator and freezer.
She swooped her finger through chocolate buttercream frosting, depositing the dollop on her tongue before closing the fridge.
“Thursday just nudged me to go out,” she told her mom. “I enjoy watching him prance around the big yard each time I let him outside.” The fenced backyard was sizeable compared to the suburban Chicago townhouse’s postage-stamp sized plot. Along with the house itself, the Malones had inherited all of Bekka’s furniture and belongings. Everything felt familiar, which helped make Delaney feel at home.
“Speaking of the yard, did you know everyone around here calls this Bekka House?” Delaney asked.
“Yes, Annalise told me that started shortly after Bekka died. I think that’s sweet. They really loved her.”
“Well I love living here in Bekka House and I know you will too, Mom.”
Remembering Grandma Bekka’s descriptions of the house, accompanied by plenty of her photos, Delaney could almost walk the place blindfolded. Feeling this comfortable was exactly what she needed after the stress of the last year, and the last few months in particular.
“It’s been fun examining Grandma’s possessions.” Delaney dusted the rim of a Norwegian beer tankard as she let Thursday back into the house. “I remember some of them from when I was little.” The items Delaney brought with her, as well as the few crates that had arrived from her Chicago townhouse, mixed well with Bekka’s furnishings and décor. It was an eclectic melding of contemporary and old world.
Perching on the arm of a plump-stuffed living room chair, Delaney mindlessly twirled her fingertip in the soft nap of the sherpa throw. At night when she closed her eyes, listening to the soothing chorus of ocean waves slapping against the shore in the distance, Delaney could swear she felt Bekka’s presence. She liked to think her grandma had become her guardian angel, watching over her.
“Sometimes it’s as though I can sense Grandma whispering in my ear,” she confided. “At other times I could swear I hear the faint chirp of her laughter. Remember how infectious it was?” Astrid readily agreed. “I think Thursday’s aware of it too. He’ll stand, head bent, as if listening to someone or something. He never barks or gets rattled. He seems as comfortable and relaxed with the presence in the house as I am.”
She also told her mom about the delicate ginger fragrance of Grandma Bekka’s delicious pepperkaker that occasionally snagged Delaney’s attention. She’d gone in search of the mysterious smell in vain when she first noticed it. Now she simply welcomed the inviting cookie aroma, accepting it as another comfy sign of her grandmother’s presence.
“If visitors hadn’t commented on the ginger fragrance, I might have thought I was going batty,” she confessed. “The first time it happened with other people in the house, I fibbed, saying I’d baked a batch of cookies earlier. Of course, then I had to admit I ate them all by myself since I didn’t have any to offer guests.” Delaney and her mom shared a laugh. “After the repeat of this fragrant situation another few times, I figured they’d soon be whispering about Delaney Malone, the Glutton of Glassfloat Bay.”
“While I haven’t experienced the phenomena myself yet,” Astrid said, “I believe it’s real. Our deep affection for my mom, and her love for her family seems powerful enough to cross seemingly impassable barriers.” Delaney agreed with that. “In fact...after I move to Oregon and have all six of my children together, I’ll share a remarkable story about your grandmother with all of you.”
That snagged Delaney’s attention. “You can tell me now,” she egged her mother on, “and I promise not to breathe a word to a single soul.”
Astrid laughed. “Nope, sorry, honey, you’ll have to wait. But I promise it will be worth it.”
That only fueled Delaney’s determination to learn more. “How about a hint? Just a teensy one?” Out of habit, she held her thumb and forefinger an inch apart even though Astrid couldn’t see it.
“All right. But then no more of your infernal nagging,” she teased. After a long pause, Astrid said, “It’s about something very special and quite amazing that happened when I was there visiting my mom for the final time...and that’s all I can say now—other than it was amazing.”
“It sounds very mysterious. You have me completely intrigued. Mother?”
“Hmm?”
“You need to get your butt out here to Oregon a.s.a.p.”
The full round sound of her mom’s laughter rang out again. “I will. It won’t be long. I promise.”
Delaney looked forward to having her mom in Oregon. The only other Malones missing were Delaney’s sister, Kady, who was backpacking across Europe, and her brother, Gard, who was on assignment as a glaciologist in Antarctica.
“I can’t wait until we’re all together again,” Delaney said.
The first two months in her new home passed in the blink of an eye, with Delaney getting settled quickly. She remembered how fast Varik had organized his house after his move, something she never thought she could accomplish.
When her thoughts slid to Varik, as they often did, it made her wistful but less gloomy as the days passed. She was glad she’d had her eye-opening talk with Ursula on the flight. While furious to learn of the woman’s ruse, Delaney was grateful to her for admitting what she’d done. It certainly couldn’t have been easy for Ursula to make that confession.
Their odd heart to heart talk was the last thing Delaney expected when boarding the plane. Learning Varik and Ursula Lovdahl were divorced, hadn’t slept together since, and that his ex-wife wasn’t pregnant after all was jarring but positive news.
Their discussion left her pitying the actress. It was hard to conceive of a woman so desperate to hold onto a man that she’d stoop to spinning such a cruel, elaborate web of lies. Delaney wondered if the woman’s expertise at playing unsavory, disturbed women on screen had filtered into her personal life.
She couldn’t help the escaping sigh at the thought of the highly anticipated romantic rendezvous that never took place. She wondered how different her life would be today if she and Varik had kept that date.
“That was a sad sounding sigh. Are you okay, sweetie? I know it’s hard about you and Varik...”
Her thoughts returning to the present and her conversation with her mom, Delaney smiled at Astrid’s protective instincts. She’d probably be treating Delaney and the rest of her brood the same way thirty years from now.
“I’m fine, Mom, just a little tired.”
At least she would forever have the delicious memory of being held in her Viking’s strong arms, the sensation of skin on skin, the succulent feel of his lips on hers. Closing her eyes in a long blink, she luxuriated in the secret pleasure of her reminiscence.
“I’ve accepted that Varik and I simply weren’t meant to be, Mom.” Slipping into the overstuffed armchair to relax for a moment, she stared vacantly at the dog, patting his flanks. “But I made my heartwish and I know Varik will be happy—and that makes me happy.” As she spoke, her ring grew warm and she spotted a faint, gentle glow.
Propping his head on her knee, Thursday gazed at her ring, then up at her...letting Delaney know he sympathized with her.
“I hoped that Varik and I could rekindle the extraordinary connection I thought we had, but it’s obvious his feelings for me weren’t as deep as mine for him. It’s not like I could afford to pick up and move back to Illinois this soon anyway...but then...he didn’t ask me to, did he?”
“No...I-I’m sorry, honey.”
Once her plane landed in Glassfloat Bay two months ago, Delaney called her mom to let her know she’d arrived okay, and about the conversation she’d had with Ursula. It was after that call, hearing what her mother had to say about Varik, that Delaney put her romantic hopes and dreams to rest, finally accepting the reality of the situation.
Astrid told her Varik had stopped by, asking her to convey his regrets to Delaney about his ex-wife’s interference. He wanted Delaney to know he was sorry things hadn’t worked out for the two of them, and that he wished her well in her new life in Oregon.
So, that was that. Adios and goodbye. They were officially over. Done. Finito.
Hopefully she’d soon be able to keep from sighing every time she thought about his so long, have a good life wishes.
And there it was again. Another tuneful sigh.
Clearly it was going to take a while.
When Delaney heard her mom’s next question, she laughed. “Do you know how many times you’ve asked me that same question since I moved here? Every time you call.” She rolled her eyes. “No, I haven’t met anyone I’m interested in yet. I keep telling you it’s way too soon for me to even think about anything like that.”
“Good, that’s exactly what I want to hear,” Astrid said, sounding pleased as she offered the same response as always. “You need to take time, plenty of time before getting involved with anyone again.”
Rising from her chair, Delaney headed to the gallery of framed photos in the hallway, straightening the multi-image frame that held the shots of Varik in his Viking gear taken moments before they’d made love. Rather than living with the soul-deep ache of rejection the rest of her life, she’d at least have bittersweet memories of their time together and of what might have been.
Gazing at the other framed photographs on the wall, she gave a contended sigh. There were black and white photos of Delaney’s mom and her late dad, Sean Malone, several of Grandma Bekka, a few of her paternal grandparents, and a single, precious snapshot of dear Bekka and her soldier husband, Jamie, who’d died in WWII.
Rounding out her photo collection was a series of shots featuring her best buddy, Thursday. Delaney had managed to capture a smile-making assortment of his best expressions, including those where she could swear the dog was laughing, as well as Thursday’s big-eyed, guilt-inducing feel sorry for me face.
The photo gallery always lifted Delaney’s spirits and made her smile.
While listening to her mom, she returned to the large family room. “I imagine Varik will be hugely successful as the university’s new Scandinavian Studies professor,” Delaney said, absently speaking her thoughts aloud while tracing her finger around the fireplace mantle. “Young women will be lining up around the corridors to sign up for Professor Jenssen’s classes.” Remembering his terribly broken English when they first met made her smile. The notion of all those coeds drooling over her Viking also triggered a smidgen of jealousy.
He wasn’t her Viking anymore, she reminded herself.
She’d acted rashly, perhaps, in her haste to get as far away as possible from Varik and his supposedly pregnant wife, but there was no way she could cope with the idea of living only two doors away from the hunky Viking and his expectant movie star wife. Even though moving across the country meant she’d lost Varik forever, Delaney was still convinced it was the only decision she could have made under the circumstances.
She stroked Thursday’s fur as they headed to the kitchen.
“I-I hope you’re doing okay, Delaney. I hope you’re happy. I promise you things will be getting better very soon.”
“I’m sure you’re right.” Delaney gave a wistful smile. She knew her mother meant well but how in the world could she promise that? Mending a broken heart takes more than good wishes and an injection of positive thinking.
“I’m fine, Mom, really. Thursday and I will carve out a good life for ourselves here on the Oregon coast, right Thursday?” She massaged behind his ears and he gave her a tongue-lolling smile in return. “We’ll grow old and gray together.” There was no need to whine to her mother about her shattered heart or how long it would take to heal.
She was happy here. Monday she’d start her new job as a writer and Features Editor for the Glassfloat Bay Register. She was a writer fortunate enough to be living her dream.
“I’m so proud of you, Delaney. I brag to everyone I know about your new job at the newspaper,” Astrid said as if she knew what Delaney was thinking. It must be one of those mother-daughter psychic connection things.
“Thanks. I worried about getting a job and never imagined I’d end up working fulltime doing what I love best.” The paper’s owner was one of the first people to visit after Delaney arrived. She told Delaney their longtime editor was retiring and they were looking for someone to bring the paper up to date by giving it an online presence. She’d read Delaney’s blog and subscribed to her email newsletter and felt sure she’d be perfect for the job. Delaney readily agreed.
“I see it as another sign that my moving here was meant to be,” Delaney told her mom, believing every word.
Dear Diary: I’m happy. I really am. Thursday and I will grow old together in our cozy house tucked away in Glassfloat Bay, content with our memories, our year-round Christmas tree, and collection of Bekka’s glass float balls. One of the good things about not having a man in my life is that I can eat chocolate for breakfast, lunch and dinner, every day if I feel like it, and never worry about growing fat because there won’t be anyone here to notice...
For fun and self-improvement, Delaney signed up for a knitting class at the String Me Along yarn shop where Bekka had taught. The shop’s aging owner, Ruthie Brone, was a wonderfully patient instructor, and the first Black business owner in Glassfloat Bay. Delaney was also taking a Norwegian language course through the local college. It would help her to decipher her grandmother’s letters and diary entries, many of which were written in Norwegian. There were two stacks of letters, tied with red grosgrain ribbon that she was eager to translate.
One of the things she’d learned in her Norwegian class was that Varik, being unable to speak English, was an anomaly among Norwegians. She remembered him telling her it was due to his Heidi-esque upbringing with his grandfather, and couldn’t help wondering how far along Varik was now with his English.
“I’ve already got my office organized and equipped for working on my column,” she told her mother. “The only thing I need now to make everything perfect is to hear when you’re moving out here to join me.”
“Soon. By the end of summer. Before you know it, though, you won’t be missing me at all,” Astrid promised. “You’ll see...” Along with her singsong voice, it sounded like she was muffling soft laughter. “Trust me.”
“Don’t be silly,” Delaney tsked, “of course I’ll still miss—”
There was a knock at the door. Barking, Thursday ran around the kitchen, forcibly nosing Delaney’s knee in case she didn’t realize they had a visitor.
“There’s somebody at the door, Mom, I’ll have to let you go.”
“Oooh, I wonder who it could be.”
If Delaney didn’t know better she’d swear her mom was giggling, which was impossible because Astrid wasn’t a giggler.
“Probably one of the neighbors,” Delaney said. “With more platters of fattening goodies.” She welcomed the company. The more people she got to know, the better her features editing would be.
“Call me tomorrow, Delaney.”
“But, Mom, we just spent forever talking on the—”
“Tomorrow,” Astrid cut in. “Promise.”
She enjoyed talking to her mom a couple times a week but they’d pretty much exhausted things to talk about during this afternoon’s call. Maybe her mother was feeling especially lonely. “Sure, okay.” Whoever was at the door was ringing the bell now. “Okay, gotta go. Love you, Mom.”
She set her phone on the counter, grabbed a kitchen towel and wiped her hands to make sure there wasn’t any telltale chocolate frosting residue decorating her fingers. Towel in hand, Delaney headed for the door with Thursday prancing at her heels.
“Be right there,” she called out, checking her watch again. It was nearly five o’clock, which meant some kind soul was probably delivering another casserole for her dinner.
She opened the door and nearly fainted.