AT DINNER THAT NIGHT, Ria realized that something new was going on with the girls.
Ria had cried a lot today herself, in between filling in for a cleaning person who’d called off and checking in guests and working on financial spreadsheets, trying to figure out how to keep the motel going another few months.
She was glad she’d been able to stay busy, lest she descend deep into the darkness that loomed just under the surface. Drew’s finding out about the miscarriage had been bad enough, but he’d as much as accused her of cheating on him.
Talking with him about the miscarriage had brought up all the grief she’d felt about the loss of a baby.
One daughter was pregnant and the other had attempted suicide and was, according to her teacher, still having some problems with boys in the school. The sense of failure on every front threatened to overwhelm her.
Now, as she served the girls take-out Chinese that none of them really wanted, she studied their swollen eyes and knew their days had been awful, too.
Gentle inquiries had yielded nothing. She’d have to approach the issue, or one of them, head-on. “What’s this about a video?” she asked them.
Kait flinched, and the two of them glanced at each other.
“What are you talking about, Mom?” Sophia asked in a too-innocent voice.
“Erica told me there are some rumors going around involving a video, or a couple of them.”
They glanced at each other again. “It’s nothing,” Kaitlyn said. “Probably just someone being mean, like usual.”
“Why do I get the feeling you’re brushing me off?” She pointed at Kait with her empty fork.
“Because you always think we’re brushing you off.” Sophia took more rice and stirred it in with her kung pao chicken, making a mess Ria knew she wouldn’t eat.
“How am I supposed to help you if you won’t tell me what’s going on?”
“This isn’t about you, Mom, so leave it!” Kaitlyn stood. “I’m not that hungry. I’m gonna go upstairs.”
“I’ll go up, too,” Sophia said, shoving away her plate. “I need to do some homework before we go to Dad’s.”
Ria pressed her lips together to keep from yelling at them, calling them back, forcing them to talk to her. They were too old for that. It didn’t work.
Fighting down a sense of failure, she sent Drew a detailed text explaining what Erica had said about the rumors and asking that he try to talk to the girls.
No more hiding, no more keeping secrets. If he could deal with it, great; if not, he’d have to cope with the same feeling of failure she had.
Mechanically, she got up from the table, dumped the food into plastic containers and put it away. She straightened and cleaned up the kitchen, then walked through the downstairs, picking up clutter the girls had left lying around. Found a headband Sophia had been looking for last week. She carried their things upstairs and put them in stacks outside each girl’s door. Stood with her hand poised to knock at Kait’s and then changed her mind and walked back downstairs.
She found a text from Drew, just as cool and professional as hers had been: Thanks. Will talk to them at 7 when they arrive.
She looked at her watch—6:50. And sure enough, Kaitlyn came down the stairs with an overnight bag. “Soph! Hurry up!” she yelled upstairs.
“Coming, coming.” Sophia came partway down the stairs, turned back for the schoolbook she’d forgotten and then trotted down.
“Bye, Mom,” Kait said, and Sophia echoed, “Bye, Mom.” They looked a little perkier than they had at dinner. The prospect of going to Drew’s must have cheered them up.
Getting away from her must have cheered them up, she thought glumly. “Love you,” she said, hoping for hugs but settling for pats on the back as they went out the door. “Text when you get there.”
She stood watching them walk down the road, under the streetlights. By the time they were out of sight of home, they were more than halfway to Drew’s place, and he would be waiting for them.
She swallowed hard and turned back toward the house, but stopped when a car turned into her driveway, its horn honking.
She watched it come to a halt. Three doors opened, and Erica, Bisky and Amber got out.
Ria stared. “Um, hi, guys.”
“Get in the car,” Erica said. “We saw your girls on the way, so we know you’re home alone tonight. We’re doing a girls’ night out.”
“I don’t think—”
“Your mom and Mary are meeting us there.”
“But...why?” Ria looked down at her faded jeans and plain sweater. “I’m not dressed to go out.”
“You’re dressed fine for the Gusty Gull,” Amber said. “People practically wear their bathrobes there in the off-season.”
“Plenty of folks go there in fishing clothes,” Bisky contributed. “Come on, girl. Live a little.”
“I don’t...” She sighed. What did it matter? And it was nice of them to come and get her like this.
Ten minutes later they’d joined Mom and Mary at one of Pleasant Shores’ few waterfront bars that remained open year-round. A three-woman band played in the corner, peppy dance tunes but not too loud. The mixed-age crowd was mostly eating dinner, although a couple of twentysomething women danced with eighty-year-old Henry Higbottom on the edge of the dance floor.
Ria felt a little better already, just getting out and being among her friends. “So, whose idea was this?” she asked the others.
“Mine,” Erica said promptly. “I could tell when we talked earlier that you were worried about the girls. I didn’t want you to be alone.”
Amber elbowed her sister. “But it was my idea to come here, where there’s music and men,” she said. “Old lady here would have had us staying home for salad and light beer.” She looked around the crowd speculatively. “It’s not easy to get a date in Pleasant Shores, but we’re for sure not getting one if we huddle up in somebody’s living room.”
“I don’t want a date,” Ria said automatically, then frowned. If things were over with Drew, truly over, was she going to have to get back out on the dating scene?
Perish the thought.
“Did the girls shed any light on those rumors?” Erica asked.
Ria shook her head. “I wonder if it’s the same boys who were bothering Kait before.”
Bisky frowned. “I thought Pleasant Shores Academy was supposed to be so great. Turns out there’s as much bullying there as anywhere else.”
“Did Sunny say anything?” Ria asked.
“Are you kidding? Do you think my kid would talk to me about something important in her life?”
It was a relief to Ria to know she wasn’t the only one who had problems communicating with her girls.
Amber seemed to tune back in to the conversation. “Boys bullying girls. Gee, that’s a surprise.”
“I was hoping it’d get better as time went on,” Mom said, “but apparently not.”
“Toxic masculinity. It’s an ongoing issue.” Mary held up her hand to get a waitress’s attention. “White wine for me, Connie.”
“What the heck is toxic masculinity?” Bisky asked.
Mary gave her a wry look. “Pretty sure you see it every day down at the docks,” she said.
“Men show off to impress other men in all different places and lines of work,” Amber said. “Though it’s sad if it’s happening at the high school. Not surprising, but sad.”
“Really sad when it affects your daughters,” Ria said. “And it’s worse now, because anything that happens gets spread on social media. Although I haven’t seen anything on Kaitlyn’s and Sophia’s social media. I do monitor it.”
Erica wrinkled her nose. “Unfortunately, I think most of the kids have fake accounts or other ways to get around what their parents are looking at.”
“We all have to do everything we can to help our young women,” Mary said. “It’s not something any one family can conquer alone. Believe me, I know.”
Ria glanced at Erica, who was studying Mary with interest. Talk about rumors. Everyone said Mary had a complicated past, that somehow she had ended up with a lot of money but no family at all. She herself never talked about any of it, but she occasionally dropped the tiniest clue.
There was a tap on Ria’s shoulder, and when she turned, there was Ted Taylor. He was smiling, looking happy. “It’s great to see you here. I didn’t think you frequented places like this.”
“When her friends drag her here she does,” Amber said.
“Then she has good friends.” Ted held out a hand to Ria. “Care to dance?”
“Oh, I couldn’t...” She looked out at the dance floor and realized that while they had been talking, it had filled up.
“Go for it, girl,” Amber said.
The rest of the women nodded, except for Mary, who just tilted her head and raised her eyebrows.
Ted was looking at her in an admiring way. It was obvious he really liked the way she looked. But he also seemed to respect her as a businessperson and to enjoy talking with her.
He was a nice man and would be thought of as a catch by many women. Tall, fit and wealthy, with good manners and a great car. Unfortunately, though, he wasn’t Drew. And though she knew she would have to get over her ex, she couldn’t rush it. Her heart was too raw, her feelings for Drew still too strong. She stood and beckoned Ted over to a quiet spot along the wall. She didn’t want to reject him in front of a group of women; it had taken courage for him to approach her.
“I appreciate the offer,” she said. “But I’m not ready to dance with you.” She held his eyes steadily while she said it, so that he would realize she meant more than dance.
He met her gaze and then slowly nodded his head. “I get it,” he said. “Thanks for being honest.” His words were a little clipped; he wasn’t happy.
Ria didn’t feel especially happy doing it, either. But it was the right thing to do. Like it or not, her heart belonged to someone else.
“WHAT’S THIS ALL ABOUT, Mom?” Drew asked on Tuesday night as he walked through the door of his childhood home and into his mother’s embrace. The old kitchen was steamy and fragrant with the smell of something baking. “Is that pecan pie?”
“Yes, your father’s favorite,” she said.
“Uh-oh.” Mom always used food to butter Dad up. What was she angling for now, and why had she gotten Drew involved?
Drew had had to scramble to get a ride into Baltimore and would probably have to hit up his dad for a ride home, but Mom had made this dinner invitation sound important. As he inhaled the familiar scent of shredded beef stew, heard the radio playing oldies and felt his mother’s arms around him, he knew he was home.
Maybe being home would help soothe the guilt and anger and worry that welled up in him every time he thought about Ria, Sophia and Kait.
He hugged Mom back, then let her go but kept one arm around her shoulders. “Are you okay? Is Dad?”
“I wanted to try getting everyone together before Thanksgiving, to get your father ready.”
“Everyone?”
He felt her conspiratorial nod. “Your brothers are coming.”
Drew’s eyebrows shot up into his hairline. “Does Dad know? And ready for what?”
“For a big Thanksgiving dinner with all of us together. Mike, Stevie and his partner, Ria and your girls, and you.”
“Ria won’t be coming to any Thanksgiving dinner I’m at,” he said flatly, taking a step away from her. “We’re not getting back together.”
“Why not?” she asked. “When we visited and I saw you together, even for just a few minutes, it seemed like you were...well, getting close.”
“No.” Though he’d thought so, too.
“But the girls said you’re spending a lot of time together as a family.”
Drew thought of the meals they’d shared, of giving out candy on Halloween, of Ria surprising them with braille Scrabble. “That’s just for the sake of the girls,” he said.
“Oh, but I was so hoping you would get back together. I really want another grandchild, and you and Ria...”
Her words stabbed into him, interrupting his fantasy. He’d wanted another child, too.
“She disrespected me,” he said. “Leave it at that.” No matter how he felt about Ria, he wasn’t going to reveal what she had done.
“That doesn’t sound like her.” A sizzling noise from the stove. “Oh no, the rice!”
“Let me help you, Mom.” He moved toward the stove, but she reached out a hand, holding him back.
“Just sit down, honey. Don’t you worry about the food—that’s my job. I just don’t think Ria would ever disrespect you. She had all the respect in the world for you. I could see it in her eyes.”
“Leave it alone.” He sat down at the kitchen table where he’d had so many meals. This room had been the center of their home, the little house that Mom and Dad had bought when they first married. When Drew and his brothers were growing up, it had been bursting at the seams with one bathroom and just two bedrooms. Drew had helped Dad finish the basement one winter just so he could have a place to escape from his little brothers.
There was more sizzling from the stove, and the smell of ham, beans and rice mingled with the familiar fragrance of ropa vieja, the Puerto Rican shredded beef stew that she had learned to make for Dad.
Ria had learned to make it, too, just to please Drew. Back when she had wanted to please him.
“Are you sure you didn’t just imagine she was disrespecting—”
“She overworked herself until she lost our baby, and didn’t even tell me!”
Mom made a faint little sound, and Drew was immediately sorry he had lost control and said such a thing, true though it was. He was even sorrier when he heard his father banging into the room. “What’s this about losing a baby? Your wife lost a baby from working too hard?” He didn’t wait for an answer. “I always knew it was wrong for her to work like she did. She wanted to wear the pants and this is what it got her.”
“No, that’s not it.” He felt a major urge to defend Ria, even though the effort would be lost on his traditional father. Women worked all the time. And the reason she had to work so much was their divorce.
It was your fault you didn’t take care of your family.
A burning smell caught his attention and interrupted Dad’s tirade. Then the back door opened and Drew heard what he hadn’t heard in almost two years: his youngest brother’s voice. “Hey, everybody. Hey, Mom,” he said, and Drew heard the sound of him kissing Mom.
“You better fix this meal. I don’t eat burnt.” Dad stomped out of the room. The basement door slammed, and Drew could hear Dad’s footsteps pounding down.
“Oh no, just let me try to get this food under control,” Mom said.
“Let me help,” Stevie said.
“No, no. You men relax.”
That was Mom. Drew turned toward his brother and lifted his head a little, trying to see him, catching a blurry outline. He held out a hand. “Stevie, it’s been too long.”
There was a pause. Then Stevie gripped his hand and shook vigorously. “Yeah, man, it has. I...I heard about your vision. I’m sorry.”
“I’m dealing with it okay.” And for the first time, Drew realized that was true. His vision loss seemed like more of a pain and less of a horrible fate, these days.
“I should have come to see you but... I didn’t know how...how you’d take things. My ‘lifestyle,’” he added, and Drew could practically hear the air quotes. “You’re a lot like Dad.”
“Not in every way.” Drew lifted his chin. It was the second time lately that someone had assumed he was like his father. And while he loved his dad and had tried to emulate him in many ways, he was seeing more and more problems with Dad’s worldview. “I’d like to meet your partner,” he said to Stevie.
“You would?” Stevie sounded shocked. “If you mean it, that would be great.”
“Looking forward to it,” Drew said, and it wasn’t a lie. He knew it might be uncomfortable for him, just because it was a big turnaround in how he viewed his brother.
But blood was blood, and Drew would accept Stevie for who he was.
And then the back door opened again, and there was Mike, clapping both Drew and Stevie on the back, hugging Mom, opening pot lids that shouldn’t be opened and stirring sauces that shouldn’t be stirred and generally blundering into the middle of everything like he always did.
That spurred Stevie to help, too, and Drew managed to set the table by feel and by remembering exactly where Mom kept things, which hadn’t changed in twenty years. Then he sat down, making space for the others to get the meal on the table.
Mom yelled down the stairs, and Dad stomped up instantly, like he’d been waiting. “What’s this?” he grumbled. “Everybody’s doing women’s work.”
“Welcome to the twenty-first century,” Mike said. “Good to see you, Dad.”
Dad didn’t answer, and he still hadn’t greeted Stevie. Instead, he took his seat at the head of the table. “Ria always did the cooking for you,” he said to Drew.
“Not really,” Drew said. “We both cooked.”
But Dad was on a roll. “In my day, men were men. Not like you three.”
There was a little silence in the room, and Drew wondered whether his brothers would get offended and leave.
But they didn’t. They just kept passing dishes and serving themselves. Like always, Mom tried to smooth things over. “You’re just hungry. Once you have some food, you’ll all feel better.”
The soothing tone reminded Drew of the way Ria had sounded when she’d told the girls not to tell Drew about her miscarriage. Mom was always trying to keep peace between her husband and sons, and for the first time, Drew realized that she might be the most mature and sensible of all of them.
“You know, Dad,” Stevie said, his voice mild, “if it wasn’t for Mom’s pecan pie, I’d be out of here.” Drew could just imagine what he was thinking, that it would be a huge disaster for him to bring his partner to a family event.
“There’s pecan pie?” Dad asked, his tone brightening.
Mike snorted. And as they struggled through the rest of the dinner, buoyed only by Mom’s fabulous cooking, Drew wondered: Just how much was he like Dad? And if he was, did it mean he’d alienate his daughters just as Dad had alienated his sons?