Chapter 25 #2
“No, not at all. Elana’s the blunt, honest type.
” The CRM goes to commercial, and Tilly grabs the remote.
“Ugh, I hate these.” It’s a pharmaceutical ad that offers a product with a gazillion side effects.
“Your eyes might bleed, but at least your armpits won’t itch.
Mute!” And she does. “Now, back to Elana and the letter.”
“She doesn’t mention the neighbor’s name.” I scan the page again as if it will magically appear. “Do you know who she’s talking about?”
“I don’t.” She crimps her mouth together with a shake of her head. “Maybe you should do some Secret Santa stalking. I’ll text you when she comes to the café.”
“Hmm. I can’t leave the store unattended.”
“Oh.” Tilly clasps her hands together, her eyes brightening. “I’ll tell my manager I need to take my break early, then I’ll come cover for you. You only need a few minutes, right?”
“Probably. But wouldn’t that be really early for a break?” Tilly would only have been at the café for two hours.
“Yes.” She pats my hand. “But it’s time you let other people help you.”
I won the best friend lotto. “Are you mad at me for not telling you about the Secret Santa stuff?”
“What, you think I’d get upset over you telling Leo before the girl who’s been like a sister to you for twenty years?” She folds her arms in an exaggerated huff, then cracks a smile. “No, I’m not mad. I just wish you had said so sooner because I could’ve helped you.”
“Leo said the same thing.”
“Ah, wise dude.” Her gaze turns empathetic. “Maybe this is your hint to let others carry the load with you. Maybe even fo r you sometimes. Not because we have to, but because we want to.”
The next evening, I turn on M*A*S*H in the living room for Pap, who’s cradling Oggy on his lap in the recliner, then join Mom in the kitchen.
It’s been a long day. Still no word from Leo, and I’m trying not to freak out about it.
He probably needs some space, but how much is too much?
I sigh and take a seat at the table, eyeing the plate of cookies before me.
Mom claims the chair beside mine and gestures toward the desserts. “Not a raisin in sight.”
“My stomach thanks you.” I grab a chocolate chip cookie and take a full bite before launching into my apology. “Sorry about the other day. I shouldn’t have lost it like I did.”
She gives a sad smile. “Yes, you should’ve. I deserved everything you said and owe you an explanation.”
“My main question is why ? Why did you stay away for so long?”
“Because I was scared.” Her blue eyes dim. “And ashamed.”
“Of me?”
“No,” she admits quickly. “Never of you. I was ashamed because I had you so young. I was only fifteen when I got pregnant. I couldn’t even drive, and here I was having a kid.
I don’t even know who your father is. What kind of mom can’t even tell her daughter who her dad is?
There’s been a lot of shame for a lot of years.
” Her voice shakes, but she holds my gaze.
“When I would visit, I felt like an intruder, an outsider.”
I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t overly curious about my dad’s identity. Gran and Pap never discussed it, and I never felt my relationship was solid enough to ask Mom. My dad has always been this fuzzy shadow in my mind’s eye. “But you’re my mother.”
“A mother who had no idea how to parent. I was a kid myself. As I grew older, I felt in the way and didn’t want to interfere with how your grandmother was raising you.
A sense of failure hung over me every time I’d visit.
When I’d leave, it would go away, but not the ache.
The ache stayed with me.” Her eyes fill with tears.
“I missed my child, but I feared messing up again. I know Gran thought I only wanted my freedom. Truth is, I was scared.”
I let her words marinate in my brain, processing. “So you were afraid of being a bad parent?”
She runs a finger over the handle of her teacup. “I didn’t want to mess up your life like I did mine. I was scared I would make bad decisions that would hurt you. With Gran and Pap, you were safe. I know it doesn’t make sense, but my mind wasn’t always in a good state.”
“And now?”
“I’ve been trying to get my life in line. I renewed my faith and have been going to counseling. I’m nowhere near perfect, but I’ve come a long way.”
I set the rest of my cookie on the plate. “I understand your fears and hesitations when I was a kid, but I’ve been an adult for several years.” I keep my tone free from accusation, but I’m sure Mom can read the emotion in my face. “You didn’t even try until Gran passed.”
“Gran didn’t want me around, and that was its own kind of pain. To know that I’m a disappointment to her. But I should’ve tried to repair our relationship. I could’ve at least been around you more. My fears held me back. I should’ve been brave, but I didn’t know how.”
I guess Mom and I aren’t too different in that respect.
“When your gran passed, I knew time was slipping away. I had to try. I know I returned like a whirlwind, swooping in and wanting to help any way I could. I thought if I could help you, then I maybe could learn how to be a mother along the way.”
I swipe a tear from my cheek. “I’m sorry I didn’t know how to talk or act around you. I’m learning too.” I tell her about the counseling idea, and she readily agrees.
She grabs my hand and squeezes. “I hope you know that I love you. I’m so proud of the woman you’ve become.”
“Thank you, Mom. I love you too.” In time, I’ll learn to trust her.
I’ll tell her stories from my childhood she’d missed.
Eventually, I’ll inform her about Gran being the Silver Creek Secret Santa.
An absence of twenty-five years can’t be healed in five months, but if we both put the effort in, I can see us growing closer.
I’m unlocking The Memory Bank doors on Thursday morning when my phone buzzes in my pocket with an incoming text.
I already know it’s Tilly, but the uptick in my heart rate tells me I’d hoped it was Leo.
After my talk with Mom Tuesday night, I returned to my apartment and repeatedly checked my phone for anything from him.
Nothing. I kept my cell by me all Wednesday until finally I couldn’t stand it. I called him and got his voicemail.
These last three days have been an awakening of sorts.
Past Greta would’ve projected her suppressed feelings on a new sewing project or binge-watching a Netflix series.
Present Greta is healing. While dissecting my psyche has not been the happiest of pastimes, it’s been good for me.
Good for me like doing cardio or drinking a kale smoothie.
It’s not fun or even palatable, but future me will be grateful.
I swipe to open my phone and read Tilly’s text.
Tilly
Operation Elana!
Ah, Elana Keller, the lady who nominated her neighbor, is at the café.
This means Tilly is about to take her break and come cover for me.
I don’t know what I’ll tell Elana, but I need more information about her neighbor.
My goal is to at least get the name. Thankfully, I don’t have any customers, so I run back to the office and grab my coat and gloves.
Within a minute, the bell above the door jingles. “I’m here,” Tilly calls.
I’m shoving arms through my coat while hustling to the front where she’s waiting. “Thanks for doing this.”
“How many times did you listen to ‘Eye of the Tiger’ this morning?” Tilly tugs off her gloves. “Don’t lie.”
“Whatever you think is overkill, it’s one less than that.”
“Okay, basically, you had it on repeat.” She squeezes my shoulder. “You got this. Elana’s at the counter in a bright pink sweater. Platinum blonde. Can’t miss her!” She shoos me out the door.
The cold air stings my face. We haven’t had any more snowfall since Sunday, but the temps have been hovering around twenty degrees with a wind chill of negative hundred.
Slight exaggeration. I dip my chin into my coat collar and do that scuttle-walk thing people do when they want to get somewhere quicker, but don’t want to break into a full-fledged jog.
I’m so focused on getting to the café that I nearly bulldoze Fletcher Thomas.
He grabs my elbows, steadying me. “Good morning, Greta. It’s a little early for women to be falling into my arms.”
I roll my eyes. “You were blocking the entrance, and I was about to take you down, but whatever.”
He chuckles. “How’s everything?”
I know what he means. Everything meaning my festive mission. “Okay, I guess.” It’s going horribly, but Fletcher doesn’t need to know that. “Hey, have you heard from Leo, uh, Remington, lately?”
Fletcher shakes his head. “Chief Todd said Remington’s out of town.” He adjusts his collar against the wind. “I told you the man can’t sit still.”
“Ah, I see.” No, I do not see. Why didn’t Leo tell me he was leaving? Especially after I shared about my background? I’m sure it’s only temporary. Not like he up and moved away. I want to say this to Fletcher, but he’s already retreating.
“I have to get to the office.” The wind picks up, disturbing his perfectly styled hair. “If you need anything, let me know.”
I give a parting smile, but my mind’s on Leo.
As if my whole system malfunctions, I stop just inside the entrance of the café, next to a potted plant covered in twinkling lights.
My brain scrambles for possible scenarios.
What if … Leo’s tracking down my Garrick?
The thought launches into my brain, then flies right back out.
I never told him Candace’s name, first or last. The man couldn’t even locate me last year with full knowledge of my first name and my hometown.
No, he must’ve left for another reason, and I truly hope it’s not because I scared him off.
All momentum for Operation Elana is lost. I can’t think straight, let alone be clever enough to glean information from the woman.
But time is ticking. Tilly only has a half hour before she has to return.
I need to get something right this week.
After a few deep breaths, I spot Elana at the counter, just as Tilly described.
I nab the stool two down from my target.
Apparently, I’m using spy jargon now. Whatever works to keep me motivated on this assignment and not think of kisses beneath a candied mistletoe.
Elana glances over and smiles. She’s probably ten years older than me and has excellent taste in handbags.
The barista takes my order, and once he walks away, I say. “It’s freezing out, but I will forever order iced coffee.”
“Me too.” She lifts her drink in solidarity.
I don’t expect to give an Oscar-worthy performance. My Christmas pageant era only taught me that I don’t have the right facial structure to pull off wearing a foam star on my head, but I give it a go anyway. “Wait, are you Elana Keller?”
She smiles. “I am.”
“I-I think we have a mutual friend.” I intended to mention Tilly, but with a surge of boldness, I dive right in.
“Your neighbor, I think. She lives on Bryan Lane.” I make a show of putting my hand to my brow.
“Man, my brain needs caffeine because I remembered your name, but hers isn’t coming to me.
She’s older and is going through a really rough patch. ”
“You mean Adelaide?”
“Springfield?” My face drops.
“Yeah, that’s her. She’s my neighbor.”
Looks like I wasn’t fibbing after all. Adelaide Springfield is a mutual acquaintance. Though I had no idea she’s the woman from Elana’s Secret Santa letter.
Elana claims the stool beside mine as if we’re instant friends.
“I just feel so bad for her. Her husband got injured on the job, and his employer won’t take responsibility.
So now they have no income because she can’t work either, since she’s taking care of him.
” She shakes her head slowly, her bobbed hair sliding against her jaw.
“I think she’s becoming desperate for money. ”
“I’ve noticed that too.” Mostly because she’s been trying to con me out of thousands for several months.
Now I understand why she’s amped up her visits to The Memory Bank.
But I didn’t realize Adelaide had become a caregiver.
My heart softens. While I was supporting Gran, I never had any financial setbacks, but I can imagine how that would add so much more pressure to the caregiving role.
“I wish I could help her,” I say with all the concern I feel, hoping that Elana takes the bait.
“Me too. I wrote to that community thing they have every year. The Secret Santa. I’m hoping they will help her. I think she might be slipping into debt. It’s awful during any time of the year, but especially tough during the holiday season, you know?”
I’m about to respond, but the very topic of our conversation is scurrying past the Brewtiful Grounds window, carrying a large box.
I know exactly where she’s going.