Chapter 25
Chapter Twenty-Five
Maple
I’m groggy when I wake up the next morning. A note is lying next to me, the quick slashes of Holt’s handwriting easy to read in the morning sunshine streaming through the windows. Mookie lifts her head from the blankets, then closes her eyes again like she can’t be bothered to get up.
Had to go to work. Patient emergency. If I don’t get back before, see you at seven at Dock & Dine. I love you, Holt
I snuggle up to Mookie and scratch her little head, paying extra attention to the area behind her ears. She huffs like the extra love is an imposition. Must have been quite the emergency if Holt thinks he might be gone all day. Then again, I’ve been stealing him away from Sunny Shores all summer. I can imagine he’s behind on administrative things even if he juggles his responsibilities well.
“We might need to find you a boyfriend,” I say to Mookie. She bares her front teeth in a half-hearted growl. I can’t help but laugh at this tiny furball with a big personality. “Yeah, maybe not. Let’s leave the love to the humans, huh?”
Last night had been amazing. I haven’t seen Grandma Gracie shine like that in…maybe forever. She and Harold held hands or had a hand on the other’s knee or an arm around shoulders the whole night. It was like they were afraid if they stopped touching, he was going to disappear again. We spent the evening recounting stories about our loved ones. It was a way to get to know each other better, and I like how no one glossed over the good years they’d both had without the other person. They weren’t hiding from the fact that they’d both lived and loved since they last saw each other.
A loud whoop from outside the cabin pulls me from my blankets. If the kids are already on the lake in their canoes and inner tubes for the day, I should probably get up. I think about calling Grandma to check in, but think better of it. I don’t need to intrude on her sleepover with Harold. Instead, I grab my phone and make the call I should have made right after the appointment with Doctor Ahmed. I’d gotten a bit distracted when Harold showed up.
Dad answers right away, which is unusual. “Maple. Everything okay?”
I barely resist rolling my eyes. He hasn’t bothered to call and check in all summer. “Yes, everything’s fine. That’s what I wanted to talk to you about. Grandma Gracie had a brain scan done last week and we got the results.”
“Hold on one second.” I can hear a door close and everything gets a lot quieter on his end of the line. “Okay, go ahead.”
I try to tamp down the irritation of Dad always treating my phone calls like a business meeting. That’s my baggage to deal with later. Right now, I need to make sure we’re all on the same page with Grandma’s care.
“So Doctor Ahmed said there’s just a small area of damage, meaning that she does have dementia, but it’s early stage. He’s going to be meeting with us soon to discuss treatment to slow down the progression. But I can attest that she’s doing great. Still very with it and able to live on her own within Sunny Shores.”
Dad makes a noncommittal noise. “Good news, then. Listen, Maple. I’ve got to go. Keep me updated.”
Irritation flares into rage in a heartbeat. His dismissive tone is like gasoline on the sore spot I’ve been harboring my whole life. And for once, I’m willing to let things burn.
“Seriously, Dad? Keep me updated? This is your mother I’m talking about. The woman who gave you life and raised you. You are the oldest son. Do you even give a fuck about her?”
“Maple!” Dad’s voice is loud. Shocked. I don’t normally curse. Especially not to my parents.
But something in me has snapped. Maybe it’s Grandma’s influence this summer. Maybe it’s Holt’s unconditional love. Maybe it’s seeing how love can wither and die or be simply put on pause for decades when things go unexplained.
“Normally, I’d say it’s not my place to chastise you, Dad, but seriously? Somebody needs to get you to pull your head out of your ass. And I know it won’t be Toby. This is your mother , and you’ve pawned her off on nurses and therapists and even me, when you should have been here at the first sign of medical issues. Frankly, I’m disappointed in you.”
The moment the familiar words are out of my mouth, I feel like a heavy weight has been lifted from my shoulders. So many times he’s said those same words to me, for minor transgressions like choosing the “wrong” major in college or wearing something he didn’t think his lawyer friends would approve of. I’m proud of myself. Proud that I’ve finally stood up for Grandma, and in so doing, stood up for myself.
He’s floundering. I can hear it in the starts and stops before he heaves a heavy sigh. “You might just have a point.”
I shake my head, grinning with amusement. As much as I’ve tried, I can’t seem to hold on to anger. It’s just not in me to focus on the bad when I can focus on the good and immediately feel better. Dad’s words aren’t much of a confession, or even an admission of guilt, but it’s something. It’s a small concession the great and mighty Darryl Thatcher has let slip past his lips.
“I think I’ll have Sylvia schedule a call later this afternoon. I’ll talk to my mother myself and check in.”
“If you really want to get wild and crazy, just hit dial on her name and don’t bother to schedule it. I promise you the legal world will not stop turning if you take ten minutes to talk to your mom.”
I can hear the smile in his tone when he replies. “Don’t push it, Maple.”
I snort. “I wouldn’t dare, Dad. Talk soon.”
And then I hang up, satisfied for the first time after a conversation with my father. I stoop down to pick up Mookie. She bares her teeth at me for interrupting her morning-long nap, snarling as I hold her out from me like a dance partner and swirl us both around the cabin. My joy is short-lived. Toby texts me in the family group chat before I’ve finished my yogurt and grapes for breakfast.
Toby: So now that Grandma’s fine, are you coming back to Charlotte? It seems irresponsible to leave your condo empty. If you plan to stay longer, you should sublet it so you’re not out the rent money.
“Seriously?” I ask out loud. Mookie paws at my shin. Immediately, I head for the back door, letting her out to do her business while I stay in the doorway and make sure a bigger creature doesn’t snatch her for a snack. When she’s back inside, I let my fingers fly, embracing the courage I felt when I talked to Dad.
Me: Not that it’s any of your concern, but I bought that condo outright. I don’t have rent payments, other than paying my HOA. If and when I decide to return to Charlotte, I’ll let you know. PS - you do know I hold down a job, right? A very well-paying job?
Mom: Can we table this for later? It’s rather uncouth to discuss finances over text.
I want to text back that Toby started it, but that would be the exact juvenile thing they expect from me. I roll my eyes and leave my phone on the kitchen counter. I’ve had enough of my family for one day. I’m going to see a few clients, then focus on my date later tonight.
Holt never did come home, which is fine. I spent an inordinate amount of time getting ready for our date. It’s been a long time since I’ve been this excited to see a man. The bubble bath came first, then shaving, self-tanning, lotion, polish on my toes, and finally a blow-dryer and curling iron to tame the beachy waves.
I slide into the one and only fancy dress I brought with me. The emerald-green material has spaghetti straps that hold up the bow-tied bosom in the front. Stick-on cups make the girls perky and assure I won’t have a nip-slip situation at the fancy restaurant. My stomach is bare beneath the cutout of the dress, with the skirt falling loosely around my thighs and ending a few inches above my knees. Four-inch espadrilles complete the outfit.
I make sure Mookie’s fed and happy before I get in my car and head into town early. Holt asked me to dinner, but I have plans to bring the dessert, which I intend to be me. My little car fits perfectly in the narrow spots on Main Street. The intense sun has made the brass doorknob of Harbor Lights Candles almost unusable. A feminine hello rings out before my eyes have adjusted to the dimly lit shop.
“Let me know if you need any help.” A woman around my age waves from the register in the back, long black hair piled on top of her head. Her smile is friendly and her shop smells heavenly.
“I’d like a few of your most romantic scents,” I say, figuring I could be here all evening if I had to sniff all the various candles that line every surface of this place.
“Ooh, got a hot date?” She comes around the counter and approaches, hand outstretched. “I’m Jacqueline, by the way.”
I shake her hand. “Maple.”
Her face lights up. “Yes! You’re the elusive Maple who’s caught the eye of Holt, Anchor Lake’s most eligible bachelor.”
My cheeks heat. “Umm…”
She giggles. “I’m just kidding. He doesn’t officially hold the title. Us single girls just like to tease to keep ourselves from weeping over the lack of men around here.”
I like her. She’s funny, while also being a girl’s girl when she shows me her best sellers for a romantic date. I buy ten of them, wanting to support her business, but also to set a romantic scene when we get back to the cabin after dinner. I loved the tea lights Holt lit when the power went out, which gave me the idea for a more elaborate display of candlelight.
I bid her farewell and good luck with the manhunt, to which she laughs and tells me she has a good backup drawer of vibrators just in case. I can see myself being friends with her if I’m to stay in Anchor Lake. I fully believe Holt is The One. Which means I need to start making plans to move permanently to Anchor Lake.
The woman at the check-in desk at Dock & Dine shows me to my table right away, a private one in the far corner with a leafy plant that blocks most of the view of the rest of the restaurant. A candle dances in the middle of the linen-clothed table, adding to the romantic setting.
I’m ten minutes early, but she assures me she’ll send Holt right back as soon as he arrives. I sip a glass of ice water and touch up my lip gloss. The waiter comes by and I order a bottle of white wine for the table. He’s back quickly, opening it and letting me taste it. Of course it’s fine. I wouldn’t know a bad bottle of wine from a good one. That’s Dad and Toby’s thing, not mine.
Fifteen minutes after Holt was supposed to be here, I’m already feeling tipsy from nervous-drinking the entire glass of wine and the waiter is back with a bread basket. I take it gratefully, needing something in my stomach to soak up the wine. I skipped lunch in anticipation of our dinner date. All the excitement of earlier today, getting ready for this date with Holt, seeps out of me with each tick of the clock.
The feeling in the pit of my stomach is all too familiar. That gut punch that comes when you realize the person you’ve made a priority doesn’t make you their priority. I’ve never felt that with Holt and it takes the breath out of my lungs to think that maybe I just hadn’t given him enough time to disappoint me. Then I feel like an asshole for being upset when he probably just got caught up at Sunny Shores.
I pull out my phone, more dread filling my stomach when I see he hasn’t texted me. So I text him instead.
Me: Did I get the time wrong? I’m at Dock & Dine.
No three little dots pop up, so I know he hasn’t seen the text yet. I refill my wineglass and touch the screen when it threatens to time out and go dark. I beg the universe to bring Holt to me so I don’t get my heart broken all over again, but the universe must be busy.
It’s officially been thirty minutes past our reservation when the waiter appears again, tugging at his collar and looking apologetic. “Can I get you anything else while you wait? An appetizer, perhaps?”
I’m embarrassed. Hurt. Confused. And a little worried that maybe something has happened to Holt. “I think I better just take the check.”
He winces but nods, dashing away from the sad woman who just got stood up. He comes back and leaves the check with a sympathetic bow. I hand him my credit card and he leaves without a word. I pay for the wine and force myself to eat another piece of bread that tastes like chalk. I don’t want to have to drive when I’ve had too much wine. Thankfully, the room doesn’t spin when I stand up and head out of the restaurant, head down so I don’t see anyone I might know or who might know me.
Back in the safety of my car, I let out a heartbroken sigh. The candles mock me from the passenger seat, from a time when everything felt vastly different. I turn on the engine and head for the cabin, determined to give him a chance to explain himself before I allow myself to feel the hurt. I’m sure there’s a perfectly good explanation for why he stood me up.
I must have convinced myself pretty well, because I’m startled to see his Jeep in the driveway of the cabin, along with another vehicle.
“No, no, no,” I mutter to myself. I’m already having flashbacks of another night when I came home and found my boyfriend not where he should be.
I climb out of my car and walk on shaky legs to the front door. I don’t bother knocking, I just swing that door open and face my reality with a suit of armor the last man forced me to build. There, in the living room of Grandma’s cabin, is a dark-haired woman with her back to me. She spins around at the sound of the door hitting the wall.
Macy Bechtol.
Holt is behind her, his eyes wide in surprise. He’s not wearing a shirt because the man can’t seem to keep a fucking shirt on to save his life. My brain is spinning out of control, and in that moment, I refuse to give Macy the pleasure of seeing the hurt on my face. I spin on my heel and rush back to my car, feeling like my heart is cracking right down the middle.
I back down the driveway, the car weaving left and right. Backing up has never been my strong suit, but add in high heels and heartbreak and I’m just glad I get to the street in one piece. Holt runs out of the cabin, his hands over his head, waving at me to…stop? Come back? Give him a chance to explain why he ditched me yet again for Macy Bechtol??
No, thanks.
I hit the gas and speed down the road, only slowing down when I’m two streets away and I can’t see shit with the tears streaming down my cheeks. I make it to Sunny Shores without really seeing the road, which is a scary thing that I’ll chastise myself about tomorrow when my head is a little clearer. I park across two different parking spots at the retirement community and race toward Grandma’s condo.
I hate to break up her sleepover with Harold, but my heart is breaking and I need my grandma.
Maple’s Journal
Present
Men suck.