33. Caleb
Caleb
I wiped the shot glass in my hands for the third time as I waited for Max to come back with lunch.
I didn’t want to leave the bar because it was close to Noelle’s school.
In case she needed me, I wanted to be nearby.
It was her first day back after holiday break and the school was trying to put a plan in place for the bullies.
It was a slow afternoon, just Dirty Al and me here, which was fine because I had a lot on my mind.
Nobody prepared you for the day when as a parent, you couldn’t fix something for your kid.
Cuts and bruises could get bandages and first aid.
Toys that broke could be fixed with super glue or repurchased and overnighted.
But I couldn’t prevent Noelle being bullied by these petty girls. Well, not in a legal way, at least.
The lowlife parents showed their kids Instagram posts about Grace’s past then condoned calling Grace a slut. They gave my daughter hell for being “associated” with her. The principal didn’t punish those kids nearly as much as they should have.
A written apology and one-day detention was a slap on the wrist if you asked me.
And those fucking parents—rich idiots from the new McMansions that were built across the highway— laughed at my daughter, at my girlfriend.
It took everything in me to remain calm.
Hell, it was taking everything in me not to drive to the school right now.
I couldn’t believe Noelle wanted to go back there.
Of course I allowed it, but I hoped I wouldn’t regret respecting her decision.
Grace had made mistakes, had been a partier, and then she had a horrible tragedy occur.
I didn’t want to add more baggage to her life.
I already had a kid and lived a whole two hours away from the only world she’s known.
It couldn’t be an easy adjustment. It wasn’t for Roxy and she ended up resenting me for it.
The front door opened, causing the bell to ring.
I heard heels clack against the floor and my head spun, thinking it might be Grace coming in earlier than expected.
Fiona might not have admitted it, but she was definitely enjoying the help redecorating the bed-and-breakfast. Grace was thrilled at the opportunity and excited to put finishing touches on her projects.
I lifted my head, smiling, thinking I was going to see my girl. My face fell as I saw it was an older woman in her fifties, dressed lavishly. She cleared her throat and looked around, pursing her overly plump lips. She definitely wasn’t from around here.
Her face wasn’t emotive, probably due to all the filler in it, so it was hard to read her expression. Dirty Al looked away from his drink and did a catcall. I smacked him with the dish towel.
“Hi, welcome to Bar,” I greeted, putting the shot glass back on the shelf. “Our specials are right there.” My chin jutted toward a laminated piece of paper. Grace insisted we have a logo and better branding, so she created it, along with new menus.
“Hello. Mr. Jameson, I presume.” The woman held out her hand for me to shake. “I’m Jacqueline Harrington, Grace’s mother.”
“Holy shit,” Dirty Al blurted. I couldn’t recover from my surprise to hit him with the dish towel again.
I stretched my hand to shake hers. “You can call me Caleb.” I smiled, wanting to be respectful to Grace’s mother, even if I had preconceived opinions about her. “Can I make you a drink? Food? We have a new olive tapenade. Grace insisted that we add it to the menu.”
Jacqueline rolled her eyes and muttered, “No, thank you.” She walked around the bar aimlessly, looking at the wall of photos I had.
My patrons would add photos from their time at Bar.
I recently added one of Grace, Noelle, and me from Christmas Day.
My mom took it while we were opening gifts.
I usually hated photos of myself but loved that picture.
We looked so happy, like a real family, sitting in front of the twinkling Christmas tree that my daughter and girlfriend decorated together.
“Grace should be here in about an hour or so,” I informed, trying to ease this awkwardness between us and gauge whether Grace knew about this visit. Something told me she didn’t, which only added to my discomfort.
“I’ll be gone by then,” she said simply. “This won’t take long.”
“And what is this exactly?” I asked, irritation coming to the forefront.
“An understanding.” Mrs. Harrington stalked over to the bar and stood before me, despite the barstools being right there. All she did was stare at me, slightly shaking her head.
Jacqueline never sat down, obviously intending to try to intimidate me. It wasn’t working, and I was only growing more annoyed.
“An understanding of what?” I asked, baiting her. I had an idea what she was going to say, but I wanted to hear her say it.
She slipped her manicured fingers into the purse slung over her shoulder and pulled out a rectangular piece of paper.
Jacqueline thrust her hand in my direction. It was an envelope with my name on it. I took it hesitantly, opened it, and scoffed when I pulled the paper out of the envelope.
It was a check for a hundred thousand dollars with my name on it. I shoved it back into the envelope and asked, through gritted teeth, “What the hell is this?”
“My daughter has picked up her sister’s rebellious streak.
She doesn’t belong in this small town. In this bar ,” Jacqueline spat as her face tried to distort in disgust. “So you need to do the right thing. For everyone. I figured this would be enough compensation for somebody like you. Grace needs a nudge to leave. To come back to where she belongs.”
“You’ve gotta be fucking kidding me.” I threw the dish towel I was holding onto the counter. “I don’t want your money. And for your information, Grace belongs with me. I won’t push her away. Now, do you want a drink, or are you going to keep wasting my time?”
How dare she come into my place of business and proposition me to break up with her daughter?
“Mr. Jameson, excuse me for being frank but that money can be life-changing for somebody like you.”
“Lady, you don’t know jack about me. Let alone your own daughter.” My body was vibrating from adrenaline. I really wanted to stay calm because at the end of the day, this was Grace’s mother, but this woman was fucking infuriating.
“What? And you do? The small-town boy who couldn’t make it in the big city?
The mother of your child ran for the hills after being trapped in this place with you.
” Jacqueline chuckled humorlessly. “What do you really have to offer? Here’s what I do know: You’re a bartender in this small town.
” Her nose scrunched a little, but she continued, “You have a daughter from a previous relationship. You’ve never been married.
You work late and your mom helps you quite a bit.
She frequents the city to sell her art. At a gallery that somebody on the board of one of my charities owns.
I did my research, Mr. Jameson.” Her tone was even, but there were undertones of threats laced in her perfectly crafted words.
“Do you know she has nightmares?” I prompted, not wanting to shell out Grace’s stuff, but this woman wasn’t acting like a mother. She needed to know half of the pain Grace carried.
Jacqueline shook her head, unamused. “No.”
“Do you know that up until recently Grace was terrified of driving?” I pressed, my eyebrows pinching together, annoyed.
“Grace is driving?” She gasped. She paused for a minute before her hands covered her mouth. Probably the thought of not having a driver was distasteful or some shit.
I nodded once. I wasn’t going to give her any more information than necessary.
“She has a brownstone that she can’t step foot in because she seriously believes she’s the reason her sister is dead. It seemed everybody in her life cemented her feelings,” I deadpanned. My eyes glared straight into hers; I was unafraid but not unfazed.
“Is that why she doesn’t want to go back to the brownstone and is selling it?
” she asked. She shook her head incredulously then admitted, “I thought she was trying to get her father to buy her something bigger and better. I didn’t think it was really about Julia.
I figured she was using it as an excuse. ”
“With all due respect, I don’t think you know your daughter very well,” I ground out, shaking my head. “You sure weren’t there for her either.”
Jacqueline’s shock from my truth bombs wore off and she breathed out, “I think I know her just fine. She needs what she knows, what’s comfortable.
Back in our world with the best of the best available to her.
The boring and mundane trials and tribulations of small-town life will eventually bore her, and she will leave you and your daughter in the dust. Grace lives for the thrill.
She will not end up with some guy when she can end up with somebody like Grant Abernathy.
It’s meant to be. If you want what’s best for Grace, you’ll let her go.
Caging her will only cause her to run. Trust me. ”
I listened, absorbing everything before shaking my head. I wasn’t about to show her mother any of my doubts. Jacqueline adjusted the strap of her bag and eyed the check on the bar. “Consider my offer.”
I grabbed the check and ripped it into a bunch of pieces, letting them fall in front of her. There was no question. I never wanted Grace for her money. I only wanted her.
She muttered something too low for me to hear.
“Did you know Grace got arrested in Spain for dancing topless on tables? Or about how she got kicked out of boarding school for sneaking that Grant boy in when she was drunk or high at a party? Julia gave me a run for my money, but Grace isn’t the saint you think she is,” Jacqueline challenged then laughed, but there was no humor to it.
It was almost sinister. She turned her back to me, heading for the door.
“She might have you believing she’s changed, but it will only go so far.
You can’t change who you are. And I can’t lose her.
I’ve already lost one daughter. I can’t lose her too. ”
And with that, she was gone.
“Holy fuck! What a woman,” Dirty Al mumbled, leaning back in his spot. “I need a double.” He tapped his empty glass. I took it and made him another drink.
Dirty Al couldn’t stop talking about how he loved how strong and brazen Jacqueline was. She didn’t back down against me. I wanted to backhand him, but he was one of my best customers, so I refrained.
Max finally made his way back and handed me a sandwich. Too bad I had no appetite. Dirty Al kept talking about Jacqueline. I walked into the kitchen, needing time to clear my head before Grace came in. I wasn’t looking forward to explaining any of this to my girlfriend.
“I wonder what she looks like,” I heard Max ponder, but I had no idea what the context was as my mind was elsewhere.
When I came out of the kitchen, Max was sitting next to Dirty Al, showing him photos of something. I hoped he wasn’t showing him porn again.
I tuned them out for a few minutes before I heard Grace’s name and then Max said, “Come check this out, Caleb. Did you know Grace was on a yacht topless? Or did coke in the bathroom at some fashion show? Oh, or that she used to date a guy named Grant?”
“What the fuck are you doing? Did you google my girlfriend?”
I was surrounded by a bunch of fucking gossips.