Chapter Seven
seven
Ridley
Ridley looked angrily at his wedding band still sitting on his ring finger days later. He’d finally given himself permission to try to take it off again. But because after almost three years alone, he’d become so entirely inept at dealing with anyone of the opposite sex, he’d returned it to his hand, then embarrassed a friendly young woman into believing she’d gotten the wrong idea.
She had not.
Deliberately...just to get her to back off. Yes, he’d done that. What a jerk he’d been.
Too much time spent with those Brits , his old mentor from Harvard liked to tease him during their annual check-ins.
As if he hadn’t had to be this way for his entire life. To become insensitive and desensitized. To harden himself enough to absorb the numerous disappointments and shocks a life in STEM doled out for a person of color. From his high school biology teacher suggesting he join the basketball team rather than the science Olympiad, to the college adviser who told him molecular genetics might be too difficult for him. Still, there was no denying Ridley had picked up enough British brusque aloofness over the years to rub some people the wrong way.
So, could he say that’s what happened?
Deep down he knew it wasn’t. He’d run Lanie off because...she made him nervous.
“Earth to Dad, come in, Dad.”
A steaming kettle whistled in front of him. “Oh, sorry.”
“What’s the point of keeping that antique on the hob if you can’t even hear it when it’s right in front of you? Maybe we need to reassess.”
“Reassess, really?”
Bea smirked at him, quite pleased with herself.
“With a vocabulary like that at least I know my tuition money is being put to good use.”
When had their little Bean become this incredibly astute and witty creature? It felt like just the other day she was having total meltdowns when they turned off Gigglebiz on CBeebies. Now she was arguing the merits of electric versus steam kettles...and shaming her father for his inattentiveness.
“Oh God, now you’re getting the look.”
“Look?” He raised an eyebrow as if he didn’t know exactly what she was talking about.
“The ‘what an incredible tiny human creature you are’ look.”
He knew the one. Her mother had patented it when Bea first learned to walk and it had been a parental staple ever since.
“But you are incredible.” He couldn’t help himself. Ridley chuckled as she rolled her eyes at him, pouring the piping hot water into two cups for tea.
“So? What’s up?”
“With me? Nothing,” Ridley deflected. “But I’m sorry I have to go back so soon.”
Bea’s expression darkened at the mention of his upcoming trip so fast on the heels of the last. “I understand.”
He could see by the way her mouth tightened that wasn’t true.
When Ridley thought of the next few months he was now expected to spend traveling back and forth to New York overseeing the American partner in his joint clinical trial, his blood boiled. He was the principal investigator. The big-picture person. The chief scientist. It was ridiculous that he should have to play parent to adults at the expense of his own child because people couldn’t follow simple directions. Directions they’d literally signed their names to. He wanted to rage, and looking into Bea’s disappointed face, he almost did.
“But that isn’t it, is it?” she asked cannily, cutting through his thoughts.
She wasn’t his little girl anymore. And these unnecessary days away would be lost time with her. Losing Thyra had taught him how precious this time was—and how he couldn’t afford to miss a second of it.
“Of course it is,” he insisted. “But I promise, come hell or high water, I will not miss your birthday party.”
“I’m canceling that.”
“What?”
“I don’t care about it. And I’m too old for a party anyway.” Bea shrugged, pushing her spoon around in her yogurt cup.
All the baby fat was disappearing from her formerly chubby, sable-colored cheeks, giving way to the same elongated face with strikingly sharp cheekbones and large, deep-set eyes as her mother. The realization was like a shot in his chest. And like her incisive mother, Beatrix would no longer be so easily appeased by simple evasions.
Ridley debated what to tell her as he brought the rest of her breakfast—the tea, buttered toast and a bowl of fruit salad—to the breakfast table. He retreated behind the center island, racking his brain. “Have you given any more thought to Gavin’s offer?”
“The Eye?” Bea made a face, stabbing a square of honeydew with her fork. “How old does he think I am? A class outing, seriously?”
“I don’t think it necessarily needed to be with your classmates.”
Bea shot him a look of annoyance that seemed to say the same thing he was thinking. Since when do I defend Gavin?
“Look, Bean, sweetie, if you didn’t want to do that, you should have told him so. Hiding from Gavin in your room and telling your nan to run interference was not a great idea.”
Her brows furrowed, anxiety beginning to flood her features, returning her to the little girl Ridley saw in his mind’s eye. It was a glimpse of who she still was underneath the tinted lip balm, light foundation and sculpted eyebrows she now sported. “Did I mess something up? Is that why I have to go to America for Christmas?”
Ridley sighed. More than anything he wanted to shield Bea from all the legal wrangling that had followed her mother’s death. But truthfully, the lockdown that necessitated his continued custody of her may only have delayed what might, in fact, be inevitable. Perhaps, however, if they were cooperative, some livable arrangement could be possible. Because he knew he could not—would not—live without his daughter.
“Of course not,” he lied. “You don’t have to go to Colorado if you don’t want to.”
Bea cut her eyes at him. We’re going to have a conversation about her new tendency to do that...later.
“I’m not a child—”
“You are,” Ridley replied, rapid-fire.
Bea scowled but corrected herself. “But I am old enough to understand the truth, Dad.”
“You are that too.” He sighed with resignation, pausing to take a breath. “Okay, so Ada says it would be helpful...” It pained him to even repeat the solicitor’s words. “If we appeared to be a bit more willing to work with Gavin.”
Accommodating until it physically hurt were Ada’s exact words.
Ridley’s heart broke seeing the way Bea’s little face fell. “Bean, you said you could handle me telling you the truth.” Or at least some of it.
“I can!” she retorted with indignance. “It’s just that...that this means things aren’t going well. Doesn’t it?”
Ridley didn’t know how to answer this. Bea was so perceptive; lying further didn’t make sense.
“No, it means that I need you to consider spending Christmas in Vail with Gavin. Nan and Granddad will be there, I’ve already discussed that with Gavin. And he also said that Simone and Yvette can come visit too, provided their parents agree.”
Bea was unmoved.
“Taylor Swift apparently lives next door, or something?” he offered, feeling as stupid as Gavin looked when he said it.
She shook her head, huffing a breath. “I haven’t been a Swiftie since she copied Beyoncé’s Coachella performance, Dad!” Bea pushed back from the table so forcefully that the chair legs screeched against the hardwood floors. She grabbed her uniform’s navy blazer off the chair back and picked up her book bag. “Whatever.”
Ridley stood silently gaping. He’d have known what to apologize for if he’d understood any of the words that had come out of Bea’s mouth. To him, that had just been Blahblahblah Beyoncé blahblahblah Coachella.
“Bea.”
“It’s fine, Dad.” She came around the island and rose to her toes as he bent, to kiss him on the cheek. Then she paused, leveling him with a version of her mother’s skeptical appraisal. It was scarily accurate. “You’re sure that’s all?”
“Get going. You’re going to be late.” He placed a kiss on her forehead nestled among her heap of downy walnut curls. Then Ridley promised himself that he’d find a way to shake off the creeping unease about everything in his life right now.
Bea headed down the hall to the front door, audibly dissatisfied. In a matter of just a few days, he’d managed to seriously upset two women.
His week was going great.