March 2021
The whole thing started because we were trying to make Jake feel better.
His mother, as you all recall, moved to California at the beginning of the month.
His dad moved too, but only to Wisconsin, four or so hours in the car, and Jake can visit.
Not quite as horrible. But what ended up happening was his sister got cold feet about having her baby without her mother being around—I couldn’t blame her—and she and her fiancé moved with her mother.
Linda was thrilled but was concerned that Jake would feel abandoned.
He did. Of course he did. And even though he tried to hide it, we all saw the sadness on him.
Hannah even told him that if he moved, nothing would change, at least for her, but while he would miss his family terribly, looking at it logically—which, of course, Kola and Harper helped him do—what would he do in California?
His life was in Chicago. His girl was there.
His best friends were there, and truth be told, he was with us more than his family. Plus, again, Dad in Wisconsin.
“Divorce sucks,” Jake told Hannah at the table while we had breakfast together on Friday morning. “I wouldn’t recommend it for your folks.”
Darting a glance to me.
I opened my mouth to say something.
“No divorce,” Sam announced, walking through the kitchen, rinsing his coffee mug and putting it in the dishwasher. “Catholics don’t get divorced.”
“Pa’s not Catholic,” Hannah reminded her father.
Slipping a hand around the side of my neck, he pulled me close and kissed my forehead. “Tell her.”
I snorted. “What your father means to say is no, darling, you don’t have to worry about your parents getting a divorce.”
Funny how even though she knew it in her heart, she still shivered just a bit.
“Who’s getting divorced now?” Kola asked, walking into the kitchen in a navy suit, a white dress shirt, and black wingtips. “I swear to God, married couples are dropping like flies.”
“No one,” I answered, squinting at him. “Where are you off to, dressed like that, son of mine?”
He turned to his sister. “I thought we were all going except Dad.”
“We are,” she replied, turning to me with a smile that was all teeth. “Hi.”
“Hi,” I replied, crossing my arms.
“Here’s the thing. I have to check on a silent auction today. I have to go and look at everything, and I thought, afterwards, that we could have lunch at our favorite Italian place, since they opened their patio and Jake would like it.”
Anything for Jake.
I nodded. “You called them already, didn’t you?”
She bit her bottom lip. “I might have.”
“Well, why don’t just you and Jake go and––”
“No,” Jake whined, face crumpled, head back, a death rattle coming out of him.
“It’s boring as hell,” Kola informed me as the back door opened and Harper waved before he detoured to the sink to wash his hands.
“It’s not boring,” Hannah informed him and me. “I’m just…thorough.”
Sam scoffed. “That’s code for boring. I’m outta here. I’ll see you guys tonight.”
“How about late afternoon?” I suggested, following him to the back door, where he turned around to look at me. “Very early evening.”
“Like six?”
“Five?” I asked hopefully.
“Six is pushing it, you know that.”
I slid my hands up his chest. “We’re having company, as you recall.”
He rolled his eyes. “Why are my sisters bringing their kids over here?”
“Because they miss you, and now that you’ve been vaccinated, they––”
“But you guys haven’t been,” he groused at me, “and God help them if they come over here without masks on and––”
“No one’s coming inside, Sam. Jake has the heaters all ready to go on the deck.”
He grunted.
I lifted for my kiss. “Just come home.”
“Like I wouldn’t come home,” he grumbled before he gave me a quick, though serious, kiss. I had to grab the doorjamb when he left. The smug chuckle was not lost on me.
Turning, I faced the kids. “So, what are we doing?”
The auction was being put together to benefit Saving Grace, which was a women’s shelter downtown.
Hannah volunteered at the shelter, along with her aunt Aja, and she had the idea, and of course, Aaron Sutter had said why don’t we rent out the gem vault in one of the high-end jewelry stores on the Miracle Mile.
“And you’re doing what, now?” I asked my daughter, following her from display to display as she looked at items on pedestals with typed cards explaining what it was, what the provenance was, and the starting bid.
All of her, from her textured crepe blazer to the white turtleneck sweater, tailored pants, and black slingback heels, was sophisticated and polished, but it was blown all to hell with the addition of her Supernatural mask that she’d hand made. “And what’s with that mask?”
“First off, I’m checking to make sure that what is written on the card is––” She growled suddenly. “––actually correct.”
I watched as she took off one of her white gloves, typed into her phone, checked the number against the list she was looking at, and typed some more. Once done, the glove went back on and we moved to the next.
“And second,” she said, lifting her head to give me a quick scowl, “I have watched every episode of Supernatural more than twice, so this mask perfectly captures something I love.”
“Okay, then,” I teased her, watching as she picked up the next thing. “What is that?”
“I’ll tell you in one second,” she informed me, turning it over, checking the bottom, and then placing it back on the pedestal before looking up at me.
“That is an antique incense burner made in France and distributed by the famous New York City import house of Ashley Abraham Vantine,” she explained.
“This one’s in very good shape, which is impressive considering they were cast in the 1920s. ”
“And you just know this?”
She nodded.
“Why do you know this?”
“I have three of these,” she explained brightly. “I put little lights in them. You’ve seen them in my room.”
Come to think of it, I had. “So they’re what, like, a million each?”
She scoffed. “Super nice ones, like these, maybe a hundred dollars. This one might go for two hundred because it’s for charity and it’s in really good condition.” Lifting the lid, I saw that the inside looked as though it had been burned many times.
“That’s good condition?”
“Well, it can’t be mint, right? Not unless someone bought it and put it away. But back then, you wouldn’t. It’s made of cast iron. You bought it and used it.”
“And now?”
She shrugged. “Now, if you’re into antique metal art, like I am, or cast iron, or you collect vintage incense burners, you’re going to want this.”
“Do you want it?”
“I have this pagoda one,” she informed me. “And mine is nicer than this, and I only paid, like, thirty-six dollars for it.”
“How?”
Slipping one of the ear loops off, she smiled at me, which made her big brown eyes glitter and her dimples pop. Easy to get the picture. “That’s not fair.”
Righting the mask, I heard her cackle behind it. “I would never underpay for anything of quality. That’s bad karma,” she insisted, “but it’s still a piece of cast iron. The first one I ever got, Nana had in her attic. It was with her mom’s stuff that she never went through.”
I nodded.
“So sometimes it’s super cool, but you really shouldn’t pay an arm and a leg for it.”
“Unless it’s for charity.”
“That’s correct,” she assured me, moving to the next item.
Stepping back, I watched as she held court. Women and men older than her came and asked her questions. She wasn’t going to be the auctioneer; instead she was making sure everything was going to run smoothly.
“Kage,” a snide voice behind me said.
Turning, I saw a young man, probably about the same age as Kola, arms crossed, head tipped, eyeing Hannah.
Her groan was long and loud.
“Why are you even bothering with these trinkets?” he asked, sounding irritable, brushing by me to reach my daughter, stepping in close. “We both know the malas from our private collection are going to be what actually sells.”
I saw her left eye twitch just like Sam’s did when he was annoyed.
Yes, nature was a thing. But both my kids had so many of both my husband’s and my tics and traits that no one could ever argue that we’d raised them.
“Probably,” she agreed, her voice calm, even though her eyes were murderous.
“But for those who still want to help that can’t quite afford a thousand-to-three-thousand-dollar mala, this gives them a way to participate. ”
He squinted at her and started to slip his mask off one ear.
“Back up six feet before you do that.”
Walking backward, not checking to see if there was anyone behind him, when he was far enough away, he removed the mask and a young man I thought was handsome was actually quite stunning.
He could have been an actor or a model with a face like that, but clearly his looks had no effect on my child.
When he crossed his arms, still glaring at her, I saw how she looked back at him, as though she were bored out of her mind.
“If you would have just allowed us to sponsor the auction, we would have donated the malas—and we both know you’re dying to get your hands on the citrine and pyrite one—and then they would be far more affordable.”
“For people like me,” she goaded him.
He actually growled at her. “That’s not what I said.”
“It was insinuated,” she snapped.
“The hell it was!”
A noise of sheer disgust came from her throat before she spun around, put her arm through mine, and led me toward the next pedestal.
Moving quickly, he barred our path, having slipped the loop back over his ear so he was masked again. “Hello, sir, I’m David Chan. It’s a pleasure to meet you, Mr. Harcourt.”
I smiled at him behind my mask before I turned to look at Hannah. “You should introduce me to your friends.”
Her left eye twitched again.
“Hannah!” We both turned to see a stunning and stately woman come rushing up to my daughter, who stepped around me to greet her. I’d never seen a Chanel mask in real life.