Chapter 47
Chapter Forty-Seven
Renthrow
“Take the next left,” Mom instructs, showing me with her finger. “Oh, it’s right up ahead. Slow down at the gate.”
I notice a camera swerving to take me in as I roll to a stop. A moment later, the massive, wrought-iron gates swing open.
“Cool,” Gordie says from the backseat.
“Creepy,” I say under my breath.
“What was that?” Mom calls.
“Nothing.” Shifting the car out of park, I roll down the concrete driveway.
The road leads to a massive house with a wraparound porch, an expansive garden, and a fountain in the center. If I’d guess, this acreage is twice the size of McLanely’s—though to be fair, McLanely’s is closer to Lucky Falls.
“Isn’t this the place that rich couple from out of town rented for retreats?” I peer at the large windows and the massive wooden front door with the golden knocker.
“It sold last week,” Mom informs me.
Strange. There was no notice from the realtor’s office, and I tend to keep an eye on those listings. Did the new buyer negotiate with the seller privately?
I study my mother as she fusses with the shiny pin on her dress. “What are we doing here?”
“We’re meeting a friend,” Mom says, looking like she’s about to burst with excitement.
“Which friend?” I know all of Mom’s partners-in-crime. There’s Ms. Wilma from the embroidery club, Mrs. Tanner who owns a ranch with her husband, and then there’s Rebel’s mom, Mrs. Hart—the two ladies dye their hair at the same salon.
“A new friend.” Mom reaches over and smooths my collar. “Did you bring the flowers?”
“They’re here, Grandma!” Gordie chirps, lifting the bouquet from where they’d rested on the backseat.
“Wonderful!” Mom shuffles around in her purse. “Goodness, where’s my lipstick?”
“Why are you so nervous?” I laugh. “Are we meeting the Queen of England or something?”
“I’m not nervous. Who says I’m nervous?” Her words are muffled as she smothers a new coat of red paint over her lips.
Since she doesn’t want to admit it, I reach for the door so I can climb out.
“Wait!” Mom yells.
I whip around to look at her.
“Remember to smile, okay?”
“Smile? What am I smiling for?”
“And”—Mom squeezes her eyes shut—“for the love of all that is good”—she leans into my ear and hisses—“don’t say that you have no interest in getting married again.”
I frown in confusion. Why would that come up in tonight’s discussion?
“Gordie?”
“Yes, Grandma?”
“Let’s keep the talk about stars and hockey to a minimum, okay? We need to make a good impression.”
“Mom, who’s waiting for us inside that house?” I reel back in horror. “Is it a man?” An even more terrifying thought explodes in my brain. “Do you have a boyfriend?”
The thought of my mother dating again makes me break out in hives. Dad’s been gone for years now, but I can’t imagine her with anyone else.
Mom bursts out laughing. The sound of her high-pitched guffaws sends my blood pressure through the roof.
I continue interrogating her. “Did you meet him on a cruise?”
“Bwahaha!” Mom clutches her stomach and rolls back.
“Mom, I told you to be careful?” I raise my voice to be heard over her laughter. “Those slimy old guys aren’t any better than the ones my age—”
To my surprise, Mom pats my cheek like I’m a toddler and coos, “My sweet, darling boy, you are so very oblivious. Now, let’s get going. We’re late.”
Mom hops out of the car and opens the back door to get Gordie down too. I jog to help them, even more stumped by the mystery.
“Alright. Here we go!” Mom swings Gordie’s hand back and forth as we walk past the fountain to the front door.
I hear a creaking sound, and the large doors swing open before we have a chance to knock.
“Sasha!”
“Brenda!” A woman who looks very much like Cordelia’s mom shrieks.
The two sprint at each other like twin nukes and collide, making a mushroom cloud of squeeing noises, sparkly dresses, and thick perfume. Mom’s friend finally extricates herself from their two-women huddle and faces me.
In the light shed by the open door, there’s no mistaking her.
It’s the new team sponsor.
“Mrs. Davenport,” I blurt, my tongue heavy.
“Call me Sasha.” She beams at me, showing straight, white teeth shrouded by lips as red as Mom’s.
Are they sharing the same lipstick? When would Mom get close enough to Sasha Davenport to have matching lipstick?
But then…how does Mom even know Sasha Davenport?
Footsteps patter from inside the house.
“I already took a look at the car, Mom. Mills knew what to do, so you didn’t need me…” The voice fades when Cordelia appears in the doorway and sees us.
Her eyes snap to my mother, then to Gordie, and then to me.
My heart starts pumping double-time, and my throat does this odd tightening thing.
It’s so good to see her.
She looks amazing in her usual leather jacket, simple blue jeans, and work boots. Her hair is tied back today instead of loose, and I get a perfect view of her delicate jawline and pouty lips.
The woman is an absolute vision.
I want to wrap her in a hug. Ask her how she’s been. Tease her about something, anything, and watch the two little wrinkles appear between her eyebrows as she tries her hardest to make a quick comeback.
Pulling my fingers into fists, I somehow manage to restrain myself. Though I can’t stop staring.
Cordelia sees me looking and conveniently pulls out her phone. “I just got a text from Rebel. They need me at the garage.”
“But you just got here!” Sasha pouts. “Brenda, Viking, Gordie…” Sasha grins at my little girl who hides her face shyly against my leg. She gestures to the beautiful woman in the motorcycle jacket. “You remember my daughter Cordelia, right?”
“Oh, we know Cordelia,” Mom says, nudging me and rolling her eyes at the flowers.
I cough. Sticking out a hand, I offer. “These are for you.”
“How lovely!” Sasha starts cooing over the flowers, and it reminds me of the night I gave Cordelia the magnetic pick-up tool.
My eyes trail to her again, and to my surprise, I find her looking at me too. But she quickly looks away as if caught doing something wrong.
“Delia,” Gordie whispers, waving excitedly.
Cordelia loses her pinched expression and returns Gordie’s smile with her own. “Hi, Gordie.”
“And how do you know Delia?” Sasha asks, crouching to my daughter’s level.
“Delia’s my friend,” Gordie says confidently.
“Wonderful! That means we’re friends too.”
Gordie shakes her head. “My daddy says that I shouldn’t trust strangers when they say that. Because they could be bad people.”
“Ha!” Cordelia barks out. And then she scratches her nose. “S-sorry. I sneezed.”
“Well, your daddy’s a smart man. There are lots of bad people out there, and he’s a good dad for protecting you.” The exuberant billionaire motions to my daughter. “I’m Delia’s mom. And I’ll be nice to anyone who’s nice to Delia. Do you want to come inside?”
Gordie looks like she’s in awe of Sasha’s animated persona, so when the older woman stretches out a manicured hand, I’m not surprised when my daughter abandons my leg.
Sasha juts her chin at Cordelia. In a cajoling voice, she says, “Since we have guests, maybe you can tell Rebel that you won’t be able to come back to the garage now?”
Gordie gives Cordelia a hopeful look.
I see the moment she caves. “Fine.”
“Yay!” Sasha lifts Gordie’s arm in celebration.
“Yay!” My daughter squeals.
“Come this way, everyone. Let me give you a tour of the place before we have dinner.”
Mom and Gordie march behind Sasha Davenport like she’s the Pied Piper. I stay back and grip Cordelia’s arm, lingering at the door.
I nod to her mom. “So…the time has come.”
“It appears so.”
“Do you want to stick to the plan?” I ask in a low voice. She’s not being her usual feisty self, and I can’t tell if it’s because she’s in a bad mood about her mom or because she doesn’t want to see me.
She chews on her bottom lip. “I want your help, but I don’t want this to get complicated.”
“What do you mean?”
“I mean”—she inhales deeply—“I don’t want Gordie to find out. She won’t understand that it’s fake. I don’t want to upset or confuse her.”
I take a moment to think before I answer. Honestly, I share her concern. Gordie needs stability more than ever, and no matter my feelings for Cordelia, I can’t afford to get my daughter’s hopes up about a relationship that isn’t even based on the truth.
“I think this might end up hurting Gordie,” Cordelia says, drawing near to me. With eyes as determined as any of my teammates on the ice, she says, “And I can’t let that happen. I’ll tell my mom that I lied. That there’s no guy in town.”
“You would?”
“For Gordie’s sake? Yeah.”
My pulse leaps as if she flung herself at me. Nothing softens my heart more than a person looking out for my baby girl. And this is Cordelia. There’s no way I’m giving up a chance to be close to her, even if it’s just to fool her mom.
“Let’s stick to the deal,” I argue.
Her eyes widen. “But Gordie—”
“We can do it in a way that Gordie doesn’t find out.”
“Can we do that?” Her eyes turn hopeful.
I weave my fingers with hers. “Is there anything I should know about our fake relationship? Any details we need to run over?”
“Not really.” She thinks about it. “I didn’t give mom many details and we’re not the kind of mother and daughter that talk about those kinds of things anyway.
I just told mom I left everything behind to be with you.
” She blushes. “Well, to be with my ‘boyfriend’. She thinks you’re the love of my life, but there’s no need to overdo it. ”
I brush a lock of her hair behind her ear. “Love of my life. Don’t over-do it. Got it.”
Her lips curl up, and it feels like the sun warming my face.
“It’s good to see you,” I say, rubbing her knuckles with my thumb.
“You too.” She holds eye contact. “You look nice.”
My ears start burning, and I can’t believe those three words have enough power to turn me into a shy teenager about to go to his first prom.
“And I enjoyed all the lunch boxes,” Cordelia adds. “Although, Rebel and April always force me to share.”
“I’ll make more so you can share and still have enough.”
“Okay,” she says, eyes twinkling at the prospect, and my heart melts.
When Cordelia left the arcade early, I wrote and rewrote a bunch of messages that I didn’t end up sending. I considered cornering her like I did when I pretended my car broke down, but I decided not to.
The last time she ignored me, I wasn’t sure about my feelings or hers. But this time, I’m certain that what I feel for her is deeper than friendship. I know she just needs space to work things out, and I respect that. Rather than be pushy, I figured I should seduce her where it counts—her stomach.
“Delia, Viking, are you two coming!” Sasha calls from the second floor.
“We’re coming!” Cordelia answers.
I bring her hand to my lips and kiss the back of it. “You ready?”
“Not even close.”
I laugh and release her fingers. I’m suddenly looking forward to dinner tonight.