Chapter 13
Jacquline Wainwright had never believed in luck or even faith.
She was a good Catholic girl and had been brought up that way by parents who insisted on attending mass whether rain or shine.
It did not matter that behind closed doors, they had been anything but religious.
What mattered was that to the public, they were a close-knit family and one who contributed heavily to the coffers of the church.
She had left her home in Virginia when she was in her early twenties because an arrangement had been made with the Wainwrights. It never occurred to her to rebel. She was the only child of well-to-do parents and was required to do her part without any questions being asked.
It did not matter that she was not in love with Harry Wainwright. He was handsome enough, articulate and highly successful. But she never knew how to love anyone, because that had not been the case in her family.
Showing emotions was not something they did.
She would do her duty of course. Make a home for her husband and give him children.
She would have stopped at Jordan, but Harry had wanted more children.
After the three, she had shunned him from her bedroom.
Her duty was finished. She had borne him three children. It was enough.
She was certainly not going to tolerate him pawing all over her.
And somehow, they had survived the marriage. Not that she would ever dream of asking for a divorce. A good Catholic woman would never stoop so low or break her vows. She knew of his affairs of course and as long as he kept them to himself and was discreet, he could do whatever he wished.
Now, sitting at the vanity, she stared at her reflection and wondered how she could look so composed. The news was devastating. Cancer, stage four and she was advised to get her family involved. She was barely sixty and was facing death. She still looked young because she took care of her skin.
She would be going through a series of tests, and she was losing her breasts.
Lifting her hands, she cupped them, testing the weight.
They were small and somewhat delicate. Her husband had enjoyed sucking on them, and she had tolerated it.
She had never been very adventurous in bed, preferring to get it over and done with as soon as possible.
She would call a meeting of course. But first she had to meet with the woman who had become her daughter-in-law.
She did not approve of the girl, but she wanted to offer some sort of olive branch.
Her son had stopped coming around and had not bothered to call.
Jacquline had to admit that she missed seeing him around and at the dinner table.
Had she been a bad mother? She had been doing some introspection.
The time had come for it. Her daughters were unhappy with the choices she had forced them to make.
But that was how she had been brought up, wasn't it?
To deal with marriage as an arrangement.
Dropping her hands, she gathered the silk robe around her and rose.
She had to get ready for the day and she had a full schedule. A meeting with the planning committee for the fundraising barbecue and then lunch with her son's wife.
Taking another look at herself in the mirror, she turned and walked into the closet to select an appropriate attire.
Her wardrobe was a testament to her impeccable taste and the wealth she had accumulated over the years.
Jacquline meticulously chose a cream-colored blouse with delicate lace trim and a matching skirt that cascaded elegantly to her knees.
She completed her outfit with pearl earrings and a subtle string of pearls around her neck.
The ensemble was refined, understated, and perfectly fitting for a woman of her stature.
As she dressed, her mind wandered to the various tasks of the day.
The fundraising barbecue was just around the corner, and she was determined to ensure its success.
Despite her recent diagnosis, Jacquline was not one to let personal struggles interfere with her obligations.
She was set on maintaining appearances and fulfilling her duties.
Her thoughts then turned to the lunch with her daughter-in-law.
It was an encounter she both dreaded and anticipated.
The young woman had been a source of contention, and Jacquline struggled to find common ground.
Yet, the prospect of reconciliation, however faint, was something she felt she owed to her son and herself.
She stepped out of the closet and gave herself one last look in the mirror, smoothing the fabric of her blouse and adjusting her pearls. Her reflection revealed a woman of grace and resolve, ready to face the day ahead with dignity.
Her first stop was the meeting with the planning committee.
Jacquline was adept at orchestrating events, and her sharp mind and experience made her indispensable.
She entered the room with an air of authority, exchanging pleasantries and taking her place at the head of the table.
The discussions were lively, and her input was invaluable, guiding the committee towards decisions that promised a successful event.
Next on her agenda was lunch. She arrived at the restaurant early, selecting a quiet corner that offered privacy for the anticipated conversation.
The Tea Palace was a quaint little gem situated on top of a slight incline, with a small lake, completed with an arched iron wrought bridge that had seen better days.
The place had a rustic charm that drew people from all over – not just to bask in its beauty – the sparkle of water, the sun rising and falling on the blaze of flowers near the pretty swaying palm trees with the leaves fluttering in the breeze, but also because it served the best tea cakes and scones this side of the county.
The place had been around for more than a hundred years and had faced demolition until a Wainwright had stepped in to lend a helping hand and open pockets. Now it was the pride of Winter's Peak.
And anyone with the name was given the best seat in the house. Because of the beautiful afternoon, that seat was under a striped umbrella and at a pretty wrought iron table, next to a blooming rose bush. And the view from there was spectacular.
Jacquline sipped the sparkling water that had been drawn from their well slowly to ease her dry throat. She was feeling unaccountably nervous and stupid, two things she did not like feeling.
Her sharp gaze took in the svelte young woman being shown to her table and objectively admired the printed dress with the nipped in waist and flared skirt.
Her hair was pinned back at the nape of her neck and discreet diamonds adorned her lobes.
At least, there were no visible tattoos or extra piercings, she thought grimly as she rose.
"Hello Julesa." She did not offer her hand or a kiss on the cheek, both would have been insincere and out of place. "How have you been?"
Settling on the chair, Julesa draped her tote over the arm before responding. "Well, thank you."
"I took the liberty of ordering the apple and cucumber salad. They make the best here."
Tamping down the resentment at being handled, Julesa nodded and reached for her water.
Freshly baked rolls were already displayed in a basket, with a dish of churned butter next to it.
She had spent a restless night contemplating the meeting and was not going to sit and take BS from this woman.
Jacquline Wainwright was going to discover that she was not the same poor little girl she had refused to have inside her house.
Their meal arrived promptly and was served by the owner herself, a buxom woman with quiet auburn hair, streaked through liberally with gray, her designer suit draping her body to perfection. After politely asking if there was anything more they needed, she retreated and left them to their meal.
"Maude has been with this place for the past twenty years," Jacquline began as she delicately sifted through her salad. "A very enterprising woman with a gift for being creative. How's your salad?"
"Delicious as you predicted. Now why don't you tell me why I'm here?"
She was about to tell the girl that it was impolite to have a discussion while they were eating, but decided it was not the time nor the place. And she was prevaricating – something she never did.
Jacquline took a deep breath, pushing away the unease that gnawed at her insides. She had rehearsed this moment a thousand times in her mind, but now, faced with Julesa's poised demeanor and penetrating gaze, she felt the weight of every unsaid word pressing down on her.
"I imagine you have many questions," Jacquline began, her voice steady despite the flutter in her chest. "And I owe you answers. But first, I want you to know that your presence here today means more to me than you can possibly understand."
Julesa's expression softened ever so slightly, though the guarded look remained in her eyes. "Go on."
"For years, I've carried the burden of my actions, and the regret that followed. I was wrong to shut you out, to treat you as less than you deserved. You have every right to be angry with me, and I would not blame you if you chose to walk away now."
Jacquline paused, allowing the weight of her words to settle. The delicate aroma of the surrounding roses seemed to mingle with the tension between them, creating a palpable atmosphere of anticipation.
"I'm not here to walk away, Jacquline," Julesa replied, her tone firm but not unkind. "I'm here to understand. To hear the truth from you, no matter how painful it might be."
Jacquline nodded, feeling a flicker of hope. "Then let me start by saying I'm sorry. Truly and deeply sorry for all the hurt I caused."