Chapter 20 Not Long Ago #2
“He is beyond mad at both of us,” Nolan said.
“He let me have it from the moment I picked him up at the airport. ‘Why didn’t you tell me? Why would you support Mom lying to me? How could you let me grow up in that sand dune of a town?’ I wasn’t about to go into everything in front of Cindi, and that poor girl didn’t know if she was supposed to stick up for him or referee, so when both failed she stared out of the window.
I ended up taking them to In-N-Out Burger to get them something to eat so he’d shut up for five minutes, like I did when he was in grade school. ”
“Did it work?” she asked, smiling in spite of the situation.
“It bought me time until we got home and I could talk to him alone, which is when I found out he didn’t know about our NDA, either.”
“Shit.” Paloma’s stomach dropped to her shoes. “I can’t believe I forgot to tell him about that. Our conversation went sideways, and I wasn’t thinking clearly, then he refused to talk to me. I’m sorry.”
He winced, hissing in frustration. “Paloma, you’ve had decades to work out how you were going to tell him.”
“The NDA is a moot point now anyway. It expired when he turned twenty-one last fall.”
He leveled his gaze. “Sure, there’s nothing that legally prevents us from revealing his name and our identity as his parents. But do you really want to do that without his approval?”
“Of course not.”
“Well, what are you going to do when it’s public knowledge that you’re coming back from your ‘hiatus’ for the concert? It’s only a matter of time before you’re being interviewed and a reporter squeezes the truth out of you.”
“I won’t let that happen,” she countered. “I’m going to focus on music and my history at the Artemis when I talk to the press, and if they start asking questions about my personal life, I’ll figure out a polite way to say, ‘Go fuck yourself.’ ”
“How punk rock of you. Good luck with that,” he said, his voice dripping with disdain.
“Kaden has never come up in your interviews.”
“It’s not the same situation and you know it!
” Nolan retorted. “I’m just a guy with a guitar and a cowboy hat, but you were this shooting star that crashed somewhere on earth, and once your location is revealed, there will be a lot of people who won’t quit until they find out every detail about why you disappeared.
Kaden is central to that story, and it’s only a matter of time before he’s pulled into the spotlight, no matter what you do. ”
“You’re right, you’re right,” she muttered.
“You know, when we created this wall of documents to shield you, I supported it because I thought it would be temporary. You’d been through a lot of stress with Jace and the record label, and you wanted to focus on motherhood without anyone invading your space.
But the longer it went on, the more ridiculous it got. ”
“Yes, you’ve told me that many times,” she said tersely. “Is that why you gave me Jace’s message about the Artemis? To get me interested in getting back on stage and goad me into telling him? Like when you did that interview for that documentary ten years ago?”
“Maybe,” he said, folding his arms. “Then again, I didn’t expect you to sign on to perform before you talked to Kaden. Or me.”
“As God is my witness, that’s why I texted you earlier: so the three of us could work this through together. Can you convince Kaden to talk to me?”
“He’s made it perfectly clear it’ll only be when he’s ready and on his own terms, and I don’t know how long that will take.” Nolan’s expression shifted, as if he’d just remembered something else she’d done wrong. “Hang on. When you told Jace you’d do the show, did you tell her about Kaden?”
She hoped he couldn’t see her face flush with embarrassment. “No. I didn’t tell her.”
He sat back and smirked. “I guess you should be glad that some things never change.”
—
By mid-July, it was getting harder and harder for the “Keep Jace in the dark” task to remain on Paloma’s punch list. They’d chatted quite a few times since Jace’s second trip to Stone Beach to review the appearance agreement, stage setup, hotel, and various other details.
And even with a staff of people handling all the logistics, Jace would somehow find a reason to text or call her nearly every day.
It wasn’t always about the event, either.
Sometimes, she’d text her Good morning, and that brief exchange would extend itself until they were texting each other Good night.
Paloma found herself looking forward to their interactions: cracking jokes, getting fresh gossip about their musician friends, watching Jace’s brilliant organizational mind at work once more.
It was familiar and brand-new at the same time.
Paloma was amazed by how nice and effortless it all was.
But the only response she’d gotten from Kaden after daily calls and texts was silence. As she’d told Nolan, she didn’t feel comfortable telling anyone about him without his permission. His silence meant she was going to put off having that talk with Jace.
Having a semi-legit reason not to come clean just yet should have been a relief.
Instead, Paloma was worn out. She’d spent almost half her life burying her creativity and her autonomy to keep her presence small to protect herself and her child, but now she and Kaden both wanted something bigger.
She’d severed her relationship with the woman she’d loved because she’d been too scared to be honest, well before she got pregnant.
Over the last few weeks, she’d gotten a taste of what she once had, and she hadn’t realized how much good she’d left behind when she ran from the bad.
With all this on her mind, Paloma drove south on 75 toward Clawson, determined to stay up in the air, walking the tightrope between what she’d always done and what she wanted and needed to do, for a while longer.
Jace had offered to take her on a driving tour of Detroit so Paloma could get reacclimated after so many years away.
They were also slated to drop by the Artemis so she could get her bearings well before the show in September.
Since the press release announcing Paloma’s return hadn’t gone out yet, they’d keep everything on the QT.
No one would even know she’d come back to town.
Jace’s neighborhood was walkable and welcoming, featuring a variety of brick and clapboard cottages with large trees and green lawns occasionally disrupted by a two-story modern house crammed into a tiny lot.
Her house was gray stucco with dark red trim and black shutters.
Her front yard had a Japanese maple surrounded by a ring of stones painted white, and there was a mammoth oak in the backyard that shaded part of her roof.
Each bed of hostas and impatiens was well tended and weed-free.
Clearly Jace was just as meticulous about managing her property as she had been about managing her musicians.
Jace greeted her at the door with a grin and a hug, looking relaxed in a black-and-gold athletic polo and shorts set.
Paloma idly wondered if she’d played a few rounds of pickleball before she’d arrived; Jace was clearly doing something to keep her arms as toned and her body as compact as it had been half a lifetime ago.
Jace ushered her into a tastefully modern living room with oyster-white walls, a steel-and-glass coffee table, and a long, black leather couch: the opposite of their shabby, comfy decor when they lived in Woodbridge.
“I brought you this,” Paloma said, handing over a substantial gift basket. Along with two bottles of wine from Suttons Bay, it was crammed full of Michigan-made cheeses, crackers, dried cherries, and other refined snacks.
“You didn’t have to do this,” Jace said, eyeing the contents. “Thank you.”
“It’s the least I could do,” Paloma said. “There’s a specialty food shop on the main block of Stone Beach called Motor City Finest. They sell the full line of ‘Jam Band’ jellies and preserves. I thought you’d appreciate it.”
Jace peeled back some of the cellophane and pulled out a stout white jar of tangerine marmalade. “Ooh, my favorite. Thanks for remembering.”
“You practically cleared out the jam shelf at Harrods when we were in London. How could I forget?”
They held each other’s gaze for a split second before Jace put the basket in the kitchen. “Want some coffee before we head out?”
“Yes, thanks,” Paloma said.
Paloma took a seat in her kitchen, which had a bay window overlooking a well-manicured backyard where a couple of black squirrels were munching on the birdseed under the feeder. Jace set up her coffee maker. “So what’s been going on with your day jobs lately?”
“I’ve been heads down all week trying to finish a song I owe this guy. You ever hear of Treat Dawson?”
“No.”
“He does Austin City Limits, tools around Nashville, has a solid but unremarkable career,” she explained.
“He charted with a song of mine last year and wants an even bigger hit this time around, but there are only so many rhymes for ‘truck’ that I can use without him getting bleeped. I’m glad you called. I needed a break.”
“Happy to help,” Jace said, scooping dark roast into the filter.
“How’s the benefit shaping up?”
“We’re deep into the logistics right now,” Jace replied, the coffee maker burbling as she sat down across from Paloma. “I wanted to talk about who’s playing bass and drums for you. Mary reached out to me. She has no idea you’re on the bill, by the way.”
“Oh? What did she say?”
“She assumed I wanted to book her since she’s a Detroit garage legend. She also said she’d email me her rider.”
Paloma snickered. “Of course she did: Mary has to be Mary. Had you even asked her to play?”
“No, I hadn’t. She doesn’t have to play with you if you don’t want her to.”