Chapter 27
twenty-seven
“A re you sure you don’t want a coffee?” Cade’s mom hovered in the doorway of his parents’ elegantly decorated living room, still wearing a neatly pressed pantsuit despite the late hour. “I can make decaf. We have the pods.”
Cade stretched back on their white leather couch, careful not to let the soot-covered soles of his shoes touch the material as he hooked one ankle over his knee. He was sure he didn’t want any coffee, as he’d already stated twice. He was too jittery to consume anything.
For the first time in his life, he wasn’t hungry.
He had to tell his dad he wasn’t running for mayor.
Before he could refuse the coffee again, Dad leaned over from his perch in his favorite recliner. He wore his reading glasses, and his dress slacks hung over the top of his padded gray house shoes. He’d ditched his loafers the minute they had returned from the fire. “For Pete’s sake, son, she’s gonna levitate off the floor if you don’t give her a task.”
“Does she even know how to make it?” Cade whispered with a wince. Penny Landry was great at table settings, event planning, and hosting—not so much at anything related to the kitchen.
Dad shrugged as he leaned back in his chair. “The housekeeper taught her how to use the Keurig a few weeks ago. Hard to mess that up.”
Guess they’d find out. “Sure, Mom.” Cade pulled a beige-and-black accent pillow into his lap and tried to get comfortable. His nerves thrummed. Rosalyn wasn’t answering his texts—and she’d never shown up at the fire. Had she not forgiven him? Or maybe she went to the hospital to get checked out?
Or had she actually left?
He cleared his throat. “Decaf would be great.”
Mom’s face lit. “Be right back.”
“I think I know why you asked to talk.” Dad fiddled with the coaster on the black oak end table. “But first, how’s Rosalyn?”
He’d love to know the answer to that too.
Dad continued. “I didn’t see it, but I heard about her fall.”
Cade briefly closed his eyes, but no, then he saw her accident in vivid replay. “She’s fine, I think.” Wherever she was. “As she put it, she managed to catch herself to some extent before she hit the mat.”
“That had to have been scary—for everyone.” Dad lowered his head and gave him that look over the top of his glasses, the one that always meant he was saying more than he was saying.
But Cade couldn’t handle subtext tonight—or any more discussion about Rosalyn. He simply nodded. “It was.”
An awkward pause ensued as the air thickened with expectation. The clock above the custom fireplace mantel ticked a steady rhythm, and cool air rushed over Cade’s face via the ceiling fan.
Dad shifted in his chair, the leather squeaking. “Look, son…”
Then a sudden clanking of coffee mugs sounded from the kitchen, followed by a muttered “curse substitute,” as Mom had always called them growing up.
Cade exchanged an amused look with his father. “I’m glad I didn’t actually want coffee.”
Dad snorted. “You know you’ll have to drink it anyway.”
There were a lot of things tonight Cade had to do that he didn’t want to. But the sooner he got this conversation over with, the sooner he could go home and prepare to face everything tomorrow would bring. Fielding phone calls from refund requests. Balancing the books on the festival. Helping Zoey navigate her insurance claim. Brainstorming a fresh round of town fundraising ideas.
Adjusting to the idea of Magnolia Bay without Rosalyn in it.
Cade took a deep breath. “You don’t want me to run for mayor, Dad.”
The clock ticked away several seconds. “I don’t?”
“I can’t even pull off my current job.” Cade scrubbed his palm over his jaw. “The festival is flopping. The circus—well, I don’t even know if we’re going to have a circus tomorrow. The town is still in the red…I failed.”
Dad sighed. “I was afraid you were going to say that.”
He wasn’t even trying to refute it or give him a pep talk? No “You’re a Landry, you can do it”?
“I’m not ready for this step of mayor. Just like Magnolia Bay isn’t ready for a movie, again.”
Dad tilted his head. “I take it the scout said no?”
“Adamantly.” Cade wiped at a spot of soot on his sleeve. A new layer of fatigue washed over him. “I don’t blame them. Everything is a mess right now. I tried to force too much, too soon.”
“I think you’re doing the same thing to yourself.” Dad’s quiet voice calmed the tumultuous tossing of Cade’s thoughts.
“What do you mean?”
“You’ve always had big ideas.” Dad smiled, the chair creaking under his weight as he angled toward Cade. “Even when you were a kid. You’re a go-getter. A prankster.” He laughed. “As evidenced by all the times I bailed you out.”
He didn’t need reminding. But his dad was smiling. Cade frowned. “You thought that was funny?”
“Creative more than funny.” Dad shook his head. “My point is, you always shot for the moon. You love big. You feel big. You put yourself out there, for better or for worse. This is one of those ‘worse’ times.”
Cade stared at his hands, not even realizing he’d clenched them in his lap. He let go, watching his skin flood with color again. “I let you down a lot, growing up. I don’t want to do that again.”
Dad removed his glasses. “You’ve most certainly never let me down.”
“Come on. You had to practically bribe the principal to keep me from getting expelled.”
“That man was a joke.” Dad smirked. “He couldn’t see past his angel-child’s halo to realize there were horns on the kid’s head.”
Cade stilled. “So you knew Justin was the real issue? Why didn’t you let on?”
“It’s called diplomacy. I navigated the situation so that it was best for everyone. Besides, I couldn’t let you think that was the way to solve your problems—even if I did think that kid deserved a fist in the nose.”
Huh. “I always thought you were disappointed in me.”
Dad waved his hand through the air. “It was bad timing…on election year if I remember right.” He met Cade’s gaze. “But never disappointed.”
“But I’m a Landry.” Cade hadn’t intended to give himself the speech, but someone had to do it. “Doesn’t not running make us look bad? I’m not stepping up to fill your shoes. I’m failing the family name.”
Mom swept through the room, a red coffee mug in hand. “Here you go.” She proudly presented it to Cade, clearly oblivious to the tension in the room.
Cade looked down into the nearly transparent brown liquid and managed to hide his shudder. “Thanks, Mom.”
“I’ll let you two keep talking.” She slipped back into the kitchen.
Dad watched her go, his expression pensive. “Like all parents, I’m sure there are things we could have done differently. I hate that you feel like you have to hide how you feel because of our name. Like with this campaign. Choosing not to run is not failure. It’s just a little surprising—I thought that was your ultimate goal all along, when you came home from Yale and didn’t pursue law.”
Cade stared into his mug. “While we’re on that subject…you should probably know I didn’t change careers by choice.” He looked up, determined to say it to his father’s face. “I didn’t pass the bar.”
Dad nodded. “I know.”
“You—what?” Cade stared at his father, who looked completely serious. “Why didn’t you ever say anything?”
“I figured you didn’t want me to know, or you’d have told me yourself.”
Cade blinked at him. “Are you serious?”
“That’s a hard test.” Dad shrugged. “Not everyone passes the first try. Doesn’t mean you’re a failure. The bigger issue is why you didn’t just try again.”
Because failing twice felt like tenfold.
Dad’s expression sobered. “Look, son. You have choices here. If you want to run for mayor because you’re interested in the job, I’ll support you. If you want to keep doing what you’re doing, that’s fine too. We’ll find another candidate. But the last thing I want is for you to wake up with your own stress-related health problems in a few years.” He winced. “Learn from my mistakes.”
“It might be too late for that one.” Cade risked a sip of coffee, wincing at the watery texture. “I’ve had some anxiety flare-ups lately, and I didn’t say anything because I didn’t want you to think I couldn’t handle all of this.”
“No one can handle everything.” Dad replaced his glasses. “The question is—what do you want?”
Cade’s throat tightened along with his grip on his mug. A drop splashed over the side, landed on the couch. “I’m not sure what I want.”
No, that wasn’t true. He wanted Rosalyn to stay in the Bay. He wanted to help bring the town back to its full potential. He wanted to help people. “You know, one of my most vivid memories is when you were inaugurated. I was ten, and I had this red-and-blue striped tie.”
“I remember.” Dad smiled. “Your mom spent a week picking out your outfit. I think she stressed over it more than mine.”
“The high school marching band played and you looked so regal. I remember thinking I wanted to be important too. Like you.” Cade shook his head. “I think somewhere along the way, that turned into thinking I had to literally be you—the ultimate Landry standard.”
“I never meant to create that kind of pressure.”
“I know. I didn’t blame you.” Cade wiped his thumb over the coffee spill on the cushion next to him. “You know, I liked helping Rosalyn with some legal issues the last few days. It felt…” He looked up at the ceiling, exhaled. “Rewarding.”
“There you go.” Dad slapped his thigh. “Maybe that’s your sign.”
“Maybe.” Cade rolled the concept around in his mind. Trying the bar again? But what would happen to the town?
He absently took another sip of coffee-colored water. Huge mistake. He set the mug on the end table. “I know I love Magnolia Bay. I don’t know how exactly I want to serve it down the road, but I know I want to. Just not as mayor.”
Dad nodded. “I’m sure there’s a way to make that happen. But there are a few things we need to clean up. Like canceling the campaign party.”
“Right.” More humiliation headed his way. But at least this time he could go into it knowing his father was on his side.
“Look, this was on me.” Dad scooted to the end of his chair and braced his arms on his knees. “I pushed you to run too soon, and on top of that, I railroaded you with the announcement before you were ready. So I’ll be the one to cancel everything.”
“No, Dad. I appreciate it, but I want to.” Cade pressed his lips together. “In fact, keep the party as planned. I’ll make the announcement there, so everyone can hear at the same time. At least they’ll get cupcakes out of it.”
Dad’s brow rose. “I respect that.” His voice softened. “And I hope you know I’m proud of you, whether you’re the town director, the mayor, or a street-sweeper.”
“Is that position available?” Cade joked, even as his throat swelled. Proud . The word sank in deep, like a balm. “Thanks, Dad.”
He swiped at his eyes. Man, he was tired. And still smelled like smoke. “By the way, I can’t believe Mom is letting me sit on this couch right now while I’m this dirty.”
“She’s getting a new one for her birthday.” Dad waved one hand through the air.
Cade snorted as he slid to the edge of the sofa. “Then I guess I can confess to that coffee spill I made.”
“Nah. We’ll keep that one between us. After thirty-five years of marriage—you pick your battles.” Dad winked. “I’ll tell her you’re leaving.”
They stood. Cade checked for a text from Rosalyn, even while knowing it wouldn’t be there. He did have several new emails, though they wouldn’t be from her. She technically hadn’t ever responded to the one he’d sent inviting her to perform at the circus.
Had that only been less than three months ago?
Cade gave the emails a quick scroll as he waited by the front door for his parents to return from the kitchen. Magnolia Days business, a digital receipt, two daily Bible verses he was behind on reading and—an alert from the bank?
He stopped. Blaine had attempted access in Rosalyn’s accounts two days ago, but the notice had gone to Cade’s spam account. A follow up email had made it to his inbox—along with another, whose subject title read “Thanks for Registering.”
Cade squinted as he read the fine print, heart thumping. Oh no. He’d created a new log-in, gotten back in. Already the numbers in the balance were lower than before. He had to tell Rosalyn, ASAP.
He kept scrolling through the fine print. Was that why Blaine had shown up suddenly at the festival yesterday? He must have tried access two days ago and came to see Rosalyn in person.
But why the rush?
Cade frowned. The flowers…the charm…the kiss. Blaine had obviously been trying to get on her good side. Again, why? To try to regain access? Rosalyn wouldn’t have granted it.
So how had Blaine gotten a new log-in?
Something wasn’t connecting.
His parents headed toward him from the kitchen, his mother’s voice pitching in protest. “I heard you earlier, Ted. You know we’ve been married thirty- six years this fall, not thirty-five.”
Dad shot Cade a wink, then smiled at his wife. “Honey, with you, it only feels like ten.”
She good-naturedly rolled her eyes. “Well, you’re still not going to get to sit on the new couch.”
“Yes, dear.” Dad pecked her on the cheek. “Always remember, Cade, when it comes to marriage—what’s yours is hers, and what’s hers is hers.” He chuckled.
Cade sucked in a breath. That was it.
That’s why Blaine wanted to stay married.
He quickly said his goodbyes and jogged to his car, dialing Rosalyn’s number on the way. She might not want to forgive him or stick around town for him.
But if his hunch was right, Blaine was much more desperate than either of them would have thought.