Chapter 21
Victoria turned back and forth, showing off her walking cast. “Finally,” she grumbled. “I thought Dr. Chi was going to keep
me on crutches forever.”
Her father put his arm around her as they walked toward the restaurant. “Maybe that’s because he knows you can’t be trusted
to follow his instructions.”
“That was one time,” she protested. “I’m mostly compliant.”
“You were on the balance beam with a broken arm and you fell, reinjuring yourself. You needed surgery.”
His tone was mild, his glance affectionate.
“I was seven,” she reminded him. “That was a long time ago. Dr. Chi needs to start trusting me.”
“Trust has to be earned, my sweet girl.”
“Whatever,” she muttered as they stepped inside. “I have it now. I love being mobile.”
The walking cast was taking a bit to get used to, but she was fine with that. Anything was better than crutches. Dr. Chi had
lectured her on following the rules, which she planned to do. If he was here right now, she would point out that she was wearing
the ugly, thick-soled shoe that evened up her legs so she was able to square her hips as she walked. And she was taking the
ridiculously short strides the walking cast required. This was her—star patient. She should get a plaque.
As her dad asked for a table for two, Victoria looked around the restaurant. She wasn’t a brunch sort of person. Usually she and her dad played golf a couple of times a month, but until she was back in the land of normal, brunch was the best she could manage.
“My golf swing is going to be messed up when I finally get back to it,” she complained as they were shown a table. “I’ll have
to take a few lessons to remember what I’m supposed to be doing.”
“Or you could wait and let me kick your ass for the next few games,” her father said with a smile as they were seated. “That
would be nice, too.”
“Are you becoming a gloater? You’ve always been so gracious about being better at golf than me.”
“No gloating. Just me reveling in my superior status.” He winked at her.
She glanced at the other patrons. There were families with young children, girlfriends hanging out and a couple that seemed
so into each other Victoria figured they’d just had sex before going out for brunch and would be heading right back to bed
after they’d eaten. She wondered if Shannon and Aaron were still in the adoration stage or if their relationship had moved
on and evolved. They were engaged, so planning on spending their lives together, although she knew from watching her parents
that just because a relationship had a few miles on it didn’t mean the love in any way faded.
“If I have the chorizo omelet, will you tell your mother?”
“You shock me.” She looked at the menu. The chorizo omelet was all things bad. There was the sausage, of course, plenty of
cheese and a side of refried beans. She supposed the sliced jalapenos were technically a vegetable, but doubted there was
enough to count as a serving.
“You go, Dad.”
“Was that a no?”
Victoria rolled her eyes. “You know I won’t rat you out to Mom.” She paused. “I guess I wouldn’t rat her out either, but I can’t imagine her ever doing anything quote-unquote forbidden in front of me. Or in life. She’s a rule-follower, which is nice. It makes her predictable.”
And a predictable Ava was safer for her.
Their server stopped by and offered coffee and juice. Victoria only accepted the former because she didn’t need any unnecessary
calories. She’d put on about six pounds during her recovery—an amount that didn’t sound like much, but on her small frame
it was nearly a size. Now that she was in a walking cast, she was going to head back to the gym. She couldn’t do much in the
way of cardio, but she could start lifting weights and adding a little muscle.
They placed their orders. Victoria asked for a half serving of eggs Benedict with a side of hash browns—her last hurrah before
she went high protein/low carb, starting at dinner that night. Between that and cutting out alcohol for the next two or three
weeks, she should be able to drop most of the weight pretty easily so by the time she got her cast off, she would only have
to worry about the atrophy in her left leg.
Her dad waited until she’d added milk to her coffee and had taken the first sip before saying, “Your mother mentioned the
two of you had talked.”
“We did. All is well.”
“So you’re perfectly fine with everything that’s happened?”
“Of course.”
His steady gaze made her want to squirm.
“You have to admit, it’s an incredibly strange situation,” she said, unable to keep from speaking. “All of it. Although I
guess technically nothing has happened—everything we’re talking about happened over twenty years ago. Interesting how it still
has impact today.”
“It really was a family name,” he told her.
“Dad, I know. You told me, Mom told me. Any daughter was going to be called Victoria.” She knew that in her head, even if she did have trouble believing it in her heart. “I’m fine.”
He nodded slowly. “Shannon was never real,” he said. “We knew Cindy was pregnant, and we were doing all the things, but it
wasn’t as if we ever held her or brought her home.”
“Given that she was still in Cindy’s uterus, holding her would have been kind of gross.”
He didn’t smile. “My point is she was an idea.”
“Ideas are powerful, Dad. Governments have been toppled because of an idea. Countries go to war over ideas.” She paused, realizing
that maybe she wasn’t making the best case for her I’m fine argument.
She cleared her throat. “But I get what you’re saying.”
“Do you ever wonder about your mother’s parents?”
She blinked. “There’s a change in subject, and not really. Mom’s mother died when she was born, and her dad died when she
was in her twenties. Long before you had me. They’re not anyone we talk about.”
Now that he’d asked the question, she realized her mother never talked much about what her life had been like growing up.
There hadn’t been any When I was your age conversations.
“I know there was money,” she said slowly, trying to remember what she’d been told. “Mom mentioned going to an all-girls private
school, which sounds very depressing. Although studies show that girls do better academically in that kind of environment.”
She looked at her father. “Which isn’t what you wanted to talk about.”
“No. Her mother died in childbirth. Ava’s father had difficulty coping with the loss so she was mostly raised by a series
of nannies. She went to exclusive private schools, and in high school she was sent away to finishing school. They called it
a boarding school, but it was more about doing well in society than studying the classics.”
“Seriously? People still do that? Mom was born in the 1970s. What happened to women’s lib and equality and all that?”
“It hadn’t reached Beverly Hills, I suppose. Ava knew her father was cold and distant, but she could never figure out why.
She tried to please him by getting good grades and avoiding getting into trouble, but nothing seemed to make him happy. When
she was home for Christmas her senior year of high school, she finally gathered the courage to ask him why he didn’t like
her.”
Victoria involuntarily flinched. She’d never met her maternal grandfather, so she couldn’t imagine the scene, but she knew
her mom well enough to picture Ava standing bravely alone and speaking the unspeakable.
“What did he say?”
“He told her he’d never been able to forgive her for killing the love of his life. He said that when she’d been born, he’d
begged the doctors to do what they could to save her, but in that moment when a choice had to be made, they’d chosen her life
over her mother’s, and he couldn’t let that go. He said he’d always tried to do the right thing when it came to her, but he
couldn’t stand to be in the same room as her.”
Victoria instantly felt sick. “That’s cruel and awful. She wasn’t responsible.” But that wasn’t the worst of it, she thought
grimly. The real pain had come from confirming that not only had her father never loved her, he wished she’d never been born.
It was the ultimate rejection—the kind of wound that never healed.
“I’m going to throw up,” she murmured. “You brought me to breakfast to make me throw up.”
She thought her father might chide her for being dramatic, but instead he nodded.
“That’s how I feel when I think about what she went through.
A few days later, she asked her father to change her trust so that she could get access to the money when she turned eighteen.
She told him if he did that, she would move out when she graduated from high school.
He agreed. She left his house and never returned.
She managed college and everything else on her own. They never spoke again.”
He raised one shoulder. “He died a few years later, leaving her his considerable fortune. You know the rest.”
“I’m pretty sure Mom would rather have had a father.” She pressed a hand to her belly, trying to erase the tension there.
“Why did I have to know this?”
“Context matters, Victoria. Your mother has made mistakes, but then we all have. I think you’re old enough now to know the
truth and maybe give her a little grace.”
Monday morning Shannon carried in a large box with three separate centerpiece arrangements. She’d gotten up early Sunday to
go to a local farmer’s market and peruse the flowers. After buying both individual flowers as well as bouquets, she’d spent
a couple of hours putting together several ideas she had for her mom’s wedding.
While Cindy hadn’t chosen an exact theme for her wedding, she’d reserved the venue. The garden setting would influence all
the other decisions as far as color, formality and style. Shannon already knew her mother’s favorite colors and had a few
ideas for the centerpieces. She’d created two that were more traditional and one that was unexpected.
While she’d enjoyed working on the project, she knew that part of her enthusiasm came from an uncomfortable combination of