27. Addison
27
Addison
F or Addison, the rest of the week went by in a whirlwind rush of too-long work days and not-long-enough romantic evenings spent in her apartment. She and Noel cooked together, watched movies together, and discussed the books they were reading, until one or the other of them reluctantly did the mature thing and called it a night.
She knew Noel was worried about his job, but he had all day to contemplate the possible outcomes. So, she intentionally found other topics of conversation to distract him from the unsettling circumstances in which he found himself. Oh, she let him talk about it if he wanted to. She made sure to give him the space to unload if that’s what he needed, but in general, she wanted her home and the time he spent with her to be a vacation from the mess of things. Let me be your staycation, she wanted to say to him, but she kept the silly thought to herself.
After receiving the requested paperwork from Carpe Diem, Noel’s attorney gave him the go ahead to take the rest of the week off so she could sort through the situation. “Joyce says she’s certain this can be handled out of court, which is good,” Noel told her on Thursday night. “But she said I need to be prepared for the possibility that this incident could remain on my record, which really stinks.”
“Ugh,” Addison said consolingly. “I really wish someone would speak up about his behavior. Surely, someone has witnessed it.”
“It’s only Paula who sees it, and she’s definitely his ally. He’s the epitome of professionalism whenever anyone else is around.”
Addison crossed her arms and huffed out a breath. “Then I’m praying that Ms. Paula has a change of heart and comes clean.”
Noel gave her a dubious look. “That would take a miracle.”
“Well, I believe in miracles, don’t you? And I’m not going to stop praying for one.”
By Saturday night, she had no doubt that she was falling head over heels for Noel. On top of their growing camaraderie, each evening when he arrived on her doorstep, he came with another potted plant in tow. Now her pretty bay window was arrayed in colorful pots overflowing with lush, vibrant leaves and trailing vines.
There was Emmy the Jade from the first delivery, and Portia the Peace lily. “Portia means ‘offering,’” she told him as they admired the collection with the small-town lights outside the window as a backdrop. “Since you brought her as a peace offering, I figured it was apropos.”
“Very,” Noel said with a self-deprecating chuckle.
An English ivy that vined its way up a two-foot spiral willow branch frame was named Ivy. “Not very imaginative, I know,” she acknowledged. “But she looks like an Ivy to me, so why fight it?”
He nodded solemnly at her logic. “Absolutely.”
“This is Phil.” She lifted a trailing vine covered in heart-shaped, glossy green leaves. “He’s a Philodendron scandens, and again, not very creative, but since he’s the only man in the house, I felt like he needed a good solid sturdy name. Look how he wraps his arms around his ladies.” She had draped the vines of the philodendron in and among the other plants.
“You’re the man, Phil.” Noel played along, high-fiving one of the plant’s leaves, then following suit and wrapping one arm around Addison’s waist and drawing her closer.
“This is Peaches,” Addison continued, brushing a fingertip over a downy kaleidoscope-colored coleus leaf. This , she thought to herself with an internal sigh of satisfaction. This is what I’ve waited my whole life for.
Noel glanced at her and then back at the neon chartreuse leaves laced copiously with deep red veins. “I’ve never seen a peach that color before.”
“It’s not the color,” she explained. “It’s the peach fuzz. Feel it.”
“Ah.” He complied, stroking one of the large serrated-edged leaves.
“And this,” she said, gesturing with both hands at a tropical beauty on a short wooden stool on the floor in front of the window. “This is Tuesday.”
Noel hadn’t been able to spend that morning with Addison – he’d had phone calls to make – and had sent the three-foot tall Monstera deliciosa in his stead. The terracotta pot was too big to sit on the window ledge with the others, and when she asked the delivery man from Daisy Chain about the tall fibrous stick in the center of the plant, he’d explained that the Monstera was a vigorous climber and needed the moss stick's support as the plant would grow more than an inch a month for the next couple of years.
“She could grow tall enough to touch my ceiling if I take good care of her,” Addison exclaimed, beaming first at the plant, then at Noel.
“Tuesday?” He gave her another questioning look.
“Yes, because she’s Wednesday Addams’ nicer, prettier sister,” Addison reasoned with an impish grin. “She’s a Monstera—a monster, see? But she’s lovely and sweet, unlike that awful Wednesday.” Tuesday was, indeed, quite stunning with her dinnerplate-sized, glossy, split leaves spearing off from a thick main stem that was anchored with twine to the moss stick.
“Tuesday. I think it’s a perfect name for her.” He smiled at Addison, a glow of satisfaction in his expression. “I’m glad you like them. They look like they’re happy, too.”
Addison turned toward him, slipped her arms around his waist, and hugged him fiercely. “Thank you, Noel. I think I feel kinda like a new mom.” She giggled and leaned away to glance over at the collection in the window, then back up at him. “I have very colorful children, don’t you think?”
“They take after their mother,” he agreed, before bending his head and pressing his mouth to hers.
The kiss started out slow and sweet, Noel’s arms enveloping her in a full embrace, his hands on her back, his palms moving up and down her spine. Then one of his hands slid up to cup the back of her head, his fingers tangling in her curls, and he angled his lips on hers to take her in more fully. Addison let out a soft moan as she melted into him, and she wondered momentarily oif her legs would give out beneath her. Then she stopped thinking altogether and lost herself in the nearness of him.
When they finally pulled apart, she rested her forehead against his shoulder as she tried to catch her breath. “You should stop buying plants for me,” she managed to say.
Noel leaned back so he could look at her, his expression concerned. “Why? Especially if you love them so much.”
“Because,” she replied, her voice growing steadier. “I—I don’t know. Just because. I mean, I know they’re not cheap, especially this time of year. And what if I kill them?” The thought of doing just that made her feel aghast. “I’ve never been a plant mom before, remember?”
His expression softened into a gentle grin. “You won’t kill them. I’ll help you keep them alive.”
Addison gave him a dubious look. “You’re a plant person?”
Noel shook his head. “Nope. But there are two of us now. We’re team mates, remember? We got this. You and me.”
You and me. Addison reveled in the way that sounded. “We got this,” she echoed softly, then tipped her head back so he could kiss her again.
He picked her up for church Sunday morning, then they had sandwiches out on her pretty little deck. The sun was out, the sky was clear, and although it wasn’t exactly balmy, the air held that anticipatory current of the coming of spring. But Addison could tell Noel was feeling the weight of returning to work under the dark cloud of the unresolved circumstances around his job. She could only imagine the mental and emotional battle going on inside of him, and she asked God to help her be supportive without being overbearing.
“Do you want to head down to the boardwalk?” Addison asked when he’d gotten up a second time to wander over to the railing. “It’s such a nice day, I’d hate to spend the rest of it inside.” When she was stressed, she could curl up in a chair with a good book or a movie and lose herself in someone else’s world, but she could see that Noel might go stir crazy if he didn’t do some kind of activity. How different we are , she thought to herself. Did they have anything in common? Should she be worried?
An hour later, they sat on a bench down near the shore, pressed together against the chilly breeze that swept in off the water. The sun was sinking low on the horizon, casting liquid gold over the rippling surface of the lake. Noel seemed calmer, less agitated, and Addison was surprised to find that she, too, was much more relaxed. She hadn’t realized how much she was affected by his stress level.
“You haven’t talked about going back to work tomorrow,” Addison said gently, her head resting on his shoulder. “I’m reluctant to bring it up, because I have had such a wonderful day with you, but I don’t want us to tiptoe around it, either.” She left it as a statement, an opening, rather than a question. She didn’t want him to feel obligated to talk about it if he didn’t want to.
Noel sighed and tightened his arm around her shoulders. “I’m not sure talking about it is going to help much.” He paused, then added, “I’m just trying to stay present in this moment, Addison. It’s moments like these—moments with you—that are going to get me through the next week or two.”
Warmth flooded through her at his words. “I’m glad,” she said simply.
He pressed a kiss to the top of her head. “Thank you for not letting me just… disappear.”
“I would never—you could never just disappear.” She patted her sternum, and with a burst of uncharacteristic boldness said, “You’re front and center here, Noel Stewart.”
He said nothing, just rested his head against hers and sighed with what she thought was contentment, which made her immeasurably happy.
Disappear. She pondered his choice of words. What exactly did he mean by that? She’d used the same word to describe herself, that she was the kind of person who could disappear into the background of her parents’ larger-than-life lives. But Noel wasn’t a wallflower like she was. Did he really think she was an “out of sight, out of mind” kind of person? Or was there some deeper meaning there?
She wanted to ask him to clarify, but just then, her phone rang, startling them both. “It’s my dad,” she said with a smile, recognizing the ringtone. “My parents.” Should she take it? No. Like Noel had just said, she wanted to stay present in the moment with him. “I can call him back later.”
“Don’t do that on my account.” Noel got to his feet. “I’ll give you some privacy.”
“Don’t go.” She grabbed his hand and didn’t let him move away. “I can talk to them later.” They were currently in California, so they were two hours behind her, which meant she could get back to them any time before midnight and they’d pick up. “Let me just text them to let them know.”
When she’d tapped out her message and sent it off, Noel sat back down slowly. “Are you sure? They won’t be upset?” There was real concern in his expression.
“Upset?” Addison shook her head. “No. We talk or text a few times a week, depending on where they are and what time zone they’re in.”
“You’re close with them, then?” He studied her, the guarded look in his eyes making her sit up a little straighter.
“I am. I’m an only child; they have always been my best friends. Well, my dad is, at least.” She chuckled and shook her head. The breeze blew a thick strand of hair across her face and she brushed it away, tucking it behind her ear. “And that’s not a secret. My mom knows and approves. She’s not really the nurturing type.”
“You never really talk about them.”
“I know,” she acknowledged sheepishly. She rarely talked about her family with him, mainly because he usually skirted the topic of his. Deliberately, she was pretty sure, and that made her cautious about discussing how fortunate she was with her own. She knew her relationship with her parents had its issues, but other than her desire to put down roots in a community in which she belonged, her parents had gifted her with an exceptional childhood, and she well knew it. She might have been a third wheel on their trips, but they’d never once even considered the idea of sending her off to some stable relative to raise or even a boarding school, not even when she’d asked them to do so. She could hear her father’s adamant voice in her head. You’re ours. Why on earth would we even consider letting anyone take you from us? They may not have always known quite what to do with her, but she’d never doubted, not even during the loneliest moments of her life, that she wasn’t deeply loved. She hunched one shoulder and glanced over at him. “It’s a little weird, though, don’t you think?”
“What is? That you don’t talk about your parents?”
“No. That my dad, and by association, my mom, are my best friends.” She turned to gaze out over the lake, trying not to worry about what his response might be.
“I don’t think that’s weird.” He paused, then added, “I think it’s rare, but not weird.”
“Really?” She peered back at him over her shoulder, but his expression was unreadable. Still holding his hand, Addison shifted on the bench so that she was facing him. “I’ve told you we moved around a lot when I was growing up. And because of that, I didn’t really have any long-term relationships, other than them. I mean, I had my book friends. But in real life, Mom and Dad were the only steady parts of my life. The constant parts.”
Noel gazed down at their clasped hands. “I think that’s… remarkable.”
“What about you?” she asked, trying to keep the note of trepidation out of her voice. She sensed that she was walking on shaky ground, and the tightening of his hand around hers all but confirmed it. She pushed on, regardless. “You’ve told me your dad was a coal miner, but you’ve never mentioned your mother. In fact, I think I’ve only ever heard you talk about your aunt. Aunt Gigi, right?”
Noel nodded slowly, not meeting her gaze. “My mother died when I was a teenager,” he said bluntly, his tone startlingly bitter.
“Oh, Noel,” she murmured, squeezing his hand. How was it possible that they’d been dating for over a month already and she hadn’t known such an important detail about him? Why hadn’t she asked before now? “I’m so sorry. I can’t imagine going through that.”
Noel shook his head. “It was a long time ago.” He spoke in a flat tone, obviously not wanting to talk about it. As usual, every word about his childhood seemed to have to be pried out of him. She’d stopped asking him weeks ago for any details, letting him dole out tidbits here and there on the rare occasions when he did. She knew he came from a coal-mining family from somewhere in West Virginia, that he’d had a dog named Clyde, and that he’d made friends with a stray cat down by the creek where he fished one summer.
But they were in the thick of things now, and she was desperate to know more about this man she was falling for. He hadn’t yet changed the subject, so she pressed on.
“What about your dad?” she asked. “Are you two close?” Aching for the young man Noel had been when he’d lost his mother, she hoped with all her heart that his dad had been a bulwark for him. A strong father figure would explain why Noel seemed so steady, so sure of himself.
Noel scoffed, the sound ugly and full of derision. “My dad. ” He spat it out like it had been doused in vinegar. “He and I don’t…” He broke off, then began again, his jaw muscles clenched tightly around the words. “We don’t get along. We never have.” He pressed his lips together, but she could hear the words, and we never will , as if he’d spoken them out loud.
“I’m sorry,” she said again. She hesitated, not wanting to be nosy, but she couldn’t bear the thought of a young Noel dealing with the loss of his mother without any support. “What about your Aunt Gigi, then? If you don’t mind me asking.”
“My aunt. Bruno’s—my father’s sister.” For a moment, she thought he wouldn’t say anything else. But then he turned toward her and his expression softened. He met her eyes and tried to smile. “Aunt Gigi… well, she saved my life. I’m here because of her.”
“I’m glad,” Addison whispered. “I’m so glad to know that, Noel.”
“I think you’d like her. I know she’d like you. She’s a little rough around the edges, but she’s good people.”
“She sounds like my kind of people,” Addison told him, then leaned forward and planted a soft kiss on the furrow between his brows, wanting nothing more than to soothe whatever dark thoughts the conversation had conjured up. “I hope we get to meet each other one day.”
Noel let out his breath in a long exhale. He shook out his shoulders and scooted forward on the bench. Turning to her, he smiled. “Ready to head back?” he asked, making a show of shivering. “It’s going to get chilly out here once that sun sets.”
It was getting chilly, she realized, and not just because of the topic of conversation. The wind was picking up, the lake had grown a little choppy, and her ears were cold. “Sure. Feel like splitting a pizza tonight since we’ll be walking right by Patsy’s Pizza?”
“Take out or dine in?”
She didn’t even have to ask him which he preferred; she could see the truth all over her face. “Take out. We can watch more of Candy’s show.”
That was one thing they had in common, she realized. They both liked watching home improvement shows. Addison had pulled up Candy Needham’s fixer-upper show and they’d both been equally entertained.
“Sounds good to me. No cooking, no dishes.” Noel laced his fingers with hers as they headed up the boardwalk toward the pizza place. “I still can’t get over the fact that your friend has her own television show. It’s a little surreal, you know?”
“Had,” Addison corrected him. “But yeah, she’s fun to watch, isn’t she?”
“But you said she’s not going back to TV. What’s she doing now?”
“Candy is starting her own restoration business. Probably here in Autumn Lake, although I’m not a hundred percent sure of that. She’s living with her sister right now while she works out the details. There are some legal hoops she has to jump through; some non-compete stuff, I think. But I’ve seen photos of her work outside the television show, and let me tell you, Noel. She’s tiny, but she’s mighty. Mighty talented. Mighty creative. Mighty tough, too.”
Back in her apartment with their extra-large marguerita pizza—something else they discovered they had in common—and a side salad—because according to Patsy, having salad with pizza cancelled out some of the carbs—they settled onto floor cushions in front of the coffee table and pulled up Fix that Find on the television .
Later that night, after Noel had left, Addison phoned her dad. He didn’t answer, but called her right back via video chat.
“Sweetheart!” he exclaimed in greeting, the volume of his voice making her laugh. He always talked much louder than necessary when they were on speaker or video.
“You don’t need to yell, Carl,” her mother said in her naturally brusque tone. If Vivian was the force behind the Wedgewood’s success, Carl was the heart of the team. It worked well for them, and Addison didn’t doubt the deep abiding love between her parents.
Her dad didn’t lower his volume at all, but she quickly realized it wasn’t because he was ignoring his wife, but because he had exciting news to share. “How would you feel about putting up with a couple of visitors next week?”
Addison gasped. “Are you serious? This isn’t an April Fool’s joke or anything, is it?” When her dad laughed and shook his head, she went on before he could say anything. “When? And how long can you stay? I’m sure I can take some time off.” She propped her phone on her nightstand and plumped the pillows behind her back against the headboard of her bed. “You know I’d love to have you come any time at all, but what’s the occasion?”
For photographers, her parents were comically awkward during video chats. The angle of the camera gave both of them very large foreheads, and there had to be a light above them, because her dad’s hair looked markedly thinner than it actually was. It had been only a few months since she’d seen them, after all, and he'd still sported a full head of sliver-streaked hair in Iceland. Dad beamed as he leaned closer to the phone, distorting his features even more. “The occasion is that your mother decided we needed to take a week off and go visit our daughter.”
“Now I know you’re not serious,” Addison said and rolled her eyes.
“No, darling,” her mother interjected. “We are serious as a heart attack. We were just going through our collection of photos from Reykjavik and we realized there were none, Addie, none of us with you in them.”
“Oh. Well, we didn’t go there to take pictures of me.” Addison was a little taken aback by the conversation.
“Maybe not to take photos of you,” her mother said. “But we did ask you to join us so that we could spend some time with you since we knew we wouldn’t be together for Christmas.”
“I was with you the whole time,” Addison insisted. “Practically every waking moment, in fact.”
Her father jumped back in. “Exactly, Adders. You spent time with us. You took time away from your busy life—”
“It’s not all that busy.”
Her dad continued as though she hadn’t said anything. “To come see us, and we didn’t make the effort to stop working long enough to even acknowledge that with a picture of us.”
“But you know I don’t like being in your pictures. And that’s how it works with us. I love going on your trips with you when I can. I had a great time in Reykjavik.” A vision of Gunnar the Viking on Diamond Beach popped into her mind and she quickly kicked it back out. There was no room for him in her head anymore.
“Addison.” It was her mother again, her no-nonsense tone resonating through the phone speaker. “In case you don’t already know this, you, darling girl, are more important to us than any photo or trip we have ever taken. And if you know how much I value my work,” she said with on arched brow. “You’ll know that’s saying a lot.”
Addison chuckled softly. “Thanks, Ma.”
“I’m serious, darling. Carl and I have been talking about how much we miss you, and we both realized—”
“Belatedly,” her father declared. “Much too belatedly, in fact.”
“Yes,” her mother agreed, not even pausing to chastise him for interrupting her. “We both realized much too belatedly that as much as we miss your knowledge and experience and attention to detail on our trips with us, it's you and your precious heart that we miss the most. You are irreplaceable, Addie, even after all this time.”
“Oh. Well, thank you,” Addison said, feeling her cheeks grow warm at this unprecedented praise.
Her mother pointed at her through the screen. “It’s true. But what we have missed most these last several years is you. Your light, your sparkle, your laugh.”
“Mom,” Addison murmured, embarrassed and equally thrilled at the things her mother was saying.
“We miss seeing the world through your eyes,” Vivian went on. “We have gotten too caught up in seeing only through the lenses of our cameras.”
On the phone screen, her parents reached for each other’s hands. Her father leaned in close to the camera again and said, “What we’re saying, sweetheart, is that we want to see more of you.”
Addison couldn’t blink away her tears fast enough and she leaned over to grab a tissue from the box by her lamp. “You guys,” she said after dabbing at her eyes. “I would love to see more of you, absolutely. Come tomorrow. Come tonight! Anytime, and I mean that.”
“Besides,” her dad added in a far too casual tone. “We’d like to meet this young man you’ve been talking about.”