21. Mandy
Tommy moves faster than a man in his eighties should be able to move, his hands finding mine. “Mandy.” His eyes drop to my mouth. “Mandy.”
“That’s my name, unless you wear it out,” I say. “But you should know that I didn’t let anyone call me that after you left. No one in town, not my other friends, no one.”
Tommy’s brow furrows.
“It hurt just hearing it after you left,” I whisper. “But then, when Amanda came, it was too confusing having two Amandas, so I finally starting using it again.” I force a smile. “I thought it was sort of fitting. Every time Amanda, Abigail and their kids call me Mandy, it makes me think of you.”
“Did Jed always call you Amanda?” he asks. “He didn’t talk to you much when I was here, but he did call you that to me, the few times you came up.”
“He did,” I say, the reminder that he still thinks I was married to Jed a little painful.
I start casting around in my brain for ways out. Maybe I could move to Montana. He might never need to know. But then, how would I see Amanda and Abby and their kids? Maybe we could live in Montana, and he could stay there when I come out here for visits. Maybe. . .
“So.” He drops my right hand and brings his free left hand up to my face, brushing the side of my cheek. “Does that mean. . .” His eyes lift to mine, and they’re nervous.
It makes me smile. “I guess it means we’re dating.”
His smile is so broad, it transforms his entire look. For just a moment, I see the Tommy I knew. His eyes are the same, even if his face is now wrinkled and his hair’s lighter. “That makes me so happy. You have no idea.”
The bubbly feeling in my chest is ridiculous, but at least my heart’s beating properly. “Me, too.”
But the wind’s picking up, as if it can tell something big has happened, and my hair’s whipping around my face. “Maybe we should go inside.” I realize that sounds almost indecent, and I can feel the heat in my cheeks. “Just to talk, of course.”
Tommy’s smile is wicked. “Of course.” His eyes dart down at my mouth.
I feel equal parts ridiculous and excited as his head lowers toward mine. I’m not some teenager, excited for my first kiss. But I kind of am, since I never was married. I never even had a proper boyfriend, at least, not as an adult. So when Tommy’s mouth finally brushes against mine, it’s probably the most exciting moment of my entire life.
My cardiologist would hate this.
But I won’t forgo it. Not for anything.
The wind whipping around my face is spinning my hair into a disaster, I’m sure. Tommy’s mouth presses against mine, his hand tightening on my hip, and joy bubbles up in my chest.
When he finally releases me, he’s smiling. “How about now? Do I still have to stay at the hotel?”
I swat his chest. “Of course,” I say. “You know I’m not that kind of girl.”
He’s smiling, but I can tell he won’t push it.
“And actually.” I start for the front door.
Tommy slides his hand down mine and interlaces our fingers, falling into step beside me. “Yes?”
“I’m not sure how dating will work. I suppose, with Amanda and Helen to run the Retreat, I could move to Montana. I’d just need to come back here once a month or so for a few days or a week.”
“Don’t be ridiculous,” he says. “You already know that with Henry gone, I don’t have much tying me to Montana. I’m happy to move here.”
Move here.
Just like that.
“I would never ask that of you.” We’ve reached the steps, but when I start up, he doesn’t. I turn around, tethered to the ground by his hand’s hold on mine.
“You don’t have to ask me,” he says. “I’m offering. You have Amanda and Abigail and a life here. You have friends and family, and I would never want to be responsible for taking that from you. In fact, I want to be a part of all of it.” He’s beaming. “I’ll move here. I’d love to move here.”
I have no idea what to say. There’s no way he can move here without finding out I that was never married to Jed and that I never traveled around the world, but I can’t imagine he’ll feel the same way about me if he finds out I’ve been lying to him all these years. Until about ten minutes ago, my plan was to send him back to Montana as quickly as possible, but now. . . He wants to date me. He wants to move here. He wants to be a part of my life, and I want that, too.
But there’s this huge lie stuck between us. A lie I’m not brave enough to disclose. Because what if I lose him again?
I have to somehow convince him to move back to Montana and be happy with occasional visits. Seeing him occasionally is better than not at all, right?
Right.
“Well, we can talk about it.” With enough time to think it over, I’m sure I can come up with some way to put him off. Some thing that will call him back home. Some reason why he can’t just up and move here.
When my phone rings, I’m almost relieved. I release his hand and whip it out. When I see it’s Amanda, I cringe a little. I just sent Maren packing, and then told Amanda I was mad at Maren for outing me. But without Maren’s nudge, would Tommy have confessed how he felt? Would I?
“I have to take this.” I hit talk.
Tommy walks up the steps and sits on the porch, patting the swing next to him.
But I’m worried about what Amanda might say. If I’m too close to him, he might hear whatever she spouts off about. I haven’t noticed any hearing aids, so like me, Tommy may hear just fine.
“Hello?”
“I’m so sorry,” Amanda says. “Maren has been a total mess, and?—”
“It’s fine,” I say. “Tommy actually. . . Well. Let’s just say it’s fine. We can talk about the rest later.”
“Oh.” I can hear the smug smile in her voice. “Well, that’s interesting.”
“Sure,” I say. “It is, but you needed something, right?”
“I hate to ask, since I’m guessing you’re with him now,” she says. “And it’s a long story, but I’m stuck at Gold Strike, because Maren’s car needed an oil change, and then I realized I hadn’t finished the packets for the corporate retreat, so instead of waiting, Eddy drove me over here.”
“Which is how Maren was able to swipe your car.”
“She did what?”
“Maren came by here,” I say. “That’s how she—you know.”
Amanda swears under her breath. “Well. Now I’m more angry than before, but I’m still so sorry she did that. I can’t believe she’s cutting school again and acting out, but I’m also a little glad. I mean, it’ll only help us with the case.”
I sigh. “You need me to pick up Emery, right?”
“Her play practice was canceled, but she didn’t find out until after she’d missed the bus. The director’s still sick. At this rate, they’ll have to cancel the show.”
“No problem,” I say. “I’ll go get her. But maybe tell her what Maren said when she came to visit me earlier.” I’m hoping she’ll pick up on my subtle reminder to tell the girls not to be an idiot around Tommy. In this particular case, Maren’s overshare worked out, but I’d rather she not spout off about anything else. “I’ll have Tommy with me.”
“Of course,” Amanda says. “I’ll remind her to keep her mouth shut.”
When I hang up, Tommy’s watching me with dancing eyes. “You are so beautiful.”
I roll my eyes and wave one hand at him. “Stop.”
“I mean it, Mandy. In all the years I’ve been alive, I never met anyone else as pretty as you. Never.” He stands. “So we’re off to pick up a granddaughter? Or is she a grandniece? I’m not sure what they call you.”
I try not to grimace. He’s thinking grandniece, because of their relation to Jed, my deceased husband. But in reality, Emery calls me grandmother because I’m the grandmother of her heart. Adoptive, not legitimate. “Emery’s a doll. You’ll love her.”
“And she’s in a play?”
“It’s one you know,” I say. “The Christmas Carol, actually. She’s Scrooge’s love interest back in days of Christmas past.”
Tommy’s eyes light up. “No one ever seems to do that one these days.”
“Christmas isn’t PC.” I sigh. “Most of what you and I were taught is now embarrassing, outdated, offensive, or all of the above. Or hadn’t you heard?”
“It’s a real shame.”
This time, we take my car. “I doubt anyone would even produce The King and I these days.”
Tommy’s shaking his head as we pull out onto the main road. “I do think it’s a shame. So many great stories that have fallen out of fashion.”
“They’re doing what we did,” I say. “Trying to make the world a better place.”
“Sometimes it feels like a place I don’t even recognize.” His voice is soft, his eyes on the road. “But when I’m here with you, it all makes a little more sense.” He drops his hand on mine on the center console. “I can’t tell you how happy I am to be here. I’d live in a cardboard box if that’s where you wanted me to be.”
“I do think you might be happier in Montana,” I say. “There’s no rush, either way. We can talk about it.”
“Yes, we can talk,” he agrees.
Thank goodness. We pass Dolores Jenkins’ tiny house on the way to the school, and he asks about her. I tell him about her great love and then how she lost him, and how strange she’s gotten since.
“Humans aren’t supposed to be alone,” Tommy says. “We need other humans. They tell us when we’re being crazy. They help us remember what matters.” His hand squeezes mine.
“Amanda and her kids have done that for me. Before they moved here, I was turning into a caricature of a person.”
“That’s why,” he says, as I pull into the parking lot of the school. “That’s why I can’t stay in Montana. I want to be here with you and with your people. I want to spend every single moment I have left by your side.”
My eyes must be wide as I put the car in park.
“Or something less intense,” he says. “But I really don’t want to waste time, and that means I need to be where you are, and where you are is here.”
“Where I need to be is picking up Emery.” I hop out, but I duck back down so he can hear me. “You wait here. I’ll be right back.”
But he’s already climbing out. “I’d like to see the theater again.”
I can’t deny him the chance to revisit. I’ve seen it countless times since he left, and I never fail to think about the plays we did together. Especially The King and I.
“Did you really like me back then?” Tommy’s hand is braced against the top of the car, but his eyes are on mine.
“I was going to tell you,” I say, “but I heard you shouting at Jed, telling him we were only friends.” I close my eyes and inhale. “I felt really stupid after that.”
He laughs. “I can’t believe how much I sacrificed back then.”
“You were a good friend to Jed,” I say.
“Forget that idiot. I did it for you,” he says. “Because it’s what you wanted. I knew he was all you wanted.”
We were both stupid. I can’t help thinking about all of that again as we walk in through the side door of the theater.
Emery’s not supposed to have practice, but she’s on stage, reading out her lines as Belle, Scrooge’s fiancée. “Oh, Ebeneezer, I have no money.” She sighs. “But can you love me anyway? Can you love me as I am?”
Young Scrooge is played by the boy she likes—she told me when she was cast. He’s suitably handsome, and I’m distracted enough that I don’t even think about the fact that the rehearsal is, in fact, happening, when it’s supposed to be cancelled.
“That’s not what you say,” the boy says. “You got the line wrong, I think.”
“But it sounds better,” Emery insists. “The lines they gave me were so blocky.” She looks pained.
“You can’t change the lines,” the boy says. “You have to read what the script says.”
“Who says we can’t?” a woman holding a large bowl asks. “Mr. Hammerly isn’t even here.”
A half dozen other kids weigh in, but none of them can agree.
“Are you supposed to be practicing?” I finally ask. “Emery’s mother told me to pick her up.”
“If we can’t even get the first act done before Thanksgiving,” Emery says, “there’s no way we’ll be able to do this play.” She’s frowning. “We need to find someone to substitute for Mr. Hammerly until he’s better.”
“I could step in until he’s back,” Tommy shouts.
“Who’s that?” Emery shields her eyes against the stage lights. “Eddy?”
Tommy strides down the aisle toward the stage, his shoulders square, his head held high. Within a few moments, he’s completely taken over. No one is squabbling. No one is lost. He’s making decisions, cleaning up dialogue, and the kids are excited and animated.
“Who is that?” the principal asks.
I startle a bit. “Oh, Tommy’s an old friend of mine. He’s in town for a bit. He owns a farm down south of town, but he was planning to sell it. Now I’m not sure.”
“Does he have a theater background?” Principal Miller narrows her eyes. “He looks competent.”
“He’s directed a lot of community plays,” I say. “And he used to direct plays in this theater when we were in school. Under the direction of our theater director, of course.”
Principal Miller smiles. “Think he’d be willing to stick around long enough to get this one done?”
“I doubt it.” Because if he sticks around until Christmas, I’m doomed. “But maybe he can do it until Mr. Hammerly comes back.”
“Mr. Hammerly had a stroke,” Principal Miller says. “He’s not coming back for a while.”
I close my eyes. “Emery will be devastated.”
“See if you can convince your friend to step in,” Principal Miller says. “Or the play is off.”
By the end of the rehearsal, I’m not sure I could drag Tommy away with a drop net, zip-tied hands, and a team of draft horses.
Which leaves me in a bad spot.
If he stays, I’ll see more of him, and Emery will be delighted. But there’s no way he won’t discover that I lied. He’s going to find out, and then what? Last week, I’d have said that him discovering my secret would be disappointing, but ultimately not a big deal. But now, after a few heart racing moments, it feels like everything has changed. He likes me. He always did.
And all those wasted moments weigh on me.
If I had been honest earlier, then what? He might have come back much, much sooner. If he didn’t think I was married to Jed, would he have come back for me when we were young? How different would our lives be?
I’m not someone who usually wastes time and energy on regret, but it feels like this is unavoidable. No matter how I look at it, I’m going to have to confess my sins to Tommy and beg for his forgiveness. But will he still like me? Or will he despise me for lying to him?
On the flip side, as Emery climbs into my car, chattering happily about the play and how Tommy’s ideas are already so much better than what they had in mind, how can I be so selfish that I ruin her pinch-hitting director?
I sigh.
“What’s wrong?” Tommy drops his hand over mine again.
My heart swells, and I want to cry. I manage to rein it in, barely. “Nothing.” I shake my head, trying to dispel the tears that are still threatening. “I’m great.”
Emery wades right back into the fray, talking to him about some ideas she had for costumes.
“You have a real knack for this,” he’s saying as we reach her house, which is barely two miles from the school now that they’ve moved in with Eddy.
“You know, I really could have walked,” Emery says. “That’s why I told Mom not to worry.”
“We were happy to come get you,” Tommy says. “And it was great fun working on that play.”
“Actually,” I say, “the principal was hoping you might be able to fill in for Mr. Hammerly for a while.” I don’t really want to tell him, but I feel like I have to. I’m not sure I’ve ever been quite this conflicted.
“Really?” Tommy’s eyes light up. “I would love to.”
“Why?” Emery looks worried. I know theater is the one thing she really likes about school. Without it, she’d try to hide in her bedroom at home and never go out.
I don’t really want to be the one to tell her, but. . . “I’m not sure whether it’s going to be announced, so you may need to keep this quiet at school, but Mr. Hammerly had a stroke. He won’t be coming back anytime soon.”
“Oh, no.” From the rearview mirror, I can see Emery’s hands on either side of her cheeks. “That’s terrible.”
“I’d be happy to fill in for this play. And if they’re happy with my work, maybe I can keep helping after that.”
“Do you mean it?” Emery’s leaning over the seat, her hand on his shoulder, clearly already unbuckled. “That would be amazing.”
“Do you think your friends would be alright with such an old guy as their new director?”
“You’re not that old.” Emery’s a sweet kid. “But anyway, you’re way better than Mr. Hammerly was. He’s also the art teacher, and I think he likes art way better.”
“Well, I’d be thrilled to have something to do. It might keep me from making Mandy crazy.”
“Wait.” Emery’s eyes widen. “What do you mean?” Then her eyes drop, and she’s staring at Tommy’s hand where it’s resting on top of mine. Her voice goes supersonic, like her mother’s is prone to do. “Oh my gosh, are you two together?” She’s bouncing up and down in the car, and then before I know it, she’s bawling.
Actual tears, running down her bright red face.
“You have no idea, Mister Collins,” she’s blathering. “When she told us those stories, about you and Jed, and I just almost cried then, because you two are clearly perfect for each other, and I am just so happy that you’re here and you’re together, and I am so glad that you still like plays, and this is, like, better than Cinderella or Mulan or, like, Sleeping Beauty, too.”
Oh, my.
“Well, I’m happy that you’re happy,” Tommy says.
But clearly he’s over the moon. He’s beaming wider than he was when he told me he’d liked me way back when. If I said I wasn’t happy to see Emery’s excitement, I’d be lying too. It’s always been contagious and this is no exception. We do manage to drop her off, but only after a few more minutes of excited gushing and well wishes.
By the time we leave, I’ve made a decision.
Tommy’s a good person. If I tell him the truth and he decides he can’t forgive me, he might stick around, at least through the end of this play. And that would give me some time to convince him that I made a mistake, but that he should give me another chance.
On the drive back to my house, I make benign chitchat as best I can, but really, I’m planning how to come clean. I need to tell him the truth, and I’m going to do it.
Tonight.
“I have some steaks in the freezer,” I say. “With as windy as it’s gotten, we should check whether there’s a storm front coming in. If there is, we should stay in tonight. I could cook a few potatoes and steam some broccoli. . .”
“Are you asking to make me dinner?” He squeezes my hand.
“I suppose I am.” I turn down the drive, and again, there’s a car in the drive.
“Your house is very popular,” he says. “I can’t believe you thought you could move to Montana.”
He’s right. It was a ridiculous idea. But this time, the person who owns the car pops right out. Helen doesn’t let other people drive her overpriced toys. She’s waving as I park.
“Hey, there,” she says. “You’re still around, I see.”
Tommy climbs out and leans against the door. “I’m hoping to stick around for quite some time.”
“A smart man,” Helen says. “Very smart.”
“We were about to go in for dinner. Are you here to stay, or are you moving out?” I’m not sure which I prefer. If she’s around, I could put off telling him for another night. I’d have a buffer to help me manage it.
But on the other hand, she could slip and say something. Even though I’m planning to come clean, I’d rather do it on my terms than have it sprung on him.
“I have dinner plans,” she says. “But I’ll come in for a bit. I have a question to ask you.” She shivers.
The poor woman insists on wearing clothing that looks like a work of art, but it’s not ever very sensible. You’d think someone who lived in New York for so long would be able to dress properly for cold weather.
Helen also looks nervous as we go inside, which I can spot easily, because there’s no one on earth more nervous than I am right now. We’ve barely stepped through the door when she blurts out, “You already know my secret.”
She’s never been someone to beat around the bush. “Yes, I do.” I fold my arms and sit on the sofa. Tommy takes the seat next to me. “What did you decide to do about it?”
“I don’t owe anyone an explanation.” She huffs.
My heart sinks. “Helen, I know you have spent your life?—”
“You don’t know,” she says. “No one does. So just let me talk.”
I sit back, placing my hand on Tommy’s forearm. He’s shifted forward, dropping his elbows on his knees, like he’d like to lay Helen across his lap and spank her. I understand the sentiment, but I’m not sure he could even manage it. Besides, I know her well enough to know that even if he did, it wouldn’t help.
“Go ahead, then.” I arch an eyebrow, preparing myself for the worst.
She drops into the chair across from me with a sigh like she’s tired. Bone weary, really. “I’m keeping the baby.”
You could knock me over with a feather—no, with a piece of lint.
“You are?” Relief floods every part of my body. I had been debating in the back of my mind whether I needed to rouse the troops and call Abby. I’m glad that wasn’t necessary.
“It wasn’t part of the plan, but Abby has had a lot of detours, and she seems happy about hers.”
“If you’re saying that gorgeous man, David, is a detour, then sign me up.” I can’t help my smile.
Tommy’s scowling now, which is adorable. To have a man getting jealous over my ridiculous appraisals of men half my age is very entertaining.
“I didn’t decide because of Abby or David or even you,” Helen says. “I decided to keep it for me.” Now she leans forward in the chair. “But that leads me to my next question.”
“And now I’m truly interested,” I say. “I was nervous for you before, but you have my full attention.” I can’t help my smile. It’s been a strange and wonderful day.
“Will you be a bridesmaid?”
“Oh, absolutely not.”
“Please,” she says. “David has dozens of friends, and the man has so many groomsmen, I have no idea how I’ll find enough people to stand next to them if you say no.”
“How many boys are you thinking will escort me?”
Helen’s smirk is calculated. “I was counting on at least two.”
“I’m not some kind of court jester,” I say.
“And I’m not really the typical blushing bride, either. I think with your help, we can make this wedding something people will remember.”
“Is that your goal, then? Memorability?”
“It’s a start.” She shrugs. “I’m only getting married because we’re having a baby—no other good reasons to get married. If I have to do it, the wedding ceremony may as well be interesting.”
“That’s not the only good reason to get married,” Tommy says.
“What?” Helen asks. “What else you got?”
“You could want to send a message to the world that this is your person, forever.”
“I think the fifty percent divorce rate might undercut that message,” Helen says.
“But marriage is valuable, no matter how long it lasts,” Tommy says.
“Agree to disagree,” Helen says.
“Don’t worry,” I say. “Helen and I regularly disagree, and she’s still here, asking me to be her bridesmaid.”
“Well, no matter how you look at it, my marriage won’t be very traditional,” Helen says. “My wedding gown is black, my maid of honor will probably have a baby on her hip, and David and I are currently arguing over which resort will host the ceremony.”
“It should be at ours,” I say. “It’s so much prettier.”
“He says his has better views,” Helen says, “but he’s actually pushing for us to do it at Gold Strike.”
“He is?” I frown. “Why?”
“We’ll have to move quite a few guests that are booked away from whichever resort hosts, since we want to do it soon,” I say, “and he would rather we eat the cost, that devil.”
“Are you sure he’s not messing with you?” That seems like something he’d do.
“I don’t think so,” Helen says. “He’s let me have my way on everything so far. I really thought he’d balk about the black wedding dress.”
“If I were ever to get married, I think I’d like a black wedding dress,” I say. “It would be cost economical—it could double as my shroud when I die.” I can’t help my cackle.
“If you were ever to get married?” Tommy asks.
I freeze.
“I think that’s a great idea,” Helen says. “At this age, people are going to comment on it, so you may as well be in on the joke.”
“But you’ve been married,” Tommy says. “Why did you say if?”
“When were you ever married?” Helen shakes her head. “No one in their right mind would be willing to put up with a lifetime of this misery.” She’s smiling.
But Tommy’s not.
“I think Tommy’s talking about my wedding to Jedediah Brooks,” I say.
Helen’s laughing even harder. “As if.”
“Tommy, I have something big to tell you,” I say slowly. “And I meant to do it after Helen left, but I guess there’s no time like the present.”
Helen’s not laughing anymore, somehow grasping that the tone has shifted. “You know what?” She stands. “I’m going to put you down as a yes, and I’ll see myself out.”
I don’t argue with her.
Once the door has shut, I continue. “You started pressuring me years ago, threatening to come back here and tell Jed how I felt if I didn’t do it myself.”
“I was hoping you’d tell me you didn’t like him anymore,” Tommy says. “It was stupid, I know.”
I look down at my hands, weathered and worn. “I was scared that you might really do it, so I lied.” I look up, forcing myself to stare into his eyes. “I didn’t ever tell Jed that I liked him, and we didn’t get married, and I never traveled the world either. In fact, I made all of those things up for one reason. I was fond of Jed, and when he cut me off, it hurt. I found out after he died that he’d fancied himself in love with me for decades. But all that time, the guy I really liked. . .was you.”