Chapter 23 Vanessa #2
“The boys don’t mind sharing. They love their grandma.”
“I should ask them first.”
“They’re not the boss,” he says. “You are. You should be happy, and having her with you makes you happy, so go back and make it happen.”
I laugh.
But then I do what he said, except I drive.
It’s close, but it’s not that close. My house is the farthest from the barn on the property, and it’s past the barn to get to the gardener’s cottage.
It’s almost a five-minute walk—the downside to a massive estate.
I’m also not a very fast walker, so. . . I opted to just drive my non-smart car.
“Vanessa?” I’ve barely killed the engine before Trish has appeared outside. “Did we talk about you coming back? Are we going shopping?” She frowns. “Oh, dear. Am I forgetting things again?”
I laugh. “Calm down, it’s nothing like that.”
“Then. . .” She tilts her head.
“You’re not naked.”
She laughs. “Not yet, anyway.”
“No ice cream?”
“Did you bring me some?” She peers past me at the empty car. “I hope you brought Rocky Road. None of that vanilla crap.”
“Actually.” I bite my lip.
She lifts her eyebrows. “Yeah?”
“So, the thing is, I got back home, and all the dishes were dirty. And—”
“Oh, no,” she says. “How embarrassing. I left a mess on the very day I moved out.”
“No.” I shake my head. “What I mean is. . .” I sigh.
She stares.
As she should. I sound like a crazy person. “I—I miss you.”
“I’ve been gone. . .” She glances at her watch. “Three and a half hours.”
I laugh. “It’s pathetic, I know, but it’s still true.”
When she steps toward me, I realize she’s crying. “I missed you, too.” She hugs me then, burying her face against my shoulder. “I hate this new place, because you’re not in it. I miss the kids too, even though they’re always at school right now.”
Now I’m crying, too. “Really?”
“I want to come back.”
It’s a really embarrassing five minutes for both of us, but once we can finally talk again, I discover something.
“What happened here?” Two of her bags are still packed, right where I left them.
One bag’s open, the stuff inside strewn across the kitchen. Trish ducks her head. “Well, I unpacked it, but everything just looked wrong. So I packed it again, and I thought about wheeling it down to you, but then I felt stupid, and I started unpacking again.” Now she’s back to crying.
I laugh through my tears.
“We’re a pathetic pair,” she says. But she’s smiling, too. “I love you, Vanessa.”
“I love you too, and I’ve been thinking about it. I don’t think the boys will mind sharing a room still,” I say. “Or, you know, I hope they won’t.”
“I would take a closet.” Trish smiles.
I hug her again. We load her bags back into my car. By the time the kids come home, she’s back, and everything’s in place.
“I thought Grandma was moving out today,” Trace says. “Isn’t Uncle Jeremy coming?”
“Yeah, I saw her bags this morning.” Bryce blinks. “Didn’t I?”
I laugh. “We both decided that her moving out was a mistake. We want her to stay here, if that’s okay.”
“Oh, good,” Trace says. “I just knew Mom was going to make me start doing the dishes again.”
“Yeah, and don’t take this the wrong way.” Bryce laughs. “But I like her eggs better than yours, Mom. Sorry.”
“Wow, so Grandma comes back and the gloves come off,” I say. “What else am I doing wrong?”
“Don’t worry, Mom. You get the big stuff right.” Trina hugs me. “Like bringing Grandma back.”
“Plus, once things pick up at the big hotel, you can rent out the cottage,” Trace says. “Right? Isn’t that going to make us all more money?”
“True,” I say. “Now all that work the girls did will earn us all more moolah.”
“Speaking of. . .I do have one small request.” Trisha looks nervous.
“What?” I ask.
“Anything,” Trace says. “As long as you keep matching up the socks. That’s the worst thing about doing the laundry.”
“Stop,” I say. “She’s not an indentured servant.” Though, if I’m being honest, I’m really grateful she does that, too. I hate matching socks.
“Jeremy was going to stay at a hotel, but since I had my own place, I told him he could probably cancel it.” She cringes a little. “But now. . .” She wrings her hands. “Could he maybe stay in the cottage for free for a bit?”
I suppress my groan, because that’s not very nice. She’s his mother, after all. It’s normal she would want to see him, and having him close is better for her.
“He was alone for Thanksgiving,” Trish says. “It was pretty hard on him. He’s really sorry for being such a pest.”
A pest.
Like proclaiming his love for me and stealing half of my company was a nuisance.
Still, none of that is her fault, and of course she loves her son.
“Yes,” I say. “I’m sure he can.” I grit my teeth, and I force the words out.
“He can even come over for the Christmas stuff.” Because cottages don’t just clean up themselves.
They need help from other people. Sometimes, even when we don’t want to scrub something or change out tile, we have to put in the work, and give the cottage a chance to shine again.
“Are you sure that’s alright?” she says. “I can just go down to the cottage on Christmas to spend some time with him. I’m not saying he has to come here.”
“As long as he knows I have a boyfriend, and he promises not to talk about the past stuff with the company and whatnot,” I say.
“Of course.” She nods her head. “Yes, I can promise that much.”
It’s not going to be fun at first, but that’s sort of what Christmas is all about—forgiveness and family. Right? I’ll have to dig really deep, but maybe I can find some of that in my heart. It’s what Jason would want, too, especially if Jeremy really has repented of his idiotic behavior.
When I text Jack about it, he says, “If he’s coming over, I’ll be there. It would be my pleasure to punch that guy again.”
Maybe some of us will need a little more time to forgive. We have time, though. And that’s a blessing of its own.