Chapter 44
DARBY
Our landing in Vegas is smooth and quick.
No trekking through terminals trying to find baggage claims. Or searching for where to meet the Uber.
Ren has another gigantic pearly white SUV waiting for us—I’m seeing a trend in his choice of vehicles.
In a matter of minutes, he’s got my parents’ address plugged into GPS, and we’re on our way.
Geez. It feels like centuries since I was here.
It’s surreal to picture young Darby going to high school, walking and driving on these busy streets.
It feels like an entirely different person.
Standing in front of my parents’ home, I might as well walk into any of the houses lining the cul-de-sac. None of them feel like home.
Coils tighten in my stomach. I’m not really sure how they’ll react. They may not be thrilled to see me in the slightest.
What possessed me to think they’d enjoy a surprise visit?
“What do you need out of the car, babe?” Henrik asks.
I turn toward the open rear hatch and unclip the carabiner holding Skadi’s smaller pack to my backpack. “My mother’s a little fussy, so it’ll be best to have Skadi’s water bowl.”
“It’s a nice house,” Leland says. “I like the palm tree.”
“I didn’t grow up here. They moved to a new neighborhood after I graduated and moved away. I think I’ve been inside twice. Maybe three times.”
Henrik threads his fingers through mine and lifts our clasped hands to his mouth. “When you’re ready to leave, we leave. No questions asked. Just give me the look. I’ll know what you mean.”
Some of the coils loosen and I give him a smile. “Okay.”
“Darby?” Dad calls from the front porch, dressed in his usual khakis and polo shirt, this one striped blue. “Is that you? What on earth? Eleanor! Come see who’s here!”
We start walking up to the house, but I tug Henrik’s hand and lean up toward him. He automatically leans down. “Should I introduce you as my boyfriend?”
He snorts. “Babe, I expect nothing less than fiancé. Have you already forgotten the name discussion we had this morning?”
Of course I didn’t. But that complicates things with how to introduce Ren. I haven’t had a chance to even talk to Leland about it.
Dad gives me a surprisingly enthusiastic hug for how little we’ve talked over the years. “So good to see you. I had no idea you were planning to visit!”
“I wanted to surprise you before you left for the cruise. Dad, this is my fiancé, Henrik Zondag. Henrik, my father, Walter Barclay.”
“Just Wally.” Dad holds his hand out, his head tipping way back to meet Henrik’s gaze. “Fiancé, huh?”
“Yes, sir.” Henrik shakes his hand but keeps an arm around me. “These are my best friends, S?ren and Leland.”
I love that he doesn’t give their last names—knowing how Ren feels about his family name. Dad shakes hands with everyone, but there’s a look in his eyes I can’t quite place. He’s not angry about me bringing three strangers to his house, but his brow is furrowed as he brings us inside.
From the outside, the house looks like all the others on the block.
On the inside, Mom’s decorated like it’s the inside of an English tearoom.
Mauve and emerald velvet cushions, gold fringe, antique gold frames and floral pictures.
The furniture is all Victorian inspired with long spindly wooden legs.
The only thing ruining her English tea vibe are dozens of painted ceramics.
Nutcrackers, Santas, Mrs. Clauses, elves, gingerbread houses, villages, and even some garden trolls decorated for winter.
They’re everywhere. Shelves. On top of side tables.
Even some on the floor in the corners and hallways.
If Skadi wags her tail too hard, we risk overturning some of Mom’s collection.
“She must be out in the she-shed,” Dad says. “Make yourself at home. I’ll go fetch her.”
Since I don’t dare sit down on the furniture—Skadi’s white hair will be a disaster on the velvet—I lead the way into the kitchen so I can get some water for her. It’s only fifty degrees today, but after the snow and cold, it probably feels like eighty or worse for her.
“Darby!” Mom squeals, setting off Skadi, who yips and howls back. “You should have said you were coming so I could make your favorite!”
I turn, my lips quirking with amusement as she hurries closer, arms open to give me a hug.
She’s dressed in a high-necked ivory blouse with puffy sleeves and frilly lace, paired with a long, flowy skirt made to look like patchwork in plum and greens.
Her salt-and-pepper hair is swept up in a loose, messy updo.
A little eccentric Victorian-esque. Just like her taste in décor.
Instead of hugging me, she grips my upper arms, looking up at me—she’s barely five feet tall. “It’s so good to see you.”
Then she bursts into tears.
I have no idea what to do. I’ve never seen my mother cry. Even when I gave my oaths to Michael, she only lightly dabbed at her eyes. Skadi howls louder. She’s confused too. Dad comes over to hug Mom, which only makes her wail.
“It’s just been so long.” She sniffles against his chest. “My baby girl has grown up so much.”
He pats her on the back. “There, there, dear.”
“We’re so old, Wally. Look at her, all grown up. So beautiful. We’re so proud, Darby.”
“Very proud,” Dad says.
Great. Now my eyes are watery. I can’t recall them ever telling me they were proud of me. Not when I graduated. Not when I opened the bakery. Not even when I divorced Michael and finally won my freedom.
Henrik moves back to my side, slipping his arm around me.
Mom’s eyes widen like silver dollars. She looks at him, then Ren and Leland, both smiling and inclining their heads to her politely.
“Oh my. Such handsome, strapping men.” She straightens, reaching up to pat her cheeks and smooth her hair. “Would you like some tea?” Though she leans closer to me and whispers, “Which one’s yours?”
“Um, all of them.”
Letting out a bright trill of laughter, she reaches up to pat my cheek. “Well done, my darling girl.”
HENRIK
Watching Darby interact with her parents is very illuminating. I see what she meant when she described them as a couple. Even though she’s their only daughter, they’re completely absorbed with each other and themselves.
They clearly care about her. They’re genuinely glad to see her.
But within five minutes of us sitting down at a large old-fashioned dining table completely decorated with twelve place settings, charging plates, silverware, everything…
They’re chatting about the dinner party they’re having tomorrow (which is why the table’s already set) and their bridge club tonight and Wally’s going golfing in the morning. The list is endless. Fun. Easy.
But they don’t ask my Darby a single question about her life. How she met us. Her job. Nothing.
I see why she’s constantly amazed at the smallest effort any of us do for her. Our interest in her as a person. Her wants and hopes and dreams. Because the two people who’re most supposed to care never ask her. The real questions that let you know a person.
I know their daughter better than they do, and I’ve only known her for a few days.
Lee’s still trying to get them to talk about her. “What was Darby like as a child?”
Eleanor gives her a fond smile. “Oh, so easy. Just the best child anyone could ask for. Right, Wally?”
“That’s right, kiddo. Top honors in school. Graduated from college. That’s more than we did.”
“Oh, that was a different world back then. We moved from state to state on a whim. Traveled. Our goal was to get to every continent before we settled down. We’re finally going to Antarctica this week to see the whales.”
“It’s the start of their summer, you know,” Wally says. “Long beautiful days on the water. Couldn’t ask for anything better.”
Like a surprise visit from their only child?
“That’s great,” Darby says. “I’m glad you’re finally crossing it off your bucket list.”
Her voice sounds glad—but I know her well enough to hear the slight catch of wistfulness in her tone.
She’s got both hands lightly cupped around a delicate china cup covered in loud, bright roses and gold trim.
Her chair’s at a weird angle for me to get my arm around her.
So I grip her thigh under the table. Firmly, like I’d do her neck to put her at ease.
It works. She flashes a lingering smile at me. I raise one eyebrow, silently asking, “Is it time to go?”
She shakes her head a little.
“You said something about making Darby’s favorite if you knew she was coming,” I say, not looking away from her.
“I’m not a baker, not like Darby, but I’m a decent enough cook.
What would you have made for her? I need to study up on what her favorites are.
Right now, all I know is she doesn’t like green peppers. ”
“She doesn’t?” Eleanor gasps. “Since when? You used to eat stuffed peppers all the time when you were a child.”
Darby’s lips quirk in a wry smile that wrenches my heart. “Just the insides, Mom. I couldn’t eat the outer part. To be honest, that was my least favorite thing you ever made for dinner. Well, that and pepper steak.”
Eleanor sits back in her chair as if she’s stunned. Horrified. Or both. “Darby. I had no idea. Both of those were on our monthly rotation. We always kept a very detailed meal plan on the fridge for a month at a time.”
“Don’t you remember me getting in trouble when I was ten or so? I put a big X on the pepper steak square and wrote in pizza. You made me eat pepper steak three nights in a row.”
“I never.” Eleanor laughs like it’s a joke. “Surely not.”
“Made me bilious,” Wally says. “Did you see the new golf course out by the airport?”
“No, Dad. We didn’t land at the main airport.”
I see how it always was between them. If Darby ever questioned or pushed back a little, Eleanor would get upset, and Wally would just change the subject.
How quickly they’ve conveniently forgotten anything that might tarnish the few precious years they had to raise her into the amazing woman she is now.
No thanks to them. She did it all on her own.
Instead of asking why we might have used a different airport, he launches into a comparison of the best greens in Vegas and asks if any of us golf. Not that he waits for our answers.
“Oh, my, Wally, look at the time!” Eleanor hops up from her chair and takes Darby’s cup and saucer from her, quickly running them to the sink. “We’ll be late for bridge if we don’t leave now.”
That’s our cue to leave. Wally’s already at the door, holding it open. “That’s right. Traffic on this side of town has been terrible lately. Maybe we should move again, love.”
“Whatever you think, dear.” In a flurry, Eleanor grabs Darby’s face and pulls her down for a kiss on both cheeks. “Thank you for stopping by to see us, my darling girl.”
We’re hustled toward the door so quickly that Darby doesn’t remember the small dog bowl she set out. I give a look to Ren, who immediately comes to her, wrapping an arm around her as they walk out. So I can grab the bowl and dump it in the sink before bringing up the rear.
“By Jove, now I remember!” Wally crows. “Zondag. The Mighty Zon! You’re a hockey player.”
“I didn’t know you watched hockey, Dad.”
“Oh I don’t, but there used to be annual exhibition games, and we’d invite the visiting teams to participate in charity golf tournaments along with any other celebrities available. The club was lucky enough to get Zondag and Gustafson out to play. I knew I recognized your name from somewhere.”
She grins up at Ren. “I didn’t know you played golf.”
“I don’t.” Grinning, he tosses a wink over his shoulder at me. “The big guy doesn’t either. I thought he’d beat my ass with the clubs because I nagged him to practice for hours so we could win.”
“S?ren,” Wally whispers, his mouth falling open. “The Gustafson Hotshot and the Mighty Zon. Right here in my house.”
I catch up to them and wrap my arm around her waist on the other side as we walk her to the waiting car.
“Did you?”
Lee’s already got the car running and the door open for us. Skadi jumps inside, and Ren moves around to the driver’s side.
I pick her up, tossing her high so she’ll squeal and laugh, her cheeks blushing. She checks to see if her father’s still watching. I hope he is. I hope he sees how happy she is. Because I’m damned sure going to keep her that way.
“We always win, babe. This team can’t be beat.”