30. Chapter 30 – Lucy
C lay’s nerves over the holiday meal with his family rubbed off on me as Thanksgiving Day drew closer.
I’d flitted around the studio all day, unable to settle on a project.
Watching the clock. His parents arrived on the afternoon ferry.
While I’d offered to join Clay to pick them up, he’d insisted I finish my workday.
Like I’d make any real progress with the threat of meeting my prospective in-laws hanging over my head.
I approached our front door that evening with trepidation.
Clay had stowed all of his Halloween decorations for the year in totes in the garage.
For a man who loved to go big, I wouldn’t have been shocked if an inflatable turkey graced our front lawn, but he’d turned up his nose at that idea, claiming the meal itself was all the celebration we needed.
Steeling myself for the likely kitchen chaos inside didn’t prepare me for an older woman and man to pop off the couch like sports fans cheering a home run. I half-expected foam fingers and a shower of spilled beer.
“You must be Lucy!” Clay’s mom rushed toward me with outstretched arms. She was tall like her son, built on the generous side. Her hug was soft, her curly gray hair tickling my temple. “I’m Trish.”
For just a moment, I let myself sink into her welcome. Believe in its warmth.
Then, in a whisper she added, “ And if you hurt my son, I’ll bury you .”
She pulled back, grin broad. As if she hadn’t just threatened to commit homicide.
My lips curved in answer. My future mother-in-law was a peach.
Clay’s dad loped to her side, extending one broad palm.
“Carl. Nice to meet you, Lucy.”
Carl’s hand was smooth and dry, his handshake firm without being overpowering.
His smile reached his blue eyes. Though not the same color as Clay’s, they twinkled down at me with Clay’s mischievous spirit.
Jeans and a hoodie made him look younger than his sixty-plus years.
His gray hair was brushed back from craggy features.
Overall, he gave an impression of quiet satisfaction.
Like his life had gone exactly how he wanted, and he was at ease in his skin.
“Nice to meet you too,” I murmured.
Clay came out of the kitchen, rubbing his hands on a towel. “Sorry, Luce. I didn’t hear you come home. It looks like I missed my cue.”
His mom flipped a hand in the air. “That’s okay, dear. You do what you need to do. We’ll entertain Lucy out here. Get to know her a bit.”
It shouldn’t sound like a threat. And yet…
Clay’s gaze met mine over his mom’s head. Maybe he saw the hint of distress there, because he said, “I’m done in the kitchen for now. We’re going out for dinner tonight anyway. I’ll grab us some drinks. Mom, Dad, I’ve got a bottle of red open. Does that work for you? Luce?”
“I’ll come help,” I said, desperate for a moment alone with him.
I scurried into the kitchen. Clay opened his arms, and I stepped into them, savoring the hug as he wrapped me tight.
“Hey,” he murmured into my hair. “You looked spooked there for a second. Everything okay?”
Not ratting out my future mother-in-law was probably my best bet.
“It’s fine. Your parents seem nice,” I said weakly.
Clay stepped away, retrieving wine glasses from the cabinet. He took his time, meticulously pouring, making them even. He wiped a stray drip of dark wine from the counter. Scratched his neck. Avoided my eyes.
“Anything you want to tell me?” I asked.
Clay cleared his throat. “Now might be a good time to admit that part of the reason I was drawn to you was that I grew up in a household where speaking your mind was encouraged.”
“Let me guess – your mother?” I asked wryly.
“Yep. I should have warned you, but I figured if anyone could handle her, it’d be you.”
I bit my lip. Did I tell him, or leave him guessing?
“She’s already threatened to murder me if I hurt you.”
Clay chuckled, shaking his head. “That’s my mom for you.”
“Great.”
It was a good thing Clay’s parents loved him. Better than the alternative, for sure. His mom had certainly made a strong first impression. I could only try to convince her that Clay didn’t need protecting from me.
He tugged me back into his arms, squeezing hard enough to weld me back together. “You’ll be fine. I have faith in you, Lucifer.”
Nuzzling closer, I sighed. He smelled like garlic and rosemary. Like home.
“You remember that I blow glass because punching people is frowned upon?”
His chuckle rumbled between us. “Yes. She’ll warm up to you. You’ll see.”
I wasn’t so sure, but arguing with Clay would be futile. My energy was better directed toward winning over his mom. I picked up a glass. Plying her with wine probably couldn’t hurt.
Clay and I settled onto the smaller loveseat in his living room, his arm around me. His mother clocked the gesture, her expression inscrutable.
After taking a long pull on my wine, I forced a smile and asked brightly, “Did you have a good trip?”
We passed an hour with pleasantries and small talk about their journey.
First, the flight from Colorado to SeaTac, then the shuttle and ferry ride.
They’d been traveling for well over eighteen hours.
And it was clear from the effort they put into making small talk with me instead of crashing for a nap, they loved their son. I could cut them some slack.
Clay’s dad was easy to love. It was clear where Clay had gotten his charm from. His mother was more reserved. Still friendly on the outside, but every move seemed stilted. Like it wasn’t quite sincere. To be fair, it took me a while to warm to new people too.
I offered Clay’s mom the front seat as we piled into his truck for the drive to dinner, but she declined. “I’ll sit with my husband, thank you.”
Their low voices didn’t quite carry to the front seat, but I couldn’t shake the impression that they were talking about me.
Dinner was slightly better, Clay and his dad carrying the conversation, while his mom and I pushed food around on our plates.
By the time we got home, I was exhausted and out of sorts. We said our good nights, and Clay and I retired to our room.
“Hey.” He wrapped me up in a tight hug. “Everything okay?”
I nodded, snuggling deeper into his chest. My happy place. “I think it’s going to be a minute before your mom and I are besties.”
“I’d settle for not at each other’s throats. You’ve got this, Luce.”
“I want her to like me,” I admitted. “It just feels like… I’m being compared to someone I can’t compete with.”
His arms tightened slightly, giving me the courage to ask what I really wanted to know.
“She probably adored Jen,” I added quietly. “I get that. I’m not trying to replace her. But I don’t want to feel like I’m always falling short.”
He paused, like he was choosing his words carefully, testing them out in his head before saying them aloud. “She was always… polite with Jen.”
I snorted, pulling back to see his expression. “Really?”
“I think she’s more herself with you.”
“Threats come standard?”
His smile flashed. “Ooh, she really likes you.”
I laughed. “She does not .”
He dropped a kiss on my forehead. “She will. I do.”
Groaning, I let my head fall back. “You’re easy.”
He grinned at me, eyes sparkling. “Yeah, I am. Want me to show you how easy I can be? I’m feeling downright slutty tonight.”
I considered him. “How slutty are we talking here? I don’t want your mom to overhear and blame me for ruining her precious baby boy.”
“Honey, I was ruined the moment I met you. Give me a chance to ruin you back tonight.”
“I’d be more convinced if I weren’t worrying about your mother judging me in the morning.”
Clay shook his head. “She’s not exactly Jack Reynolds. She won’t high-five you over coffee, but I’m old enough that she has no illusions and no interest in what I do in the privacy of my bedroom.”
“You didn’t hear her offer to bury me this afternoon.”
He chuckled. “Well, lucky for you, she has no idea where to dig on this island. She’d need me for that, and I promise not to cooperate.”
“Gee, thanks,” I said wryly.
“Lucy, give her a minute. I’m sure she’ll love you as much as I do, but it might take her a hair longer than I did.” His grin turned challenging. “She’s like you that way.”
I groaned. “Why are you comparing me to your mother?”
“Because you’re both fierce. Strong. You know your own minds and don’t suffer fools kindly. But you also love deeply and completely.”
“Flatterer.”
He crooked his finger. “Now, come over here and let me ruin you. Just a little bit.”
***
Trish eyed me over her coffee mug as I trudged into the kitchen in the morning. I looked like what I was: a woman who’d stayed up way too late, loving on her man. Bedhead, beard burn, and all.
She, of course, looked perfect. Dressed in a neat pair of jeans and a purple sweater, every hair in place. “I thought we could spend the day together.”
Kill me now. A hundred ways to get out of it flitted across my mind, but instead I surrendered. “I was thinking about taking a yoga class downtown, then working in my studio. Would you like to do one or both with me?” I offered.
The first hint of a genuine smile hovered on Trish’s face. “That would be lovely.”
Trish was silent as I drove us into town, parking at my old apartment and walking the few blocks to Anya’s yoga studio.
Anya welcomed us with a smile. “I see you’ve brought a friend today, Lucy. Are you Clay’s mother?”
Trish nodded. “Yes. I’m Trish. I’m looking forward to your class.”
Anya passed her a tablet with the waiver. Trish skimmed it with a quick nod and signed without comment.
She unrolled a yoga mat beside mine. Anya’s soothing voice guided us through the different poses, helping me melt away the tension I’d been carrying since Trish and Carl hit town. Focusing on my breathing, on stretching, helped put it all in focus.
Trish loved her son. So did I. We had more in common than we probably realized.
Just because it felt like she’d made a snap judgment about me and found me wanting didn’t make it true.
If Clay could win me over, convincing me to marry him, then I could win over his mother.
Maybe not with marriage proposals, but with the one weapon I doubted she could resist: my love for her son.
“Want to grab a coffee in town?” I asked after class.
Trish nodded. “Sure. So long as there’s decaf. My heartburn acts up if I drink too much.”
“Harbor Brews is only a few blocks from here, if you don’t mind walking.”
Harbor Brews was serving the last of the pre-holiday ferry crowd. We stood silently behind a family lugging suitcases, patiently waiting our turn. Trish seemed to be taking in the coffee shop, the books, all of it.
“Hey, Zach.”
“Hey, Luce. What will you have today?” He smiled at Trish after greeting me.
“A decaf coffee for me,” Trish answered.
“A flat white for me, please.”
Trish pulled out her wallet.
“I’ve got this.” I tapped my card against the payment terminal.
Zach’s lip twitched. He seemed amused by the small tug-of-war between me and Trish.
“We’ll see you at Vi’s Friday?” he asked.
“For sure. Happy Thanksgiving, Zach.”
He dipped his chin, acknowledging my goodbye before turning to the couple behind us.
Trish chose a set of deep blue chairs near the window. I picked at the hem of my shirt, tugging at a stray thread.
“Coffee for Lucifer!”
I’d kill Zach later.
I forced a smile for Trish. “I’ll pick up our drinks. Back in a sec. Do you take it black?”
“I do.”
I glowered at Zach as I approached the counter. He grinned back, unrepentant as he passed over our drinks.
Trish accepted her mug with a small smile. Her curls drifted against her cheek, and she pushed them back, making her seem somehow softer than before.
“Seems like they really know you here.”
Was that censure or acceptance?
“It’s a small community.”
“Mm.” Trish sipped her coffee, watching me over the rim. “I wasn’t sure about Clay moving here at first. Seemed too remote. I worried he’d be lonely.”
“Clay’s got the kind of charm that makes it hard to picture him lonely anywhere.”
Her brow wrinkled. “After Jen passed, it was like that part of him died with her, rest her soul.”
“Mm.” I had no idea what to say. It wasn’t my place to comment on Jen.
“She was very… restful for him.” Trish paused for another sip from her mug, holding my gaze. “I like that you challenge him.”
Was that…her blessing?
“You do?”
She nodded. “My son has always been the caretaking type. But with you, I see him taking a different role. It’s good for him.”
While I’d hoped to achieve some kind of acceptance, spending the day with Trish, I hadn’t expected her seal of approval.
“You’ll keep him on his toes.”
“You say that like it’s a compliment.”
“It is,” she said, deadpan. “Idle Robertson men are a menace.”