Twenty-Eight
Nico admired Valerie’s tact when Brayden informed her he’d be the one catering Helena’s celebration of life. “An interesting idea, Brayden, but I’m afraid the contract has been signed with the Lakeview.”
Brayden looked disturbed that something as piddling as a legal agreement could stand in his way. “Mom said I could make protein cutlets. The prot-min in those is off the charts.”
Valerie looked at him thoughtfully. “Could you have everything ready by tomorrow?”
“I’m hanging at Cooper’s but you can push the time back. Like, Helena’s dead. She won’t care.”
Nico wanted to thump him, but Valerie smiled. “Maybe you should talk to Mickey to see if you can help him instead?”
Brayden’s face settled in a sullen expression that Nico instantly recognized as one that screamed I’m going to tell Mom, but Valerie simply turned back to her laptop until Brayden left.
“Well done,” Nico complimented her.
“He has no sense of reality. I almost feel bad for him.”
“Almost?”
“Not so bad that I’m going to serve protein whatevers at Helena’s celebration of life.” Valerie looked grim. “This time, it’s going to be perfect.”
She began to type fiercely, frowning at the laptop.
Nico moved behind her, feeling this was a moment to offer a caring touch of some kind, but unsure of which one.
He refilled her empty water glass while he thought it out.
She’d said after the Ren faire they could be themselves, and for him that meant cautious.
When he put the glass in front of her, she leaned her head briefly against his side as if to thank him without words. That was the encouragement he needed to put his arm around her. She buried her face against him. “I can’t blow this,” she said.
Or that’s what he thought she said, but her voice was muffled.
He’d go by context clues. “This isn’t a redemption,” he said.
“You have a few days to set up a memorial for a woman you’ve never met, and you’re doing it out of the kindness of your heart.
Anything will be appreciated, but you’ve gone above and beyond.
” Although he’d told Roger, who had decided to pay Valerie for her event work himself.
She lifted her head. “No, you don’t get it. This means I can prove to the Badgertons that I know what I’m doing.”
“You don’t need to prove yourself.”
Valerie gave him an exasperated look. “Everyone has to prove themselves,” she said. “All the time, for everything.”
She returned to her plans while Nico looked out the window and drank his coffee.
He gave her a last kiss on the head—or rather on the silk scarf she’d draped over her hair and around her neck like a 1950s movie star—causing her to angle her face up for more.
Then he headed to the office. Some might consider it odd that he found the office a comforting place, but he did.
He liked its orderly nature, or did once he’d cleared out Roger’s cups and put the old newspapers out.
Gave the desk a wipe down. Straightened the monitor and refolded the Icelandic throw blanket on the corner chair before resetting the lamp to illuminate the correct spot so he could sit and clear his mind.
Because after listening to Roger talk about regrets, he had decided to call Stefanie.
Then he’d kept putting it off. He didn’t want to call his sister.
He felt in many ways he could continue to live without Stefanie in his life.
However, many ways was not all ways, and being with Valerie had reminded him of what he missed about Stefanie.
Sure, she had been a pain. It was possible he had also been a pain.
Nico wouldn’t call himself impulsive, but there were times when things needed to get done and thinking about them was akin to thinking his way out of them. It was time for him to call—just to see, as Valerie would say. He picked up his phone.
“Hello, Nico.” Call display had removed any surprise a phone call could bring, and Stephanie’s neutral tone meant either she was being careful or she was being polite.
“Hi.” He cast around for something to say that would start the conversation off because his mind had gone blank. Asking about Stefanie’s husband might be a good start. He hadn’t heard about him in a while. “How’s Mike?”
There was a long pause. “Are you for real?”
“What do you mean?”
“Christ, this is low even for you.” Her voice broke. “Did you call to rub it in?”
“Rub what in?” Confusion was shifting to make space for concern.
“That Mike left. We’re separated. He left twenty days ago.”
Nico felt sick. Stefanie and Mike had been together for a decade. “Why didn’t you tell me?” This was what Kimmy had alluded to, and he couldn’t be mad about being left out because it was his own fault. God, what an asshole he was.
“Why would I? I didn’t think you’d care, especially after Kimmy said she’d told you things were bad with me and you didn’t bother to call. I know we have problems but I thought when push came to shove, you’d be there for me.”
He heard the unsaid and you weren’t. She was right. “I’m sorry,” he said quietly, all the anger draining out past the shield of protective defensiveness he’d automatically deployed. How could they have let their relationship deteriorate this badly?
“Yeah, well. Whatever.”
Part of him wanted to hang up and pretend none of this was happening, but he couldn’t. He was going to have to bite the bullet if he wanted to fix things. “I should have called before,” he said. “Do you want to talk about it?”
“Now you care?”
He could feel the edges of the fight and his instinct was to give in to it, fed by the shame of neglecting his sister. He wouldn’t. “I do. I want to talk.”
“About what?”
“Mike, if you want.”
“Not really.”
“Then us.” He looked at his tablet, where he had mapped out possible routes the discussion could go, then pushed it away. “What’s happened between us is bothering Kimmy.”
“I know that. I keep in touch with her.”
Nico ignored the little dig. “I don’t like it either.”
“Well, what do you want me to do about it?” she said. “I’m not the one who stopped showing up for family dinners, or who ignores the group chat, or who’s apparently holding grudges from childhood.”
“I know.” He took a breath. “You think you’re only teasing, but I couldn’t handle how bad it made me feel about myself anymore. I didn’t know how to talk about what was bothering me. I stopped trying.”
“You distanced yourself from the whole family because of me?”
“Because of how I felt.”
They sat on the phone for a moment, then Stefanie sighed. “Mike says I never pay attention. You said the other day that I should have known it had gone too far. How?”
“When I left the room. Or told you Dad didn’t like being called a robot, or to leave my stuff alone. I told you in a thousand ways it was too much for me.”
“Nico, you could have left the room for any reason. Dad doesn’t mind the robot thing—and I asked—so I thought you were being a little jerk instead of assuming you were projecting.
None of those were you telling me to stop because you didn’t like it.
You said I should have known, but I can’t unless you tell me. ”
He’d said similar words to Valerie, so how had he never applied them to his own situation? Loving someone didn’t mean being a mind reader. “You’re right. I should have said something.”
She blew out her breath. “Sorry.”
It was only one word, but one he never thought he’d hear from Stefanie.
“I’m sorry too,” he said. “For making you feel bad about who you are.”
“I liked getting a rise out of you. It’s immature, I know. I should have knocked it off decades ago but I guess it became a habit?” She paused. “A role. It was a role I played and got stuck in. Loud, obnoxious Steffy.”
Nico slumped in the chair. “Yeah.”
She snorted. “Wasn’t that your cue to tell me I’m not loud and obnoxious?”
“I mean, you are loud?” He paused. “That’s okay, though. I like quiet, and that’s fine too. We just need to know when to give each other some space.”
“Like a code word?”
“Or saying, ‘I need a break.’”
“How about shut it?”
“Time out?” Nico suggested.
“Pipe down?”
“Zip it?”
They both laughed.
“Whichever one we use, I’d like to try.” She coughed. “It’s been a long time since we hung out. Mom and Dad miss you coming by for family dinner.”
“Mom and Dad?”
“Me too.”
He was glad this wasn’t a video call because he was blinking. A lot, and looking up at the suddenly blurry ceiling fan. “I do too.”
There was a long and awkward silence. “Okay,” she said.
“I’ll check the group chat,” he promised, glad to have a concrete action.
“We’ll find something that works for both Mom and Dad.” She paused. “I’m glad you called, Nico.”
“I should have called earlier.” He rubbed at his eyes. “I’m sorry about Mike.”
“Me too, but thanks. It’s making me think about a lot of things. Um, want to come over for dinner sometime? Soon?”
“You hate cooking.”
“Delivery exists and I can make cookies.”
He felt a pressure release from his chest. “With nuts?”
She laughed, her old Steffy laugh that boomed out and scooped up everyone in its exuberance. “With gross nuts, yes.”
“That sounds good.”
“Good.” She paused. “Yeah. Talk to you soon, Nico.”
He hung up and looked at the phone, feeling as if he’d taken the first step on a long journey. It was a relief to remove some of the wall between him and Steffy. Then he grabbed his tablet to order a month of meal delivery for his sister. She never took care of herself when she was down.
He could be there for her that way, at least.
* * *
Valerie rolled her shoulders and felt the muscles tense before they finally released. “We have it,” she said as Dalia came out from behind the bar. “Thanks for helping out.”
“Helena was one of the good ones,” said Dalia as she passed over a beer.
It was late, as they’d waited until closing to set up so they weren’t in the way of the dinner service.
“She tipped terribly, but she always gave me a little Ziploc of chocolate chip cookies. She said they were homemade, but I’m pretty sure they were Mr. Christie’s. ”