Chapter 21 Esme
ESME
Ianswered the call on my way out the door, the cold air reminding me that I should have put my coat on first.
“Hey, Mom.” I stayed under the awning at the front of the building.
“Esme, we’ve been waiting to hear from you. What on earth is going on?” Her mother’s tone was clipped and impatient.
“I’m sorry. I’ve had my hands full here,” I said, shivering.
“Have you put a plan together?”
“About that.” I drew in a deep breath. “I’ve changed my mind. I’m not moving back to Seattle.”
Long sigh on the other end of the phone. “Esme, honestly, I don’t know what to do with you. We talked through everything. Your only choice is to come home. We can help you, but only if you’re here.”
“Something’s changed. It’s kind of complicated, but it’s good.” How was I supposed to explain Grady? “Have I mentioned my friend Grady?” Of course I hadn’t but I didn’t know how else to say it.
“I don’t recall that, no.”
“Okay, well, he’s been my dear friend—someone I’ve spent a lot of time with over the last three years. He loves my kids. And he and I finally admitted our feelings for each other. We’re in love. He wants to marry me.”
“What does he do for a living?”
“He owns a surf shop.”
“A surf shop? You’ll be even worse off than you are now.”
“I have to admit, that was something that held me back. But things have changed.” I was going to sound like a money-grubbing schemer. But it had to be said. “He recently inherited a lot of money.”
“Define a lot.”
“Twenty million dollars.”
For once, my mother had nothing to say.
“Mom, are you there?”
“Yes, I’m here. I’m stunned. As you might expect.”
“Sure. I’m sorry to spring it on you. And I know how it looks but …
” I had no idea how to finish that sentence.
“The thing is—I love him with or without the money. And he loves me. We’ve spent years telling ourselves that we would be a disaster together.
But it’s not true. We’re great together. He’s my family, Mom.”
“The money helps, though, doesn’t it?” Her tone of self-satisfaction made me bristle.
“The money makes it possible for us to give the kids a good life.”
“Who did he inherit the money from?” Mom asked.
Here we go. How much should I tell her? I didn’t want her to judge him by his father, which was exactly the reason he’d kept his true identity a secret.
For the first time that truly sunk in, and I understood.
“His father died recently. Grady had no idea how much he’d been left.
He and his sister were given the same amount. ”
“Who was this man?” Mom asked. “To have forty million dollars to leave to his kids?”
“Just a business man.”
“Tell me. I want to look him up.”
My mother. Relentless. I would have to tell her or she’d never let it go.
“His father was Sean Hale.”
Again, silence on the other end. I’d stumped her twice on one phone call.
“Mom, I didn’t know until recently. Grady moved to Willet Cove to start over after his father was arrested and convicted. He didn’t want the stigma that the association brings.”
“Well, I can’t blame him for that. It’s perfectly understandable.”
And now it was me stunned into silence.
“Poor man,” Mom said. “How awful for him. I’m assuming he didn’t know?”
“No, neither he nor his sister had any idea, which is another part that he feels guilty about.”
“Of course. He’s probably thinking he should have seen the signs.”
I let out a sigh of relief. She understood. It was a miracle. “That’s right. He gave up a good job in the film industry, sold everything he owned and bought the surf shop and cottage. But he’s set up a foundation to help victims of assault. He’s helped a lot of women.”
“I hope he’s not going to give all his money away. If he’s going to marry you, he has to keep that money for his own family.”
There she was.
“He’ll take good care of us,” I said. “He’s a really good person, Mom. And I love him.”
“Well, this was not the conversation I thought we’d have, but, I have to say, I’m pleased.”
“Thanks, Mom. I appreciate it.”
“Your father and I … we want to be part of your life. We want to see the kids.”
“Come visit,” I said, already dreading it.
“Maybe we’ll come for the wedding. Will you marry at your church?”
“I’m not sure what we’ll do,” I said. “We haven’t gotten that far.”
“You have to have a wedding. It’s important for the children.”
“We’ll see,” I said, evasively. “Listen, Mom, I have to go. The kids and Grady are waiting for me. We’re out to dinner.”
“Yes, all right. Call me tomorrow and we can decide on dates for us to come visit.”
“Okay.”
“I really hope you know what you’re doing.”
“I do. I really, truly do.”
We hung up, and I was about to go back inside when my phone buzzed again. Not my mother this time. Jeff.
Jeff
Hey. Moving to Austin. Got a buddy with a startup that's going to be huge. Probably won't be reachable for a while. Tell the kids I said hey.
I stared at the message. Tell the kids I said hey. Not I love them. Not how's Madison's arm? Not I'm sorry I haven't called. Just tell the kids I said hey, as if they were acquaintances he'd bumped into once and vaguely remembered.
Three months ago, that text would have wrecked me. Tonight, standing outside a restaurant where a man who wasn't their father was inside making my daughter laugh and helping my son calculate the tip, it barely registered.
Esme
Good luck.
I put my phone in my pocket and went back inside to the warmth of the restaurant and my family. The real one.
We started the house hunt the following Saturday.
Lila had offered to come along. She’d gotten her real-estate license a few years back, mostly to help clients find fixer-uppers, but it came in handy now.
Robbie had printed updated versions of his spreadsheets, one for each of us, where we could assign a rating to various elements: everything from the kitchen, yard for Trevor, natural lighting and size of bedrooms.
I looked out the front window from the passenger seat of Grady’s car, while he drove, listening to the kids talking in the back seat.
“Do I get a vote too?” Madison asked.
“Of course. We’re not ageists in this family,” Robbie said.
Trevor, sitting between them, whined softly, perhaps to remind us that dogs should get a vote too.
“I have a lot of opinions,” Madison said. “Mostly they come from my stomach.”
“That’s called a gut reaction,” Robbie said. “Intuition, although tricky to quantify, is very important. Especially in a decision about a house. We’re going to live there for a long time.”
“I hope there’s a lot of pink in whatever house we choose,” Madison said dreamily. “And sparkly chandeliers.”
“You can make a note of your wishes in the comment section if you’d like,” Robbie said.
“I will. As soon as I find a pencil,” Madison said.
“I told you to bring one,” Robbie said. “But I have an extra.”
“Thanks, Robbie,” Madison said. “You think of everything.”
“Someone has to,” Robbie said.
Grady and I exchanged a smile.
Lila met us at the first house—a three-bedroom ranch on the north end of town.
It had good bones, she said, which seemed to be language for everything else is a problem.
The kitchen was dark, the yard mostly gravel, and the master bedroom looked out onto the neighbor’s fence.
Robbie marked something on his spreadsheet.
Madison asked if we could leave almost the moment we walked in.
The second house, a Victorian with tall ceilings and beautiful original molding, was a few blocks north of Harbor Avenue.
Lila loved it for its classic architecture.
I loved the front porch. But the yard was too small for Trevor to run, and Grady said he didn’t want to live in town, preferring something more private.
In addition, the bedrooms were small, the stairs steep.
Robbie measured the fourth bedroom with a tape measure he’d brought from home and said something about it being much too small for what he had in mind.
“What’s that exactly?” I asked.
“I’m not entirely sure of my plan, but it involves multiple computers and screens.”
“You’re not getting an office,” I reminded him.
“Mother, I must have space to create. The world needs my inventions.”
“You’ll have a bedroom, just like your sister.” I tousled his hair. “So don’t worry. There will be plenty of room.”
The third house smelled like cats. Not one cat, but like a dynasty of cats. Trevor took one sniff and turned back around, waiting instead on the porch. Lila opened a closet, closed it immediately. “No. Hard no.”
The fourth was a modern build on the hill above town, all glass and angles, stunning views, and twice our budget. Trevor sat down on the threshold and refused to enter. We had no idea why, but we marked it on our spreadsheets as a no for Trevor.
“It’s beautiful, but not for us,” I said. “It looks like a feature in a magazine on modern architecture. There’s no soul.”
Grady looked around at the sleek, white kitchen. “It is nice, but yeah, you’re right.”
“You sure?” I asked.
Grady gave me a quick peck. “We want a place that feels like home, and this isn’t it.”
“Please capture those thoughts on your spreadsheet,” Robbie said.
The fifth house was a new build with four bedrooms, a nice yard, and a reasonable price.
It checked every box on Robbie’s spreadsheet.
He gave it an 8.7. However, something was missing.
I couldn’t name it. The rooms were fine.
The kitchen was updated. The yard was big enough for Trevor.
It was a perfectly good house. Trevor wandered through every room, sniffed each corner methodically, then returned to the front door and lay down with his chin on his paws.
“Trevor seems neutral on this one,” Robbie said.
“No, he doesn’t like it,” Madison said. “I can tell by the way he’s lying.”
“What do you think?” Grady asked me.
I looked around the beige walls and carpet. “It’s all right, but kind of generic.”
“Agreed,” Grady said.