6. Crista
A s she turned onto Old Bluff Road, Crista’s whole body grew tight at the sight of her brick Colonial tucked into the Atlanta suburbs. She’d been tense to the point of nauseous since she’d left Destin almost six hours ago, worried about how her husband would respond to this truly crazy idea.
He might not want Crista and Nolie to leave during this rare month with Maggie out of the house. He might not want her to be taught “tricks” by a stranger, especially one Crista had just told him was her—and her mother’s—sworn enemy. He might just fight her on it because…lately? They fought a lot.
Or maybe she was tense because this orderly, safe, gorgeous sanctuary had changed in the last few years, and her little family seemed to be stretched and ready to snap.
Nolie waded through every day like a tiny soul about to drown in scrambled letters and constant frustration. Even at seven, she sensed something was very wrong in her world, and it didn’t help that Anthony and Maggie disagreed openly on the subject, putting Crista in the middle.
Nolie might have dyslexia, but she was a very smart and observant little girl. She knew a war raged around her—because of her. But it wasn’t Nolie’s fault.
Crista couldn’t ignore the impact of Maggie on this house—and on her husband.
For months, Anthony had not been the wonderful man she’d met in the office cafeteria when she worked in an ad agency and he was a software engineer for a company on the fifth floor.
Crista had waited until her early thirties to “settle down” because she had been determined to find a man she knew could be her best friend and lifelong partner. She wanted perfection in her marriage—as in every aspect of her well-ordered life—and she was certain she’d found it in Anthony John Merritt.
An engineer who was definitely not a nerd, he’d swept her off her feet the minute they’d met. Their connection was instant and palpable, a source of joy and happiness that she hadn’t even known she was missing in life. But the joy seemed to be evaporating as the years went by, a slow leak that started around the time her mother moved in with them.
Anthony and Maggie had always liked each other—but living together was a whole different ballgame. He enjoyed—and was frequently amused by—Crista’s need to have everything “just so,” but Maggie’s controlling personality was next level.
Maggie had come to stay after her hip replacement surgery a little over three years ago, since they had a comfortable guest suite on the first floor. Nolie had been not quite four and Crista had been turning down freelance copywriting jobs that would have helped with the steep mortgage on their home.
Maggie brought the ideal solution—she could entertain Nolie while Crista worked a few hours, and she insisted on paying rent.
The arrangement made so much sense and had worked out beautifully—at first. It was wonderful to have her mother around, but the longer she lived here, the more the house became…Maggie’s. The garden, the deck, the décor, even mealtimes and the menu—all dictated by the strongest personality in the building.
She had an opinion on everything—how much TV they watched, when Nolie played, who they entertained, what they did on weekends, where they went out to dinner.
About a year ago, Anthony got a massive promotion that became a ready excuse to leave early and come home late. Their date nights fizzled, their love life flattened, and their marriage hit a stagnant stage that terrified Crista.
All the while, Nolie went to battle with the books, and Maggie…observed, opined, and ordered all things be done her way.
On a sigh, Crista pulled into her pristine garage. Like everything in her home, the space was so clean you could eat off the gleaming speckled epoxy floor. The tidy storage, orderly shelves, and neat lawn equipment was what the advertising industry called the “visual backstory”—someone who had their life together kept a garage like this.
And like most ads, it was wildly deceptive.
Taking a deep breath, she grabbed her purse and overnight bag and walked toward the kitchen entrance, praying there wouldn’t be that trouble she hated on the other side.
She opened the door quietly, hoping it didn’t make Aunt Pittypat bark for ten minutes and demand a treat.
“Daddy, I can’t! I’m tired.” Nolie’s whine echoed from the kitchen.
Oh, there was the trouble.
“Honey, focus on the word. Put that pencil down and focus.”
“I like to draw pictures. That’s a pretty flower.”
“Can you spell flower? Can you read it?”
Crista shuttered her eyes and swallowed her dread. “Hello?” she called.
“Mommy’s home!” Nolie’s voice rang out in joy at the same time Aunt Pittypat barked noisily, the two of them racing through the kitchen and into the mudroom. “Mommy! I missed you!”
“I missed you, too, Nolie-bird!” She dropped the overnight bag to reach for her little girl, scooping her up and burying her face in the locks of dark hair for a great big inhale of love.
She adored this child, her love rocking her from head to toe. Nolie leaned back, her expressive brown eyes—so like Crista’s—wide and…watery.
“Have you been crying?” Crista asked, slowly lowering her slender frame to the floor, aware of the little Yorkie zipping around the floor in excitement.
Her lower lip quivered. “Just…trying…you know… Daddy wants me to…”
“Read,” Crista whispered, taking Nolie’s hand. “I know.”
Anthony came around the mudroom entrance, his footsteps preceding the sight of his six-foot frame in the doorway.
“There you are.” He gave a smile, swiping his hand over his close-cropped chestnut hair with a sigh of pure relief. “Yeah. We missed you, Mommy.”
Her heart hitched as it always did when he playfully used the term—anytime she saw him, really. She loved him deeply, which was why the distance between them hurt so much.
“Tell Daddy I don’t have to read anymore, Mommy.” Nolie tugged at her hand. “Tell him, please. I don’t want to work today.”
Poor kid, she thought, stroking Nolie’s silky hair. She shouldn’t have to worry about “work” at seven.
“Five-minute break,” Anthony said. “Let’s get Mommy settled and we’ll just finish that last chapter. It’s a good story, right, Nolie?”
She rolled her eyes. “I don’t know what it’s about, Daddy. I don’t care.”
“It’s about a butterfly and a frog.” The frustration was clear in his voice, and in the shadows around his eyes. “And you have to read at least one more chapter.”
She looked up at Crista with a plea all over her little face, eyes filling again.
“It hurts to read, Mommy,” she said on a whisper. “I want to play. I want to dress-up the new Barbie that Grandma Maggie gave me for babysitting Aunt Pittypat.”
Anthony grunted. “Barbie dolls aren’t going to get you into third grade, kiddo.”
She squeezed Crista’s hand. “Please, Mommy. Please.”
Her heart slipped as she realized she hadn’t been home five full minutes, and they’d already approached the crux of their biggest battle—to go to third grade or repeat second.
She wished Nolie didn’t know the issue was even on the table—so much pressure for a child—but Anthony had insisted she understand how serious the situation really was.
As if that would make her dyslexia disappear.
“Take a break, honey,” Crista said, but looked hard at Anthony. “We need to talk anyway.”
“Okay, but tomorrow she has dance after school, and she has got to finish this book.”
“We’ll read it together tonight before bed,” Crista promised Nolie, whose face lit up. She knew “read it together” meant…well, Crista would read it and Nolie would snuggle happily.
Was that so bad?
“Let’s go, Pittypat!” Nolie shot toward the door and, for a minute, Crista thought Anthony would block her way. Then he stepped aside and let girl and dog disappear.
“She’s got to learn, Cris,” he said softly.
“I’m not even in the door yet,” she said, hanging her handbag on a hook. “And I have to talk to you.”
“Yeah, yeah. Sorry.” He backed away to let her through and she slowed her step, looking up at him with an ache in her heart.
Was he really not going to hug and kiss her hello? She couldn’t remember the last real kiss they’d shared—well, yes. A rare date night well over a month ago.
Maybe she shouldn’t leave. Maybe their marriage would fail because of the effort to be sure Nolie didn’t.
He gave an uncertain smile, reaching to give her a perfunctory hug and a light kiss on the forehead.
“We really did miss you,” he added.
Did he? Sadly, she didn’t know.
“I wasn’t gone that long, but, whoa, a lot happened.”
“Come on.” He gestured her into the kitchen, which was immaculate—a fact she appreciated—and she walked to the cozy corner banquette. The table was covered with a few books, one opened to a page with a bright pink butterfly and so few words, she knew it was meant for a younger child.
“Something to drink?” Anthony asked as he opened the fridge and grabbed a Pellegrino.
“I’ll take a bottle of water. Thanks.”
She slid onto a cushioned seat, glancing out at the deck, bathed in spring sunshine. The rolling hills beyond were bright green and a few new roses were in bloom in Mama’s garden.
“I promised her I’d deadhead them for her,” Anthony said, following her gaze. “I don’t want Maggie to come back and find unloved rose bushes.”
“That’s good,” she said, taking the water bottle.
He probably didn’t want her to come back at all, Crista thought, but Anthony was too nice to say it out loud. They both were—but that didn’t mean they weren’t thinking it.
“How was the house?” he asked. “I hope they dumped the ridiculous idea of not selling it.”
She let out a sigh, not wanting to even think about yet another subject where they didn’t see eye to eye. He’d flipped out at the idea of not selling the Destin house.
He’d called the house “the one great thing Maggie ever did for us” and had already created a spreadsheet for how they’d save and invest the windfall.
“No decisions have been made,” she finally said. “But the house is spectacular. And it would be an amazing place to take Nolie.”
This week, as a matter of fact, but she took a long sip of water before dropping that bomb.
“So, how did they take the news that your father’s so-called best friend was the rat who turned him in?” he asked.
She made a face, almost sorry she’d shared that with Anthony when she’d come back from taking Maggie to the airport. Especially now that she was going to actually lean on Tessa Wylie for help.
But she’d been frantic to share the news, and she needed him to understand why she had to deliver it in person, so he’d have to work from home while she went to Destin.
“First of all, I’m not sure I’d call Artie Wylie his best friend, but whatever.”
He shrugged, gulping some Coke. “Did they agree not to see the daughters? I mean, that was Maggie’s edict, right?”
“Actually…one of the daughters was there. Tessa was staying at the house.”
His eyes widened. “Seriously? The thick plottens,” he joked. “I mean, she is at the top of Maggie’s ‘names not to mention in my presence’ list.”
“Yeah. I was shocked to see her,” she admitted. “Kind of lost it, to be honest.”
His smiled as if he knew quite well what “kind of lost it” meant for Crista.
“You have every right to be upset,” he said. “And if Maggie ever found out she’d been there?—”
“She has dyslexia.”
He stared at her, lowering the bottle, glancing at the open children’s book. “I know, Crista. That’s why I’m sitting here reading instead of working.”
“No, I mean Tessa Wylie has dyslexia.”
He leaned back. “Huh. Really. Did you know that when you were kids? Was she…different?”
She shot him a look, hating how they all thought dyslexia was some horrible disease. Maggie refused to say the word, as though that would make it go away. Anthony was obsessed with how it could ruin a person’s life. And Crista fretted over what it meant for her daughter’s future.
Based on Tessa, they were all wrong.
“She’s perfectly normal, and was when we were young. And she came right out and told me it’s ‘not a death sentence.’ I’d appreciate you remembering that.”
“I know, I know. But it can make life difficult. Starting with being older than all your peers in school, which I don’t want for Nolie.” He leaned forward, intensity in his light brown eyes. “When they hold a kid back a few years? That’s hard, Crista. And for Nolie? Well, she’s already the tallest girl in the dance class and stands out. Imagine in school if she’s?—”
She held out her hand and cut him off.
“Tessa’s managed just fine,” she said, not wanting to get into an argument about Nolie’s perfectly normal height. “She’s an event planner and starting her own business, with Lacey, if you can believe that.”
“Lacey isn’t working for Ryan?”
“She quit and went down to Destin,” she told him. “Jonah’s there, too.”
“Jonah?” He looked stunned. “Geez, is anyone not there?”
“Me. And Nolie.”
His brow furrowed, not understanding what she meant.
“Anthony, Tessa might be able to help.” She leaned closer and lowered her voice to make her point. “She knows…tricks. She knows how to function in the world with dyslexia and told me over and over it’s not so bad. She offered to help Nolie.” She swallowed and searched his face. “She might be the answer we need right now.”
He stared at her. “An event planner? So not a teacher or tutor with an advanced degree in childhood learning?”
“No, but she’s got real-life experience,” she said. “Honestly, I was hesitant, too. I don’t even like the woman—and I hate her father, who passed away last year.”
His brows knit together as he processed all this information with his sharp engineer’s brain. But it was his heart that put the real worry in his eyes—a father’s heart.
“I don’t know, Cris.”
“What else can we do? Nolie hates the special classes, and she really hates”—she flicked her hand at the books—“this. So what if it’s an unorthodox approach? It’s a solution that fell into our lap and Maggie is gone, so I could take her down now. We have to do something or they’re going to make her take that test, and then they are going to hold her back!”
It felt like her exclamation echoed in the quiet kitchen, bouncing off the walls like she wanted to, letting the out-of-whack emotions take over.
“I’m not opposed to unorthodox—if it works. And…” He inched closer, narrowing his eyes. “You must be truly desperate if you’ll lie to your mother. That’s a first.”
She fluttered the pages of the frog and butterfly book.
“I’m desperate enough to trust this woman who I’m not even supposed to talk to. Desperate enough to leave you right now, during this rare time when we are finally alone and…Maggie-less.”
“I was looking forward to it,” he admitted quietly. “But Nolie is more important than anything.” He drummed his fingers on the table, systematically going through the pros and cons. “What about school?” he asked.
“Well, I think I could talk to her teacher and explain we’re putting her in…a special program in Destin.”
“Tessa Teaches.”
She huffed a laugh. “Something like that. I mean, she’s in second grade, not high school. I can have her back the beginning of May—and I will. Then we can…” She swallowed.
“Face Maggie?” he guessed.
“Take that test.”
His eyes closed on a grunt. They both hated that the school wanted to test Nolie to see if she could move up to the next grade level. They didn’t do that for very many kids, only those with learning disabilities and stubborn parents. If she failed, she could not move up—the decision was taken out of their hands.
“But if Tessa teaches her some techniques and skills and shortcuts for reading and seeing letters differently?” Crista shrugged. “Maybe she’d pass the test.”
He considered that, turning to look out the window as he thought. “I can’t leave work for that long,” he said. “We have a new product rollout in two weeks.”
“I know, but I’ll take her. Maybe you can come down for a little bit after the rollout.”
He sighed. “I guess it wouldn’t hurt us to, um…have a chance to breathe.”
The words cracked her heart, and she pressed on his hand. “You don’t think that might make things worse?”
He looked at her for a long time, not bothering to argue that things were bad right now. The chasm between them grew bigger every day. A month away might break them completely…or bring them closer when she got back.
“I think this is the right thing to do,” he said.
“So do I.”
“And you swear you are capable of lying to your mother?” He lifted his brows. “Because when she’s not happy, no one’s happy.”
“I’m not lying,” Crista said. “I’m just not telling. And neither are you.”
“But Nolie will. She tells Maggie everything.”
Crista grimaced. “Oh, I hadn’t thought of that. I certainly don’t want her to lie, but…”
“Look, if Tessa can really help her, then Maggie will be okay with it. I mean, the sun rises and sets on that kid in Maggie’s eyes. She’ll be fine.”
Crista wasn’t so sure of that, but she just felt like this was the right thing to do. Maggie’s ire was…a future problem.
“I think we can cross the Maggie bridge when we get to it,” she said.
“Agreed.” He smiled. “I’m on board if you are, Cris.”
She closed her eyes, shocked at how relieved she was. “I’ll go tell Nolie. I want to go to her school, and then take her to dance and tell Miss Penny she’s going to miss the recital. We can leave in a day or two.”
“Whoa.” He held up both hands. “That’s going to be a problem.”
“No, I’ll talk to Miss Penny?—”
“What about Miss Penny?” Nolie stood in the kitchen, a Barbie in one hand and Aunt Pittypat—wearing a pink doll’s dress—in the other arm.
Crista and Anthony shared a look and he gave a silent nod, as if to take the lead.
“Honey, I have very exciting news.”
“What?” Her face lit up as she came closer. “I don’t have to read?”
“We’re going on a trip, just you and me,” Crista said. “To the beach in Florida! To a great big, beautiful beach house. Your cousin Lacey will be there and Aunt Vivien and Uncle Eli.”
“Really? Can I swim in the ocean?”
“It’s the Gulf, but yes, of course. And we’re going to stay for a month!”
Her little jaw dropped, but then her eyes grew wide. “I’ll miss my recital.”
“Oh, honey, I promise you’ll have such a great time at the beach, and this is the only time we can go, so…”
“Can I bring the costume dress?” She got on her tiptoes as if she might break into a pirouette right then and there.
“Hundred percent,” Crista assured her.
She nodded slowly as if her little mind was clicking through all possible caveats to this new plan. “And what about Aunt Pittypat?”
Oh. The dog! She turned to Anthony, realizing they’d forgotten that six-pound detail.
“I can’t take her to the office,” Anthony said, then winked at Nolie. “Especially dressed like that.”
Nolie giggled, and snuggled her closer. “Can we bring her, Mommy?”
Holy cow, Crista was pushing her luck with Eli and Vivien. But the dog was so small, and her problems were big. “Absolutely.”
“Did you hear, Pitty?” Nolie pressed her face into Aunt Pittypat’s snout, spinning with joy. “We’re going to the beach!”
Anthony surprised her by putting an arm around Crista’s shoulders and pulling her closer. “That’s the happiest I’ve seen her in ages,” he murmured.
She agreed, looking up at him, still regretting that they’d miss being together during the weeks without Maggie. “Please come.”
“I’ll work on it,” he assured her, leaning in to give her a real kiss this time, light and on the lips.
The first kiss in a long time, and it gave her hope.