A Good Yarn (Blossom Street #2)

A Good Yarn (Blossom Street #2) Page 14

“Mom,” Aurora cried in a panic, rushing into the spotless living room where Elise was reading to her grandsons. “Where did you put the vanilla?”

Sighing, Elise set aside The Hobbit. “It’s in the cupboard next to the stove, right-hand side.”

“It isn’t there!” More panic.

“Aurora,” Elise said with infinite patience as she made her way into the kitchen. “It’s exactly where I said it was. Look again.” To prove her point, she opened the cupboard, extracted the small bottle of vanilla and handed it to her daughter. “What are you baking?”

“Carrot cake—it’s Dad’s favorite.”

Elise had baked it for Maverick years ago and passed the recipe on to Aurora. As a matter of course, she no longer baked or ate carrot cake because—well, because of the memories. He’d always been so grateful, so loving afterward. Those were the times she most yearned to forget. Over the years, she’d clung to the disappointments and the worry because that made it easier to justify the divorce. But Elise had loved that man, loved him until she was sure she’d lose her mind if she stayed married to him.

“Thanks, Mom,” Aurora said, and held her gaze a moment longer than necessary. Sighing, she added, “I know this is difficult for you.”

“Don’t worry,” Elise said. “I’ll stay out of your father’s way as much as possible. All I ask is that you not try to drag me into this reunion.” The next few weeks would be uncomfortable, but she suspected he’d be just as eager to avoid her.

“I won’t, I promise.”

“Thank you.” With that Elise returned to the living room where Luke and John were wrestling on the newly vacuumed carpet. They’d already knocked over a stack of magazines, which she quickly righted. “Boys, boys,” she cried, clapping her hands. “Settle down.” Her grandsons reluctantly obeyed. John climbed into her lap and settled in the crook of her arm as she reached for the book. At six he wouldn’t do this much longer, and she treasured these special moments.

Predictably, Maverick arrived an hour late with all the fanfare of Hannibal crossing the Alps. Voice booming “Hello,” he came through the front door pulling his suitcase, arms laden with gifts. Luke and John were instantly at his side screeching and leaping up and down, seeking his attention and, of course, the gifts.

It’d been…twenty years since Elise had last seen him. He’d planned to attend Aurora and David’s wedding, but his flight was cancelled because of a winter storm. Elise had always wondered if it was the blizzard or a poker game that had changed his plans. Both Luke and John were born in the middle of important poker tournaments; he’d sent huge floral arrangements at their births, as if that would make up for his absence.

Elise had intended to retreat to her room when he arrived, but she found herself rooted to the spot, unable to look away. Maverick’s red hair was shockingly white now. He had a well-trimmed beard, also white. He’d maintained every inch of his six-foot frame and seemed to be in good health. Elise faltered, resisting the magnetic pull she’d always experienced whenever he was close. She’d learned in the most painful manner that Maverick was not to be trusted, least of all with her heart. Yes, she’d loved this man, perhaps still loved him, but he was wrong for her. That was an undeniable, irrevocable fact, one she didn’t dare ignore.

The next minute, Maverick was hugging both boys and Aurora. He made a production of doling out his gifts, as if it were Christmas morning and he was Santa. The boys dropped to the floor and tore into their packages, while Aurora carried her smaller box into the living room. She sat sideways in the recliner and opened the lid. Elise admitted to being curious, so she lingered in the hallway.

“Oh, Daddy,” Aurora said in a soft voice. Elise watched as her daughter lifted out a single teardrop-shaped black pearl on a long gold chain. “It’s beautiful…just beautiful.” Her voice caught, and looking up at her father with adoration, Aurora whispered, “I’ll treasure it always.”

This was better than any jewelry he’d ever given Elise. Not that it mattered. Seeing how generous he was now, she could tell that Maverick was on a winning streak. Easy come, easy go. And it went with surprising ease, as Elise remembered all too well.

Against her will, she found her gaze drawn to his. Neither spoke for the longest moment. She felt an odd sensation as they stared into each other’s eyes—as if the years had disappeared and they were young again. In his she read such regret that she stepped involuntarily toward him. So time had brought disappointments to him as well as her…. It wasn’t something she’d expected to see.

Maverick broke the silence first. “Hello, Elise,” he said quietly.

She inclined her head toward him, refusing to let him mesmerize her so soon after his arrival. “Marvin.”

He grimaced. “Maverick, please.”

“Maverick, then.” She knew he hated his given name although she’d never understood why. She’d married Marvin, loved Marvin, but he’d never been content to be that man. Instead, he’d sought out glamour and glitz and the instant gratification of a gambling win, and in the process destroyed their lives together.

“I would’ve brought you a gift, but I didn’t think you’d accept one from me.”

“I appreciate the thought, but you’re right. A gift wouldn’t have been appropriate.” That was true, although she couldn’t help wondering what he would have chosen for her.

“You look good,” he said as his gaze slid up and down her trim body.

Despite herself, Elise raised her hand to her hair, as if to check that it was still in place. His compliment flustered her, but she managed to regroup enough to say, “You too.”

“Grandpa, Grandpa, want to see where you’re going to sleep?” Luke asked, tugging at Maverick’s arm.

“I sure do,” he said, suddenly turning away from Elise. He lifted John into his arms as Luke raced ahead, and the three of them moved down the hallway.

“This is our room,” Luke said, opening the first door on the right.

“And that’s Grandma’s room.” John pointed to Elise’s, which was almost directly across from it.

“And that’s the bathroom for the boys.” Luke hurried over to the third doorway.

“Grandma has her own bathroom, and we’re not supposed to use it no matter how bad we have to go,” John explained. “Mom said.”

Maverick chuckled.

“Grandpa, Grandpa, you know that dangling thing in the back of your throat? Did you know if you pull on it you barf?”

“John Peter Tully, what a thing to say,” Elise chastised, but stopped when Maverick threw back his head and bellowed with laughter. Leave it to a man to find the topic of vomit amusing.

“You get to sleep on the bottom bunk, and Luke and me are gonna share the other one,” John explained and dove onto the mattress. “Mom changed the sheets.”

“That’s ’cause John still wets the bed.”

“Do not,” John screamed, leaping off the bed and swinging wildly at his older brother.

Elise started to move into the room to break up the fight, but Maverick quickly took control, pulling the boys apart. He immediately got them involved in showing him the rest of the house. Seeing that she wasn’t needed, Elise retreated to the security of her own bedroom.

Forty-five minutes later, she sat with her feet up, watching television and knitting. Her mind wasn’t on the news, but on her family; she felt irritated that she’d allowed Maverick to isolate her from those she loved most.

Someone knocked politely at her door and Aurora stuck her head inside. “I hoped you’d join us for dinner,” she said with a pleading look. “David made a point of being home early tonight, and it would mean a great deal to me.”

Elise would rather avoid this “welcome” dinner, but there was little she could refuse her daughter, who’d been so wonderful to her throughout this legal mess. “All right.”

“Thank you.” Gratitude glistened in Aurora’s eyes.

To the best of Elise’s memory, this was the first time Aurora had shared a meal with both parents at the same table. That was a sad commentary and, for her daughter’s sake, Elise wished her marriage had ended differently. She didn’t consider herself an emotional woman, but she found Aurora’s happiness at something so simple poignant enough to bring her to tears.

When Elise finally entered the dining room, David had arrived home from the office and was pouring wine for the adults. Elise had a good relationship with David; as far as she was concerned, he was a model husband. She would be forever grateful that Aurora, unlike her, had had the sense to marry a decent, reliable man who actually worked at a real job.

Aurora was still bustling about the kitchen and Elise joined her. While David and Maverick chatted, drinking their wine, the women carried the salad, sliced roast, mashed potatoes and gravy to the table.

“It’s a feast,” Luke announced grandly.

“Just like Thanksgiving, except without the turkey,” redheaded John added, dragging his chair closer to the table. “I get to sit next to Grandpa.”

“Me too,” Luke insisted, and it seemed the boys were on the verge of breaking into another fight. Once more Maverick smoothly ended the conflict by promising to sit between them.

Despite Elise’s worries, dinner was a pleasant affair. Maverick entertained them with tales of his travels. He’d been all over the world, from Alaska to Argentina, from Paris to Polynesia, touring the places Elise had only read about in books. One day she’d see them, too, she told herself, but the likelihood of that dimmed with every message from her attorney.

Before dessert was served, Elise arranged the dishes in the dishwasher and made the coffee. As soon as she could, she’d return to her room and her knitting. Knowing Aurora would want to spend time with her father and husband, she carried the coffeepot to the living room, where the others lingered.

“Come on, boys,” she said to her grandsons. “I’ll help you get ready for bed.”

This elicited the usual whines and groans.

Elise had expected that. “I’ll read you another chapter from The Hobbit.”

The whines dwindled somewhat.

“Let me read to them, Elise,” Maverick offered.

Elise was perfectly happy to let him assume the task but felt she should warn him. Once she started reading, it was difficult to stop. The boys wanted to hear more and more. They always bombarded her with “Another chapter, Grandma,” or “Please, just to the end of the page.” They begged and pleaded, and she could never say no. It was sometimes a full hour before she turned off the lights. Still, she took satisfaction in knowing that her grandsons had learned to associate reading with pleasure and hoped that books would remain as important to them as they’d always been to her.

“Elise?” Maverick asked again.

“By all means.” She left the small party and hurried to her room. With one ear on the television and the other focused on the room across the hall, she waited for the sure-to-follow battle, grinning wickedly to herself. Maverick was learning a valuable lesson about being a grandparent.