A Forever Love (10 page)

“Now you’re calling my girl a liar?”

Justin turned back. “No sir, I’m merely telling you that she left out an inconvenient truth.”

Justin walked out of the workshop and into the sun. Into the light. Into a breeze that cooled his brow but did nothing for the anger in his soul.

Aubrey zipped down the hall, hopeful that she might escape another appearance at the Tyler-Kessler wedding-menu tasting. In the main dining room, they now tasted cake and Cassidy kept the peace between the mothers, or to be honest, Cassidy helped keep the groom’s mother happy. Mrs. Kessler, with her tight lips and sharp tongue, was a woman accustomed to being obeyed. Aubrey did her very best to respond to Mrs. Kessler’s multitude of complaints with a gentle smile. She wasn’t paying one cent for the wedding, and yet she had the gall to demand New York strip instead of filet, brussels sprouts instead of potatoes, and baby carrots instead of corn. The bride’s mother was lovely and charming and found a way to appease her soon-to-be-son-in-law’s mother. Every compromise was made for that irritable woman. It was exhausting. Now the bride and the groom were trying to pick out their cake with input from both mothers.

Poor kids. Much easier if they got to make choices regarding the wedding by themselves and then the parents came in once everything was selected. But in this instance, as in most of life, the person who paid the piper called the tune. The bride’s mother was being especially magnanimous to even allow Mrs. Kessler to join the menu and cake selection, as the bride’s family was paying for the entire wedding.

“Excuse me, Miss Hayes?”

Aubrey turned. Mrs. Kessler stood before her. The woman was a study in angles. A sharp-cut bob, a well-tailored gray suit with narrow heels, a sharp nose and jaw. Her makeup was stark against her pale skin. Had she been a teacher or principal? The bride-to-be had told Aubrey once what her future mother-in-law’s career was before she retired.

“Mrs. Kessler.” Aubrey put her professional smile in place. “How can I be helpful?”

Mrs. Kessler’s pursed lips did not move to smile in greeting, nor did her sharp brown eyes show any hint of joy with regards to the upcoming nuptials of her son and his beloved bride. “Miss Hayes, my husband and I have grave reservations about Chellsie’s venue choice. I wonder if I might speak to you about some changes we’d like to see.”

Aubrey swallowed and maintained her smile. Oh. My. This was a tricky position. Mrs. Kessler and her husband were not paying one red cent for this wedding or this venue or the menu or the cake or any other part of the wedding or reception, and yet here stood the groom’s mother, prepared to make demands.

“Certainly, Mrs. Kessler. Let me get Gloria, Chellsie’s mother. I’m certain she’d like to be a part of this conversation—”

“No need.” Mrs. Kessler waved her hand, dismissing the idea that Gloria should be made aware of her complaints. “Our concerns are with the extravagance of this wedding. We, my husband and I—” Mrs. Kessler raised an eyebrow. “My son would be concerned as well if not under the sway of his betrothed.” Her gaze rolled toward the ceiling as though summoning the patience to maintain her sainthood. When her gaze returned to meet Aubrey’s, her lips were in a tight little pucker. “We are indeed a very frugal family. And it is by choice, Miss Hayes, not by necessity. As such, I’m quite uncomfortable with the prices and extravagances of Rockwater Farms.”

“I see.” Aubrey maintained her smile. She would not be drawn in to Mrs. Kessler’s battle, a battle that Aubrey felt certain had more to do with her son’s soon-to-be wedding and not the extravagance of Rockwater Farms.

“My son seems to be quite taken with the idea of throwing money away after this girl. A thousand dollars here, a thousand dollars there, fifty thousand dollars for a wedding reception.” Mrs. Kessler’s nostrils flared at the abject horror of what she thought was the price. Which it wasn’t. Not even a third of what the Tylers were paying for their daughter to marry Mrs. Kessler’s son.

“Do you know how much student-loan debt a surgical resident carries?” Mrs. Kessler asked.

“Indeed, I do not,” Aubrey said. Although she did know from Chellsie that not only would Brian not be carrying that debt once the wedding took place, but he would be a homeowner as well. The Tylers were very proud of their daughter and soon-to-be son-in-law and wanted them started off well.

“A pretty penny,” Mrs. Kessler said. “And now this?” She waved her hands around the hallway of Rockwater Farms. “This horrendous extravagance they’re calling a wedding? How can these children possibly afford all this?”

Aubrey maintained her smile. Oh dear, did the woman honestly believe that Brian and Chellsie were paying for the entire wedding? Aubrey was not about to step into the middle of those family politics. This was between the bride, the groom, and their respective parents.

“Mrs. Kessler, what would you like me to do?”

“You can tell them no.”

“No?”

“Yes, tell them no, that they cannot have the wedding here at this horrendously expensive location.” She stepped forward and lowered her voice. “You should be ashamed of what you charge people. For food? And a location? I can’t believe anyone is willing to pay it.”

Aubrey took a deep breath and repositioned her smile. There was no win here; however, she could, very discreetly, mention to Chellsie’s mother part, if not all, of this conversation with Mrs. Kessler.

“Mrs. Kessler, I’m sorry that you feel that way; however, the location has been booked for nearly a year, and if Brian and Chellsie should wish to move the wedding, then I’d need to speak to them.”

“Really? How absolutely impertinent of you. I’m Brian’s mother, and I am telling you that they cannot have this wedding.” She took a deep breath and her eyes flitted about the hall. And then almost as an afterthought— “
Here
. They cannot have the wedding
here
.”

“I do understand, Mrs. Kessler, I certainly do. And please, if Brian and Chellsie would like to discuss a change of venue, have them ring me as I’m happy to help them any way I can. It’s my primary goal, as I’m sure it is yours, that Brian and Chellsie enjoy and cherish their special day.”

Mrs. Kessler sucked in her cheeks, and again her nostrils flared. Aubrey’s words appeared to be most unacceptable to the woman.

“Would you like to rejoin them for cake?”

“At ten dollars a slice?”

Aubrey fought the urge to giggle. Poor Mrs. Kessler, the change she was about to face seemed nearly too much for her to bear. Chellsie’s parents were being very generous with regards to their daughter, but they were very successful. A wedding at Rockwater Farms was expensive, but Chellsie and her mother had been planning the event for well over a year. With one last huff of air, Mrs. Kessler turned on her heel and marched toward the main dining room.

“What was that about?” Nina walked from the kitchen, wiping her hands on a towel.

“Seems Mrs. Kessler is having some difficulty with the idea of her son getting married.”

“Mrs. Kessler has difficulty with everything all the time,” Nina whispered. “That woman is sour. Always looks like she’s been sucking on limes.”

“Stop.” The giggle she’d held back while speaking with Mrs. Kessler slipped from her mouth. Thank goodness for Nina. Aubrey always had someone to talk to, a person she could trust not to repeat what she said. In a small town, having a sister who understood the words
discretion
and
secret
was pure gold. “Bob needs to talk to you about sweet butter grass.”

Nina nodded. “And Dad needs to talk to you … about I don’t know what. He just called on the landline.”

Aubrey’s brows furrowed. “Dad?”

Dad never called during the day. On occasion he might swing by the kitchen to drop off a new wood project or if he knew that Nina was preparing fresh ravioli for the evening service, because Nina’s fresh ravioli was Dad’s absolute favorite.

“Is he okay?”

“He sounded … irritable.”

“Dad always sounds irritable.” Aubrey continued toward her office door. There were checks to cut and invoices to send, orders and payroll to complete.

“You need to go talk to him.”

The somber tone in Nina’s voice stopped Aubrey. She turned toward her sister. “Talk to him? Now?”

A deep breath and a sigh passed over Nina’s lips. “He ran into Justin in the woods. I think they … spoke.”

Her stomach plummeted. What had Justin told Dad? What did Dad say to Justin? This couldn’t be good. If Dad had called and demanded to talk to her now, this wasn’t good at all. This was nearly as bad as Justin arriving at Rockwater Farms unannounced.

Aubrey pulled her bottom lip between her teeth. Dealing with Dad and Justin and the whole damned mess took too much time and energy. She looked out the giant windows that lined the hallway. Parked outside and through a tiny canopy of trees, on the private white-gravel driveway to the Rockwater Suite, was the black Range Rover that Aubrey assumed was Justin’s rental.

“Fine.” Aubrey sighed and turned to her right. “He’s in his shop?”

Nina nodded. “Good luck.”

Great last words from her sister. Aubrey walked through the kitchen and out the back door into the sauna of summer. A bright blue sky and heat and sun had burned away any morning coolness, and now it was just plain hot and humid. She hiked up the trail and past the house to the woodshop. She heard a saw buzzing inside Dad’s shop, pulled open the door, and stepped into a room that was a bit cooler. Dad sometimes flipped on the air in the middle of the day, although he wouldn’t admit to such an extravagance. When they were kids, there’d been no air-conditioning in the farmhouse or the woodshop. When Nina and then she moved back into the farmhouse, they’d installed central air and taken over the thermostat. Dad finally surrendered to the luxury of air-conditioning in his shop.

He slid a chain saw through a big branch that still contained leaves and bark. She didn’t yell over the noise—he’d never hear her through the wall of sound. His cut was nearly finished. He stopped the saw and looked over to the spot just inside the doorway where she stood. He turned off the chain saw, and she approached his workbench, as he pulled up his safety goggles. In the far corner of the shop was a new stack of wood. He’d been searching for timber that “spoke” to him. Dad said the wood
told
him what it wanted to be, and then he used his feeble skills to try to make the wood into its own request.

There was no smile on his face, but that wasn’t unusual. Dad hardly ever smiled. The line of his lips seemed particularly hard and judgmental. His eyes raked over her. He set his goggles on the table and then sat on his workshop stool. He took a breath and his nostrils flared.

Oh. No.

She knew that look from her childhood. A spanking or being grounded followed that look after Dad’s litany of whatever misdeeds Aubrey was guilty of.

“Dad? Nina said you needed to see me.”

Ten years old. Suddenly she was a ten-year-old little girl who’d angered her father. She pressed her fingertips to the smooth top of the worktable. He couldn’t spank her now and he couldn’t take anything away from her, so why did she feel so small when he cast that disapproving look her way?

He folded his hands together and stared into her eyes. Anger flashed, followed by disappointment. “Met Max’s dad in the woods today.”

Aubrey raised one eyebrow. “He’s here. Arrived unannounced last night. I didn’t know he was coming from New York.”

“Seems everyone been getting some surprises.” Dad pulled out his red bandana from his pocket and brushed it over his forehead. Tiny bits of wood dust came off with his sweat, and he stuffed the rag back into his jeans pocket. “Aubrey Lynn Hayes, how in the hell did you never tell that man about his boy?”

Aubrey’s chest tightened. Her lips set into a firm line. “Dad, this is a very personal matter, and I’m a grown woman. I don’t think—”

“You didn’t think. You’re absolutely right there; you didn’t think. And not only did you not think, but you lied to your family.”

“I never lied.”

“You lied.”

“I never told you that Justin didn’t want Max.”

“You lied by omission. Girl, you are one smart lady. You been out East. You graduated from them Ivies. I was there. You worked in New York, you chose to come back here, and you chose not to talk to me or your sister or even your mother about Justin Travati. What the hell did you think we’d assume? Did you think we’d assume that a smart woman like you, an independent businesswoman such as yourself, would scurry away in the night without having the fortitude, the sense of character, to actually tell the man that fathered that boy that he had a child coming into this world?”

“This is really my issue, Dad.”

“Your issue? The minute you came back to my farm, this became my problem. And let me make one thing clear: you still have my last name, and whether you think that binds us together or not, I do, because that name plus you and your sister are what I’ve got in this life. What you do reflects on me. I don’t care how old you think you are or how independent. That last name was given to you by me. And a person’s last name means something. You took that away from Max. You took his last name and his father and his opportunity to know half of his family. An entire side of his
family.
And for what, Aubrey Lynn? Why? What in the hell did you think you were doing?”

Aubrey’s knees wobbled, and she sank to the highboy chair beside the workbench. What had she thought? “Dad.” She took a deep breath. “At the time, this decision seemed like the only decision to make.”

Dad’s eyes softened. His voice was gentler, lower. “And I can understand that. I can. Coming home in the family way and unmarried. I’m not a woman, but I can imagine how hard that must have been. And to a small town like Hudson? After you made a run in the big city? And you did good. You and Nina have done better than good, especially with Rockwater Farms and seeing the future of farm-to-table and making this whole damn thing work when all anyone ever did was laugh at your ideas.” Dad reached out and grasped Aubrey’s hand. The calluses on his palm were rough against her fingers. “But Aubrey, it’s been nearly fifteen years. You’ve had fifteen years to tell this man about his son, to tell your son about his father. It’s too long. It’s not right.”