Coming Home to Love (Lakeside Porch Series Book 2) (30 page)

“Those are radical ideas for an economist.”

Lyssa nodded and took another long pull on the blue bottle. “He was happy to work at a college that emphasized values. He could have been rich, I guess, but he didn’t care so much about that.”

“What about you?”

“It’s funny you should ask. I thought I cared more about money than anything else, but every time Manda and I talked, which wasn’t very often, I knew I cared more about her than anything else in the world. And when I screwed up with her, in front of you and Gianessa, it’s like everything came crashing down. In detox, and after, in treatment, I started to clear up. Like wake up and smell the coffee.”

She turned to see if he was still listening, and he nodded.

“I realized finally that my committee wanted me to fail because I was so high-maintenance. I thought Manda would never want to see me again. I knew for sure our parents were never coming back. And I couldn’t stand what I had become. I’ll never be my father, except I’m a drunk like him, and I’ve got a Ph.D. in economics like him.”

Ah, to be so self-aware at twenty-five
. It had taken him another twenty-one years. “And what do you care about now, Lyssa?”

“I care about making it up to Manda and Joel.” She stole a look at Justin. “And you and everyone else I’ve smashed along the way. It’s overwhelming to think about how many people I used and ticked off and abandoned in the last eight years.”

“That’s how long you drank?”

“And did pot. Yes.” She uncrossed her legs and rested her elbows on her knees.

Justin offered some reassurance. “I think you’ll be all right if you stick close to your meetings and let your sponsor guide you.”

Lyssa let out a sob and tried to bite it back.

He squeezed her shoulder and told her, “You know your sister is the queen of crying jags.”

She laughed and rubbed the back of her hand against her nose.

He handed her a clean handkerchief.

“Thank you.”

He sat quietly while she cleaned up her face and composed herself.

She gave one final snuffle. “It’s beautiful here.”

“Yes, it is.”

“I’d like to live someplace like this.”

“In a mansion?” Justin teased.

“No.” Lyssa laughed. “In a college town on a lake.”

“Would you teach?”

“Honestly, I’d like to, but mostly what I want to teach is personal money management and financial literacy. I get the theories, and I’m qualified to teach much more and at a higher level, but . . .”

“Go on, I’m really interested. You’ve lost your accent, by the way.”

“Really?

“Really, no more Texas twang. It’s easier to talk to you this way.”

“Well, I’m glad then.”

“So you know theory but . . .”

“Oh yeah. Manda and I had to make it on our own after our parents died. I mean, it turned out there was an inheritance, a really decent one, but neither of us knew about that until Joel made inquiries last summer. So we both had to find ways to finance college, and, for me, a doctorate, and earn money to live on, and all that. If our Dad hadn’t taught us how to do that, we’d probably be flipping burgers now. Nothing against flipping burgers, but it wasn’t what we saw ourselves doing with our lives. We both finished our degrees debt free, which is really unusual, and it gives us a head start. So many people I know have huge loans and credit card debt.”

“You could blow your advantage pretty quickly if you got heavier into drugs.”

Lyssa lowered her head. “Yeah, you’re right, and I need to work my program to stay out of that hell. And I don’t mean to short-change that, but what I started to say was I think it’s important for college students to get savvy about their finances right away, regardless of how much money they want to make or what career path or what major or any of that.”

Justin smacked his hands on his thighs. “Now I’m hearing your passion.”

Lyssa turned a worried face to him.

He praised her. “That’s good. Passion will see you through many rough patches and set backs in your career. And
your
passion is timely and important. Financial literacy is essential. Dr. Lyssa Doughty, I challenge you to use your first-hand knowledge and your degree, fired by your passion, to build a satisfying career.”

Lyssa looked hard at him and seemed to satisfy herself about his sincerity. She sat tall and said decisively, “Okay then. I will. Can I teach it? In a college?”

“If you’re any kind of a teacher, you can teach it to high school, college, recent grads, full-blown adults, retirees, widows, anyone who will listen and maybe some people who won’t. Is there a college teaching job in it? It depends on the college. At Tompkins College we’re working hard to revitalize the curriculum, and it will contain all kinds of literacy, including financial. Watch the web for jobs at the schools you’re interested in, do research on those schools, do your networking, and, most important, work your AA program every day.”

“Thank you. I owe you.” She took in a deep breath and blew it out forcefully.

He wagged his finger. “First you owe Manda and Joel and Gianessa. You make things right with them, you’ll have paid your debt to me.”

Lyssa held out a slender white hand that trembled only a little. From nervousness this time, he thought. He remembered how it shook from her disease when she snuck a toke on the canal path.

“Deal,” she said.

“Deal.” Justin clasped her hand and was pleased with her firm, professional handshake.

“I’ll go back to the reception and see if I can be useful.” She stood up and collected her shoes. “Are you coming, too?”

“I think I’ll enjoy the view a few more minutes.”

He sat on their bench and watched the little birds they’d disturbed. They fussed with some berries, twittered when half a dozen of their species flew in to join them, and eventually moved on with the group. At a loss for another distraction, he stood up, stretched, and welcomed the chirping of his phone.

“Joel and I are getting ready to vanish,” Manda told him. “You’re too late to catch the garter, but Joel wants to say goodbye and thank you.”

“On my way.”

Sara helped Gianessa out of her linen dress and hung it carefully on a hanger.

“I don’t ever want to wear it again. Lyssa guessed I was pregnant. I’m not even five months.”

“Don’t worry about it for now, Gianessa. Just rest. How’s the baby?”

“I wish she’d start moving.”

“Are you worried?”

“No, just wanting to know she’s there and we’re in it together.”

Sara stroked her arm. “Do you know for sure it’s a girl?”

Gianessa shook her head and lay back on her bed. “Just a hunch and a wish.” She smiled with her hand on her belly. “I still need to tell Pop and Ariella.”

“Who’s Ariella?”

“My aunt, Pop’s twin sister. She came from Italy to raise me with Pop after my mother divorced him.”

“Why did she divorce him?”

“He wanted a wife, she wanted a career. They had grown apart, and once I started walking and talking that was it. She didn’t want to be a mother.”

“So why did she get pregnant?”

“A moment of passion, I guess.”
Like me and Justin?
“They were passionate people.”

“Suppose it’s a boy?”

Gianessa patted her belly. “Maybe it is.”

“You could name him Justin.”

“I’ll name him after Pop.”

“Pop’s a really bad name for a boy.” Sara giggled and Gianessa joined in.

“My father was Gianni, short for Giovanni.”

“That’s how you got your name.”

Gianessa nodded. “Gianni, and my mother was Vanessa. So, Gianessa was my name.”

“Gianni means John, right? You could call him John. Keep with the Cushman tradition of men’s names starting with J.”

Gianessa gave her a sly look. “You really want it to be a boy, don’t you? Why?”

“I think the baby needs a father, and you’d be more open to Justin parenting with you if it’s a boy.”

Gianessa covered her eyes with the back of her hand. She smiled. “How did you get so smart?”

One of their phones rang.

“I don’t want to talk to anyone. Except I’ll call Pop later.”

“That’s my phone anyway. You rest. Do you need anything before I go back to the reception?”

“I’m good for a while. Thanks for bringing me home. You’re the best, roomie.”

“Syd, I’ve destroyed my life, do you hear? I’ve utterly destroyed my relationship with Gianessa.”

“My dear, I hope that’s not the case,” Sydney said. Her brow furrowed. “This baby needs a father, and I want you to make it right with her.” She sank down on the sofa in her plush living room in midtown Manhattan and tucked her legs under her. “Talk to me. Tell me what she said and did that makes you think it’s beyond repair. Where are you? You’re not at a bar, are you?”

“I’m standing at the French doors to Joel’s porch, debating if I should stay in the cool of the air conditioning or go out in the warm night air and feel the breeze off the lake.”

“Go outside and get comfortable somewhere.”

“Why?”

“Do it, Justin.”

She heard him grumble, heard the squeak of the hinges as the door swung open and shut again. A
whoosh
told her he’d settled into a cushioned chair, and she thought the two
thunks
might be his feet coming to rest on a railing or a stool.

“Are you comfortable?”

“You’re right, it’s much better out here. Thank you.”

Sydney chuckled. “You see, you’re able to say things like ‘I’m sorry’ and ‘You’re right’ and ‘Thank you.’ That’s all new. There’s hope for you, Justin.”

“But I’m still such an ass, Syd.”

“Stop moaning. Tell me everything she did and said when you talked to her.”

When Justin had recounted the entire two-and-a-half-minute conversation on the dance floor, he sighed. She expected him to say more, but he just sighed again.

“I counted at least one ‘I love you’ in her side of the conversation.”

“Yes.”

“And about half a dozen ‘just now” and ‘right now’ and so on. Didn’t you hear that? Don’t you see that she loves you and just isn’t ready to take you back?”

“But she’ll never forgive me for the horrible, despicable things I said, Syd. Why would she?”

“If and when she does, it will be because she loves you and wants to work things out with you. And she’ll tell you what that means, and you’ll either hold up your end of the bargain or be out on your ass.”

Silence. She let him think about it.

“So, you think there might be hope.”

“Might be,” Sydney said. “And you can’t rush it. It’s her timetable.”

“What can I do?”

“Give her time and give her incentive.”

His voice brightened. “What kind of incentive?”

“Well, didn’t you say you’d received a request from her lawyer?”

“Yes. She asked for support, as she should. For the baby and for herself while she builds her career.”

“And have those requests been attended to?”

“Mostly. My attorney is waiting for me to give the go-ahead. Now that I’ve spoken with Gianessa, I suppose I should do that.”

“And what exactly are you directing him to do?”

“Well, provide generous child support, of course.”

“And her request for support while she gets her career on track?”

“He said to ignore that.”

Sydney sprang to her feet and let out a howl of disgust. “Who is this idiot? And why are you listening to him? He sounds like a divorce lawyer. You’re trying to woo this woman back, not alienate her for life.”

“He handles familial disputes of all kinds.”

“He’s a glorified divorce lawyer. Justin, dummy, listen to me. You’re trying to give her incentive to give you a second chance.

“Syd, we already know Gianessa won’t be bought.”

“I get that, Justin, but there are other ways to use your money as incentive.”

“Like?”

“First, triple whatever figure he has for child support. Do you hear me?”

“All right. I will. Why?”

Syd breathed through her teeth. “Because you are this child’s father and you want Gianessa to know this child means the world to you and you want it to have every advantage you can offer. You do, don’t you?”

“Of course, I do. I’m starting to get what you’re saying. Now what about financial support for her personally as she establishes herself professionally? How do I frame it so she knows what’s in my heart?”

“Justin, this is the love of your life you’re talking about. She is precious beyond measure. Think. Big.”

“Yes, but she can’t be bought. She’s apt to turn it down, and I don’t want her to do that. How do I get her to take whatever I offer?”

Syd paced the living room. “Okay, think of it this way. This is your one chance to provide for her the way she should be provided for, if the two of you must live separate lives. If you were making out a will, what would you want to guarantee her, personally, for the rest of her life?”