Long Way Home (12 page)

“It’s not like you came to any games,” Alexis pointed out.

“Only because you didn’t want us to,” Tilly protested. “Dad couldn’t have because of his work schedule, but I could have arranged it with Morris.”

Alexis didn’t remember telling her mother not to come to games, but it certainly sounded like the kind of thing she’d have said. In her defense, she was a teenager. She didn’t even like soccer all that much, but it was an excuse to be out of the house. Most of her after-school activities were motivated by a desire to avoid being at home. She’d never felt like she could be herself there; someone was always on hand to criticize her books or make her feel different from the rest of the family. Home for Alexis had never been the haven that it was meant to be.

Tilly turned up the Christmas classics while she read through the cake recipe.

“What would you like me to do?” asked Alexis.

“Let me see what’s easy,” she replied, scanning the recipe.

Alexis sighed. Deliberate or not, she was tired of the condescension. “I can do any of it, Mom. It won’t be the first cake I’ve made.”

Tilly raised an eyebrow. This was news to her. “Terrific. You can do the whisking for me.”

She handed a mixing bowl and a whisk to Alexis before moving to the cupboard for ingredients.

“So how did you learn to bake?” Tilly asked.

“Someone taught me.”

“Someone? You mean like those chefs that come to your house? I saw that on TV once. One of The Real Housewives, I think. I didn’t recognize the names of half the ingredients she used. I mean, what’s the big deal with gluten?”

“Moira, my mother-in-law,” Alexis interjected. “That’s who taught me.”

Tilly stopped, her hand hovering mid-air, clutching a box of flour. Alexis knew this news would rattle her mother, but she felt the need to tell her anyway. Tilly placed the flour on the counter, her eyes burning a whole into the cardboard. She was afraid that if she looked at her daughter’s face, she’d crumble.

“And when exactly did you acquire a mother-in-law?” Tilly asked calmly.

“Six and a half years ago.”

“If you’re married, why aren’t you wearing a ring?” Tilly glanced at her naked finger. “And more to the point, where’s your husband?”

Alexis felt her entire body tense up. “It’s not something I’m ready to discuss.”

Try as she might, Tilly couldn’t bear the betrayal. It was bad enough that Alexis had shut them out over the years, but to marry someone and not even have the decency to inform her own parents? What else was she hiding?

Tilly shifted the box of flour away from the edge of the counter and retreated from the room without another word. Alexis stood with the whisk still in her hand, uncertain whether to follow. Although she wasn’t ready to discuss Mark, she no longer wanted to bury all of her emotions. She needed to start some type of dialogue with her mother, however uncomfortable.

Alexis found her mother in her parents’ bedroom. Tilly sat alone on the bed holding a piece of embroidery. Alexis was struck by the appearance of the room. It hadn’t changed a bit in seventeen years. Same floral bedding, same beige blinds with matching floral curtains, same magnolia white paint. The room was neat and tidy with a place for everything and everything in its place. She seemed to have inherited something from her mother, even if it was a simple de-cluttering gene.

Alexis knocked on the half-open door. “Mom, can I talk to you?”

“I sure wish you would,” her mother replied. “Your silence has been deafening.”

“I’m sorry that I’ve hurt you. Truly.”

Tilly placed her embroidery to one side and removed her reading glasses before turning her attention to her daughter. “Tell me, Alexis. Did we abuse you?”

Alexis could already see where this was going. “No.”

“Did we neglect you?”

“Not legally.”

Tilly stiffened. “I don’t really know what that means.”

Alexis sat down beside her on the bed. She wanted to explain herself in a way that wasn’t hurtful to her mother, but she didn’t know how.

“It means you gave me food, shelter, and all the necessities I needed.”

“That sounds like a good start,” said Tilly. “It’s more than a lot of kids get. Don’t you see those commercials with the poor, starving children? They look like they’re on death’s door.”

Alexis steadied her breathing, not wanting to lose patience with her mother. This conversation was too important and too long in coming.

“So do you think you played your parental parts and I’m some ungrateful spawn who spurned you and left you in the dust?” Alexis asked.

“I wouldn’t put it quite like that.” Tilly folded her arms across her chest. “I’d like to know what we didn’t give you that you feel so strongly you should’ve had.”

“Encouragement. Acknowledgment. A real sense of family.”

Tilly bristled. “We encouraged you to do well.”

“But not too well. That’s just showing off, right? It was like you were all embarrassed to have a brainy kid in the family, but at the same time, you acted like I wasn’t capable of being anything else. So basically you put me in a box and then punished me for being there. And God forbid I had the nerve to stray from my box.”

“What’s all this talk about boxes?” her mother asked with a furrowed brow.

“I feel sorry for Owen already,” Alexis said. “He’s only four and you’re doing the same thing to him. Imagine what he’ll feel when he’s fourteen.”

“Or thirty-five?” Tilly asked.

“You made me feel like I didn’t belong, not here and certainly not as part of this family,” she admitted hotly. “What can I say? You wore me down.”

“So the MacAdams are a box-wielding bunch of degenerates who reject any family members displaying signs of brain activity. Is that your opinion?”

As Alexis expected, her mother did not grasp her daughter’s point of view.

“Not exactly…”

“Well, you’re a big shot corporate lawyer now,” Tilly shot back, her face and neck flushed with anger. “What do you care what the little folks think?”

“Stop with the big shot lawyer crap, Mom,” she spat. “I actually hate my job.”

Tilly blinked. “You do?”

“See? You’re surprised. You think a cold, heartless job suits me perfectly.” Alexis leapt off the bed in frustration. “You don’t even know me.” She trailed off, fighting back tears.

“So it’s our fault that you hate your job?” Tilly snapped. “I guess it’s our fault that you no longer seem to have a husband. Is this some kind of early mid-life crisis?”

Alexis grimaced. “I’m trying my best to explain myself to you, Mom. To share how I feel. Do you have any idea how hard this is for me?”

“Sounds like blame to me.” Tilly’s thin lips clamped together like a petulant child’s. She didn’t want to hear anymore. She was thankful her husband wasn’t around for this nonsense. Greg would’ve hit the roof.

Alexis shook her head sadly. “I don’t think you want to know. You would rather assume, the way you have always assumed things about me. You never wanted to know the real me. Why bother when you already have your own version of me, right?”

Refusing to cry in front of her mother, Alexis couldn’t escape the room fast enough. Tilly stared blankly at the empty doorway, wondering where she went wrong.

When Tilly walked into the kitchen two hours later, her eyes red with emotion and fatigue, she stopped short. On the countertop rested the completed Good Housekeeping cake. It was perfect.

Chapter Ten

Betsy had just finished up with Heather, the local dental hygienist and her last customer of the day, when Alexis entered the salon. The surprise on Betsy’s face didn’t go unnoticed.

Alexis sat down in the small waiting area and admired the tasteful interior. Not trashy with loud music. More of an oasis.

Heather paid in cash, which Betsy appreciated. “Thanks, Heather. Enjoy the party. You look like a million bucks.”

“That’s why I only come here,” Heather said with a girly wink.

Once Heather departed, Betsy sauntered over to the waiting area, slightly tense.

“Hi. Nice place,” said Alexis.

“Thanks. Holiday party season is a big boost. Why are you here? Lip wax?”

“My sister runs a successful salon. I thought I should check it out in person.” Alexis surveyed the creamy walls and small water feature. Different from the country style that dominated Betsy’s home, more serene.

“So?” Betsy prompted.

“It’s not what I expected,” Alexis admitted.

“Well, I’m not an apple either, you know.” Betsy placed an indignant hand on her ample hip.

“You are more pear-shaped,” Alexis said, unable to resist tormenting her sister.

Betsy narrowed her eyes and Alexis responded with a wicked smile. It was a smile Betsy remembered all too well and one she’d missed more than she cared to admit.

“So what’s it like running your own business?” asked Alexis.

Dropping her guard, Betsy plopped down on the arm of the chair. “Hard work. And the kids are hard work. And my marriage is hard work. But it’s all worth it.”

“Good for you,” Alexis said genuinely.

“Mom seemed a little upset when I talked to her earlier. Did you two have an argument or something?”

“Or something.” Alexis sighed. “I told her a bunch of things she didn’t want to hear. There may have been raised voices involved.”

“Seems to be going around.”

“I needed to get some things off my chest, just like you did,” Alexis said, finally acknowledging their mall fight.

“Well, I felt better after I got that out of my system,” Betsy said with a smirk. “How about you?”

“It’s different with Mom. She just doesn’t see my point of view and I honestly think she’s not being stubborn. I think she genuinely has a different version of events.”

“Like she has a different version of you?”

Alexis glared at her sister. “Shit Betsy, does she come to you with everything?”

“Who else does she have?”

“Well, the infamous Good Housekeeping cake is done, in any event. So you’re off the hook.” She glanced at Betsy and noticed tears glistening in her brown eyes. “What’s wrong? Did you actually want to bake the cake?”

Betsy wiped away a stray tear. “Not particularly. Baking with Mom is a pain, to be honest. We have different styles, as you may have noticed. But I do miss baking in general. The salon takes up so much of my time and then I’m exhausted by the time I get home and make dinner, clean up, the whole nine yards.” She groaned in frustration.

“How did you end up with a salon anyway? You used to talk about opening a bakery on the island. Sugar-n-Spice needs a little competition. The island is just too big for one bakery.”

Betsy covered her face with her hands. “I don’t know! I don’t know!” She threw her arms out in exasperation. “I got sucked in. But I’m making decent money now and we need it for Joey. He’s going to need full-time care when he’s older. I’d be crazy to walk away and start over.”

“I guess Joe’s not much of a helper.”

“Look, I know he’s a lot like Dad,” said Betsy. “I’m not an idiot. Thankfully, we have Mom and Dad and Joe’s parents around to help out. I couldn’t do it all without help and I’m not ashamed of that.”

Alexis gave her sister a light kick in the shin. “You think I would want you to be ashamed? Get over yourself. I get tired just thinking about your day because it doesn’t end when you go home.”

“Sandy Ventura was interested in partnering with me on the salon at one point, but I turned her down.”

“Why?”

Betsy shrugged. “Didn’t want to give away any control.”

Alexis chuckled. “I guess we both got that trait from Mom.” Her brow creased. “Why don’t you consider it now? Let Sandy buy a percentage of the salon so that you can start another venture. Let Sandy run the day-to-day here.”

Betsy eased out of the chair. “Sounds too complicated, not to mention expensive.”

“No, it’s really not,” Alexis objected, her lawyer brain kicking in. “Let me draft some scenarios for you and then decide whether you want to move ahead.”

“Draft your little heart out,” Betsy agreed. “I’ll take a look.”

“Would you do me a favor in return?” Alexis asked sheepishly.

“Bartering, are we?” She crossed her arms. “What is it?”

“Would you do my hair in one of those pretty updos?” She pointed to a poster of a hair model on the wall.

“Now?”

“I’m going to a party and I’d like to look less corporate, more Christmas.”

“Sounds like a good party. Sure, I’d do it even if we weren’t bartering.” She walked over to one of the chairs and patted the seat. “Hop in.”

“Are you sure you don’t mind? I know you were ready to leave.”

“If my little sister is making public appearances on the island, I want to at least hear that she looked spectacular.”

Alexis slid into the seat and Betsy began to brush her hair. “Joe and I are actually going out on Thursday night for the union Christmas party. Mom and Dad were going to watch the kids, but Owen asked whether you would do the honors.”

Alexis was surprised but pleased. “Really?”

“If you’re around. I don’t know what your plans are.”

“No plans. I would love to.”

Betsy pulled and twisted Alexis’s hair, sticking clips in as she moved from one section to another. “I call him Alex sometimes, you know.”

“Who?”

“Owen. He reminds me a lot of you when you were little.”

“No wonder I’ve taken such a shine to him,” Alexis said, glad that her sister was aware of their similarities. She hoped Betsy would do better than her own parents.

“Maybe you can talk him out of this obsession with death. The pediatrician says it’s normal, but I still think he’s a bit young for it.”

Alexis stiffened. “I don’t think I’d be the right person for that.”

In the mirror, Betsy looked at her quizzically but didn’t pursue it. “Well, he’s a bright little button, no doubt about it.”

An idea occurred to Alexis. “I may invite a friend to hang out with me, if you don’t mind.”

“Sure, my house is always chaos. What’s another body?” She arched an eyebrow. “And do you really need to say a friend? I mean, it’s Tyler, right?”

Alexis blushed.