The House on Honeysuckle Lane (31 page)

C
HAPTER
62

E
mma was tired but she hadn't wanted to go back to the house quite yet, so after dropping Andie off she drove out to Shepherd Pond at the very edge of Oliver's Well. There was a good walking and running path around the pond, and at a time like this, when quiet thought seemed necessary, it was the perfect destination.

The air was chill and the sky was a dead sort of gray; Emma smiled at how well the weather seemed to mirror her own mood. As she walked along the groomed path she thought about the conversation she and Andie had had with Anna Maria, and what they had learned about their brother's increasingly troubled state of mind this last year. And she wondered again if moving back to Oliver's Well was a good idea after all. Would she, too, find herself sucked into the trap of the past her brother seemed to have been sucked into? No, she thought. It was highly unlikely. She and Daniel were very different people. She had wanted and needed in equal measure to leave the proverbial nest far behind, and a return at this point would be a very conscious choice. Besides, that nest was no longer what it had been. It had changed; she had changed; everything had changed. As Andie would say, the only sure thing in life was impermanence.

Emma stopped at one of the stone benches along the path and looked out over the still water, steely gray in the December light. She felt her breathing slow and a sort of calm come over her. At the very least, she thought, she would stay in Oliver's Well for a few more days. If things got really unbearable—if in spite of Anna Maria's assurances, Daniel refused to apologize or to accept an apology—she would go back to Annapolis and spend Christmas alone. It wouldn't be the first time. And it wouldn't preclude the eventual possibility of a permanent move back to Oliver's Well....

A group of ducks waddled their way out of the water's edge and onto the path only yards from where Emma stood. Though they looked well fed, she wished she had brought some bread for them. Next time, she promised as, hands thrust in her pockets, she turned back toward her car. But when would that next time be?

As for Morgan, well, she would be reluctant to leave before getting some sure sense of what or what might not be happening between them. She knew it would be difficult to get to know Morgan from Annapolis; long distance romances were never easy. Assuming, of course, Morgan wanted a romance with her. Yes, he had kissed her, but a kiss wasn't necessarily a promise.

Emma gazed once more at the pond before getting behind the wheel of her Lexus. No, she thought, a kiss wasn't necessarily a promise. But it had been a very nice kiss.

C
HAPTER
63

D
aniel was making dinner for his family.
My family,
he thought, slicing cucumbers for a salad.
My wife and my children. Maybe the only family I have left.

Anna Maria was sitting at the kitchen bar, her laptop open in front of her. She was balancing the family's personal checking account, one of the many chores she routinely undertook, as was managing the finances of their business.

“I can't believe I actually threw that painting,” Daniel said to his wife, his voice low. The last thing he wanted was for the children to get wind of what had happened the night before. To lose their respect would be devastating. “I've never done anything like that in my life. It frightened me.”

“It frightened me, too,” Anna Maria replied, closing her laptop with a small sigh. “Daniel, this . . . this fixation with the family has got to stop. You've got to get some perspective.”

“I know. I think it was hearing about my mother's first engagement that just—that just made me lose it. Why it should matter is beyond me, but at that moment . . . I've got some serious thinking to do, don't I? I've got to settle some big emotional issues concerning the family. I guess I've known that for a while, but just couldn't. . . .”

“You'll do it, Daniel,” Anna Maria said encouragingly. “And I'm here to help if you need me.”

Daniel felt tears come to his eyes; he put down his knife and reached for his wife's hand. “I always need you,” he said. “And I always will.”

“I spoke to your sisters earlier. We met for coffee.”

Daniel cringed. “Do they hate me?”

Anna Maria laughed. “Daniel, don't be ridiculous. They love you. They want to make peace.”

“Can you imagine what Mom would have thought if she knew I'd destroyed the portrait? She would have been so disappointed in me. Dad, too, but especially Mom. She . . . She expected so much of me.”

“Daniel,” Anna Maria said, “it shouldn't matter what your mother would have thought. She's gone. You're here. You have to let her go, your father, too. I need you to come back to me, Daniel. To me and to the children.”

As if summoned by his wife's words, Sophia and Marco came thundering into the kitchen. “I'm starving, Dad,” his daughter announced. “When's dinner?”

“I'm
famished
!” Marco added.

Daniel laughed. “Where did you hear that word?”

“On TV. I was watching one of those cooking shows you say are so silly.”

“Well, I guess not all of them are silly if they help increase your vocabulary. What other new words have you learned?”

Marco scrunched up his face in thought. “Succulent,” he said. “And daube. That's French.”

“Are you sure you don't want to be a chef when you grow up?” Daniel asked.

“I'm one hundred percent certain, Dad. That's another way of saying I'm sure.”

Anna Maria laughed. “Maybe you'll be a writer, Marco.”

“Do they make a lot of money?” he asked.

Daniel shrugged. “Some of them do, I guess.”

“Then I'll consider it. That's another way of saying I'll think about it.”

“So, like half an hour?” Sophia demanded. “My stomach is literally growling.”

“Half an hour,” Daniel promised. Satisfied with his answer, both children ran from the kitchen.

Daniel picked up his knife again and got back to preparing the meal. And for some reason he suddenly remembered that popular expression from long before his time, “let go and let live.” The message there was pretty wise. He smiled. What would Andie say if she knew he was turning to the world of forty-year-old self-help for guidance?

“What's got you smiling?” Anna Maria asked, opening her laptop again.

Daniel shrugged. “Life,” he said. “Broccoli or peas tonight?”

C
HAPTER
64

T
he meeting with the people at R. W. Simons in Westminster had gone well; Emma had been grateful for Morgan's professional presence. They had taken only one car, Morgan's, for convenience, and on the ride back to Oliver's Well Emma realized that neither of them had said a word for a full ten minutes. Just as she was about to rectify that, Morgan spoke.

“You seem a bit preoccupied today,” Morgan said. “Anything the matter? You said you thought the meeting went well.”

“I did say that and I meant it.” Emma hesitated, but only for a moment. “It's just that there was a big to-do at the house the other night. Let's just say a lot of old grievances were aired, some of them kind of surprising, others, not so much.”

“Sounds upsetting. I've never been one for controversy or confrontation.”

“It
was
upsetting,” Emma said. “It wasn't a pleasant scene for any of us, but mostly for Danny. He's been under such strain these past few years, taking care of my mother and the estate on his own. He pretty much accused Andie and me of neglecting our duty to Mom.”

Morgan sighed. “Ah. Habits and family dynamics die hard. And slowly.”

“Yes, they do,” Emma said ruefully. “Anyway, enough of my drama. I've been meaning to ask what you're doing for Christmas.”

“I'll be spending Christmas with my parents and the dreaded Aunt Agatha in Baltimore.” Morgan glanced over with a grin. “Seriously, she's the definition of the Formidable Aunt.”

“What do you mean?” Emma asked.

“Have you ever read the Jeeves and Wooster stories, or seen the TV adaptation with Hugh Laurie and Stephen Fry?”

Emma felt her eyes go wide. “You're not saying she's like Bertie's Aunt Agatha?”

“Yes, I am, minus the little white dog. Aunt Agatha's got the meanest, most ornery cat I've ever had the displeasure of meeting. Anyway, I suppose she means well, but she dominates the entire family, even the others of her generation.” Morgan laughed. “She holds us in fear and trembling by the terror of her ways.”

“A slight exaggeration?”

“Yes,” Morgan admitted, “but only slight. Well, here we are.”

Morgan pulled up to number 32 Honeysuckle Lane and took Emma's hand in his. “Call me if you want to,” he said. “Any time, even after I've gone to Baltimore.”

“Thanks,” Emma said. “It's very kind of you.”

Morgan laughed. “There's something in it for me, too. I always appreciate a break from Aunt Agatha and her cat from hell!”

He released her hand after a final gentle squeeze, and Emma got out of the car. She watched for a moment as Morgan drove away. Yes, she thought with a smile, in spite of the challenges, she was glad she had stayed on in Oliver's Well.

And now, there was an apology she had to make.

* * *

Emma found her brother in his professional kitchen, what was formerly the garage, chopping a mound of leeks. There was a tantalizing smell of sautéing onions in the air, and though she had eaten lunch after Morgan had dropped her home, Emma felt her stomach growl.

“Hey,” she said.

Daniel looked up from the chopping board, clearly startled. “Oh. Hi,” he said. “I didn't hear you come in.”

“You were absorbed with your work. I'm sorry to disturb you.”

“You're not disturbing me. Here, have a seat.” Daniel put down his knife and gestured toward a stool that stood next to the main work counter.

“I just came from the auction house in Westminster,” Emma told him. “Morgan was nice enough to come with me. He thinks they're perfect for our needs, and from what I learned today, I agree. And their price is competitive.”

“Good,” Daniel said. “Thanks.”

Emma thought she had never seen her brother look so awkward or pained. “Danny,” she said, without wasting more time, “what I really came here to tell you is that I'm sorry for my behavior the other night. And for my words. I'm sorry for using that information about Mom and her broken engagement like a weapon.”

Daniel ran a hand through his hair and sighed. “I'm sorry, too, Emma,” he said. Emma thought he sounded both weary and relieved. “I don't know what came over me. Well, yes, I guess I do. At least, I'm working on figuring it all out.”

“Family can be . . . It can be difficult, both the reality of it and the idea of it. All the expectations and assumptions and misperceptions that go along with trying to find our place in it, in trying to break away from it. All the hurt feelings. All the loss. All the anger.” Emma shook her head. “And yet, where would any of us be without family?”

“I have absolutely no idea,” Daniel admitted with a smile. “I should have come to you, Emma. I'm sorry.”

Emma smiled. “Does it matter? We're here now, together.”

“And I am sorry for being a bit of a jerk all around since you and Andie have been back home.”

“You're forgiven. Though you did have me worried. It was so unlike you to be, well, jerky.”

Daniel managed another small smile. “I think I worried myself, too! So, Mom really left her high society fiancé for Dad?”

“That's what Rumi tells us.”

“It's actually pretty impressive of Mom, to realize true love when she saw it and not to be afraid of changing the direction of her life so radically.”

Emma nodded.
As I'm doing?
she wondered. “I agree.”

“I miss Dad and Mom,” Daniel said bluntly. “I can't help it. I do.”

“I think that's perfectly normal, Danny.”

“And I'm angry they died. I'm angry they were ultimately unknowable.”

Anger,
Emma thought.
It was anger at our parents, not Andie and me, that made Danny throw that portrait.

“I'm sorry, Danny,” Emma said gently.

“Do you miss them?” he asked.

“It's odd,” Emma said, “but I don't. It's almost as if they were enough of a force in my life. If I'm honest, almost too much of a force at times. Now that they're gone, I breathe more easily. The memories are enough for me.”

“I think I envy you. You know, I shouldn't have accused you and Andie of not caring about Mom or Dad. It's just that I've been under so much pressure for so long. . . .”

“Even when we choose a role in life,” Emma said, “it can become suffocating. We can feel trapped by our choices because, let's face it, even at its best, life is never easy.”

Daniel smiled. “That's putting it mildly. By the way, do you find that you're missing Ian the closer it gets to Christmas? This is your first holiday season apart in a long time, and I can't imagine
that
is easy.”

“No,” Emma said. “I'm not missing him at all, and that confirms I made the right choice. A liberating choice, finally.”

Daniel put both hands on the counter on either side of the cutting board and hung his head, as if the board itself held something far more interesting than cut vegetables.

“What is it, Danny?” Emma asked gently.

Daniel continued to stare at the board as he spoke. “The first time I saw Mom in one of those humiliating johnnies, the first time she got sick after Dad died, her arms so thin, the skin almost papery, it was like something in me just shattered. It was like my childhood, something I thought had ended long before, only ended at that moment, abruptly, almost violently. Even though I had married and was raising a family and had started a successful business, I was still a child, my mother's child, until I was confronted by the sight of her in that hospital bed. And then I finally realized that she was no longer the woman I had known all my life, not really. And after that, every time I sat with her in a doctor's waiting room or paced the hallway waiting for her to come out of the exam room, I felt . . . I
felt
every emotion so strongly.” Finally, Daniel looked up at Emma. “I'd never realized just how much I loved her,” he said, his voice trembling, “how much I wanted to be the one to take care of her, even when it was difficult or inconvenient, which it was at times.”

Emma felt her heart break a little for her brother. “Oh, Danny,” she said. “I'm so sorry.”

“It's hard being sick, you know. A patient is so vulnerable, so utterly dependent. It's a half-life really, being ill. Mom didn't talk much about it, but I could tell she felt . . . demeaned. Useless.”

“Surely not unwanted though, not with you there?” Emma asked.

“No,” Daniel admitted. “I think she knew she was still wanted. Just not . . . necessary.”

Emma shook her head. “I wish you had told me these things, Danny. I wish you had let me know how stressed you were feeling. I would have listened. And I would have tried to help.” Emma considered for a moment. “Though I probably should have been the one to ask if you needed help. I'm sorry, Danny. I let you carry the full burden of Mom's care.”

“I
wanted
to carry it,” he told her. “I
wanted
to feel indispensable. I just didn't think about how trying to do it all on my own was going to affect me in the end. It took its toll, didn't it?”

“Yes. But you don't have to bear that weight any longer, Danny. Mom and Dad are gone, but the family still exists, and it will go on existing in some form or another without your having to exhaust yourself to keep it alive.”

“I guess I'll have to learn to believe that. Emma?” Daniel said. “Do you think Andie will forgive me? I've been pretty rotten to her, as you, Bob, and my wife have pointed out to me.”

“I'm sure she already has forgiven you,” Emma said with a smile. “You know our Andie. She's as close as a Reynolds is ever going to come to being a saint.”

“But she's still a human being,” Daniel said. “Vulnerable. Easily hurt. Sometimes I forget that when I think of her. I see her as, I don't know, as a troublemaker, I guess. Anna Maria has told me it's unfair of me to think that way. I know she's right, but I still have a hard time letting go of all these assumptions I made about Andie years ago. That she was cold. That she was selfish. That she shakes things up just to get a reaction out of us.”

Emma wasn't entirely surprised to hear these words from her brother. But it did sadden her that Andie had been so deeply misunderstood—and that poor Daniel had been drained by such uncharitable opinions. “I think,” she said, “that Andie feels more than any of us. I think she feels things more
immediately
, if that makes sense. By the way, did you tell Rumi that Andie promised Mom's desk to the OWHA?”

“God no,” Daniel said, eyes wide.

“Good. I don't want Andie to suffer anymore than she already has this holiday, and I suspect that if Rumi found out about what her mother did she would react badly.”

“I'm afraid you're right. And that's partly my fault, too, trying to drive a wedge between mother and daughter, and for what?” Daniel shook his head. “For my own childish needs.”

“Now, stop being so hard on yourself, Danny,” Emma said, getting off the stool. “What's done is done and we're all moving on. I'll let you get back to whatever delicious dish you're preparing.”

“Cream of leek and potato soup.”

“And who are the lucky people getting to eat this luscious-sounding soup?” she asked.

“The guests of Mr. Neal Hyatt and Mr. Gregory Smith. By the way, Neal is a member of the OWHA. I doubt he'd approach me about the Bullock desk when I'm at his home on a professional basis. But if he does . . .”

“If he does,” Emma said, “just demur. Andie wants to be the one to tell Mrs. Fitzgibbon the offer no longer stands.”

“Agreed.”

Emma gave her brother a hug—which he returned warmly—and went out to her car. The conversation had gone so much better than she had expected, and she felt grateful that Daniel had trusted her enough to share his thoughts and feelings again. Now, she thought, starting the engine of the Lexus, if only her brother would make a pot of cream of leek and potato soup for her.