Obviously, this place brought back memories for him, too.
“I see the prices have changed,” she remarked, scanning her own menu. A picture of the Mexican general adorned the plastic front.
He smiled. “Well, I guess we can afford it now.”
Bethanne didn’t recognize any of the staff. The waitress brought two margaritas over ice, each with a thick ring of salt around the rim of the glass.
“At least we can have two drinks this time around,” Grant said, watching her lick the salt off her glass and take a sip.
His familiar use of we made it sound as if they were a couple again, but she didn’t react. “I hope the same holds true for dinner,” she said mildly.
“I believe anything you order will fit into my budget,” Grant murmured, still studying the selections.
“I don’t think I ever told you I don’t like bean burritos,” she blurted out.
“You don’t?” He sent her a shocked look over the top of his menu. “But...but we ordered it every time we came here.”
Bethanne said nothing. In their dozens of meals at Zapata’s, not once had he asked why she never ate her half of the burrito.
“I thought you were just being generous,” he said. “You know—saving more for me, the way you did for the kids.” He set down the menu, genuinely crestfallen. “I’m sorry, Bethanne, for being so oblivious.”
Bethanne was relieved that the waitress returned at that moment for their order. She chose the Tex-Mex salad, while Grant ordered chicken enchiladas and a bean burrito combination plate.
As soon as the waitress left the table, Bethanne took a long drink of her margarita, savoring the warmth spreading through her. She sat back in her chair and waited. Grant had asked for this meeting. She was curious to hear what he had to say.
“I’ve met Courtney a couple of times now,” he began, referring to their son’s fiancée. “I like her a great deal. She’s very down-to-earth, a good match for Andrew, I think.”
“I think so, too,” Bethanne murmured.
“I understand that Andrew and Courtney are planning the wedding themselves, and that you’re helping them, which makes sense.” It was rare to see Grant visibly nervous, but he seemed to be so now, fiddling with his silverware and avoiding eye contact. He cleared his throat. “I’d like to contribute.”
“You’ll need to take that up with Andrew and Courtney,” Bethanne said.
He nodded absently. They both knew that Andrew had ambivalent feelings toward his father. Bethanne felt a pang of sorrow for Grant. She knew he hoped the wedding would provide him with a means of getting closer to Andrew.
“So, is there anything I can do?” Grant asked.
“I’m not sure... I’ve given Andrew and Courtney contact information and steered them toward people I trust.” The couple had made their own decisions, and while Bethanne had offered suggestions, this was their wedding. She’d walked a fine line, trying to advise them without being controlling.
“Weddings are expensive,” Grant observed.
“True enough.” Bethanne had seen people spend upward of thirty thousand dollars.
“I’d like to help financially.” He rested his hands on the table.
She sipped her margarita. “That’s kind of you, Grant, but you should be telling Andrew and Courtney this, not me.”
“I wanted you to know.”
“You’ve always been generous with the children,” Bethanne conceded. A slight exaggeration, but close enough to the truth.
“I almost lost them,” Grant muttered, staring at his hands. “I wasn’t sure, you know, if it was a good idea to tell Andrew I wanted to help financially... I thought it might be better coming from you.”
Bethanne waited until he met her eyes. “No, you tell Andrew,” she said. “He loves you, Grant. You’re his father.”
Grant bowed his head in a gesture of agreement or maybe just avoidance.
“Is that the reason you asked me to dinner?” she asked. Might as well be blunt—it would’ve saved her a lot of angst if he’d come right out and said so.
He didn’t answer for a moment. “I have something else I’d like to discuss,” he said quietly. She strained to hear him over the raucous mariachi music.
“What is it?”
“At the wedding...do you think—” He hesitated. “Would you object if the two of us sat together at the church? As Andrew’s parents?”
“Sat together?” Bethanne kept her expression neutral.
“Most divorced couples don’t,” he acknowledged.
“True.”
“I’d like to present a united front to our guests and, more importantly, to our families and our children.”
She tried not to grimace. He hadn’t been concerned about this “united front” when he’d abandoned them. Oh, why was it so hard to truly forgive? She was shocked by how easily her anger still surfaced, when she’d assumed that she’d moved past the pain.
“It won’t be awkward, if you think about it,” Grant reasoned. “You haven’t remarried and I’m single again. Wouldn’t it feel a bit odd for the two of us to sit separately?”
“You’re single now, but you haven’t always been,” she said tartly.
Grant stiffened. “All I’m asking is that you consider it. We’d sit together during the ceremony and stand together in the receiving line. If you agree, I’d appreciate it, but if not...” He took a deep breath, as if to calm himself. “Well, if not—I’ll understand. I guess what I’m trying to say, and doing a rather poor job of it, is that I’ll accept whatever you decide.”
Bethanne couldn’t suppress her retort. “In other words, you want the world to know all is forgiven? That we’re still friends? That’s a noble thought, but I’m not sure it sends the right message.”
He looked down at his drink. “I know it may not be possible for you to ever completely forgive me.”
Bethanne felt a twinge of shame. She sighed heavily. “I apologize, Grant,” she said. “I don’t hate you. Really.” She’d given him twenty years of her life. He was the father of her children. And there was a part of her that still loved him.
Grant’s eyes flickered with hope. “Can we do that? The two of us together for Andrew’s sake on the most important day of his life?”
“I’ll think about it,” she promised.
“That’s all I ask,” he said, and didn’t raise the subject again.
Their meals arrived shortly afterward. Grant spooned salsa over his enchiladas. Bethanne remained silent as she waited for him to hand her the bowl.
“I understand Annie’s got a hot date tonight,” he said.
Although Annie rarely mentioned her conversations with her father, Bethanne knew the two of them spoke regularly these days.
“What’s your impression of Vance?” Grant asked, sliding his fork under the steaming enchilada.
Bethanne finished spooning salsa over her own dish as she gathered her thoughts. “He’s a good kid...a bit immature, I’d say.” She paused. “But then, so is Annie.” She took another sip of her drink. “He’s an archaeology major and graduated this year. As far as I know, he’s going to graduate school.”
“Annie seems to think he’s about to pop the question.”
“So she said.” Bethanne set her fork down. “Frankly, I feel they’re both too young for marriage. If they do become engaged, I hope they decide on a lengthy engagement.”
Grant frowned. “You don’t feel Vance is a good choice for our daughter?”
“I didn’t say that.”
“It’s what you implied.”
Bethanne’s gaze was direct. “No, what I said is that I hope she’d have the sense to wait before making that kind of commitment.”
Grant took a bite of his enchilada. “Were we too
young?”
She shrugged, uncertain how to answer. Like Annie and Vance, Bethanne and Grant had attended the same college. He was a business major and she’d been pursuing a degree in education. They’d met over the summer between her junior and senior year. From their first date, Grant Hamlin had become her entire world. They were engaged by Christmas, and while her parents liked Grant, they’d wanted them to delay the wedding until after Bethanne graduated.
Waiting, however, felt impossible. Grant was out of school and job-hunting. He was hired by Boeing in their corporate office, and with his first paycheck bought her an engagement ring.
Against her parents’ wishes, Bethanne dropped out of school just six months shy of graduation. From that point forward she’d dedicated her life to being a good wife and mother. She’d worked briefly in a department store, but only until Andrew’s birth.
“Too young?” she repeated his question. “Perhaps...”
They finished their meal quickly after that, avoiding awkward subjects. When they left the restaurant, Grant walked her to her car.
“I enjoyed dinner,” he said, standing beside her. “Did you?” The driver’s side door was open and she’d already thrown her purse on the passenger seat.
“I did.”
“And your dinner companion?”
She gave him a warning look: don’t push it. “Tonight brought back a lot of memories,” was all she said.
“It did for me, too.” He touched her car, tracing patterns in the dust. “We were happy, Bethanne,” he said, so softly she almost missed it.
She nodded, suddenly sad. “We were,” she agreed. “At one time.”
He tentatively raised his hands to touch the curve of her shoulders. “I’d give anything to take back the past six years,” he said, staring down at her.
“Make that seven,” she added. His affair with Tiffany had been going on long before he’d asked for the divorce.
“Seven,” he amended, and exhaled slowly. Then something in him seemed to deflate, and she read the regret in his eyes. “Tell me...is there any hope for us?”
As she considered his question, she saw him tense, as if anticipating a blow.
“I don’t know,” she said, shaking her head. Everything was just so confusing...
“Would it be possible to put the past behind us—forget about the divorce and pretend the past seven years never happened?”
“But they did.”
“I know,” he whispered brokenly. “If I could take away what I did to you and the kids, I would. I’d pay whatever it cost. If you wanted blood, I’d bleed. I’m miserable without you, Bethanne.” His words were heartbreaking in their sincerity. “Tell me you’d be willing to let me have a second chance. All I need is a sliver of hope.”
He wanted an answer...but as hard as she tried, Bethanne couldn’t give him one.
A lump formed in her throat. She had loved Grant...still did in certain ways that were tied to their shared past, to the memories of their marriage, the years of struggle and sacrifice, the happiness of companionship. And despite everything, they were linked forever through their children.
“Maybe,” she breathed.
He smiled then, and his shoulders relaxed. “That’s enough for now.”
Four
Annie rummaged around inside her mother’s closet looking for the silver chain belt that would go perfectly with her Mexican-style skirt. When Vance came by to pick her up for dinner, she wanted him to be awestruck by her beauty. It wasn’t every day of the week that a girl got a marriage proposal—if that was what he intended. Annie thought so; all the evidence pointed to exactly that. Dinner at an expensive restaurant, being seen in a high-end jewelry store. What else was she to think?
She located the belt and wrapped it around her waist, checking her reflection in the full-length mirror that hung on her mother’s bathroom door. The mirror also reflected the queen-size bed her parents had once shared. Even after six years of living alone, her mother still slept on the right-hand side. Not in the middle.
Silly as it sounded, this gave Annie hope that her parents would one day reunite. It was what her father wanted most in the world. What Annie wanted, too. Her parents were meant to be together. Her father had made a terrible mistake, but he was sorry. More than anything he wanted to make it up to the family, and in Annie’s opinion they should let him.
It felt good to be close to her dad again. Now that the lovely Tiffany was gone, Annie felt there was real hope for a reconciliation between her parents. It just seemed wrong for them to live apart. The problem was getting her mother to recognize how sincere he was and take him back. Annie loved them both so much, and all she wanted was for them to be happy. What they did with their lives wasn’t really up to her, as Andrew pointed out with annoying regularity, but sometimes she felt she understood them better than they understood themselves.
The security alarm beeped, indicating that someone had entered the house. “Is that you, Mom?” Annie called down from the second-story hallway.
“Annie? What are you doing here?”
Annie had her own apartment near the University of Washington campus. “I came to borrow your silver belt. You don’t mind, do you?”
“Of course not.”
“Are you and Dad finished with dinner already?” she asked as she walked down the stairs.
“Yes, it didn’t take long.” Bethanne hung her jacket in the hall closet and smiled over at Annie. “You look fabulous.”
“You think so?” Confirmation from her mother meant everything.
“What time is Vance picking you up for dinner?” her mother asked, glancing at her watch.
“Eight-thirty. Our reservation isn’t until nine.”
“That’s a little late for dinner, isn’t it?”
Annie nodded. “Vance said that was the earliest he could get us a table. Every tourist visiting Seattle wants to eat at the Space Needle. Vance must have pulled a few strings to even get a reservation.”
Her mother considered the comment. “I didn’t realize Vance knew anyone with strings to pull.”
“Mom,” she protested. “Vance had classes with Matt, remember? And Matt buses tables at the Space Needle. Matt must’ve put in a word for Vance.”
“He must have.” Her mother walked into the living room, where she kept her knitting.
“How’re Courtney’s wedding gloves coming along?”
“So far so good.” Bethanne settled into her favorite chair. She had the pattern on a clipboard, held there by a magnet that marked her row. Her mother picked up her glasses, perching them on the end of her nose, and her knitting, which only had a few rows completed.
This was a far more complicated project than anything Annie would ever undertake. “I want you to knit something for my wedding, too, you know.”
“I wouldn’t dream of doing anything else—when the time comes. If you want, you can take a look at the dress and veil I wore when I married your father. It’s yours should you choose to wear it.”
“Oh. Mom, could I really wear your wedding dress?”
“We’re about the same size, so I don’t see why not.”
Her parents’ wedding picture used to hang on the stairway wall. Annie had seen it practically every day of her life until after their divorce. She didn’t know where the photograph was anymore. The last time she’d noticed it, the glass had been cracked. She assumed her mother had broken it the morning her father announced he was in love with the lovely Tiffany.
Annie couldn’t quite remember what the wedding dress looked like. What she did recall was the joy on her mother’s face. She’d been such a young woman—younger than Annie—and a beautiful bride. Her father had been young, too, and so handsome. Annie had loved that photograph.
“It would make me happy if you
decided to wear my wedding dress when you do get married.” Then, as if her mother wanted to change the subject, she said, “Oh, and thank you.”
“For what?”
“For not mentioning to your father that Grandma Hamlin and I are taking this road trip.”
Annie felt uneasy about the whole plan. The thought of her mother and grandmother traveling unescorted across the entire country, from Washington to Florida, sent chills down her spine. “I still don’t think this is a good idea.”
“Nonsense.” Her mother leaned forward and, using a yellow pen, marked off the row she’d just finished.
“You told Dad, didn’t you?” Annie asked. She hadn’t said anything about it because she was sure her mother would.
“Actually, no.”
“Mom!” Annie couldn’t believe her mother would keep this a secret. “Dad has a right to know what you’re doing.”
Bethanne glanced up from her knitting. “And why is that?”
“Because...because he might object.”
“Annie, sweetheart, I stopped listening to your father’s objections a long time ago.”
“But you’re going with Grandma!”
“Then she can tell him.”
What her mother said made sense, but Annie had the feeling her grandmother wasn’t going to let Grant or Aunt Robin know what she intended, either.
“If you aren’t going to say anything, then someone needs to let him know.”
Her mother heaved an exasperated sigh. “Do what you want, but as far as I’m concerned it isn’t any of his business.”
“Honestly, Mom, how can you say that?” Annie grabbed her sweater. “I’ve got to go. Wish me luck.” She held up her left hand and wiggled her ring finger, then rushed out the door.
Vance picked her up right on time and looked great in his slacks and plaid shirt with a button-down collar. He didn’t have a tie—he hated them—but that was fine. He’d wear a tuxedo for the wedding.
Annie had narrowed her bridesmaid choices down to five. She’d ask Courtney, her sister-in-law-to-be, and Libby, Belle, Jazmine and Maddy. Ideally, she’d like six or seven bridesmaids, but that would require the same number of groomsmen and make for an impossibly large wedding party. In any case, with everything she knew about organizing social gatherings, their wedding would be the event of the year.