My father tugged my mother away and brushed a kiss against her cheek. "It's true. I avoided Alice for too long because I was afraid she wouldn't forgive me. I couldn't stand the idea of her seeing how much that would hurt me."
"But you forgave him," I said. It was a fact that still amazed me, but I was beginning to see that my father really had changed.
"All it took was a little honesty," Alice said.
Xavier scoffed. "That and your own stubbornness making me worry about you enough that I had to see you face to face."
They rubbed noses and only laughed when I looked away. My father announced they were taking a walk on the beach before our dinner reservations. I didn't turn around until they were gone, but then all I could do was watch them walking arm-in-arm.
If my mother had forgiven my father for his drunken loss of control, then I wondered if Corsica would forgive me for my cowardly lie? Would she understand I really just wanted her to get to know me before she knew how much money I had?
The thought stayed with me the entire afternoon. When my parents returned from the walk all fresh-faced and giggling like high school sweethearts, I made up any excuse I could to escape. "I'm going to take a rest and then get dressed for dinner," I said.
I shut the door of my master suite and leaned hard against it. The memory of that quiet night next to the stream filled my head until I thought I would explode. Corsica's sweet smile as she explained the comforts of dressing for dinner, the water of the stream doing nothing to cool my desire for her, the moment she stepped up to the campfire looking so elegant and happy…
Happy. I'd been happy. Then the night turned into one of the best of my life, and I screwed it all up the next morning. I was exactly like my father, except there were no twelve steps to repair the damage my ego had done.
I paced around my suite like a caged animal until it was time to put on my suit. I knew Xavier had made the dinner reservations and it would please them both if I, for once, tried to act like a civilized man.
"Now that is a fine cut suit," Xavier said when he saw me. He slipped out of the guest room and shut the door behind him. "Might as well get comfortable. Your mother is trying out a new look."
"She's really feeling better?"
My father smiled. "She really is. Every second of it feels like a miracle. That's why I was so sharp about your comment earlier. I know you were just teasing us about the wedding, but you understand how important it is to us, don't you?"
I cringed. Even my own family thought I didn't have the ability to care. "You know I'll be there even if you two decide to get married in a meadow at dawn."
"God, let's hope not," my father joked. "We know it's going to be outdoors, but I'm trying to steer your mother towards a garden or something with at least a few vestiges of civilization."
He kept talking about the wedding plans with a smile on his face. I watched him and suddenly couldn't take it anymore.
"I forgive you."
"What?" Xavier asked, taking a step back.
"I know you never wanted to hurt her. I know it was just the alcohol. You've really turned everything around, and I know it wasn't easy. I forgive you." I felt like an elephant eased off my chest and walked away.
Tears sprung to my father's eyes as he stumbled forward to fold me in a hug. "I really am sorry, Penn. There is nothing I can do to change it except tell you I think about it, think about how I was to you, and I regret it every day."
"It's over," I said, my throat hot. "Now let's figure out how to tell Alice you want a garden party wedding."
My father laughed. It took him a moment to steady himself and even then, he kept a hand tight on my shoulder. "Next you have to forgive yourself, Penn."
"For what?" I asked, immediately tense and stepping away.
Xavier smoothed down his tailored suit, but kept his eyes steady on me. "You had every right to hide your financial status. We have to be guarded; it's just part of the territory when you have that much money."
I shook my head. "But I was so hard on her. I made fun of her for wanting money. I made her think that I was better because I didn't need money and all the time, my bank account was climbing into the stratosphere. I made her feel bad for wanting something I was taking for granted."
"So you made a mistake," my father shrugged.
Alice appeared at that moment and tuned into the conversation as if she'd been in the room the whole time. "There are no mistakes," she declared. "There's only what you choose to do next."
"How very Zen. Thanks," I muttered.
My mother swept over and cupped my face in both hands. "You changed directions once, remember? It was drastic and it took you far away from your father and me. But, it brought you to where you needed to be. So why are you so afraid of changing directions now?"
I took her hands and squeezed them, not quite up to meeting her sharply intuitive gaze. "I can't go back."
"No you can't," Alice said, her voice certain and strong. "But you can stop hemming and hawing over the next step and just take it already. You know what you want to do, so get on with it."
I tried to brush off her words, but they stuck hard in my chest. "How about we have dinner first."
My father saved me with another slap on the back. "Excellent idea. And wait until you try the salmon at this new restaurant. You'll swear they fished those fillets straight out of heaven."
Alice stopped and gave us a mischievous smile. "About that restaurant."
My father and I groaned. Every time Alice had that expression on her face, we had ended up trying some authentic hole-in-the-wall where we didn't speak the language and the food set our senses on fire.
"Oh, come on, where's your sense of adventure?" she asked.
My mother was impossible to resist, but we complained the whole way there.
"If I'd have known, I would have eaten at home," I said.
My father held up his hand and whispered, "I would have stuffed some crackers in my suit pocket."
"And antacids," I added.
"Enough," Alice said with a laugh. "We're here."
Both Xavier and I were shocked when we stepped out of the car. My mother, the wild bohemian, had chosen an old-fashioned supper club.
The sign still buzzed with red neon, though the exterior was completely new and very swanky. A gold-colored awning sheltered a red carpet up the steps to heavy oak doors. Inside, the restaurant glowed with candles in jars on each table. The wood-paneled walls offered the only other light from sconces. The curved booths were covered with red leather and the floor was a wild swirl of old-fashioned paisley.
"This is great," Xavier breathed. "I bet they even have rare steaks here. Actual rare steak."
I hung back as my parents followed our white-jacketed waiter to a booth. All I could think was Corsica should be there. She would have delighted in the way my parents walked with arms wrapped around each other, but more than that, she would have loved the stage.
There was a small, raised dais of a stage with a grand piano and a row of gilded stalls for a full jazz band. I couldn’t tear my eyes off the single, vintage microphone sparkling under the spotlight. It was like a beacon showing me the first time I saw Corsica sing.