He smiled at her. “And on the plus side – it cuts down on some of the legwork of asking for donations.”
She laughed. “I can’t argue with that. Although I’m feeling a little useless right now. You really didn’t need me here at all.”
“I’ll always need you, Princess,” Gideon said, his voice low and weirdly intimate.
She froze, staring at him as his face reddened.
“Sorry, that was, uh... I mean…” Gideon stared into his coffee cup like he’d never seen the dark liquid before.
Hating that she could see the regret written all over his face, she said, “Don’t worry about it. Excuse me, I’m going to use the ladies’ room.”
She used the bathroom and washed her hands before splashing some cool water on her cheeks.
Gideon didn’t mean anything by it, she told herself. He was just being… weird. Just a little blip in his brain that didn’t mean a single damn thing.
She patted her cheeks dry and left the bathroom. It was almost noon. She’d ask Gideon if he wanted to take a walk down main street and stop in at a few of the businesses before grabbing a bite to eat. In the afternoon, they could drive –
She slowed to a stop, dismay turning the coffee in her stomach to battery acid. She swallowed hard, her throat burning from the bitter bile that was now coating it, before glancing at the door. She was tempted to just make a run for the door before they saw her. Gideon would understand.
“Grace! Sweetheart, over here!”
Shit. Too late.
She took a deep breath and walked over to the booth, smiling at the two people sitting side-by-side. “Hey, Mom. Hey, Dad.”
“Hi, sweetheart!” her mother said. The bracelets that went up to nearly her elbow jingled as she pointed to the empty side of the booth. “Sit down.”
Grace sat, her stomach still churned, and she wished bitterly that she had made a break for it when she had the chance.
“Sweetheart, you haven’t been by the house in ages. Why not?” Her mother was wearing an off the shoulder peasant blouse with an ankle length skirt and Birkenstock sandals. Her face was free of makeup, her long curly hair cascaded down her back, and a fake flower headband circled her forehead. She looked every bit the part of the hippie artist that she was.
“I’ve been pretty busy lately,” Grace said.
“That’s no excuse,” her mother said. “Tell her, Rick.”
Her father put her arm around her mother and smiled adoringly at his wife. “Now, Andrea, Grace is an adult. She’s free to do what she wants when she wants. She’s not required to come visit us. We want her to come see us because she wants to, not because she feels guilty.”
Her father was wearing a grey business suit with a paisley red tie. As bank manager of Harmony Falls First Bank, he and her mother were about as different as two people could be. The classic love story of opposites attracting.
“Why aren’t you at work?” Grace asked her father.
“Your father’s been so busy lately and we’ve just been missing each other something terribly.” Her mother cupped her father’s face and gazed at him. “He’s taking an extra long lunch to spend time with me. Isn’t that sweet?”
“Very sweet,” Grace said.
Her mother and father kissed, and Grace stared down at the table. She knew she was lucky, knew that her parents still being madly in love was something that a lot of people didn’t have. But instead of happiness, she felt only a dull sense of betrayal and loss.
Her parents loved each other. They loved each other so much, in fact, that they’d never really had much interest in their only daughter. Their priorities were and always would be – each other, themselves, and then Grace.
Don’t forget about Sassy.
She smothered her bitter laughter with a cough. She couldn’t even try and tell herself that her mother’s cat wasn’t more important to her mother than Grace was. The fact that Grace had required prescription medication and asthma inhalers most of her teenage years from horrific allergies to the cat and her mother still refused to give the cat up, made it more than clear who she valued more.
It doesn’t matter, she told herself fiercely. It doesn’t matter anymore, and just get over it for God’s sake. So, your parents could care less about you… there are worst things.
Yes, there were, but just being around her parents ripped open wounds that she hoped would stay closed forever. Being with them made her feel like a vein was sliced wide and all her childish need for her parents’ love and approval flowed out of her in a roaring Niagara Falls size rush.
Her hands were knotted in a tight fist in her lap and her head was suddenly pounding, and she needed to get the fuck out of here before she lost it completely.
Before she could slide out of the booth, her father said, “Gideon! Good to see you.”
Gideon’s warm hand gripped her shoulder. “Slide over, Gracie.”
She slid over and Gideon sat down next to her. His big hand covered her fist under the table and he gently tugged her hands apart before taking her left hand and linking their fingers together. She clung to his hand like a lifeline as Gideon smiled at her parents. “Hello, Mr. and Mrs. Larken, it’s good to see you again.”
“Oh please,” her mother said, “call us Andrea and Rick. Grace spent so much time at your house growing up, you’re practically family.”
Was Grace the only one who noticed how fake Gideon’s smile was? Probably. Her parents didn’t notice anything beyond their own noses.
“How’s work going?” her father asked.
“Fine,” Grace said.
Her father glanced at her. “Oh, sorry, Grace. I meant Gideon.”
Gideon’s thumb rubbed along hers in long, soothing strokes.
“Good. Busy,” Gideon said.
“Honey, did I tell you that Sassy had her check up with Dr. Brandt last week and she’s doing magnificently?” Andrea smiled at Grace. “Her bloodwork came back perfect for her age. He said she’s the healthiest twelve-year-old cat he’s seen at the clinic. I’m thinking of painting Dr. Brandt a portrait of Sassy for his clinic. I’m sure he’d love it.”
“That’s nice, Mom.”
“Did you ever look at that picture of the kitten I sent you? Barbara Morin really needs to find homes for the litter her cat had.”
“I didn’t,” Grace said.
“What? Oh, but you must!” Andrea’s hands fluttered to her chest. “You need something to mother, Grace, and a cat will enrich your lives in so many ways. I’d be lost without Sassy. Promise me you’ll call Barbara and talk to her about the kitten.”
“She’s allergic to cats. You know that, Andrea,” Gideon said. His thumb continued to smooth a path against Grace’s skin. It was surprisingly calming. Her usual anger that her mother couldn’t remember her almost debilitating allergy to cats hadn’t even surfaced.
“What? Oh,” her mother waved her hands dramatically in the air, “I forget because it’s such a mild allergy, really. Why, pop an allergy pill every morning and you’ll be fine.”
“My mother took her to the emergency room when she was thirteen years old because of her cat allergy,” Gideon said. “She needed an epi-pen and an overnight stay in the hospital because of her mild allergy. She spent most of her teenage years stuck in her room because you refused to rehome your cat.”