“Maybe some counseling . . . ?”
Tuck nodded. “Linc has been in to see the school psychologist, and they’re working out a plan.”
“It sounds like you’re doing everything you can for them.”
He exhaled loudly. “We’re doing our best.”
“That’s all anyone can do.” She gave his hand a squeeze and, sensing he’d had enough for one night, stood and began to clear the table. “Now about dessert . . .”
“Liddy, I couldn’t eat another thing.”
“Guess I’ll have to eat that fresh peach shortcake all by myself.”
“Well, maybe I could force a little. Tell me what I can do to help.”
“Not a thing.” She smiled. “Coffee?”
“Decaf?”
“Sure. I can’t drink the regular brew this time of the night. I’d be awake till Tuesday.”
“Me too.”
She started the coffee and got the peaches out of the refrigerator.
“I saw Jim yesterday after I left the shop.” Tuck rested an arm over the back of the chair. “He mentioned he was going to stop in to see you.”
“I wish you’d told him not to bother,” she grumbled.
“Why would I have done that?” Tuck sounded genuinely curious.
“Because.” She stabbed the knife into one of the shortcakes and sliced it open with a vengeance.
Tuck nodded slowly. “That’s some highly mature reasoning.”
Liddy fell quiet for a minute. Then: “I don’t want him in my shop.”
“I guess he thought it was a public place.”
“Are you taking his side?” She turned to him, the knife still in her hand. “Because it sounds like you’re taking his side.”
He shrugged. “Why do there have to be sides?”
She slammed the knife onto the counter. “He walked out on me. One year to the day after Jessie died—the first anniversary of her death—he walked out. No explanation.” She was mad at Jim all over again. “Do you know what he said? He said, ‘Lid, I’m leaving.’ That was it. Three words after nearly forty years of marriage. After everything we’d lost. Three words.”
“Liddy, I’m so sorry. I had no idea. I never knew why the two of you split up. I just assumed it was one of those mutual things.”
“There was nothing mutual about it. I never saw it coming.” She turned back to the dessert, placing the shortcakes on the plates. Without turning around, she said, “You know, we buried two children.”
“Two?”
“Before we had Jessie, we’d had a son. I’d had so many miscarriages, I was sure I’d never go full term. Then I did, but he was stillborn. What a kick in the ass that was. But we even got through that.” She started to spoon the sliced peaches over the cakes, but paused, then threw the spoon into the sink with a vengeance. “I just would have liked to know why he left me.”
“Did you ask him?”
“I asked him the night he said he was leaving.” Liddy carried both plates to the table and set one in front of Tuck, the other at her place. “He just walked past me and out the door, like it was too much for me to ask of him. His stuff was already in the car—his clothes, personal items, and later, when the fog started to lift, I realized some photos were missing, a couple of books, his golf clubs. It was as if he’d never been here.”
She paused as if she’d forgotten something, then remembered she’d made coffee. She poured it into two mugs and brought them to the table, along with the sugar bowl and a small pitcher of half-and-half.
“A week later, I got a call from a lawyer in Fall River. He said Jim had told him to give me everything, that he signed the house over to me along with our retirement fund. That’s how badly he wanted to get away from me. He didn’t even want half. He just wanted out.”
She turned to Tuck, who was staring into his mug of coffee as he stirred in the sugar. “What makes a man do something like that?”
He shook his head. “I guess you’d need to ask Jim if you really want an answer.”
“I don’t want to talk to Jim.” Hot tears formed in the corners of her eyes but did not spill.
“Then I guess you’ll have to stay pissed off and in the dark for the rest of your life.”
“You’re not very sympathetic.” Disappointed, she looked out the window rather than at him. She decided this dinner had been a bad idea, and she was starting to feel sorry she’d been reeled in when he was fishing for an invite. She’d just spilled her guts, and all he’d offered in return was logic. Why don’t men understand that when a woman is teary and upset, the last thing she wants to hear—most of the time, anyway—is a logical response? She’d wanted to hear him say, “Damn, I never realized what a dumb SOB Jim is.”
“I didn’t realize you wanted sympathy, Liddy. I thought you wanted answers, and there’s only one person who can give you that,” he said softly as he reached for her hand. “Look, I am sorry—beyond sorry—you had to go through that, especially on the heels of losing Jessie. I know what it feels like to lose a daughter. Brenda still walks this earth, but she’s lost all the same.”
It was on the tip of her tongue to tell him it wasn’t the same, that there was no comparison between Jessie taking her life and Brenda leaving. But gone was gone. They each had their own pain to deal with, and she had no right to judge or diminish his.
She sighed deeply. “Leave it to me to turn what had been a very pleasant evening into Liddy’s melodrama, part one. I didn’t intend to do that. I don’t know why I . . .”
“Hey, stop. It’s okay,” he said. “We’re friends, Liddy. We’ve been friends for a long time. You can talk to me about anything, anytime.” He stood and pulled her gently from her seat and wrapped his arms around her. He felt solid and steady, and Liddy was pretty sure he wouldn’t ever leave a woman he’d once loved without telling her why. “I’m here for part two, if you need me. I have the unfortunate habit of saying what I think, and the first thing I thought of was if you want to know why Jim left, you should just ask him. I guess that bluntness comes from living with my father and my son for so long.”
“You might want to soften up a bit now you have two little girls living with you.” She sniffed. “Or maybe not.”
“No, you’re right. They’ve had enough harsh realities.” He held her tightly. “And so have you. I didn’t mean to make you feel like I don’t think Jim is a thoughtless, heartless jackass, because he obviously is.”
“Hmmm. Thoughtless, heartless jackass.” She nodded slowly, then smiled. Thoughtless, heartless jackass was even better than dumb SOB. “I like it.”
Chapter Eight
Liddy filled an empty water bottle in the small powder room off her office, then proceeded to water the plants scattered throughout the shop. She started in the children’s section, where she’d placed ivy and pothos in colorful pots along the wide windowsill. She refilled the bottle and went up front and watered the tall fiddle-leaf fig tree Maggie had brought from her house to fill a front corner and the huge schefflera Emma had sent as a grand opening gift. There were several floral arrangements sent by friends the previous week that needed attention, the dead or dying blooms removed, the remaining flowers rearranged, and the water changed. Liddy enjoyed these early morning hours when she had the shop to herself. The sun came in through the front window, and she could enjoy a cup of coffee in the warmth and silence while watching the town come alive.