snowfall piled up against the sliding door. Game little rascals that they were, they did their best to plow through snow that was taller than them. They peed quickly and raced back to the house. Olivia handed out treats, made coffee, and trudged off to the shower, where she stood under the pelting spray until the water ran cold. After dressing quickly in a fleece-lined blue sweat suit, heavy socks, and sneakers, she pulled back her hair in a ponytail and tied it with a red ribbon. The last thing she did before leaving the bathroom was to apply some face toner in the hope it would reduce the redness and puffiness around her eyes. Like she really cared how she looked.
What she needed next was coffee. Lots and lots of coffee. As she sipped her second cup, she stared out the kitchen window, knowing that by eight o’clock, all her customers scheduled for the day would call to cancel. Considering her frame of mind, she thought it was a good thing. The only way she would be able to catch up was to work weekends. That wasn’t so bad, because she rarely did anything on the weekends except maybe go to dinner or the movies with Clarence.
In order not to dwell on her immediate problem, Olivia tried to shift mental gears and think about her personal life. With the exception of Dee Dee Pepper, all her old friends were married with families. Most of them had moved out of state, and she’d lost touch with them. Christmas was always an eye-opener, when the cards came in with newsletters, new-baby pictures, and family updates. She hated reading the details. Someday she was going to meet a guy who was going to sweep her off her feet. A guy who would like animals and respect what she did for a living. A man with whom she would want to start a family. She shrugged when she realized her biological clock was ticking. “If it’s meant to be, it will be,” she muttered to herself.
The phone rang in the kitchen. Olivia looked at the clock. Five minutes to eight. It was Cecil’s handler, Jeff Bannerman, pleading for her to keep Cecil another day, what with the snow-clogged roads. Olivia agreed, reminding Jeff that her services were fifty dollars an hour. As on the previous day, he readily agreed and said he would bring a check for the full amount when he came to pick up Cecil.
The phone rang three more times, her three morning clients canceling and rescheduling. Outside, the skies were gray, and it looked like more snow. Her father was going to be in for a shock when he stepped off the plane. He was also going to have to take a taxi. There was no way she was going to the airport with road conditions what they were.
Olivia refilled her coffee cup and carried it to the table, positioning it on one of the cheerful place mats she’d made last winter. She loved this kitchen, with the white cabinets and colorful greenery on the counters. She loved the whole house and was delightedly stunned when her father had deeded it to her when he and Lea went off to the islands. The hanging plants were thick and lush, thanks to a weekly dose of plant food and a good water spritzing every other day. Her collection of saltshakers and pepper grinders graced the tops of the cabinets. Her father had built a special shelf on top of the cabinets when she said she was going to start collecting something. He’d always acquiesced in everything she wanted and got right on it, making it happen. He’d been a wonderful father. Until now. Now she thought of him as a liar. He’d betrayed her in the worst possible way. How could she ever forgive something like this?
Was there a reason for his deception? Surely he had a reason. She wished she knew more about motherhood. All she knew was what she read in magazines and stories and what she’d observed as a child with her friends’ mothers. The bottom line in those magazines and stories was about mothers loving their children more than life itself. Why did her mother give her away? Maybe she hadn’t wanted to be pregnant. Maybe she hadn’t been mother material. Or maybe Olivia had been an ugly baby. Maybe something had been wrong with her when she was born that offended her mother. But then she snorted at such thoughts.
Was she blaming the wrong person? It was possible, she supposed, that her father only did what her mother wanted. Since she didn’t know anything about her mother—not even what she’d looked like—she couldn’t really say. What she was sure of was that her father loved her with all his heart. She was certain in her own mind that he still loved her and that there had to be reasons why he’d done what he did. And now he was on his way to her to try to make all this right.
Olivia felt like crying, but she bit down on her lower lip. Crying was for wimps. At least that’s what her father said. She leaned over and turned the radio on just to have some sound. Music filled the kitchen and lifted her spirits. Since her father was going to be there, maybe she should think about what she was going to make for dinner. She eyed the Crock-Pot sitting on the counter. With her busy schedule, it was a lifesaver. But today, even though she had the time, she didn’t feel like cooking. She’d just dump stuff in it from the freezer, and whatever it turned out to be, she and her dad would eat.
It took her all of ten minutes to drop a package of chicken parts into the oversize pot, along with celery, carrots, frozen peas and corn, and a can of chicken broth. At the last minute she opened the cabinet over the stove and sprinkled every spice she had on the rack into the mess. She covered it, adjusted the cook time, then dusted her hands dramatically. Done.
Olivia opened the freezer again, withdrew a Boston cream pie, and set it on the counter to thaw out. Her father loved Boston cream pie. These days, Lea made the pies from scratch.
Just you and me, kid.
Somehow Olivia managed to while away the hours by tidying up the studio, playing with the dogs, checking the Crock-Pot, and washing a load of towels. She looked at the time on her watch at least a hundred times until she heard the pinging sound of the doorbell. With the dogs at her heels, she ran to the foyer, where she skidded to a stop, opened the door, and stared at her father.
He looked wonderful, tanned and fit, wearing heavy winter clothes that looked brand-new. But there was such sadness, such regret and weariness in his eyes that she knew he hadn’t slept. She burst into tears. He reached for her, and she fell into his arms. He held her so tightly she wanted to squeal with the pain, but she didn’t.
“I have no words to tell you how very sorry I am, Ollie. This was never supposed to happen. Never!” he said vehemently. “Let’s go into the kitchen and have something hot to drink.”
In the kitchen, Olivia reached for a cup and poured coffee for her father. She’d been making pot after pot of coffee since ten o’clock, then throwing each one out because she wanted the coffee to be fresh when her father arrived.
Olivia waited until her father had taken his first sip before she whispered, “Tell me everything.”
He did.
“I didn’t know what to do, Ollie. I was numb. All I could think of was that you were just a few hours old, and I was the only one who wanted you. I signed everything they put in front of me. I was full of fear and panic. I think the look on your mother’s face told me there was no hope that she would change her mind. She had some pretty highfalutin lawyers back then. To this day, I don’t know how she paid for them. She said she wanted a divorce, didn’t want you, and didn’t want anything from me. She also said she was taking back her maiden name. All that was in the…the contract I signed. Allison agreed never to interfere in your life. I insisted on that when I finally got my wits about me. She readily agreed. She didn’t want either one of us. I know that must hurt you unbearably, Ollie, but I can’t change what is. From that day on, I never heard a thing about her. She kept her word.
“I talked to our minister, your grandmother, anyone who would listen or who I thought could offer advice. They all agreed that telling you your mother had passed away would be best. I tried to be both mother and father to you. I did my best, Ollie. It was really rocky in the beginning, but you were too young to remember. I did what I thought was best for both of us.”
“You did, Dad. I just wish you had told me. I’m not faulting
