then stopped. He blamed Jane, but it wasn’t right to badmouth her to Mary Kate. All at once he couldn’t handle the situation. If he stayed a moment longer his anger toward Jane would spill out and that wouldn’t endear him to Mary Kate.
Stepping off the veranda, he reached into his pocket for his car keys. “Tell your mother I’ll give her a call when I’ve worked out an asking price. I’ll be in touch about you getting together with Stephanie.”
JANE CAME BACK onto the veranda in time to see Cole’s older-model Porsche bumping down the rutted driveway. His hasty retreat sparked a pain that hardened her resolve to get out of this town as fast as possible. He’d left their daughter standing alone on the porch looking ready to cry.
“Are you okay, sweetheart?” Jane asked, giving her a hug.
“He said he’d call you later.” Mary Kate dragged a hand across her sniffly nose. “I think he’s mad at me.”
“No, he’s not. He’s mad at me.” But that was no reason for him to hurt Mary Kate by taking off so abruptly.
“Come on, let’s see if we can figure out what to do with that stove.”
Glaring at the appliance accomplished nothing. So Jane kicked it. And immediately regretted it. Hobbling to a chair, she sat down. Cole was undoubtedly right; she needed an electrician to fix the wiring and possibly a new stove. Should she bother when she was selling? The headaches associated with disposing of her aunt’s house were multiplying.
Mary Kate fished her egg out of the pot and peered at it. “This is probably as hard as a rock.” She put it in a ceramic Easter-bunny egg cup. Then she got out a spoon and held the tip to the side of the shell. “He wants me to hang out with Stephanie.”
“She was your best friend when you were five. For the month we were here, at least.” Jane sat down again and checked her toenail. Broken. Served her right.
“What if she doesn’t want to hang out with me?”
Jane shrugged helplessly, wishing she could take Mary Kate far away from these difficult encounters. It wasn’t like her confident daughter to be worried about whether someone liked her. “All you can do is be yourself. I’m sure she’ll love you.”
Mary Kate stabbed the spoon through the shell and made a face. “Yuck. It’s like rubber.” Pushing it away, she sat back and asked Jane point-blank, “Why did you and Cole break up?”
“We didn’t really have a choice,” Jane said. “Cole asked Leslie to marry him when he found out she was pregnant. He could hardly go back on his word when he found out I was pregnant, too.” Even if he’d wanted to, which he hadn’t, Jane reminded herself grimly.
“But that was awful for you,” Mary Kate said.
“I had big plans,” Jane said briskly, refusing to tell a tale of woe. “I was going to be an actor. I couldn’t do that by getting stuck in a small town. I went to Sydney and stayed with a friend of Esther’s. Cole offered to send money but I refused it since he had too many people to provide for already. Esther’s friend gave me free room and board in exchange for housekeeping. I was fine .”
“So Cole stayed here and married Stephanie’s mom.”
“That’s right.” Jane sucked in a breath. She couldn’t believe how much that rankled even after all these years. She’d loved Cole with all her heart and soul. He’d told her he loved her, then he’d told her he didn’t. Sure, she’d wanted to be an actor but that wasn’t why she’d left Red Hill; it was because Cole had chosen Leslie. The humiliation and pain had taught her a lesson—never forget, never forgive. But she kept her shoulders square and her smile bright for Mary Kate.
“That’s ancient history,” Jane said. “Now, are you going to eat that egg?”
“Do I have to?”
“I guess not. Put it in the fridge and we’ll get something to eat in town. It’s almost lunchtime, anyway. But first we’ll buy a microwave. I don’t know how Esther managed all these years without one.”
Wonder of wonders, there was a small appliance store in Red Hill. Jane bought a microwave and a new electric kettle to replace the one with the frayed cord. It was a miracle Esther hadn’t electrocuted herself instead of dying of a heart attack.
She and Mary Kate carried their purchases back to her Mazda and stowed them in the trunk. Then they went across the street to a café with a small outdoor courtyard, its tables sheltered by market umbrellas. Jane picked up a menu and handed one to Mary Kate.
Here, in the center of town, two main roads came together in a T-junction lined by shops that made way for houses after a couple of blocks in any direction. Beyond the sparse habitation were woods broken up by rolling countryside planted with grapevines or pastureland dotted with placidly grazing sheep and cows. To the east the land rose to the promontory known as Arthur’s Seat.
A comfortably round dark-haired woman in her late fifties came out of the café and stood over the table. “What can I get you ladies today?”
Jane glanced up. “Mrs. Roberts!”
“Jane Linden?” Valerie Roberts said. “Is that you?”
Jane’s heart sank. She’d always believed Cole’s mother didn’t like her. Jane had been the outsider, the would-be usurper of Leslie’s rightful place as Cole’s wife.
“I’m so sorry about your aunt,” Valerie went on. “Leslie and I came to the funeral but we missed paying our respects to you afterward.”
“I had to rush off. My flight back to L.A. left early the next morning.” And being polite to Leslie and Valerie in that difficult time would have been too much. Even now Jane’s smile grew stiff. “Thank you for the flowers. They were lovely.” She turned to her daughter. “This is Mary Kate. Mary Kate, this is Cole’s mother. Your grandmother.”
“Hi.” Mary Kate eyed Valerie curiously as if trying to associate this woman with the cards she’d received like clockwork every birthday.
“It’s so lovely to see you again,” Valerie gushed. “My, how you’ve grown.”
Mary Kate grimaced. “Everybody says that.”
“You weren’t at the funeral, were you?” Valerie asked.
“I didn’t come. I had a solo in the school concert,” Mary Kate explained.
“I wish I could have heard you sing.” Valerie continued to study Mary Kate with embarrassing intensity. “It’s been so long. Photos don’t really do her justice. She’s the spitting image of Cole. There’s no doubt she’s her father’s daughter.”
“Not a particle,” Jane said tightly. How many boys did Valerie think she’d slept with at age seventeen? “I’d like the Thai beef salad and a latte. What do you want, Mary Kate?”
“I’ll have the ham and Swiss cheese on focaccia. And a chocolate milk shake. And a piece of almond-and-orange cake for dessert.”
Chuckling, Valerie jotted down their order. “A sweet tooth, just like Cole. I have to say I’m glad you’re out of Los Angeles
