“Well, that’s good for security,” she muttered.
“I hope you’re not unsafe. Do you feel safe here?” he asked.
“Of course, or I would be somewhere else.”
It was obvious why Howard had had so many wives and girlfriends and girlfriends who became wives. He was a good-looking man. He had a full head of silver-and-black hair, was sixty-five, very fit, and about six-foot-two. He was tan from hours on the golf course. He was still working as an account executive for what was once a phone company and was now a “communications corporation” that produced everything from wireless services to cell phones.
“I know the holidays are especially hard for you,” he said. “They are for me, too.”
“Why so?” she asked. “You and my mom haven’t had a holiday together for thirty years.”
“There was the last one,” he said. “We weren’t exactly together, but I was there almost every day at the end.”
She almost said too little too late, but stopped herself. “Just out of curiosity, why were you there so much at the end?”
“Kaylee, I loved your mother,” he said. “She forgave me for hurting her. And I couldn’t let you go through that alone. I was worried about you.”
“You loved her?” she said, but her lip curled.
“And she loved me in her own way. We mended our fences the best we could. I hurt her very badly and my apology came far too late but believe me, it didn’t take all that long for me to realize that giving her up was the biggest mistake I ever made. I just didn’t come to that realization in time to make a difference. But despite that, after some years and the fact that I hadn’t done anything to improve my life by marrying and divorcing, we had formed a nice friendship. Talking to your mom… Even though we’d never again be a couple, I loved talking to your mom. She was brilliant and funny and probably the strongest woman I’ve ever known.”
“Which begs the question…why?”
“Why other women?” he asked. “Your mother said I had a weak ego. I suspect she was right. I never tired of having beautiful women tell me how fantastic I was, even when I knew it was a lie and I’d regret it.”
“Yeah, she said you had half a brain,” Kaylee said.
“I’m not entirely stupid,” he said, straightening his spine. “Not entirely.”
She smirked and just shook her head. He was pitiful. He lost the most wonderful woman in the world because he liked being flattered by pretty women. He was quite successful in business, at least in his forties and fifties, but he was clearly an idiot who thought with his little man.
“Your mother, on the other hand, was incredible. The way she started that business from practically nothing and made it into one of the best furniture companies in the area. You must be so proud of her.”
“I didn’t pay that much attention to it at the time, to be honest. It was patio furniture. And it ate up so much of her time. I didn’t realize until right before she got sick how much she’d achieved, and against all odds. Once I understood, I did tell her how much I admired her. But I admired her for so many things. She was a good person. She had great compassion. She was always kind. She cared about people in a genuine way. She forgave you!”
“How are you going to spend the holidays, Kaylee?” he asked. She noticed that he was a little misty-eyed.
“I’m going to write, lie low, let it pass. I really need to get through Christmas, and then maybe in a year or two I can endure it again. Last Christmas was the worst day of my life.”
“What about Thanksgiving? Have you made any plans?”
“Sort of,” she said. “My landlord and I have become good friends and he’s alone, too. We talked about maybe getting some fresh seafood in Eureka and having the meal together. Also, knowing I’m alone, the cook at the bar in town said I’m welcome to join them. I guess they cook for their families at the bar and keep space open for anyone who wanders by. He says no one goes hungry in Virgin River on Thanksgiving and he prepares a feast. I am going to help the local midwife with her charity baskets—just a couple of afternoons of stuffing them full of food and helping to deliver them before Thanksgiving.”
Then she got a little melancholy. “Last Thanksgiving is a holiday I never want to forget. It was the best ever.”
“I don’t remember anything about it,” he said.
“You weren’t there,” she said with a laugh. “Mom had given up on the chemo, had some pain meds, was feeling pretty good, and we had a girl party. Mom was too weak to put the meal together, but she felt good enough to eat and enjoy the day. She even had a little champagne. It was Janette, Michelle, Korby, Maggie and Terri. We had a blast. We had a pajama party. Lots of food, everyone but Mom had lots of drinks. We played cards, ate desserts, watched movies.” She was quiet for a moment. “We talked about all the best old times. Memory gathering.”