“Are you upset with me?” Nick asked Maggie.
She threw a question back at him. “Should I be?”
He hesitated before answering. “Probably. All I heard when we spoke was that you had plans with someone named Caleb. It knocked me off-balance. I wasn’t expecting Caleb to be a second-grader.”
“So you checked with your mother to see if I was dating some guy named Caleb.”
Nick chuckled softly. “I did, and Mom laughed at me and told me I was jealous of a seven-year-old.”
“You were jealous then?”
He exhaled and shrugged. “I didn’t do a good job of hiding my feelings, did I?”
“Not really.”
“I know we got started off on the wrong foot, Maggie, and then I took another misstep. I like you, and every time I take one step forward, I take two back.”
Maggie couldn’t deny the truth of that and wasn’t about to disagree with him.
“When Mom told me you’d taken Caleb and Victoria to Wild Waves I knew I had to come. I was here a full hour before I found you.”
“That long?”
“Don’t suppose you’ve noticed there are about five hundred people here today, did you?”
It was a packed park.
“I needed you to know spending the afternoon with you and the kids was far more appealing than sailing by myself.”
Maggie couldn’t hide how pleased she was. “You should know you’re Caleb and Victoria’s hero.”
“More important, am I yours?” His gaze held hers.
Maggie couldn’t keep a smile hidden had she tried. “That remains to be seen, Nick Sample.”
Chapter 26
All the talk about sons from the last grief therapy session had stayed in Joan’s mind for a long while, bringing with it doubts, to the point that she felt she had to confront her apprehensions. Her relationships with both Steve and Nick were important, and she wanted to make sure they knew that. She was grateful for the talk she’d had with her older son, as it had helped her understand how her grief had negatively affected them both.
In her conversations with Steve, she’d noticed how he avoided talking about Zoe. Whenever she asked, he quickly changed the subject, letting her know anything having to do with her was off-limits. It used to be that her son could talk to her about most anything. That had changed and worried her.
She feared Steve assumed her hearing bad news would somehow cause her to relapse. Or it could be that he hadn’t resolved his feelings about the loss of his father. She could be way off base, but she needed to know and was determined to find out. With these thoughts weighing on her mind, she was uncertain how best to approach the subject.
The house was quiet. Maggie was out and Edison was napping in his crate. That seemed to be the place her puppy loved best. Joan had gotten him a comfortable, fluffy bed that he liked to circle around several times before nestling down for sleepy time.
Gathering her courage, she reached for her phone, hoping Steve was home on a Saturday afternoon.
Steve answered on the second ring. “Hey, Mom, what’s up?”
As usual, he sounded busy. He never had been one for lengthy phone conversations.
“Am I catching you at a bad time?” She needed his full attention.
“Now’s fine. Is everything okay?”
“It’s great.”
“Glad to hear it. What’s up?”
“I…I’m clearing out some of your father’s things.”
“Good,” he said, sounding encouraged. “That’s a step in the right direction.”
“I gave his clothes to the Salvation Army; they were happy to get them. Your dad had a couple high-end suits.” Both boys were taller and more muscular than Jared. “You didn’t want anything out of his closet, did you?”
“No thanks.” His answer was quick and to the point.
“That’s what I thought.”
“Are you still playing golf?” she asked, thinking Steve might be interested in Jared’s irons.
“On occasion. I work a lot of hours, Mom.”
“You need time to relax.” Everyone needed to get away from the job now and again.
“If I want to get ahead in this company, that means putting in the sweat equity.”
Joan let his words sink in. “There’s more to life than work, son.”
Her words were met with stilted silence. “I know you mean well, but this is beginning to sound like a lecture, Mom.”
“Okay, I won’t mention it again.” Sooner or later her son would recognize what was most important in life, and it wasn’t his job title or how high he rose within the company.
“Good. So…what else is going on?” he pressed.
“Like I said, I’m cleaning out your dad’s things and wanted to know if there was anything you wanted.”
He hesitated and then admitted, “I can’t think of a single thing.”
“I thought for sure you’d want your dad’s golf clubs. You two spent so much time on the golf course. Heaven knows there’s a golf course every few blocks in Arizona.”
“We did,” Steve agreed with a sigh. “I appreciate the offer, Mom, but I don’t have time for golf any longer. I work most weekends now. Give the clubs to Nick.”
“He doesn’t play golf.” It was on the tip of her tongue to comment again on the long hours her son put in at the warehouse. She would if she didn’t want to continue their current conversation.
“Nick’s athletic; he might take it up in the future.”
“What about your father’s tools?”
“Nick will want those.” He sounded impatient now, as if he was eager to get off the phone.
“Isn’t there anything of your father’s that you’d like to have?” It hurt how easily Steve dismissed every effort she made to give him something of his father’s.
Steve paused as if mulling it over. “Not really.”
“Nothing? What about a tie clip or cuff links?”
“Mom,” he said and groaned, as if she was far behind the times. “No one wears that stuff any longer.”
His refusal to hold on to anything from Jared pained her. “I’d hoped you would have some desire to hold on to his memory.”
He must have heard her disappointment because, once again, he hesitated. “I’m sorry, Mom. You’re right. I should keep at least one memento of Dad.”
She hoped her voice didn’t betray the lump in her throat. “I assumed you had a good relationship with him.”
“I did,” he was quick to tell her. “The thing is, I left home a long time ago. And Dad and I were different. He was a good father and I’m grateful to have had him in my life. I have all those memories, and really that’s what’s most important.”
Steve was right. She, too, had her memories, and like her son, she would treasure those. Then, gathering her courage, she asked, “Can I ask you something, and please, I need your honesty?”
“Of course.”
“Have I failed you as a mother?” She closed her eyes, fearing his response, the guilt eating at her.
He seemed to weigh his words as if he was afraid of hurting her feelings. “No way. I always knew I could depend on you. You’ve been a good mom,” he added, as though it was important that she know that. “And Dad was a good father.”