For a moment, J.J. was overwhelmed with love for Keith. He understood what it was like to be left alone the way she had been. Keith had moved forward. Maybe she could, too, someday. She hugged Keith, and he hugged her back.
“You’re lookin’ good, kid. Glad to see you out here having a little fun in Irish Hills. It’s not the same without you.”
“Shh, they think they’re in charge,” J.J. whispered in his ear.
He laughed.
* * *
It was a fun night, and Stone didn’t hover around. He seemed to have some friendships now with people in Irish Hills.
Hmm. I went away for nine months, and things sure did change. The former pariah has lake buddies.
Later, when things quieted down, J.J. was ready to go. She’d had fun, laughs even, but her days of staying up all night were long behind her. Fifty was like being a toddler; you needed naps and a bedtime to properly function.
She remembered Stone had driven here, so it was time to find him or call a cab. Since cab service was sparse in Irish Hills, she hoped he was ready to go, too.
J.J. was rounding a corner when she heard her name come out of Libby’s mouth. She stopped in her tracks and hung back in the shadow of the hallway.
“J.J. is blind to it. I think she’s hurting D.J. by coming to the rescue.”
It was Viv who spoke next. “It’s really hard not to help someone who’s struggling with addiction, doubly hard when it’s our own kids.”
“I know, I know, I understand that. But D.J. is lying to her. And to everybody. I paid an accountant; he told me the accountant was doing the work. And you heard her.”
“Well, maybe the accountant did some work, and she did some work. Both could be true.”
“Yes, you’re right. And it’s my fault, too. I had her come back because I wanted her to help him. But I guess I was hoping it would be a tough love kind of thing. Dean would have handled this differently, I think. She’s helping, but what worries me is that it’s enabling, and D.J. is getting worse. The work is getting worse.”
“It’s not our business, their relationship.”
“But D.J.’s businessismy business. If we miss deadlines on the project, if we fail, there are ramifications.”
Someone in the bar laughed, and others joined in. Libby and Viv moved away. They hadn’t seen J.J. They didn’t know she’d heard their conversation.
Her initial instinct was to charge in to defend her son. But this was Libby and Viv. In that moment, if she butted in, she’d be fighting with Libby. She very well wanted to say something she knew she would regret.
D.J. needed her help, and she was giving it. He liked his beer. That was it. Libby didn’t know a thing about it. Her kids were different from J.J.’s. To Libby, soccer was a contact sport.
Her boys were tough. They were brawny men with big appetites. The disparity between the privilege that Libby’s kids enjoyed and what her kids did not as they grew up seemed like a canyon.
That canyon of difference stopped her from going in and popping off to Libby. She was going to give Libby grace. Libby was worried about D.J.—that, at least, was a good instinct.
Still, it hurt to her core, hearing their unfiltered conversation about her and her son. She wished she hadn’t.
And, big surprise, Libby’s method of parenting and J.J.’s were different. Of course, they were! Libby had nannies for her kids. A housekeeper. She was raised that way, too.
J.J. and Dean were hands-on. They were present. Her kids were used to having help from her…and then Dean goes off and dies!
J.J. had left D.J. to fend for himself for nearly a year, and he’d just lost his dad. This was, in part, her fault. She did have to fix it. Of course D.J. was off-kilter! And, of course, now she was there to set it right.
Libby didn’t understand that. D.J. was fine, and whatever help he needed was normal.
She was there to lend her support, just like she’d done with Dean when he started out in business. No more, no less.
J.J. felt sick. She just wanted to get out of there. Her mouth would likely make this worse if she said what she wanted to Libby.
And she usually did.
