AJ didn’t understand why Mr. and Mrs. St. Claire had lied to Deacon, but they had. Selma Montez, Deacon’s birth mother, was alive and well and living in Valentine Bay, a small town on the Oregon coast. AJ didn’t know if it was her choice or theirs to keep the truth hidden, but he could tell that Deacon honestly believed the story he’d been told.
Deacon’s arms crossed. “Have you told anyone?”
“No.” AJ was trying to puzzle out whether or not he should give Deacon the information he knew about his biological mom. Was that the right thing to do? Did he have an ethical obligation to disclose that information?
“I would appreciate it if you would please just keep this to yourself until after the wedding tomorrow. I don’t want to do anything that would steal any of the spotlight from Mrs. Costas and Mr. Santino.”
AJ dipped his chin in a curt nod. He understood why Deacon would feel like that. And it wasn’t as if he’d been doing anything nefarious. If anything, Deacon was the one who needed protection, not the other way around.
Deacon held out his hand, and AJ shook it. “Thanks, man, I appreciate it.”
He turned to leave and headed towards his car. One conversation down, one more to go. With the wedding tomorrow, he had no choice but to do this today. He got in his SUV and made the short drive over to Yaya’s house. When he got out, he found her in the kitchen, standing at the stove. He knocked on the screen door.
She jumped, startled at the intrusion, and then waved her arm. “Come in, come in, come in!”
He stepped inside the kitchen that seemed so much smaller than it had when he was growing up. She reached up, grabbed his cheeks and kissed him on each side. “Sit, sit, sit.” She did a three-sixty and suddenly there was a steaming bowl of stew in front of him. “Eat, eat, eat.”
AJ had zero appetite. The last thing he wanted to do was eat, but he knew that there was no way he could say no. He picked up his spoon, and it was only then that he realized her entire front room was packed up. All of her bookshelves, which were normally cluttered with so many knickknacks that gave AJ anxiety, were totally bare.
“Yaya, who did all this?”
“Zion came. He help me.”
“He packed all this?”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“I get married.”
“Are you moving?”
“Of course!”
“Are you moving to Golden Years?” AJ knew Yaya was getting married, and that Mr. Santino lived at Golden Years Retirement Home, but he hadn’t realized that this home, Papou’s home, was no longer going to be in the family. That Yaya was leaving it.
“No, no, no. Not to Golden Years. To cottage right next door, just in case Arthur need anything.”
AJ definitely knew he had feelings about this, strong feelings. He felt his chest tightening, and then his eyes started to water, but he closed them, then gathered everything to do with this house into a file, put it in a box, and shut the box. He would deal with that later.
“Yaya, can you sit down?” He put his hand on the table. “I need to talk to you.”
She looked over her shoulder, turned the oven off, wiped her hands on her apron, and then patted his hand as she sat in the chair next to him. “I love you. If you love the men. Is okay. I still love you. Is fine.”
“I’m not gay, Yaya. But thank you.”
Her hands flew in the air. “Then what?! Why so serious?! I have to make food for wedding!” She started to stand.
“It’s about the wedding, about Frank. I need to talk to you about his life before he came to Hope Falls.”
She sat back down. “What? Why? Because my Arthur work for CIA and is assassin and is good at job. So what? I was spy in Greece, so was your Papou. That is how we meet.”
“What?” AJ could not believe what he was hearing. “You were a spy?”
“Yes. Resistance fighter.”
“I didn’t know that.”
