“I can help,” Grandma said. “In fact, I can buy it. Will you let me do that for you, Maddie? And for the baby?”
She wanted to sayThanks, but no thanks. She wanted to be an independent woman who was going to take responsibility for herself and for her baby and would not need a handout from her ninety-year-old grandmother, most of whose money, Maddie knew, was tied up in island real estate. She’d rather buy something she could afford.
“Or …” Stephen said, “how about if Nancy and I split the cost? The baby will be joining our family, right? So why not let us buy the vehicle that she’ll be traveling around in?”
Maddie smiled again because it was cute that he’d referred to the baby as “she” instead of “he.” As much as Stephen treasured Rafe, Maddie always thought he’d been happy that he and Hannah had a daughter.
“Are you hoping it’s a girl?” she asked.
He looked like a deer in the proverbial headlights. “Well, no. As long as it’s a healthy baby.”
“Liar,” she teased, swatting his arm, and the mood instantly elevated. “You have a grandson. Now you want a granddaughter, don’t you?”
He grinned and shrugged, and Maddie laughed.
“Girls are expensive,” Grandma chimed in.
“Speaking of which,” Maddie said, “can we go out for dinner later? I’ve been so busy I forgot to go shopping.”
“Great idea,” Grandma said. “Where to?”
“I’ve been secretly craving Asian food and pickles,” the mother-to-be-for-the-second-time said. “Let’s go to Vineyard Haven, but stop at the market first for pickles. They might not be on the menu, and no one should challenge a pregnant lady’s appetite.”
Her father looked stupefied, and Grandma rolled her eyes.
For a little while, it was almost as if they were an ordinary family.
Brunch was so filling, they skipped lunch. Late in the afternoon, they left the cottage in two cars: Maddie turned in the rental, then joined her father and Grandma. After stopping for pickles, they headed to Main Street in Vineyard Haven.
At the Asian restaurant, they joked and laughed and ate, and, at Stephen’s suggestion, they shared sesame seed balls for dessert. Maddie was amused that her grandmother and her father were acting as if they’d always been pals and not reticent in-laws; she also was happy that she and her father were back to their “old selves,” with no more tension poisoning the air between them.
Then Stephen said, “And now I have another announcement.” He raised his teacup as if in a toast.
“Is it as impressive as having a baby?” Maddie teased.
“Hardly,” Stephen said. “But it’s overdue. As much as I hate to break up our team, I have to return to Green Hills by April second—I need to prepare a talk for a conference in Worcester the following week. They’re calling it, ‘The Future of Liberal Arts Colleges in New England.’” He gave Maddie a small grin. “Don’t worry. I won’t mention you.”
She returned the grin while shaking her head. Sometimes, Stephen did have a sense of humor she could understand.
“Anyway,” he went on, “I want you to know I’ve loved almost every minute of being here. And I especially hate toleave, what with the baby news. But before I go, I promise that things for the bookshop will be in good shape.”
“Oh, Dad,” she said, resting her hand on his arm. “I can’t imagine what I—whatwe—would have done without you. But I’m happy that you’ll speak at the conference. You have so much to give.”
Grandma held her left arm out to her side and, with her right arm, pretended to play the violin.
They all laughed at the gesture.
Then Grandma leaned toward Stephen and said, “This is when you just say, ‘Thanks, Madelyn.’”
So he did.
Then he said, “But I’ll be back in time for the opening, and stay until after my granddaughter’s born.” The “granddaughter” sentiment didn’t go unnoticed.
“Before then, however,” he added, “I’ll see you at Rafe’s graduation.”
“To Rafe’s graduation,” Grandma said, lifting her teacup and clinking with Stephen.
Maddie regretted that she’d been so preoccupied she hadn’t paid more attention to her son or his impending accomplishment, but she was grateful she had people who’d help fill the gaps that she’d created by being so insufferably insufferable. She had a lot to make up for now.
