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“Oh.” Betsy sighs and shakes her head slowly. “We always had a tough relationship with our daughter. And not for the usual reasons. There were no drugs or lifestyle decisions that drove a wedge between us.”
“Vanessa was staunchly independent,” Les says, folding his hands. “From a young age, she wanted to do things alone. She never told us about school functions that we should attend, like games or meetings.”
“I had to stay in touch with her teachers,” Betsy says. “She was private, and I guess you could say that we just never bonded with her.”
“Was she an only child?” Noel asks.
“Yes, and I regret that,” Betsy admits. “Maybe if we’d had more children, she would have felt differently about family. She left for college and rarely came home to visit. And the more we asked, the less she’d cooperate.”
“We loved our daughter,” Les says. “And I believe she loved us, in the only way she knew how.”
“I can’t believe she didn’t even tell you she had Piper. Or that she was sick.”
“Well, not telling us about her daughter came as quite a surprise,” Betsy says, her voice quivering. “But her illness? No. I’m not surprised. She just didn’t reach out about things like that. I wish she had told us so we could have been with her.”
“But she wouldn’t have wanted that either,” Les adds and reaches for his wife’s hand.
“None of us are bad people,” Betsy insists. “Just different. And now that we know we have a granddaughter, we’d like the chance to get to know her.”
“Are you planning to file for custody?” Noel asks, her voice strong.
Les and Betsy look at each other in surprise.
“No,” Les says. “We’re not young people. We raised our family. But this is the only chance we have at being grandparents.”
“We live in Florida,” Betsy adds. “So we can’t see Piper often, but we’d like to make the trip a few times a year. Perhaps we can spend a holiday or two with you.”
Ms. Hale clears her throat. “If need be, Les and Betsy can petition the court for visitation rights. Or you can simply make that decision among yourselves, and not involve the court at all.”
I take a deep breath and sit back in the chair, watching the older couple before me. Vanessa looked so much like her mother. I don’t know what her reasons were for not having a relationship with her parents, but I don’t have the heart to keep Piper away from them.
If I discover something is off later, we can always adjust things.
And they won’t take her by themselves. At least, not for a long time.
“There’s no need to involve the court,” I say at last. Betsy dissolves into tears, and Les nods his head.
“Thank you,” he says.
“How long are you in town?”
“Only for a couple of days,” Betsy says. “Do you think we can meet her before we go? We brought her some Christmas gifts, and I’d just love to see her.”
“We can arrange that,” Noel says and smiles. “I’m sure she’ll love the idea of having more people in her life to love and to love her.”
We exchange phone numbers and agree to meet the following afternoon.
Once in the car, I sigh and just stare straight ahead.
“You were right,” I say at last.
“About which part?”
“That I had no reason to worry.”
She reaches for my hand. “You’re a daddy, Reed. Worrying is going to be part of your daily life for the next hundred years.”
“As long as I have you to remind me that everything’s okay, I’ll be just fine.”
“Everything’s okay,” she says with a smile. “I promise.”EpilogueThree Months Later~Noel~“I don’t know what to do with this.” I sit on my haunches in the middle of my office in my condo and sigh. I’m sweaty. I’m tired.
My muscles hurt.
Who would have thought that moving was so freaking exhausting?
Reed offered to hire movers for me, but I really needed to go through everything myself. Purge what I don’t need, and safely pack what I’m taking with me to his house.
Our house.
The house with the killer view of Puget Sound.
He’s even letting me redecorate the whole place, which is awesome, considering I can’t stand that stark white anymore.
“Do you use it?” Reed asks, pointing to the box in my hands.
“No, but someone gave it to me. So I should keep it, right?”
“Who gave it to you?”
“I have no idea.”
He pauses in packing my paperbacks and laughs at me. “Honey, I think if you can’t remember who gave it to you, and you don’t use it anymore, you can get rid of it.”
“Okay.” I blow a piece of hair out of my face and reach for the next thing. “I’m donating almost everything in here. All I really use is my laptop and sketchpads.”
“That’s not surprising,” he says. “Sidebar. Is this book as dirty as it looks from the cover?”
