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Ivy clung to Charlotte for a few more minutes before she disappeared under the table to appear seconds later on the other side.
“Your hair looks lovely. Did Charlotte braid it?” Annette asked.
Ivy shook her head. “No, Uncle Bast did it, but Charlotte taught him.”
His mother smiled and gave him an I-don't-believe-it look.
“It's true. It turns out you can teach an old dog new tricks.” He wondered if that went for everything. Was it possible for his mother to learn how to step back and not drive everything? He hoped so. He'd been thinking a lot about her visit since the day prior and wondered if they might come to some compromise or at least lay down some healthy boundaries for him and Ivy. It would be fine for his mother to make her demands if only his life were affected, but her custody threats were turning many lives upside down. Thankfully, not Ivy’s, not yet anyway. But Charlotte wouldn't come out of this unscathed. She was an innocent bystander in all of this. Then there was Tiffany, Ava, and even Marcus, who hadn't assumed incorrectly. He didn't feel too badly about him because it was clear that Marcus wasn't up for the husband of the year award. He knew the money he’d pay Tiffany would help her and Ava get away from Marcus. Maybe then Marcus would realize then he needed help for his daughter’s sake.
“Penny for your thoughts,” Charlotte said, her voice angelic.
Bastien chuckled. “That’s a pretty low bid.” The cost of his decisions and agreements since his sister's death would be expensive, but one couldn't put a value on love or Ivy’s happiness. Maybe that was what was wrong with his mother. Had she ever experienced love or even the love of herself? And if she loved herself, wouldn't she have expected more from life?
He glanced at the woman across the table who had never been happy. He wished he knew how to make things better for her, to bring some joy to her existence. One thing he knew for sure, the answer wasn't to put Ivy in her care. It was obvious to him she only wanted Ivy as some sad way to fix the past with Chloe, and that would only suck the joy out of Ivy’s life and make her feel responsible for her grandmother. Ivy would end up adrift and missing her mother instead of celebrating her. It was remarkable to him how Chloe managed to leave this world and yet imbue Ivy with endless joy and hope instead of fear and sadness. He would never let his mother undo that, and he knew a big part of it was riding on him fulfilling his promise.
He returned his attention to Charlotte, whose eyes were filled with concern for him and his family situation. She reached over and took his hand in hers, squeezing it softly as if to tell him everything was going to be okay. He thought about what Cricket had said earlier. She was right. No contract or bank account had ever made him feel safe or loved. And no one had moved him or protected him the way Charlotte was doing with a simple look and touch of her hand. Was this what true love felt like? He smiled gratefully at her before turning back toward his mother, whose eyes were pinned on them with an almost suspicious glint.
Annette cleared her throat. “When's the wedding?”
He wished he'd had more time to discuss the details with Charlotte, and Ivy for that matter. He hoped Ivy would stay still and not give them away with her own surprise and likely delight. They hadn't planned for pointed questions. He wanted to laugh. He hadn't planned at all. “Poor planning always leads to poor results” had been his professional mantra. When his mother changed her schedule, his plans went out the window.
Cricket sauntered over with pen and pad in hand. “What can I get ya?” She pointed her pen at Ivy. “I got you, little munchkin. Grilled cheese and tater tots, right?”
“Yes, please, and a chocolate milk?”
Annette gasped. “Nothing about that meal is healthy. Where are the vegetables?”
Ivy looked like she was ready to cry. Bastien knew from experience his mother’s otherwise well-intentioned words embarrassed and criticized in a way only she could deliver them.
Bastien stepped in. “It's okay, Ivy. We're all here to enjoy ourselves, and that includes some fun food choices now and then. Right, Cricket?”
“It's got grain and dairy. I'm not feeding her a cup of sugar. Or a cup of warm cow shit,“ she said under her breath.
Annette cast a disapproving glance at Bastien. “Is there nowhere better to eat than this greasy spoon?” She snatched one of the paper napkins from the dispenser and placed it delicately over her lap. “One with real napkins?”
“Well, you’re just honey on a hushpuppy, aren’t you? I can see you're a woman with refined tastes. I've got a coffee you're gonna love.” She jotted something down on her pad. “Poached salmon with a miso glaze served with fingerling potatoes and asparagus.”
His mother smiled. “Oh. Seriously?”
Cricket laughed and shook her head, “Nope, it's fish and chips. You eat with your fingers. Those paper napkins will come in handy.”
Bastien knew his mother was getting close to seeing the bottom of Cricket's shoe, rumored to have a middle finger drawn on the sole. “That sounds great to me.” He turned to Charlotte. “What about you, honey?”
“I'll have the same.”
Annette made a face. “All that grease is bad for the figure and the skin. You should be careful,” she mused, looking at Charlotte. Bastien was happy Charlotte had not taken the bait. Annette perused the menu for several seconds. “I'll have a salad with chicken.”
Cricket wrote their order on her pad and left.
“Now, where were we?” Annette glanced at each of them before settling her attention on Charlotte. “Oh, yes. The wedding. When is it?”
He turned his attention to Ivy, who seemed to not have paid much notice to the conversation while she folded paper napkins into some origami creation only a five-year-old could figure out.
When he looked at poor Charlotte, she resembled a deer caught in headlights for a moment, and then everything changed. She sat up and said, “We aren't spring chickens as you’ve noticed, so we planned to marry soon, but then my shop flooded, and everything has been delayed.”
Bastien felt a knot in his stomach as he watched the emotion wash over Charlotte's face. He knew she was trying to put a brave face on things, but he could tell deep down she was sad and worried. He wanted to tell her everything would be okay, and he would do his best to make it so—for her.
He couldn't wait until they had a minute alone to find out why she'd stepped in. Not that he wasn't happy. In a perfect world where love actually mattered, he'd marry Charlotte in an instant, but this was fragile fiction where everything was complicated and uncertain and being made up as they went along. He didn’t build his life or his business on improvisation, and he had now firmly departed from his comfort zone.
