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We bake, and we laugh, and we bond, and I truly do feel like a part of this wonderful family.
“You like your job, no?” Grammy asks, as I slide the pan into the oven and set the timer to the exact minute and second she recommends.
“I do…” I can't help but hesitate. “I do love it, but lately, the late hours and conflicting demands are getting to me.”
“A fulfilling career is important to strong women like you and me.”
I climb onto one of the stools by the big storefront table, feet aching. I can’t understand how Grammy does this all day. I can’t handle being on my feet for more than a couple hours. “How did you run yourown businessand still have time for everything? Especially for your family?”
“It wasn’t easy, dear. It was even harder when I was your age. But every day for the last sixty odd years, I’ve reminded myself:Who needs me more?My customers might bitch and complain about not getting their coffee or their cranberry swirl muffin, but they’ll live. My kids…my grandsons…my late husband… My neglect would have done far more harm. They needed me. They needed me around for dinner. They needed me to help them with homework every day after school. They needed to know they were loved. And it was important for me to find that balance and make sure they knew about much they meant to me.”
She grabs a stool and sits next to me.
“They are all so lucky to have you.” I mull over her advice. It’s such a great standard to live by, and I hope someday I can find that special balance between my career and my family life.
But right now, I just feel a strong tug inside my chest.
Harry returns from the pharmacy, throwing his car in park right out front on the street. He hops out of his car, and through the window, he catches sight of his Grammy and me, sitting in the kitchen.
His expression tells me he automatically knows what that means—I’m not just his wife. I’m family now. I’m a Westbrook.
At the brilliant, blissful smile that takes over his face, my heart turns to a bowl of mashed potatoes inside my chest. And I just know what I have to do. I’d do anything for him. I’d make the ultimate sacrifice.
I can’t delay this any longer.
A while later, I’m pulling into the driveway of my house. I pull up far enough to make room for Harry’s car behind mine.
He hops out of his vehicle with a sweet smile on his face, hustling to catch up and sling an arm around my shoulder.
We enter my house and his lips are on me. Inside my bedroom, we’re peeling off each other’s clothes. I make love to him like the walls of this room are on fire, like I’m choking on the smoke of my lies.
When he falls asleep, I watch him for a long moment, knowing I can’t avoid the inevitable any longer.
I creep down the hall, into my home office and sit at my desk. My fingers tremble as they hover over the keys of my laptop.
It takes me at least an hour. Typing and re-typing the same document over and over again. I can’t seem to make it past the first line. None of the words that come to me seem quite right.
But as I waver, my grandmother’s advice comes back to me.“Don’t you go changing anything about your life for some man. The right one will fit into yours.”
In this instance, Granny is wrong. If I want Harry, I don’t have a choice. I’m the one who has to do the fitting and rearranging. I’m okay with that. Because he’s worth it.
Mrs. Westbrook’s words fill my mind. “Who needs me more?”
Harry does. Without a question, Harry needs me more than my job does.
Finally, I slam my laptop shut and reach for the yellow lined legal pad in the top drawer of my desk.
Dear Liam
I scratch that out with my pen. I tear out the sheet of paper, crumple it into a ball and toss it into the recycling bin under my desk.
I try again.
Dear Mr. Kline
A long moment passes as I try to figure out what to write next. Then I just go for it.
Dear Mr. Kline,
