Table For Five. Susan Wiggs
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“No. I’m not imposing on Lily.”
“She’s your freaking best friend,” he said, yelling now. “She’ll bail you out, no problem.”
“Yes, she would, if I asked her to. But I won’t. Our children are not Lily’s responsibility.” She regarded him with those beautiful, cool blue eyes, and it was a look of such obstinacy that Derek felt himself conceding the battle without even saying a word.
Having a family had always seemed like a reasonable prospect to Derek. A wife and kids. What could be simpler or more pleasant?
Where Crystal was involved, nothing was simple and very little was pleasant. And who knew what a circus act it actually was to juggle three kids? The laundry, the phone calls, the homework, the carpools, the scheduling of sports and music lessons. Hell, you needed an air traffic controller to manage everything.
No wonder Charlie was in trouble. Someone had dropped the ball with her, and she was failing in school. A hard knot of guilt formed in Derek’s stomach. Charlie. His little chip shot.
He checked his watch. They still had an hour and a half to kill before it was time to pick up the kids. He drew on the hood of his jacket, shouldered opened the door and went back out into the roaring storm. He disconnected the cables, closed both engine hoods, then went around to Crystal’s door and yanked it open.
“Get in the truck,” he yelled.
“But why—”
“Get in the damned truck.” He turned away, got in the driver’s seat, put on his seat belt and watched her. Even in the teeth of the storm, she moved with the unhurried grace of a queen, opening her red umbrella and then stepping out of the car. She got into the truck, then folded the umbrella and slid it under the seat.
“Did you leave your keys in the car?” he asked.
“Of course. I’m not stupid, Derek.”
“No,” he said, putting the truck in reverse. “You’re not.” Things would be easier if she was.
He headed west on the river road, the wipers thumping rapidly across the windshield.
“Where are you going?”
“We’ve got an hour to talk,” he said, ignoring her question. “So talk.”
He could feel her glare as she clicked her seat belt in place. “Charlie’s in trouble. Fighting about it for an hour isn’t going to solve anything.”
He glanced over at her and saw no trace of sarcasm in her expression.
“Then let’s not fight.” He wondered if she heard the weariness in his voice. It was exhausting, trying to figure out what to do with a love gone wrong, especially when kids were involved.
With sullen reluctance, the rain let up and finally stopped altogether. Derek turned off the river road and drove up the ramp to the highway. Here at the coast road, the sun was trying to peek through the broody, black-bellied clouds over the churning sea.
The view was spectacular no matter how many times he saw it. He and Sean had grown up in Comfort, and on the weekends they liked to come out to the coast to hang out on the beach or play a round of golf at the seaside links course. As they grew older and went up to Portland for college, they continued to come out here. The highway department’s scenic vista pullout was the perfect place to bring girls for make-out sessions.
The first time he’d dated Crystal, he’d brought her here. It was no accident that he’d chosen the spot today.
He maneuvered the truck along the winding road, finding it deserted except for the occasional darting squirrel or deer heading pointlessly from one side of the road to another. The economic recession had hit the county hard, and its budget troubles showed in the condition of the road. Potholes were patched here and there, guardrails were down or missing altogether. The shoulder of the road was collapsing in places from mudslides. The macadam surface was slick and he could feel the tires of the truck trying to hydroplane. In the burgeoning sunlight, wisps of steam rose from the wet pavement.
Derek tried to think of something to say that wouldn’t lead to a fight. An impossible task with Crystal these days. She was as fragile and brittle as her name implied, and the slightest upset could cause her to shatter. However, with Charlie in trouble, they had a difficult conversation ahead of them.
“So,” he said at last, “what do you make of our conference with your friend?”
“Lily was speaking to us in her capacity as Charlie’s teacher,” she said, “not as my friend. And to be honest, I’m actually glad to have Charlie’s problems out in the open. It’s time to stop fooling ourselves. From our first meeting with Lily last September, it’s been clear that Charlie’s way behind the curve. Now we need to figure out what to do.”
“Charlie never had any problems until Lily’s class.” Derek gritted his teeth. That was going to piss Crystal off. Too bad. This was about Charlie. His daughter, his heart.
“Oh, so you think Lily is the cause of Charlie stealing and being behind in school? Lily is the best teacher our kids have ever had.”
He pulled off at the scenic vista. For a moment, he flashed on a vivid memory of the first time he’d brought Crystal here. She was his beauty queen from Beaverton, he was a hot stick striving for his PGA card and they were in love. She gave up her crown for him and he’d vowed to leave his party-animal ways behind. Their future was golden.
That golden future had been tarnished by the patina of time, of betrayal, of all the myriad strains of trying to stay on his game.
“I’m saying you might want to consider the idea that Lily could actually be part of the problem.”
“That would be so much easier than considering the idea that you might be part of the problem.” She caught his glare and amended, “All right, maybe we’re both part of it. I trust Lily implicitly. When she taught Cameron seven years ago, you had no complaints about her. He flourished in her class.”
“Cameron is a no-brainer. A monkey could have educated him. He was the perfect kid.” Derek wondered if his son knew he thought that. Only this morning, they’d had their usual fight over the usual topic—golf.
“What’s that face?” Crystal asked. She could still read him like a rule book.
“Cam’s pissed at me again,” Derek confessed. “He doesn’t want to play in the tournament this weekend. I don’t get it. He’s a brilliant golfer.” He thumped his hand on the steering wheel. “Maybe he was just trying to get a rise out of me. In fact, now that the rain’s stopped, he’s probably hitting a bucket of balls for practice. Kid can’t stay away from the game.”
“Which shows how much you know about your son,” Crystal said.
“Now you’re telling me he doesn’t like golf.”
“He likes you. He thinks he has to play golf so you’ll give him the time of day.”
“That’s shit.” Derek thought about the strained conversation he’d had with Cameron that morning. The strain had flared into out-and-out hostility from both sides. Somehow, battling his son brought out the worst in him. “I can’t believe he’s fighting me over golf. When I offered to talk to Coach Duncan about it, Cam freaked on me, completely freaked.”
“Don’t talk to Greg Duncan,” Crystal said quickly, sharply.
Derek frowned.
She said, “Let me talk to Cameron—later.” She unhooked her seat belt and got out to pace in front of the truck. He had no choice but to join her. The air was still chilly and smelled of damp asphalt, cedar and madrona. Far below, waves breaking on the rocks threw up rainbows of light. This place used to hold such magic for them. Even the abandoned lighthouse way out on Tillamook Rock, miles offshore, had been part of the spell. It was a famous columbarium where old bones and ashes were put to