It wasn’t Reenie; it was his mother.
“Afternoon, Georgia,” Ollie said.
“Afternoon, Ollie,” she responded. “Keith here?”
Ollie motioned with his head. “Over there.”
Keith started making keys again, pretending he hadn’t seen her so she’d have to come to the back to get his attention. The whole town knew he was no longer living with Reenie. There was no way to keep something like that quiet, not when he’d moved in with his parents and was now working for Ollie. But he didn’t want Ollie or anyone else to hear what his mother had to say. She was so upset that there was no telling what she might spout off.
“Keith?”
When she touched his arm, he turned off the power switch. The grating of metal on metal instantly fell to a silence broken only by his voice. “Hey, Mom.”
“I think Reenie’s filing for divorce,” she stated bluntly, dabbing at her eyes, which were already red and swollen.
Keith’s words seemed to jam at the back of his throat. “Wh-what makes you think that?” he finally managed to say.
“I just ran into Betsy Mann at the grocery store. She said Celeste wasn’t able to make it to bridge club today.”
“So?” he said, but his mother’s tears made his heart pound against his chest.
“She couldn’t make it because she was going to Boise with Reenie.”
“That doesn’t necessarily mean—”
“I didn’t think so, either, until I tried calling her an hour ago. She was home but wouldn’t come to the phone. Garth said she was too tired, that she was lying down.”
He was beginning to break into a cold sweat. “Maybe she is tired.”
“Too tired to talk to me? I’ve never met with that response in the twenty years I’ve known her.”
He glanced helplessly around the hardware store. He’d done everything the past two weeks to try to win Reenie back.
“Poor little Isabella,” his mother said, sniffling. “And Angela, and Jennifer. How could you let that job come between you and your family?”
She looked as though she wanted to smack him. He knew she probably would, if she ever learned the rest of the story.
“I tried to warn you that you were away too much,” she went on. “But you wouldn’t listen. You took Reenie for granted, and now you’ve lost her.”
As she started to cry again, Keith thought briefly of Liz. If he couldn’t save his first marriage, maybe he should try to save his second. Liz was a good woman. He missed her. But as much as he cared about her and Mica and Chris, as much as he loved them and had enjoyed spending part of each month in L.A., he couldn’t imagine leaving Dundee. Just as he knew he couldn’t give up on Reenie. She was absolutely vital to his happiness.
He’d known it all along. He just hadn’t been able to break out of the mess he’d created. Not when he loved Liz and Mica and Christopher, too. “I screwed up,” he admitted.
He must have sounded terribly crestfallen because his mother reacted with some pity. “Oh, honey,” she said, putting her hand over his. “Pray it’s not too late. You asked me to stay out of it, but—” another sniff “—maybe it’s time I got involved.”
He could easily guess how much Reenie would appreciate that. But she’d always been close to his family. Maybe a little pressure from the O’Connells would tip the scales in his favor. It wasn’t as if he had to worry that she’d reveal the truth. For the sake of the girls, she’d guard his secret with her life. “Okay,” he said. “Tell her I’m sorry. Tell her I love her.”
His mother nodded. “I will. And I’ll remind her of the children and what’s best for them. She adores those girls. Surely, she’ll listen to reason.”
“She has to,” he said. He couldn’t imagine anything else.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
MICA ADJUSTED the seat belt she shared with Christopher and leaned forward so she could see around Isaac. “This is it?” she said, her voice pregnant with disappointment. “This is where we’ll be living?”
Isaac brought the U-Haul to a shuddering stop at the first traffic signal in Dundee—there were only four lights in total—and opened his mouth to respond. But Christopher spoke before Isaac could offer some of the positives he was scrambling to formulate.
“I wanna go home,” he said, and started to cry.
Isaac turned down the radio and looked at Liz.
“He’s tired,” she explained. Her voice held sympathy, but she didn’t attempt to comfort her son. She was too busy studying the buildings on both sides of the street, as if someone or something might rush out and attack them.
“We’re all tired,” Isaac said. They’d been on the road for a day and a half. For most of the trip, Liz had driven the car Isaac was now towing behind them. Having the children squished in the middle, wearing the same seat belt, compromised their safety, but not as badly as leaving Liz behind the wheel. For the past hour, she’d been swerving all over the road. She hadn’t been sleeping well enough to weather such a long drive. More often than not, Isaac heard her rambling around as late as three or four o’clock in the morning—and it was starting to show in the dark circles forming under eyes.
“So where’s the house?” Liz asked.
Rolling onto his right hip, Isaac pulled the directions out of his pocket. He’d found the house by calling city hall. A secretary there had referred him to a man named Fred Winston, Dundee’s only real estate agent. Because they’d handled everything over the phone, Isaac hadn’t yet seen the place.
“Just off the main drag, on Mount Marcy Street,” he said.
“Mount Marcy Street?” Mica echoed. “Sounds stupid.”
Mica was generally a happy child, but she’d grown sullen as the miles passed. Chris had been even more morose. Although he was normally very active, he’d sat absolutely still for most of the trip, staring at the dash, unresponsive even when Isaac or Liz spoke to him.
The light turned green and Isaac gave the U-Haul some gas, trying hard not to notice the curious stares they were beginning to attract from strangers on the street. In a town this small, a moving van rolling down Main Street was definitely conspicuous. Folks were probably wondering whether or not they had new neighbors.
“The real estate agent said it’s nice,” Isaac told Mica encouragingly.