A Wedding on Primrose Street (Life In Icicle Falls Book 7) (22 page)

Daphne shook her head. Emphatically. “No. I didn’t.”

“Well, they weren’t in the arrangements,” Roberta said testily. It wasn’t going to do any good to stand here and argue with her daughter. She started to hobble off.

“Mother, I did go over there.”

“Never mind. It’s been taken care of.” But this was the end of Daphne helping. Every time she “helped,” it was not helpful.

“You don’t believe me.”

The hurt and accusation in her daughter’s voice were like fingernails on a chalkboard.
Don’t say anything you’ll regret!
Roberta took a deep breath and turned around. “Darling, I’m sure you meant to call or drop by. I do that, too, think I’ve done something when I haven’t gotten around to it.”

“No.” Daphne frowned. “I went over there and talked to Kevin. I’m not completely incompetent, you know.”

“Of course you’re not.” Roberta wished she’d postponed her bunion surgery. “Anyway, as I said, it’s all taken care of now.” So there was no need to be upset or to fuss at her daughter. But there was certainly cause to wonder what else would go wrong at this wedding.

“I’m glad it is.” Daphne’s voice was as cold as the Wenatchee River during spring runoff. “But it should never have been a problem in the first place.”

Oh, no. She wasn’t going to get the last word. “Why can’t you just admit you made a mistake?”

“Because I didn’t! And why do you always have to believe the worst of me?”

“Oh, Daphne. I do not.”

“Yes, you do. And I’m tired of it.” With that, Daphne marched full steam ahead into the kitchen to arrange the chocolates on tiered china serving dishes.

Roberta fell onto the nearest chair, exhausted, unhappy and irritated. Really, at her age she shouldn’t have to cope with disagreements and emotional undercurrents. She shouldn’t have to walk on eggshells, worrying about hurting her daughter’s feelings. Life had been so much simpler before Daphne and all her drama had returned to Icicle Falls.

Was Daphne right? Did Roberta always believe the worst of her? Wanting to help her daughter improve her life didn’t mean Roberta saw her as a
complete
failure. She’d been a wonderful mother. Marnie was well-adjusted, happy, successful, and Daphne could take all the credit for that. In addition to raising a lovely daughter, she’d held down the same job for years. She’d been a responsible adult with no addictions or bad habits. Well, except the habit of making poor choices when it came to men. Of course, Roberta was in no position to throw stones, not from her glass house.

Still, it was a mother’s job to advise her daughter. And once in a while, when the daughter had fumbled a simple task, a mother should be allowed to feel a little frustration without said daughter climbing on her high horse. Especially since that daughter had fumbled more than one simple task here at Primrose Haus. But, oh, no. Here she was, once again, the cruel, wicked mother, making her daughter’s life miserable.

Darn it all, Daphne drove her crazy.

Roberta continued to stew in her emotional juices for several minutes. Then she hobbled past the kitchen, where the atmosphere was decidedly frosty, to the back parlor sofa. She’d barely gotten settled when the phone sitting on the TV tray next to her started to ring. The last thing she wanted was to talk to anyone, so she ignored it. She wished she could ignore the fact that her daughter was in the next room, hurt and angry.

Daphne picked up the kitchen extension. Roberta could hear her talking. “Hello, Heinrich. Yes,” Daphne said, her voice softening. “No, no problem. It could happen to anyone. But would you mind explaining to my mother?”

A moment later she was standing next to Roberta, holding out the phone. “Talk to Heinrich,” she said brusquely.

“I don’t want to talk to anyone right now.”

“Well, I want you to talk to him.”

Roberta took the phone with all the eagerness of someone reaching for a rattlesnake and said a leery hello. Heinrich had probably returned to the shop and discovered his cooler had no lilies.

“My darling, I am so sorry,” he said.

No lilies. The bride was going to come unglued. Del would want a discount.

“This is all our fault.”

“You have no lilies,” she said weakly.

“Oh, we have lilies. And I’ll be able to make your arrangements, but I needed to call and apologize right away. Your daughter did talk to Kevin, and he meant to tell me, but then Hildy Johnson came in and talked his ear off and it went right out of his head. Of course we’ll fix this, no extra charge.”

“Thank you, Heinrich. I appreciate that.”

So Daphne had indeed taken care of contacting the florist. Roberta felt ill. She’d been so determined to blame the problem on Daphne’s incompetence that she’d refused to believe her. Why did she always assume the worst about her daughter?

Maybe it was programmed into her by her own mother.
“I’m disappointed in you, Roberta. I raised you better.”...“Don’t think you can come back parading your illegitimate child here. I won’t have it. I won’t have you humiliate our family any further.”

She’d failed to meet her mother’s expectations, and her mother had written her off like a bad investment. She’d never planned to do that with her own daughter, and yet how many times did she find herself feeling disappointed in Daphne? And how many times did that disappointment show? Maybe none as badly as today.

She hobbled her way to the kitchen, where Daphne was busy with the chocolates. It was a short but painful trip, painful on so many levels.

Daphne didn’t turn to look at her. “Did you get it all sorted out?” she asked.

Very diplomatic. “Yes.” Roberta came closer, setting the phone on the counter. “Daphne, I’m sorry.”

Daphne didn’t say anything. Instead, she shrugged as if to say it didn’t matter and kept on putting out truffles. No “I forgive you” was forthcoming. No hug. Not even any eye contact.

Well, she deserved as much. “I’m terribly hard on you, aren’t I?”

Daphne hesitated a moment, then returned to the task at hand. “I know I’m not the overachiever you wanted me to be.”

“Possibly not,” Roberta admitted. “But we don’t all have to be overachievers.”
And we don’t all have to be perfect.
“You’re a generous, kindhearted woman.”

“Apparently, that’s not enough.” Daphne picked up the tiered plates and left the kitchen.

“Daphne, wait.” Roberta hobbled after her.

Daphne didn’t wait. Instead, she picked up her pace.

Roberta gave up. It was obvious that her daughter didn’t want to talk to her. Her foot was hurting now. She needed to sit down. She needed a pain pill. She wished there was a pill that could make her a better mother.

Chapter Twenty-Two

Daphne, the Queen of New Beginnings

T
he mayor’s daughter got happily and memorably married. The bride was beautiful in her designer gown and her mother, also in a designer dress, was pleased with everything, especially the flowers. The house was packed with family and friends, movers and shakers, and everything went smoothly.

Except for a slight catering crisis thanks to a horde of party-crashers. Daphne saved the day by whipping up some fast and easy appetizers, consisting of crackers and shrimp dip, as well as baking the mini quiches they stored in the big freezer in the basement for such emergencies. She halved the chicken, covered it in sauce and made an extra salad. Lila complimented her on how well she’d handled the situation. Her mother thanked her for all her hard work. It wasn’t enough to make her want to stay.

Later that night, with Milo on the bed next to her, she spent some time on her laptop checking out rentals in Icicle Falls. She found a couple that would work, and just as she had when she’d first come home, she went to sleep with tears on her pillow.

The following morning was Mother’s Day and Marnie called her on her cell phone while Daphne was still in bed, trying to ignore Milo, who was climbing on her chest, insisting it was time to get up. “Happy Mom’s Day,” she sang.

“Honeybee, this is a nice surprise,” Daphne said, sitting up in bed.

“Why should you be surprised? It
is
Mother’s Day.”

“Yes, but you already sent those chocolate-covered strawberries on Friday.”

From Sweet Dreams Chocolates, of course. They were big and juicy and gorgeous, not to mention pricey, and Daphne had enjoyed sharing them with her mother and Lila.

She’d also enjoyed showing off her daughter’s good taste and thoughtfulness. With Marnie, there was a lot to brag about. Unlike her mother, she was doing everything right. She was succeeding in her career. She’d waited until her late twenties to get married and had picked a nice, stable man from a solid family, one with no history of divorce or bad romantic choices. Marnie’s life was as close to perfect as anyone’s could get. And so was she.

“That doesn’t mean I don’t want to talk to you on Mother’s Day,” she said now. “Are you still liking Icicle Falls? ’Cause if you’re not, you could move out here with us.”

“Oh, your husband would love that, having his mother-in-law underfoot.”

“He thinks you’re great. So do I.”

That little bit of flattery gave Daphne’s sagging spirits a much-needed lift. Someone appreciated her just as she was. Of course, maybe that was because she felt the same way about Marnie. She’d never tried to improve her, never hounded her to do more and be better. She’d let Marnie find her own path and become her own person, and she’d exceeded Daphne’s expectations. That was more than Daphne could say for herself and her mother.

“What are you two going to do today?” Daphne asked.

“We’re going to celebrate.”

It wasn’t their wedding anniversary. “Did Alan get a raise?”

“He got something,” Marnie said, her voice mysterious.

“Okay, I give up. What are you celebrating?”

“You’re going to be a grandma.”

“A grandma?” Marnie was pregnant? Her baby was having a baby. Lately life had been serving her a lot of lemons. Here was the lemonade that made it all worthwhile. “Oh, honeybee, that’s fabulous. When are you due and what are you having?”

“We don’t know yet. I just took the pregnancy test.”

“Wow,” Daphne breathed. “I’m so happy for you.”

“You’ll come out and help when the baby’s born, right?”

“Just try and keep me away.”

“I knew you’d say that,” Marnie said, a smile in her voice. “Tell Grandma, okay?”

“I will.” She had a few things to tell Grandma this morning.

They’d planned to go out to brunch at Zelda’s and Daphne had made a gift basket for her mother. She’d been looking forward to the day. Now, not so much. She loved her mother and she knew her mother loved her, but at the moment Daphne didn’t exactly like her. With a sigh, she got out of bed.

“Carpe diem,” Mother would say. Seize the day, never waste a minute. It was how she managed to accomplish so much. Maybe Daphne should have carpe diem-ed more. Maybe then she would’ve been a success story, too, like her mother and her daughter. Or maybe success sometimes skipped a generation.

After she’d showered and dressed, she grabbed the gift basket from the dresser and went downstairs to check on her mother, Milo racing ahead of her. She found Mother already up and seated at the kitchen table with her coffee mug, her leg propped on the chair opposite her.

“Good morning,” she said. It was tentative, more a question than a greeting.

Daphne set the basket on the table, then bent over and kissed her cheek. Her mother always smelled like Chantilly. “Happy Mother’s Day.” The words felt awkward and stiff.

“Oh, my. This is beautiful.” Mother leaned forward to inspect it. “Chocolates, dusting powder, bubble bath and, oh, I see the latest Vanessa Valentine novel. Daphne, you have such a gift for creativity. You know, you could...”

Daphne cut her off. “Start a gift basket business.”

“Well, you could.”

“There are any number of things I could do. But right now, I’d like to let the dust from the divorce settle, find out what it’s like to be on my own. I’ve never spent much time doing that.” And that could be part of the problem. She’d always been with a man, always felt she needed a man in order to be happy. What she really needed was to learn how to be happy, period.

Mother nodded. “You do have talents. You should explore them.”

And then become wildly successful. Anything less wouldn’t measure up. Daphne fed Milo, then sat down at the table. “I’ve been thinking.”

“Yes?”

There was an eagerness in that one-word prompt. Was her mother just waiting for her to say she was ready to move out? Probably. Her decision would come as a relief to both of them. “I think it’s time I got my own place. I’m going over to Mountain Meadows Real Estate to check out a couple of places this afternoon.”

To Daphne’s shock, Mother didn’t seem relieved at all. Instead, her face fell like a ruined soufflé. “I don’t understand. I thought you were happy here. If this is about last night...”

Daphne shook her head. “It’s about more than last night. It’s about how we work together. Or rather, don’t work together.” Her mother looked as if she wanted to cry. What was that about?

“Other than our misunderstanding yesterday, I thought we were getting along quite well.”

She couldn’t be serious. “Mother, we’ve done nothing but aggravate each other ever since I arrived.”

“That’s not true,” her mother insisted, opting for deliberate blindness. “Don’t move out, Daphne. Don’t leave, not like this.”

There it was again, that moment where her mother looked old, vulnerable. “I’m not leaving Icicle Falls.” Not yet, anyway. Although knowing she had a grandchild on the way made the idea of moving east very tempting.

“I was wrong not to believe you,” Mother said in a small voice. “I’ve been wrong about a lot of things.” Her gaze dropped to her hands, and she smoothed the skin on them, as if to smooth away the years. “I’ve done so many things wrong. I’m afraid I turned out to be like my mother, more than I want to admit.” She sighed deeply. “I was never good enough for her. She was a hard, selfish woman who cared more about what other people thought than she did her own daughter.” Mother lifted her gaze and Daphne saw tears glistening in her eyes. “I hope I’m not that woman. Daphne, I love you, and I’d like to think that’s why I’ve always wanted so much for you. But maybe there was some pride in there, too. Maybe I wanted you to become the most successful woman ever so I could show my mother she’d been wrong to disown us. Either way, I’m afraid I haven’t been a very good mother to you.” She shook her head. “What a sad thing to realize on Mother’s Day.”

Now Daphne felt tears flooding her own eyes. Yes, her mother had interfered in her life at every turn, given unrequested advice and often been irritated with her. But she’d always been there for Daphne, offering a shoulder to cry on, lending her money when she needed it, buying extravagant presents for both Marnie and her. She hadn’t been a perfect mother but she’d tried. And she’d cared.

“You
have
been a good mother,” Daphne insisted. “We’re definitely not the same, though. I can’t be a version of you. I’ll never accomplish as much or be as successful.”

“Or as fussy and nitpicky.”

Daphne smiled at that. “I hope not.”

“I have to admit that when you first came back I thought living together would be a terrible idea. You’re right—we are different, and those differences frustrate me sometimes. And, as you may have noticed, I like my independence. But I’m getting older and I could use some extra help around here.” She reached across the table and placed a hand on Daphne’s arm. “And I enjoy the company.”

“You do?” She had a funny way of showing it.

“Darling, I really am sorry about last night. Let’s start over. Could we do that?”

The truth was, Daphne didn’t want to leave. She might be fifty-three, but she still wanted her mother’s approval. She wanted to try again. If... “Mother, do you think you could be a little less critical?”

“Yes, Daphne. Please forgive me. It’s hard to accept your child for who she is when she’s not who you want her to be, especially when you see...”

“So much potential,” Daphne finished with her, and they both smiled.

“But you know,” Roberta continued, “I never measured up in my mother’s eyes, even though I always made the honor roll. She wanted me to marry the ‘right’ kind of man, increase her status. She wanted me to display nicely, like her Dresden figurines. I didn’t choose well, and she couldn’t forgive me for that because I ruined the facade.” Mother sighed. “We could have had a happy life together if she’d ever given us a chance, if she’d seen beyond herself. She didn’t, though. She never really saw my heart. I don’t want to be like that with you.”

Over the years there’d been the occasional mention of Daphne’s grandmother but no more than that. When she was small, her great-grandmother had come to see them a couple of times and sent presents at Christmas, and she hadn’t questioned the fact that no other family was part of their lives. But when Daphne got a little older she began to ask questions. Her mother had dodged them with excuses such as “Grandmother’s busy” or “Grandmother isn’t well enough to come and see us.” Daphne finally lost interest in the ghost grandma she never saw, and it wasn’t until she was fully grown that she learned her mother and grandmother didn’t get along. No more details were forthcoming. Hardly surprising, since she hadn’t learned about her bumsicle father, either, until she became engaged to Johnny, of whom her mother strongly disapproved. After the way her mother had dribbled out information over the years, her intimate confession this morning felt like a landslide of sharing.

And it explained a lot. “I wish you’d told me more of this over the years,” Daphne said.

“I should have. But honestly, Daphne, I don’t think I really made the connection between my behavior and hers until now. That doesn’t make me a very wise old woman, does it?”

Milo rubbed against Daphne’s legs and she picked him up and cuddled him next to her, considering what her mother had said. “I think wisdom comes with experience and with figuring things out. I’d like to believe I’m wiser now than I was a year ago.”

“I hope I’m wiser now than I was a day ago,” Roberta said.

“Wise or not, I love you.”

“Can you love me enough to stay?”

Words Daphne had never thought she’d hear, they poured like a healing balm over her wounded feelings. “It’s what I wanted all along,” she said softly. “You’ve always been there for me. I want to be there for you now.”

Daphne rarely saw her mother cry. Roberta Gilbert was too strong for tears.

But not today. They flowed in twin rivers down her cheeks. She picked up her napkin and touched it to her eyes. “Daphne, darling, you truly are a wonderful woman.”

Daphne gave her a wistful smile, and she, too, picked up a napkin and dabbed at her cheeks. “Even if I don’t always keep the kitchen as clean as you’d like,” she added in an attempt to lighten the moment.

“There’s more to life than cleaning, isn’t there?” Mother said, and it was all Daphne could do not to ask, “Who are you and what have you done with my mother?”

Later that morning as they sat in Zelda’s enjoying omelets, crepes, strawberries and champagne from the Mother’s Day buffet, Daphne revealed Marnie’s good news.

“A new baby in the family,” her mother said happily. “Oh, how much fun we’ll have spoiling her.”

“Or him.”

“Oh, dear. If it’s a boy I’ll have no idea what to do with him.”

Maybe that wouldn’t be a bad thing.

They were just finishing up when Hank Hawkins came in with his mother, a slight woman with salt-and-pepper hair and a stooped back. How had such a small woman produced such a large man?

The large man looked even better in a Sunday suit than he did in his work clothes. His jaw was freshly shaved and smooth and his dark hair slicked back. He cleaned up well.

Someone must have turned up the heat in the restaurant. Daphne took a long drink of orange juice in an effort to cool down.

He smiled at the sight of her and her mother and led his own mom in their direction. “Happy Mother’s Day, ladies,” he said, stopping at their table.

“Thank you, Hank. Nice to see you, Sal,” Mother said to the woman.

“Is this your lovely daughter I’ve been hearing so much about?” asked Sal.

Hank suddenly looked as if he was the one having a hot flash.

“This is my daughter, Daphne,” Mother said and introduced Sally Hawkins.

“Pleased to meet you,” Daphne said. She caught a whiff of Hank’s cologne, some kind of woodsy virile scent, and she knew she couldn’t blame the heat she was feeling now on misfiring hormones. Her hormones were just fine, thank you, and ready to hook up with some nice testosterone.

“How’s the breakfast?” he asked.

“Very good,” Daphne replied. The best breakfast she’d ever had with her mother. Today was a celebration of new understanding and, hopefully, a new beginning. She smiled across the table at Mother, who beamed back at her.