Bridge To Happiness (43 page)

“You were pregnant when you got married?”

“My stomach was already huge. I walked across the grass to your father with your brother kicking my ribs all the way.”

“But then you chose to get married, too.”

“We did. But your father I loved each other. To everyone who knew us we were March and Mike, Mike and March and we were already planning on getting married. Your brother was just an extra surprise. We were mad about each other and inseparable from the moment we met,”

“The night you first slept with him.”

I laughed softly. “I am going to regret that outburst, aren’t I?”

“I goaded you into it. I was upset because of Daddy,” she admitted with her head down.

I took an action from Rio and tilted her chin up so she was looking at me. “I understand, more than you probably know.”

“The Baileys were really supportive of you, Mom. They thought I knew you were seeing someone. I should tell you that. Jeff said he liked Rio.”

“I like Rio. You’re probably going to have to get used to having him around, because I don’t think I want to give him up. He is a really good man and good men are not easy to find. Like your dad.”

She was quietly thinking. I could see the wheels turning. My daughter was smart. She could put two and two together and get four. She faced me. “So what do you think I should do?”

Don’t marry him! My mind screamed.

But instead I chose my words carefully. “It’s your decision, not mine. Just like keeping and raising your baby is your decision. I will tell you this. You do not need a man to raise that child growing inside of you, and you do not have to marry its father. You have a whole family of men and women who will love you and love your child. I will do anything for you. We can raise your child together, and we, your family, will be there to catch you if you fall or your child falls. If you don’t love Spider, then I would say to you think long and hard about what kind of marriage you want, what kind of marriage environment you want your child, or children, growing up in.”

Molly was leaning back against the pillow and her eyes were heavy. She was exhausted and this was weighing heavily on her.

I patted her arm and said, “Take some time and think about it. But right now I think you need some sleep.” I started to get up, but I looked at her and knew I didn’t want to leave her, so I lay back down and slept by her side.

The next day
I walked into Scott’s office at Cantrell sports unannounced.

“Mom,” he said and stood up. “What are you doing here?”

I closed his office door behind me and said, “I need to talk to you, or maybe I should say you need me to talk to you. Sit.” I waved my hand at him and sat down on a corner of his desk.

Next to my hip was a photograph taken years ago, in the loft apartment we first lived in. Scott was probably a year and half and he shuffling along in his father’s huge shoes. I picked it up and laughed slightly. “I remember this. Your dad kept it on his desk for years. I stared down at it for long time, and then looked up at him, turning the photograph so he could see it. “See this?”

He nodded.

“You sit here and you look at it every day. I think this is what’s wrong. This is what’s creating all those doubts in your mind. The idea that you cannot run this company unless you think like your dad did.”

Scott frowned. “What do you mean?”

“Scott, son, you are not your father. He was a wonderful man but he made mistakes, big ones. Remember the year he used that factory in China for the clothing line?”

“And more than half the embroidery for the logos on the winter jackets were spelled wrong.” Scott smiled.

“And sized wrong. I believe that was a costly mistake that took us into the red.”

“I had forgotten about that.”

“That’s why I’m here. To remind you. You do not have to be your father to be successful, Scott.” I pointed to the photo. “Put it away or interpret it differently. Use it to guide you in the right direction, not the wrong one. I talked to Renee. She says you’re not sleeping. Seems to me that you worry so much about how to fill his shoes that you aren’t making your decisions for the right reasons.

“He wouldn’t want you to try to be him. He would want you to be yourself. He used to come home, proud as a peacock, and tell me about something you did that was great for the company, something he said he hadn’t looked at before.”

“He did?”

“Yes. For example: the expansion of our own retail outlets into the larger ski areas. You came up with the idea of opening our own shops in all those mountain villages.”

“Yes. I did.” Scott looked like her old son. There was something about him that said she had him thinking, and perhaps moving toward believing in himself again.

“Remember that. You know what to do. And you’re not half as conservative as Phillip makes you think you are.” I stood and walked around the desk, settling my hands on his shoulders. “You boys should make this company yours. Your dad started it, with a lot of harping and begging and convincing on my part. He had doubts and worried about his decisions. But you are the future. You and Phillip and maybe Mickey. His sons are who can take this company in new directions.”

He looked at her as if he finally understood.

“So what if you passed on the American Express endorsement and Burton took it. It’s Burton in the commercial, not his son. What were you going to say? ‘My dad Mike Cantrell did this and my dad did that? Come on. My hunch is they would have dropped you for Burton anyway.”

He laughed. “You’re probably right.”

“Now, I have something else to talk to you about.” I handed him a check.

“One hundred thousand dollars? What’s this for?”

“It’s from my personal account.”

“I see that. What are you doing giving me this?”

“I’m making things fair and even, the way your dad would have wanted.” I paused then told him. “I’m going to give Phil your dad’s Porsche.” I nodded at the check. “That’s enough money for you to go out and buy one for yourself.”

“So what are you going to do about Molly and Mickey?”

“Nothing, for now. They won’t care. Phil needs to heal. This is the only thing I can think of that might work.”

He looked up at her. “You don’t have to give me this.” He handed the check back to her,

“You take it. It’s your money and you know as well as I if your dad would do the same thing. Fair and equal.”

Scott nodded, folded the check, and put it in his wallet. I bent down and kissed him on the cheek. “Be yourself. There’s no one better.”

He laughed.

“Now I’m off to make your brother’s day . . . or scare the hell out of him.”

“Good luck,” Scott said.

I left my eldest son’s office and went to the SKISTAR wing and knocked on Phillip’s door.

“Come on in, Ma!”

I walked inside and looked at him.

“I saw you coming down the hall,” he admitted.

“Can you take some time away, maybe an hour? I need your help.”

“He checked his watch. Sure, I was just waiting on a call from London but it’s too late now. They won’t call until tomorrow. I’ll check in with Rachel and let her know when I’ll be back.”

A few minutes later we were in the parking lot. “You drove dad’s Porsche?”

“I did. Here. I have something for you.” I handed him a paper grocery sack and he pulled out the can of Pledge. His shoulders dropped and he gave me a small smile, grim, but a smile.

I walked up to passenger door and tossed him the keys. “I need you to take me somewhere.”

“But Ma—”

“Drive. You always loved this car.” I sat inside and closed my door, waiting.

Eventually Phillip opened the door and got into the driver’s seat. He sat there a moment, both his hands on the steering wheel, flexing his fingers. He put the car in gear and started it, shifted forward and popped the clutch.

“Your dad would have loved that. Are you going to roll backwards down the hills, too?”

“Shut up, Ma.” His hands on the wheel were bloodless and white.

“Is that any way to talk to your mother?”

“I hate this,” he said through tight teeth.

“I know you do. Drive, son.”

He followed my directions to the letter and we pulled onto a street not far from the house.

“Pull over here and park,” I told him.

We were just sitting there in complete silence. I turned and I pointed at the skid marks on the road. “This is where it happened.”

Phillip stared at the street and slowly closed his eyes.

“I have not had the courage to come here before now, to even drive down this street, Phillip.” My voice cracked and I took a deep breath.

The next minute he was sobbing, loud and harsh sounds that came from deep in his chest. I grabbed him and he fell against me, his shiny shaved head red and hot from spilling his grief, his arms around me, clinging to me, and we cried together.

I looked up from my game of Solitaire when Molly came through the back door. “Are you okay?”

“I’m fine.” She dropped her purse on the granite counter and crossed to the refrigerator, pulling out a diet cola and pouring it into a tall glass of ice.

“So what did he say when you gave him the ring back?”

She turned around, her free hand resting on the edge of the counter, Spider’s pink diamond engagement ring was gone. “He asked if I was sure. He didn’t seem surprised.” She took another sip of cola. “Or maybe he just didn’t care very much one way or the other.”

I got up from the game table near the fireplace, where the night before Molly had walked in and promptly handed my delighted friend Ellie a pile of rush ordered wedding invitations, and I walked over and put my arms around Molly. “I’m sorry, sweetheart. I wish for you and your tender heart that I would have been wrong. If I could trade places with you and take all your fears and doubts away, I would.”

“I know you would, Mom. I wish I could be less selfish. Like you. I resented you for being right. You are, you know . . . right. It’s very annoying and difficult to keep up with. Some days I hated that you knew the right choice when I made the wrong one.

“Blind luck and the experience of making the wrong choices,” I said.

“We talked about the baby and he wants to make certain his attorney draws up a support contract, with me having main custody. He will be in the picture, when he can, but not obtrusively. I think he’s going to be easy about it.”

“Our attorneys can work it all out.” I wasn’t that trusting and had talked to a good family law attorney. I wanted Molly and her child protected and safe and never to be part of a custody battle.

“Is there any ice cream?”

“Rocky Road, Peppermint, French Vanilla, Caramel Fudge Swirl and Neapolitan. Oh, and Dove bars.”

“Did you get lost in the frozen food sections?” Molly laughed. “I think I’ll have a scoop of each.”

“Want some pickles?”

“Not yet.”