Bitter Roots Page 7

  The truth was he and Willow had spent almost all their time hanging out with his first-year roommate Paul Quinlan. Paul was a guy of great charm and intellect, a student of philosophy from a family of seemingly unlimited means. For most of the four years of Justin’s undergraduate degree the three of them had been inseparable.

  But while there’d been an attraction back then, it had never been acted upon.

  After graduation they hadn’t drifted apart, it had been more of a violent rupture. Paul and Willow had wanted to travel, while Justin, having been accepted into law, remained in Missoula. Neither Paul nor Willow were much for email or social media so he couldn’t even follow them that way. When Willow showed up at his door six months ago, with Geneva asleep in the backseat of her car, he hadn’t seen her for almost ten years.

  Yet he’d taken her in. And been glad to do it. He wouldn’t have dared suggest marriage if Willow hadn’t brought it up first, along with the idea of adopting Geneva. Pushing his qualms aside, he’d immediately said yes. This might be his only chance to have a family. He didn’t dare risk losing it.

  But fate had the last laugh. Just that morning in the shower, Justin had felt another swelling.

  Tiff drove along Lost Creek Road slowly, jittery at the prospect of her upcoming visit. The most luxurious homes in Lost Trail were here on the west side of town bordering the creek, with unobstructed views of the magnificent Bitterroot Mountains.

  The largest home of all, at the far end of the road, belonged to Jen and Will Sparks, Derick’s parents. Tiff had visited him a few times there, back in her tutoring days, and she’d been awed by the expensive furnishings and the way Derick could control everything—raising and lowering of blinds, the house temperature, the music playing on the built-in speaker system—with his mother’s remote control.

  Derick’s mother had served the kind of snacks Tiff craved. Not homemade cookies, which were always in ample supply at home, but bags of potato chips and sodas in a tempting array of flavors. Mrs. Sparks always fussed over Tiff. No doubt she was anxious to see her son graduate high school, and she saw Tiff’s help as necessary for that plan.

  But despite all the perks and the nice treatment, Tiff had never felt comfortable in that house. Mrs. Sparks had been a hoverer. And behind her smile, sparked an occasional sharpness Tiff never saw in either of her parents.

  Knowing Derick now worked at the family construction business, it seemed strange that he would have chosen to live on the same street as his parents, and only four doors down. How did Aubrey feel about having her in-laws such an integral part of her married life? Tiff doubted if she would want her own in-laws to be so close.

  After checking the address on her phone, Tiff pulled into the spacious driveway of the three-car garage.

  Derick and Aubrey’s home wasn’t as big as his parents’, but it had to be at least four thousand square feet. She hoped they were planning on adopting a lot more children.

  She grabbed the baby gift she’d purchased in Hamilton that afternoon and then got out of her vehicle, not bothering to lock it. It was five after seven, hopefully Derick and Aubrey would be finished with dinner, which was when Derick had texted would be the best time to drop in.

  But as she approached the portico and the massive double doors she could hear an argument. Unsure what to do, she lingered for a few minutes as the voices see-sawed from Derick’s, low but insistent, to Aubrey’s, high-pitched and almost hysterical.

  Every couple had disagreements, but this sounded intense. Apparently the marital problems that had preceded the arrival of the baby had returned. Tiff was about to retreat to her car, when she heard Derick say her name. Up until then she hadn’t made out any of the conversation, but there was no doubting the cadence of Tiffany Masterson. A moment later she saw a shadow at the front window, and after a pause of almost thirty seconds, the front door opened.

  Derick gave her the fakest smile ever. “Hey, Tiff. Good to see you.”

  They didn’t hug. They’d never been the kind of friends who did that.

  “You, too. Fatherhood must agree with you.”

  Actually, he didn’t look well. He’d been a big, solid guy in high school, but he’d gained weight around his middle, and though he was only thirty, his light brown hair had begun to thin. Judging by the shadows under his eyes, he hadn’t been sleeping much lately.

  The new baby? Or troubles with Aubrey? Either one, or both, must be keeping him up at night.

  “Sorry if I picked a bad time. I just wanted to drop off this baby gift.” She held up the pretty yellow and green gift bag as proof.

  Aubrey appeared in the doorway then, coming up beside her husband, who wrapped his arm around her shoulders. The girl Tiff remembered as so pretty from high school looked almost plain today. The puffy skin around her pink-tinged eyes suggested she’d been crying. The baggy black sweatshirt she was wearing over dark leggings was smeared with what Tiff guessed was baby vomit. For the final insult, Aubrey’s hair, which had been a glossy red ten years ago, was now darker and duller, pulled into a harsh ponytail.

  “Hey, Tiffany, I didn’t know you were back in town.”

  Tiff bit back her usually automatic correction of her name. “I’ve only been here a few days. Congratulations on your new baby.”

  Derick turned to his wife, who was quick to reply, “Thanks. I wish we could invite you in to meet Brody but we just got him to sleep. Besides, the house is a mess.”

  The portion Tiff could see—a large foyer with maple plank flooring leading to an open-concept family room—looked immaculate. “That’s okay. I should have called first.”

  Derick flushed and glanced away. As she’d suspected he didn’t want to admit that he’d replied to her earlier message with an invitation to drop by that evening.

  “Thanks for coming by, Tiffany. It was really sweet of you.” Aubrey put her hand on the door.

  “Let me give you this at least.”

  As Aubrey leaned forward to accept the gift bag, the late evening sun slanted over her face, revealing a faint greenish bruise on her cheekbone.

  “Thanks, Tiffany.”

  “My pleasure.” She glanced pointedly at the bruise. “That looks nasty.”

  Derick’s face paled, but Aubrey gave a weak laugh. “Yeah, I forgot to open my eyes one night when I got up to feed Brody. Ran right into our bedroom door.”

  That had to be the lamest excuse in the world. But Tiff couldn’t imagine another scenario—certainly Derick wasn’t the type to hit his wife—so maybe it was true.

  Chapter Eleven

  Though it was only seven-thirty when Tiff returned home, her mother had already retired to her small room over the garage. Tiff considered going up to wish her good night, but the aroma of popcorn lured her to the family room where her aunt was watching an episode of The Fall. Marsha was on the sofa, with her feet up on a stool and a big bowl of popcorn on her lap.

  “Come and join me.”

  Tiff sank onto the sofa, then reached for a handful of popcorn, her attention on the screen. “I loved that series. It’s so intense. This is from the second season, right?”

  “Yes. It’s almost over.”

  Tiff was easily immersed in the story and they watched until the credits rolled. Marsha powered off the TV and turned sideways against the arm of the sofa so it was easier to talk.

  “How was your visit with Derick and Aubrey? I didn’t expect you back so soon. You must have barely crossed the threshold.”

  “I didn’t get that far.” Tiff relayed an abbreviated version of her conversation with Derick and Aubrey—omitting Aubrey’s bruise and her own questions about what had caused it. “Obviously I caught them at a bad time. But Derick made it sound as if everything between them was perfect since they adopted Brody.”

  “Maybe now that the initial excitement has worn off they’ve realized how much work it is to have a baby.”

  “That must be it.” And yet what she’d overheard hadn’t sounded like a squabble
over baby chores, or frayed nerves.

  “The Sparks family are used to having life go their way. They have a successful, lucrative business, can afford luxury vacations and live in the best homes in the county. Babies can be very inconvenient when you’re used to having what you want, when you want it. Mark my words—they’ll hire a nanny within the next month.”

  “Derick gave me the impression Aubrey wants to be a stay-at-home mom.”

  “I’m sure she does. But will she be willing to give up her pamper days at the spa, and her shopping excursions with her mother-in-law?”

  “You sound like you know the Sparks family well.”

  “When you work at the only medical clinic in town you get to know everyone. It’s common knowledge Aubrey tried for years to get pregnant without success. I can tell you that without violating confidentiality.”

  “Yes, Derick said.” She hesitated. “The problem was with him—low sperm count.”

  Her aunt raised her eyebrows. “I suspected that much. Will’s brother and wife—they live in Missoula—also ended up having to adopt. Fertility is one problem money can’t always fix.”

  “Derick wasn’t adopted was he?”

  “No. I remember when Jen was pregnant. She hated it. She never worried if her baby would be born healthy with all his fingers and toes like most mothers. All she cared about was her figure and whether she’d look the same after the baby.”

  “Are you and Jen Sparks the same age?”

  “We are. In fact we were best of friends for years, until Jen—she was a Wheeler back then—set her sights on marrying Will Sparks. That man never had a chance.”

  “Did Mom have a best friend as well?”

  “Sybil Tombe. They were both in the school year behind me.”

  Sybil had been operating the local library for as long as Tiff could remember. She was a lovely lady and while Tiff had known she and her mom were friends, she hadn’t realized once they’d been so close.

  Tiff ate another scoop of popcorn, then went to the kitchen. “Want some sparkling water, Aunt Marsha?”

  “Sure. With ice and lemon if you don’t mind.”

  When Tiff returned, she handed her aunt a glass, then settled back into the same spot. “I’ve been thinking about staying in Lost Trail. Opening my own accounting practice.”

  Her aunt stopped mid-sip and began to cough. After a few moments, she managed a deep breath. “Sorry about that. Too many bubbles.” She set down her glass. “Your mother would love to have you living here again. So would I, to be honest. But are you making this decision for the right reasons? You were always anxious to spread your wings. And you’re doing so well with your firm. Two promotions in seven years. You should be proud.”

  It was time to tell her aunt the entire story. “Things haven’t been good recently. Shortly after Christmas I started having these anxiety attacks, trouble sleeping at night.” It was embarrassing to admit to behavior so much like her mother’s, but she couldn’t keep the truth hidden anymore. “Because I was so tired, I began sleeping in, being late for work. During tax season this spring I missed a couple of important deadlines. Then in May I was late for an audit committee meeting for one of the firm’s biggest and most important clients.”

  She glanced at the glass in her hands, unable to continue to meet her aunt’s troubled gaze. “I was let go from the firm the second week of May. That same week Craig broke up with me. He said I had changed and I couldn’t argue. I had.”

  “Oh, honey.” Marsha laid a compassionate hand on her shoulder. “What happened to bring on those anxiety attacks?”

  “That’s just it, I don’t know.” The only event she could recall from that period was a visit from Dr. Pittman and Justin. They’d been in Seattle for business reasons and claimed they couldn’t go home without taking her out for dinner.

  But that dinner couldn’t possibly have been the trigger for her subsequent anxiety attacks. She’d had such a nice time with them. She’d known Dr. Pittman all her life and gorgeous Justin had been her mentor in her AP Literature class. While he was helping her learn to write term papers they’d discovered a shared love of American authors from the thirties and forties: Steinbeck, Fitzgerald, Hemmingway.

  Her friends had all been so jealous. Blond-haired Justin, with his chiseled features and ripped physique, had been almost everyone’s crush back then.

  The night they’d gone for dinner in Seattle, though, he’d seemed paler than usual, almost drawn. He was wearing his blond hair cropped now, a style that suggested he might be suffering from premature balding. Dr. Pittman entertained them with stories about his childhood and about courting Justin’s mother, Franny.

  The only false step in the entire evening was when Tiff asked how Franny had died. She’d been a toddler when it happened, and couldn’t remember her folks ever talking about it.

  “She had a weak constitution,” Justin said quietly. “She got the flu after Christmas, when I was six, and her heart just gave out on her.”

  From that moment on, the life went out of the evening. They finished their desserts in silence and then the men had dropped Tiff off at her apartment before heading for a hotel near the airport to expedite their early morning flight to Montana.

  “The day after I was fired I bought a backpack and a ticket to Argentina. I’ve spent the past six months traveling,” Tiff admitted. “And I’ve pretty much depleted my savings. I was hoping if I started a business here Raven Farm would be my first client.”

  “We need to consult your mother, but I can’t imagine her saying anything but yes. I’m sure she’d be delighted to have you working at the family business.”

  It was very polite of Marsha to pretend her mother still ran the farm, when they both knew Marsha had made the majority of the decisions since Tiff’s dad died.

  “There’s no way I could ever thank you enough for all you do for this family.” She never could have left her mother, gone to college, worked in Seattle, if she hadn’t had Aunt Marsha to rely upon. “Not many sisters would have done as much as you’ve done for Mom.”

  Marsha had basically given up her own personal life to move in with her sister and help with Rosemary’s business and daughter, caring for them both as if they were her own.

  “It hasn’t been a sacrifice. Rosemary is my only sibling. How could I watch her suffer and not help? Besides, I’ve had a job I love. And while I may not have had children, I’ve certainly enjoyed having a very special niece.”

  They weren’t normally a physically affectionate family, but Tiff felt the moment called for a hug. Her aunt went stiff for a moment, then returned the embrace.

  “You make your family proud, Tiff. I just hope you don’t regret your decision to leave Seattle. Much as your mom would love having you nearby, she wants the best for you.”

  “Maybe it’s cowardly, running home after my first setback. But I feel this is where I need to be right now.”

  And despite the bad memories and her fractured relationship with her mother, Tiff did love this place. Somewhere deep inside of her, the landscape of Lost Trail and Raven Farm had taken root and become her ideal of what home looked and smelled and felt like.

  “Just know that if you change your mind, you’re free to follow your dreams wherever they may lead you. Your mom and I are doing just fine here.”

  Tiff wished she could believe her. But this life of her mother’s, nights of insomnia followed by foggy days with only a few productive hours of baking or gardening...it seemed more like surviving than living.

  “Do you think Mom will ever go back to the way she was...before?” Tiff’s memories of a laughing, energetic mother, one who embraced life and was always up for a new adventure—whether it was an impromptu picnic on Huckleberry Hill or a surprise camping trip in Yellowstone—were becoming dimmer with each year.

  “I had hope at one time. But...she’s getting older, Tiff. Set in a pattern.”

  “Did she ever go for psychiatric help?”

  “You
know she had to be hospitalized the month after your father died. Then about two years after that, when she was showing no interest in resuming any semblance of her former life, Clark referred her to a specialist in Missoula. Rosemary went to a few appointments with the specialist. But after a month she told me she was done. I’ve never been able to convince her to try someone else.”

  “Is she on any medications?”

  “She gets a lorazepam on nights when she’s having a harder time than usual falling asleep. I usually give it to her at night with her herbal tea. Sometimes she takes antidepressants, when she’s feeling especially down.”

  “Are there long-term implications to taking those drugs?”

  “Potentially. But I’m very careful with the doses.”

  Tiff felt suddenly weighed down with exhaustion. “I’m going to turn in, Aunt Marsha. See you in the morning.”

  “Sleep tight, honey.”

  Tiff carried the popcorn bowl and glasses to the kitchen. The dishwasher was running so she washed them by hand and left them to dry. She could hear the next episode from The Fall start in the family room as she made her way up the stairs.

  At the top of the landing she paused. A faint light shone under her mother’s door. She took a deep breath then, after a faint knock on the door, went in to say good night.

  The only light was the reading lamp beside her mother’s bed. Next to the lamp were the school photos of herself and her brother, taken when they were ten and twelve respectively. Her brother hadn’t lived to have another school photo, but she had.

  And yet her mother had never updated the picture in that frame.

  Her mother was propped up in bed, reading a book with a pretty cover of a couple standing on a street corner, with silver snowflakes all around them. She let the book fall flat when she saw Tiff.

  “Sweetie. You look so pretty. Were you out?”

  “Just dropped in on Derick and Aubrey to see the new baby.”

  “Is the baby cute?”

  “I can’t say. He was sleeping so I wasn’t invited in. I guess I didn’t pick a good time to visit.”