6.
The real estate office where Jeannie Lyons worked was only a few blocks from the house, so I stopped in after my run the following morning. It was a hole-in-the-wall building, with pictures of homes for sale taped to the narrow front windows. Inside, a young woman with stick-straight blond hair sat at one of two desks and she gave me a broad, do-you-want-to-buy-something smile when I walked in.
“Good morning!” She got to her feet, holding her hand out to me.
“Hi,” I said, shaking her hand. “I’m looking for Jeannie Lyons.”
“Do you have an appointment?”
I shook my head. “I just need to talk to her for a minute,” I said, although that was a stupid statement. Telling her my father was leaving her—someone I barely knew and hadn’t heard him mention since my mother’s death—the piano and ten thousand dollars would probably take more than a minute. “I’m the daughter of an old friend of hers,” I said.
“Hold on a sec,” the woman said, and she disappeared through a door in the rear of the office.
A moment later, Jeannie came through the same door. She was only slightly familiar to me. I’d been eighteen the last time I saw her, which was at my mother’s memorial service. That day was such a haze to me that I couldn’t really recall who was there. But I remembered Jeannie’s eyes. They were enormous and an intense blue beneath deep brown bangs. Her bob was a bit edgy, one side tucked behind her ear, and although I knew she’d been the same age as my mother, she looked younger than my mother ever had. It was hard to believe she was sixty-four. I could tell right away that she knew who I was, but her smile looked uncertain. She held out her hand as she walked toward me. “Riley,” she said.
“Mrs. Lyons.” I nodded and shook her hand.
“Oh, call me Jeannie,” she said, squeezing my hand with a warmth that didn’t reach her face. “I’m very sorry about your father.”
“Thank you.” There was a moment of awkward silence and she looked at me expectantly. “I need to talk to you,” I said. “Do you have some time now … or I could come back tomorrow?”
She glanced at the clock on the wall. It was eleven-fifteen. “I have some calls to make right now,” she said. “How about we meet for lunch? I’ll make reservations at Morgan’s Tavern for noon. Would that work?”
“Yes, perfect.” That would give me a chance to run home and change. “I’ll see you then.”
* * *
I was first to arrive in the restaurant and I gave the hostess Jeannie’s name. She put me in a side room that was otherwise empty, and I couldn’t help but wonder if Jeannie had told her we needed privacy.
I was looking over the menu when she arrived. She blew into the room with so much energy the air swirled around our table as she took her seat. “Sorry, sorry,” she said, unwrapping her silverware from the napkin. “A million fires to put out this morning.”
Sitting across the table from her, I could see that she looked closer to her age than I’d originally thought. Her jawline was blurry, her neck a little crepey, but she was still a youthful, vibrant-looking woman.
The waitress was at our table in an instant. “Your regular?” she asked Jeannie.
“Yes, but maybe we need a minute?” Jeannie raised her eyebrows in my direction.
“Fish tacos,” I said to the waitress. “And my water’s enough.”
Jeannie smiled at me as we waited for the waitress to leave our table, and once we had the room to ourselves again, she leaned over to touch my hands.
“I’m so happy I finally have the chance to really get to know you!” she said. “You’ve grown into a lovely young woman, Riley. Your father told me as much.”
“Thank you,” I said, wondering if my father had actually used the word lovely. He told me often I was pretty. All through my growing-up years, he’d fed my self-esteem, even though I knew I’d disappointed him with my lack of musical talent. I didn’t know what Danny’s issues were with him, but to me, he’d been a good dad.
“You remind me of your mother,” she said, tilting her head to study me.
“Do I?” So much for my adoption worries.
“Absolutely. I believe her memorial service was the last time I saw you? Seven long years ago. You were eighteen, right?”
“Right,” I said. “You came all the way from Asheville. I’d actually forgotten that you moved here.”
“Shortly after your mother’s death,” she said.
“And I guess you stayed in touch with my father after she died?”
“Oh, of course.” She shook her head. “He was such a fine man, Riley. Your mother was lucky to have him.” She took a sip from her water glass. Set it down. “And so was I,” she added, her blue eyes watching for my reaction.
I didn’t mask my surprise very well. “You … what do you mean?” She could mean only one thing, but I couldn’t believe it.
She didn’t answer. Just sat there staring at me, a small smile on her lips as she waited for me to state the obvious.
“So, were you … you were more than friends?” I squirmed. I was in utter disbelief over the idea of a romance between my father and anyone.
She gave a little nod. “I hope you don’t find that upsetting,” she said. “I like to think it would have pleased your mother. It was terrible for both your father and me when she passed away, and grief can really draw two people together. I miss both of them so much.”
“Wow.” I smoothed a wrinkle on the tablecloth, unable to look at her. “Why didn’t he ever tell me?” I wanted to ask her how long it had been going on. How long after my mother’s death had they started … seeing each other? “He never said a word about seeing someone,” I said.
“Did you ever ask him?”
“No. I mean, I never thought to.” I felt guilty, as though I should have known to ask him if he was dating. It never occurred to me.
“Well,” she said, “your father knew how close you were to your mother and was probably worried about upsetting you.”
I hadn’t been all that close to my mother, actually. I loved her and I knew she loved me, but she’d never been the type to share her deepest thoughts with her daughter.
“She’s been gone years,” I said. “I’m sad he felt like he had to keep a … relationship from me.”
The waitress arrived with our lunches. She set a bowl of lobster bisque and a glass of iced tea in front of Jeannie and the fish tacos in front of me. They looked delicious, but my appetite had taken a serious hit in the last few minutes.
“He had such a hard life,” Jeannie said once the waitress walked away. “Losing your sister and then your brother’s injuries, and then Deb—your mother—passing away on top of it all. So hard.”
“I know.”