He banished her after that and swore my grandparents to secrecy, holding their jobs over their heads and ruling from his throne of fear and manipulation.
My grandmother must have gone through half a box of tissues as she told me everything, and my grandfather never let go of her hand once.
She asked me if I could forgive them, but I assured her it wasn’t necessary.
None of what happened was their fault.
I hand my phone to Grandpa and Grandma, and I head into the hotel lobby to see about getting a room for the night.
Tomorrow we’re supposed to look for housing and when we find the one we like, we’re supposed to send the listing to Bertram to handle the rest.
Grandpa meets us in the lobby a few minutes later, handing the phone back to me. Later when we’re settled, I’m going to connect to the hotel’s WiFi and see if I can find Thayer on social media.
I can’t contact him, of course. But I don’t see the harm in sneaking little glimpses of his life, making sure he’s happy and doing well.
Placing my hand on my lower stomach, I try to look on the bright side—that at least I’ll forever have a piece of him with me.
Chapter 45
Thayer
“Hello, hello!” My mother calls as we head into the Caldecott home in Bridgeport for Thanksgiving dinner.
“We’re in the kitchen,” Aunt Lorelai calls over the sound of a football game blasting from the family room. “It’s just about ready.”
“I know, I know. We’re late,” Mom says as she sits a couple of store-bought pies on the counter. “Thayer, you can put the sweet potatoes next to the turkey. Thanks, lovey.”
I glance into the family room, spotting the back of my grandfather’s balding head as he snoozes in a recliner. Whitley is sprawled out on the loveseat, texting away on her phone.
I take a seat on the sofa next to Westley.
“Hey,” I say.
He turns, jerks away when he realizes it’s me. “Oh, hey. When did you get here?”
“Like two seconds ago.”
“Cool.” He turns back to the game.
“How’s school?” I ask.
He shrugs, still watching the TV. “Fine.”
It’s not like him to be so cold, then again, everyone has off days.
“Everything okay?” I ask.
“Of course,” he says, still turned away.
“You want to throw the football in the back yard later?” I ask. It’s always been our tradition.
“Eh. We’ll see,” he says. A second later, his phone rings and he takes the call. “Hey, man, what’s up?”
His tone is noticeably more upbeat than it was a second ago, and he walks away to take the call in the next room. I can’t make out what he’s saying, but by the inflection in his voice, I can tell he’s engaged and happy to be talking to whoever’s on the other line.
Well, shit.
I get up from the sofa and head to the kitchen. I wasn’t going to take that personally, but now …
“Thayer, you want to call everyone to the dining room?” Aunt Lorelai asks. “I think your uncle’s in the garage with your dad.”
I make my way around the house, telling everyone it’s time to eat, and we all head to Aunt Lorelai’s wallpapered dining room. Granddad takes the seat at the head of the table, in a throne-sized chair that’s always reserved for him, and I take the spot to his right.
Uncle Ari says grace and my dad carves the turkey.
“Thayer,” Granddad says as we wait for the food to go around. “How’s the semester going so far?”
“Great,” I say. “Acing all my classes. Finals are in a couple of weeks. Just trucking along.”
“Wonderful, wonderful.” He pats my shoulder, his eyes lit with pride.
“How’s the island life?” I ask. I can’t directly ask about the Hilliards, but I’m hopeful if we start taking about Rose Crossing, they might come up in conversation.
“Same old,” he says as he takes a roll from a serving platter.
“Anything new?” I ask.
He answers me with a laugh, and I know that’s all I’m going to get from him.
“Westley, pass me the green beans, will you?” Granddad says, pointing toward the middle of the table. “Let’s keep everything moving.”
After dinner, I help with clean up while Granddad, Uncle Ari, and Westley settle back into the family room. It’s strangely quiet in there. Usually when the three of them are together you can’t get a word in edgewise, they’re usually debating politics or whatever the hot topic of the news is at the time … but they’re just sitting there, staring at the flickering TV screen like zombies.
“What’s with them?” I ask my aunt, nodding toward the next room.
“What? What’s wrong?” Of course she’s oblivious.
“Not used to them being so quiet together.”
“Ohhh.” Aunt Lorelai laughs as she dries a china plate with a taupe checkered dish towel. “Yeah, good question. Ever since Westley came home for break he’s been quiet, and when Dad got here, he didn’t even get up to say hi. He went up to his room.”