She really had changed.
“Wow, Cece...that’s amazing.”
“Don’t give me too much credit,” she laughed, “I still buy designer jeans and I’m not planning on going to Africa to live in a hut, but I’m learning to live with less and look beyond myself. And for the first time since Logan’s father, I’m marrying for love.”
“Love has a way of completely altering your life, doesn’t it?” I said, watching as Logan held Maddie on his shoulders and they walked back into the dining room.
“Yes it does, my dear. Yes, it does.”
~Logan~
I had to admit, she looked beautiful tonight. I had never been to any of my mother’s other weddings, always finding excuses for why I couldn’t be there. She’d never been there for me, so why should I put forth the effort? But seeing her tonight on the dance floor with her new husband I felt the last of my icy layers beginning to melt.
When the three of us had returned to our suite last night, I asked Clare what she and my mother had been talking about for so long. She smiled wistfully and simply said, “Love.” She then proceeded to tell me about a woman I didn’t know, a completely different mother, and I found myself listening to every word. Could a person really change that much? I looked at Clare, remembering the man I was mere months earlier, and thought yes.
Love could do anything.
“They look happy, don’t they?” Clare said, sliding down in the seat next to me, a second slice of cake in hand.
“You know, I think they have a one slice per guest max on the cake,” I teased.
“Well then you should have given me yours,” she fired back. Realizing she left with Maddie, and came back alone, I asked “Where’s princess?”
“She met Robert’s mother at the dessert table and the woman fell victim to Maddie’s charm. They’re over there,” she pointed to the corner of the dance floor where Maddie was twirling around in her pink sparkly dress while Mrs. Erikson clapped from the sidelines. It was an adorable sight, and reaffirmed my belief that Maddie’s joy was the most infectious thing in the world.
As I was admiring Maddie’s performance, I saw Robert, my new father-in-law, approach our table.
“Logan, would you mind if I stole your lady for a dance?” he asked, holding out his hand to Clare. She looked over at me, batting her eyelashes with a sly grin, waiting for my answer.
Chuckling, I said, “I don’t know, Robert. Can I trust you?”
“I’ll be the epitome of a gentleman, I assure you,” he promised before taking Clare’s hand and escorting her to the dance floor. She graciously followed, her coral gown swishing behind her as she took his lead, looking beautiful and elegant.
“She’s lovely, Logan,” my mother said, taking the empty seat Clare had just vacated.
“I know,” I answered curtly, cursing myself for my rudeness. I knew she was trying, but a lifetime of hurt was a difficult thing to get over. Growing up with my father was hell, and I spent numerous nights staring out the window as a child wondering what I did wrong to make her leave, and how I could fix it.
“I’m sorry, I know you’re trying,” I said as an apology.
“You have nothing to apologize for, Logan. I have no right to ask you to forgive me. It doesn’t mean I’m not going to try. I want to be in your life, in their lives,” she said, motioning to Clare and Maddie.
I nodded, unsure of what to say.
“You really love her, don’t you?” she asked, looking at me as I watched Clare dance with Robert.
“With everything I am,” I answered with conviction.
She smiled, fiddling with the new ring on her left hand, twisting and twirling it around her finger.
“When are you going to ask her?”
“As soon as we get home. I’ve had the ring for weeks, carrying it around in my pocket, waiting for the right moment,” I confessed.
I hadn’t told anyone about the ring, not even Colin.
Clare and I had been out shopping one afternoon and stopped at an upscale antique store. We roamed around, looking at furniture, picture frames and artwork. I loved watching Clare in her element. She loved touching and connecting with anything historic and always ended up chatting with the store keeper about half a dozen pieces. While Clare looked at a nineteenth century armoire, I wandered over to the jewelry case below the register and that’s when I saw it. A flawless three carat oval cut diamond, surrounded by at least another dozen smaller glittery white stones, set in platinum. It was vintage, probably nearing a hundred years old and had recently been purchased from an estate sale. I knew it was Clare’s the moment I saw it. The second I dropped her off that night, I rushed back to the store, buying it on the spot.
“You’re nothing like your father,” my mother said gently, placing her hand on mine. I didn’t know if she was trying to convince me or herself.
“Is that why you left me with him?” I needed to know. I needed to know how a mother could give up her only son and never look back. It had haunted me my entire life, and I needed closure from this woman.
“Yes,” she said quietly, letting out a long breath, as if the confession has just released twenty-seven years of tension and guilt from her body.
“I loved your father. He was harsh and cold to the rest of the world, but never with me. I never knew why. I don’t know, maybe he saw me as some sort of exotic flower,” she laughed harshly. “I came from new money and he came from old. My parents were eccentric, and his were refined. I always thought our differences would keep our love new and alive, but in the end, it destroyed us.”
“You embarrassed his precious image,” I said plainly. I knew that much. Although I didn’t know why.
“Ah ,yes,” she said, “Something you’ve learned firsthand. I thought he’d stand by me, but no. He sent me away, like a discarded piece of trash.” The hurt was still evident on her face, even after nearly three decades.
“What happened?”
Taking a deep breath, she told me the story of her fall from grace.
“We were members of a country club. Very upscale, very affluent. Your father’s still a member if I’ve heard correctly.” I nodded. I knew the club she was talking about. It was a club for old money, a term used for people who came from wealth. My father had made his own money, but he had a head start from his own father, the grandson of an oil tycoon. Our family’s money went back generations.