Iris in Bloom: Take a Chance, Book 2 (18 page)

He nodded. He knew both of them well enough that he thought his lawyer might be right. “Good,” he said briskly. “Let’s do this thing.”

“I have to warn you, even though it must kill you to see your ex-wife and your ex-friend together in the same room, negotiating the end of your marriage, you can’t lose your cool.”

He nodded briskly but she wasn’t finished. “Promise me. No yelling. No accusations. For God’s sake, no threats. Keep your understandable anger for your therapist. Got it?”

“I don’t think you have to worry,” he said.

Her gaze sharpened and he felt she was searching his face. “Okay,” she said at last. “You’ll do.”

So he found himself walking into the conference room with a sense of unreality. His exes were both already there. Both glanced up at him with similar guilty expressions on their faces. They had note pads in front of them. On Steve’s some notes were already scribbled in handwriting almost as familiar to Geoff as his own.

For a hideous moment no one moved or spoke.

Then his attorney stepped past him. She seld out her hand to Steve. “I’m Edna Silver, we spoke on the phone.”

That broke the ice. He stepped forward behind her thinking, what the hell? He could be the bigger man. He held out his hand to his former friend first. As they shook he felt a sadness go through him. He thought of all the times they’d laughed together, hit some kind of a ball around a court together, talked about their futures. They’d shared details, like the financial assets even now listed on printouts for today’s discussion.

“Good to see you,” Steve managed.

He nodded.

He turned finally to the woman he’d been married to for six years. She looked good, he thought. She’d colored her hair and something about her clothes seemed different. Tighter, more stylish. He thought she’d lost weight.

“How are you Brianna?” he said. He couldn’t shake her hand, that was stupid. Kiss her cheek? He didn’t think so. So he stood there looking at her, not touching.

She said, “I’m okay.” She looked stubborn and unapproachable but he’d known her for long enough that he recognized she felt guilty and didn’t know how to apologize.

He realized he didn’t need her to.

Once more he acknowledged a sadness. Once he’d planned to spend the rest of his life with this woman. Now he’d probably never see her again once this meeting was over. Why would they? They had no kids, nothing to tie them, their families had always been cordial but never particularly close.

His lawyer sat down and he settled beside her.

She pulled a stack of printed pages from her briefcase and gave each person one. “This is my client’s settlement offer. We believe it’s more than fair. As Geoff has come a considerable way in order to attend this meeting, I suggest we do our best to come to an agreement today.”

“Yes, so do we. I mean, my client agrees.” His former friend said.

And in less than an hour, the agreement was reached. Bloodless, emotionless, the end of a marriage came down to valuing assets and splitting them fairly.

When he left, he turned back to his almost ex wife. This time he kissed her cheek. “I hope you’ll be happy.”

“You too,” she said.

And maybe that was as much as they could hope for.

He took the signed agreement, that now only needed to be ratified by a judge, a formality that would officially end the marriage.

He spent the rest of Friday and all of Saturday getting rid of the rest of his stuff. He knew with certainty that he wouldn’t ever live in this city again. As he donated the last box to Goodwill he felt a chapter of his life ending.

When he climbed into his car and headed out of LA that evening, he no longer felt as though he were leaving. This time, he was heading toward a woman who held his heart in her bread-kneading, barista hands.

He couldn’t wait to give it to her.

Chapter Nineteen

By Saturday Iris couldn’t stand it anymore. She and Geoff had parted without any kind of resolution. She missed seeing him in the mornings when he dropped in for his morning coffee looking sleepy and sexy. Usually, they’d woken up together a couple of hours earlier. He’d walk in through the door and she’d glance up and catch him looking at her and warmth would whoosh through her hard and fast.

Now it seemed she grew more wistful with each ring of those foolish bells that ushered in a customer who wasn’t Geoff.

Sunday was her usual day off but with Milo and two other high school students working today plus Dosana to supervise she felt she could take a couple of hours off. She’d go and see Geoff she decided, simply talk to him.

Maybe she couldn’t have back what she’d had before but she didn’t want to live in a town this small with a man who harbored hard feelings against her.

“I’m going out for a couple of hours,” she told Dosana.

“Okay.” Dosana didn’t comment, not even when she grabbed an Americano to go and slipped two of Geoff’s favorite muffins into a bag.

She took off her apron and hung it up in the back. Then she headed out. She needed to pick up her car at her place since she’d walked to work. But once there she decided to brush her teeth and redo her makeup, change into her new jeans and a flattering shirt she’d bought in Portland.

She brushed her long hair until it shone.

She even patted the Alice Munro book he’d given her for good luck.

With a heartrate definitely elevated she pulled up in front of Geoff’s apartment. She sat in her car staring at the front door as though she could will him to appear. Since her conjuring skills hadn’t improved since she’d tried to make him walk into Sunflower every day for the past week, she decided to call him.

But he didn’t pick up.

Typical. Why couldn’t he at least be man enough to talk to her? She got out of the car and stalked to the front door of his building. It was supposed to be secure but half the time the door was propped open so that guests could come and go and the apartment cats could wander at will.

The door was propped open now and she walked in. She ran lightly up to Geoff’s apartment picturing him marking papers or attempting to make coffee half as good as what she served in Sunflower.

She balanced the coffee and the bag of muffins in one hand as she banged on his door with the other.

Nothing.

She waited a moment and then knocked again.

A small furry body butted against her legs and she looked down to see Cat clearly as anxious as she was to see Geoff.

“Where is he?” she asked the cat who seemed to be looking at her with the same question in his eyes.

A woman emerged from an apartment down the hall. They’d seen each other a few times. She nodded. “Is the cat bothering you?”

“Oh, is he yours? No. He’s sweet.”

“He’s got a big man crush on Geoff that’s for sure. He sure misses him when he’s gone.”

“Geoff’s gone?”

“Sure. I thought you knew. He went to LA for the weekend.”

“LA?” She couldn’t help the shock in her voice. Her entire system was shocked. “You’re sure it was LA?” LA where he’d come from? Where his wife lived?

“Yeah.” The woman looked sorry to have delivered bad news. “Pretty sure.”

She bent down to pat the cat, hoping to hide the wave of hurt she felt washing over her. She knew she had the kind of face that showed all her emotions and she didn't particularly want this virtual stranger to witness her distress.

“Did you want me to give him a message or anything?”

“No. It’s fine. I forgot he was going away this weekend,” she said as casually as she could manage. “I’ll catch him when he’s back.”

“Okay.”

She rose. “I’ll see you soon, little cat.”

And she turned and headed for the door, sipping the coffee so Geoff’s neighbor wouldn’t think she was the kind of pathetic woman who brought coffee to a man who had gone home to his wife.

She couldn’t go back to work. She called Dosana and made sure the younger woman could close.

“Yeah. Sure. No problem.”

“Everything okay?” she asked.

“Yep. It’s quiet. Milo’s trying out some of his poetry on that Goth girl waif who adores him.”

“Oh, that’s so cute,” she said in spite of her misery.

“You okay? You sound kind of funny.”

“I’m fine.” She glanced at her watch. “My dad’s probably working on my house now. I might go supervise.”

“I thought… Never mind. If you need anything, you know I’m here for you.”

“Yeah. Thanks. See you tomorrow.”

When she let herself into the house the sound of heavy metal was as comforting as a hug. And boy, could she use a hug.

“Dad!” she yelled, banging up the stairs. She stopped, knowing he couldn’t hear her anyway and dashed into her bedroom where she stripped out of her seduce the local high school English teacher clothes and shoved herself into a faded old pair of jeans and an ancient T-shirt that she kept for doing disgusting jobs.

She pushed her feet into sneakers and tied her hair out of the way. That done, she headed up to the third floor once more.

Jack Chance was bobbing his head in time to “Highway to Hell” as he nailed together the cubbies for her book and toy shelves.

A wave of affection rolled through her as she thought about how lucky she’d been to have been brought up by Jack and Daphne and not her hopeless biological parents.

She got his attention by waving at him and he gave her his big smile. She turned the music down to human volume and walked over to him. “Hey, Dad, how’s it going up here?”

“Okay. I had a tiny bit of trouble fitting the first cube together but I think I figured it out.”

“AC/DC always helps a person think clearly.”

He grinned at her, doing the head banging thing and she suddenly had a mental image of him as a young guy in the 70s. In his element.

“Dad, I need a job. Something sweaty and muscular. I’ve got some stress I need to work out.”

“I’m thrilled to have an extra pair of hands.” He glanced around. “Tell you what, you can sand the edges of the fresh cuts.”

She liked that he didn’t pry or offer platitudes or do anything but what she’d asked him to do. Give her a job.

They worked for a while companionably. Hand sanding was a genius way to let off some of her hurt and anger and frustration. AC/DC gave way to the Stones on the boom box. She worked out the worst of her frustration, then, when her arm was sore and her throat dry, yelled, “Want some coffee?”

He nodded.

She ran downstairs, made a pot and added a few of her lemon bars straight out of the freezer. She’d taken to keeping them there so she didn’t eat so many but all that happened was she discovered they were delicious frozen. Little lemon pastry Popsicles. She knew Jack felt the same way.

She poured coffee into two of her mother’s coffee mugs that she most hoped would get broken and hiked it all up to the construction zone.

As though knowing she was ready to talk, Jack turned the volume of the music down farther and they settled side by side on the floor each holding a coffee, the treats between them on the plate.

There was relative silence for a moment as they both sipped coffee and Jack polished off a frozen lemon bar. “You have a talent with baking,” he said, “that is for sure.” As though feeling that might have been unfeminist, and Jack prided himself on being strongly feminist, he added, “And you’re a fine businesswoman.”

However, today she didn’t feel like a feminist or a businesswoman. She felt like a woman hurting because of a man. “Dad?”

“Mmm?” He was eyeing the lemon squares as his fingers hovered over the plate waiting for his brain to choose which pastry to pick up.

“Why do men betray women?”

Jack turned to her, paused in his lemon bar selection, and said, “You speaking in general or specific terms?”

“Both, I guess.”

Jack didn’t rush to speak. He took a moment to think about her question. “I imagine every situation is different.”

“It’s how you and Mom got together. She was betrayed by a man she trusted. Her professor.” Jack and Daphne had never shielded their children from the truth. When Jack had met Daphne she was pregnant with another man’s child. She’d fallen in love with her American History professor at university who was married and already had three children. She’d been a penniless young student but determined to have and raise her child. Jack had met and fallen for the young Daphne, partly because he admired her resolve. As a boy who’d been bounced around the foster system he was determined to help kids who had so few choices in their lives.

Their son, Ben, looked a lot like his African American father but Jack had been his real father just as he’d been the real father to all the Chance kids, the ones he and Daphne conceived and the ones they adopted.

“You’re right. That man not only betrayed Daphne, he betrayed the university standards, his family and his conscience. But he also gave your mother and me a precious gift. Sometimes that’s what happens. A betrayal can also be a gift.”

“You got another gift when my birth father betrayed my birth mother.” She heard the bitterness in her tone and realized the argument with Geoff had pulled up some bad memories for her.