92 Pacific Boulevard - Debbie Macomber [86]
Roy sent Charlotte a questioning glance. “Ben needs the truth,” she said softly.
“Is it drugs?” her husband asked.
“No. It seems that David has a gambling problem.“
Ben closed his eyes briefly. “I feared as much. What about alcohol?“
Roy winced. “I’m sorry to deliver so much bad news, especially on an important day like this.“
“Day?” Ben asked.
“When the Victorian Tea Room is opening its doors.”
“Oh, yes,” he said, his voice waning. “It…slipped my mind. Charlotte and I were about to leave when you dropped by.”
Ben sounded as if he were in a trance. He stood in the middle of the room, staring at nothing, as Charlotte walked Roy to the door.
“I’m sorry, Charlotte. Is there anything I can do?” Roy whispered.
“No, but thank you for asking.“
Lingering in the doorway, Charlotte watched Roy walk down the steps and across the street to his car. All the while, she tried to figure out how she could help her husband deal with yet another devastating blow from his youngest son.
When she turned around, Charlotte was surprised to find Ben standing behind her. His eyes met hers and he smiled.
“Do you want to stay home?” she asked.
Ben shook his head. “My son is on a path to selfdestruction. As much as I hate to see him wreck his life, there’s nothing I can do to stop him.” He exhaled slowly and held out his arm. “I can’t allow David to drag me down and I can’t live his life for him. I’d hoped he was making better choices, but that doesn’t seem to be the case.”
“You’re sure you’re up to this?” she asked.
His returning smile was gentle. “I’m not about to let David ruin this perfectly wonderful day. We’re meeting the others at the tearoom for Pastor Flemming’s blessing. Then you and I are going to be among Justine’s very first customers.” He looked at his watch. “We should be right on time.”
Chapter Twenty-Five
Shirley Bliss sat in her workroom, which her children often referred to as the Dungeon. She’d been doing some preparatory work for her newest piece, and she’d lost track of the hours. Shadows crept across the daylight basement walls, telling her it was now late afternoon. Tanni would be home from school soon.
She hoped.
It was hard to read her. Anytime Shirley dared question Tanni regarding her whereabouts, her daughter grew argumentative and defensive. After a while Shirley had stopped asking. As best she could, she monitored Tanni’s comings and goings, and she tried to remain aware of her friends. At the moment, that was mostly Shaw.
One of the problems between Shirley and her daughter was that Tanni blamed her for the motorcycle accident that had claimed her father’s life. It might not be logical, but in Tanni’s adolescent view of the world Shirley was responsible. She’d been the one who’d finally capitulated and agreed that Jim could commute into Seattle on his Harley.
Tanni was convinced that if Shirley had held her ground, her father would still be alive. That question would be forever unanswered.
Sighing, Shirley made her way up the stairs and realized she’d skipped lunch. That often happened when she started work on a new project. She’d spent the day selecting different fabrics and designing a quilt using suede, cotton prints, silk, linen and yarn, as well as ribbons and cords. When the creative mood overtook her, food didn’t enter her mind. In fact, it wasn’t unusual for her to work without a break. Her best pieces were created during long stretches of time that went far into the night. Jim and the children were accustomed to her strange schedule. Now there was only Tanni at home. Jim was gone and Nick away at college.
For Shirley, her art was a refuge and an escape. It had been for Tanni, too, although her daughter kept her drawings to herself these days. That was probably a good thing, because Shirley had been worried by the unrelenting anger and bitterness in Tanni’s sketches. She’d become introspective, shunned most of her friends and refused to talk to Shirley, to a counselor, their pastor, anybody.
Things had changed when she started seeing Shaw, although the transition had been gradual.