A small, almost em.bar.ras.sed smile appeared on his face.
“I spent half of my adult life having people treat me differently because I had money. When we met, you had no idea who I was. You criticized my awful taste in mystery books and insisted that I share a blueberry muffin.”
Despite everything happening, I nearly smiled.
“I enjoyed simply being Robert.”
He paused briefly.
“Especially around you.”
I lowered myself into the chair.
“How wealthy are you?”
“That isn’t what matters.”
“That means extremely.”
He chose not to answer.
“I sold the majority of my shares after retiring, but I still maintain a substantial voting interest. Peterson became chief executive three years afterward.”
My mouth suddenly felt dry.
“Wade’s Mr. Peterson?”
Robert nodded once.
“He worked directly under me for fourteen years.”
I covered my face with both hands.
“Oh my God.”
Robert crouched beside my chair.
“He has no idea Wade is your son. Wade still uses your maiden name, remember?”
I slowly nodded.
After my first husband walked away, Wade and I had both used Harper.
Robert rested his hand gently over mine.
“Is Peterson coming tonight?”
“Yes.”
Robert stood upright.
“Then we’re attending dinner.”
My stomach tightened.
“No.”
“Edna—”
“I’m not walking into Wade’s house so you can put his job at risk.”
“I had no intention of doing that.”
“Then what exactly are you intending to do?”
Robert’s expression softened again.
“I intend to make certain my wife never walks away from her son’s home thinking she has any reason to feel ash@med of herself.”
At six-forty that evening, we drove into Wade’s driveway.
My heart was beating so hard that my chest ached.
“Robert, this is an awful idea.”
“It could be.”
“That isn’t reassuring.”
“It wasn’t intended to be.”
Warm light shone through the front windows.
Through the glass, I could see Fallon moving through the dining room.
She wore a cream dress.
Candles glowed across the table.
Three vehicles were parked outside.
Robert stepped out.
I stayed inside the car.
He came around, opened my door, and offered me his hand.
“You don’t need to prove anything this evening,” he said.
“Then why did I come?”
“So you can understand that everything they said about you was wrong.”
I accepted his hand.
Fallon opened the front door.
For half a moment, she simply looked at us.
Then annoyance crossed her expression.
“Edna? Why are you here?”
“I—”
Robert moved beside me.
Fallon’s gaze traveled over his suit.
“This really isn’t a convenient time.”
Robert gave her a courteous smile.
“Then we won’t stay long.”
Wade appeared just behind her.
The moment he noticed me, his expression tightened.
“Mom.”
His voice became quieter.
“I specifically told you not to come.”
“I know.”
He looked toward Robert.
“And you brought Robert with you?”
Fallon whispered urgently, “Wade, the Petersons are already at the table.”
Robert raised one eyebrow.
“The Petersons?”
“Richard and his wife,” Wade replied impatiently. “This dinner is important.”
Robert glanced toward me.
A trace of amusement appeared briefly in his eyes.
Then someone inside called out, “Is everything okay?”
Footsteps moved closer.
Richard Peterson stepped into the foyer.
He was tall, silver-haired around the temples, and carried the effortless elegance often associated with successful executives.
His eyes went first to Wade.
Then Fallon. Then Robert.
His entire expression changed.
“Robert?”
Wade became completely still.
Peterson stepped closer.
“My God. Robert Harrison.”
Fallon’s lips parted.
Wade looked back and forth between the two men.
“You know each other?”
Peterson gave an uneasy laugh.
“Know him?”
He looked at Wade.
“This is the man who built the company you work for.”
Silence followed.
Complete, unforgiving silence.
Wade’s face turned pale.
Fallon gripped the edge of the doorframe.
Peterson held out his hand.
“Robert, I had no idea you would be here.”
“I wasn’t initially invited.”
Peterson appeared confused.
Robert gently rested one hand against the small of my back.
“But my wife was.”
Peterson turned toward me.
“My wife, Edna.”
Wade opened his mouth.
Nothing came out.
Robert continued calmly.
“Apparently the arrangements changed sometime after lunch.”
The color disappeared from Fallon’s face.
Peterson frowned.
“I’m not following.”
Neither Wade nor Fallon answered.
So Robert explained.
“Edna was informed that she wasn’t welcome at dinner tonight because she doesn’t have a career and might em.bar.rass Wade in front of you.”
Peterson looked directly at Wade.
Robert continued.
“She was, however, apparently considered appropriate enough to clean the guest bathroom before she left.”
Fallon spoke quietly.
“That isn’t what happened.”
I almost admired how unbelievable that sounded.
Robert turned toward her.
“You asked my wife to clean your toilet, then suggested that her presence might embarrass you.”
Fallon looked as though she wanted to vanish.
Wade moved one step closer to me.
“Mom, let me explain.”
“Can you?”
His expression tightened.
“I was under pressure. This promotion…”
Robert’s tone became noticeably cooler.
“Interesting.”
Everyone turned toward him.
“Because Richard told me last month that no promotion had been finalized.”
Peterson cleared his throat awkwardly.
Wade turned toward him.
“What?”
Peterson looked uncomfortable.
“We had been discussing several possibilities.”
Fallon’s eyes grew wide.
“But you said tonight was…”
“An opportunity to have a conversation,” Peterson answered.
Wade stared at him.
Everything he had centered the entire evening around suddenly seemed far less important.
Then Peterson turned his attention back toward me.
Then something changed.
At first, it was almost impossible to notice.
His eyes narrowed slightly.
The color faded from his face.
He moved one step closer.
For the first time, I truly looked at him.
The line of his jaw.
The faint scar beside his left eyebrow.
The way the fingers of his right hand curled whenever he became nervous.
My breath caught.
No.
That wasn’t possible.
Thirty-five years could change the color of a man’s hair.
His weight.
The way he carried himself.
Even the sound of his voice.
But some things remained.
That scar.
Those eyes.
Peterson whispered a single word.
So quietly I almost missed it.
“Eddie?”
Robert turned toward me.
No one had called me that for thirty-five years.
No one except one man.
My legs nearly gave way beneath me.
Wade looked from Peterson back to me.
“Mom?”
Richard Peterson stared at me as though someone from his past had suddenly appeared before him.
“My God.”
I couldn’t catch my breath.
Robert gently caught my arm.
“Edna?”
I could barely hear him.
Because suddenly, I wasn’t sixty-one anymore.
I was twenty-six again, standing inside a small apartment with a crying baby while a man filled a suitcase. I was asking him not to walk away. I was listening as he promised he would send money.
Listening as he said he needed “time.”
Watching the front door shut.
Waiting for a telephone call that never arrived.
Thirty-five years disappeared in an instant.
And the man standing in front of me became the same man I had spent half my lifetime trying to forget.
Wade’s voice trembled.
“Mom, how does Mr. Peterson know you?”
Richard shut his eyes.
I felt Robert’s hand close around mine.
Then I looked toward my son.
At the man who had called me an embarrassment because he desperately wanted to impress his influential boss.
And I realized life possessed a sense of irony more painful than anything I could ever have imagined.
“His name wasn’t Richard when I knew him,” I said.
Peterson reacted immediately.
Fallon stared at us.
Wade whispered, “What are you saying?”
I kept my eyes fixed on Peterson.
“Back then, he used his first name.”
Robert’s expression shifted as the truth slowly began coming together.
“Thomas,” I said.
