68 #FeelsLikeSummertime

July 29, 2017
Saturday

[8:30 PM]JON: How was your day?

[8:32 PM]TEDDI: Not as good as yours, since it didn’t involve a beach, but I have no complaints.

 

She was right on that.  Any day that involved sand between his toes and sun beating down on his chest was an excellent one.  Adding in his kids, seafood, and a bottle of wine made it damn near idyllic.  This was the slice of time he lived for each year, and knowing it was only the first day of a five week “residency” at his East Hampton house made it even sweeter.  Hell, he even had cookies, thanks to the thoughtful woman on the other end of this text conversation.

 

[8:34 PM]JON: You didn’t have a FedEx delivery of kippers either.  I was hoping you asked me for the address because you were planning to come out, but cookies are a decent consolation prize.

[8:35 PM]TEDDI: We talked about that.  You knew better.

 

He did know better, but part of him had hoped the desire to see his summer place – and him – would outweigh her aversion to public scrutiny and meeting the kids.  It was still early in the game, though, and she was waiting on pins and needles for the Peabody deal to settle.  Once she had the ten million in her account, maybe she’d redirect her bravery to a beach visit. 

 

Unless she gets fucked over.

 

The money and financial relief had been too much for her to pass up, especially once she found out Pierce’s “source” on her private family history. 

 

After hearing Jon spout off about how Endicott had always tortured Teddi, Pierce had called in a favor from his brother the Boston cop.  Detective Standiford ran a system search on the Peabodys, with particular emphasis on Endicott and Teddi, and found the sealed adoption records.  Those adoption records contained her original birth certificate – which named Randolph as the father. 

 

So, no.  The entire world hadn’t known her secret.  Just those in the judicial system with the right clearance and an inclination to go looking.  That explanation and a sincere apology had restored her faith in good old Pierce enough to take the deal. 

 

Jon still didn’t like him, but the guy’s motivation seemed pure and driven by Teddi’s best interests.  For that reason alone, Jon supported her decision and watched silently as she signed the paperwork.

 

Oh, and he also contacted the senior partner at the law firm.  Merely as a second opinion on the legal soundness of the contract, of course, and the verdict came back yesterday.  There was no way Endicott could legally weasel his way out of returning Teddi’s share of ownership.  The most damage that he could inflict was selling it before the conditions of the clause were met, and there was no reason for him to want to.

 

Teddi’s financial security and ownership status should both be solid.  And it only bugged him a little that both those things came from the man who was hanging around like a vulture, waiting for Jon’s relationship to die so he could swoop in and claim Teddi as some kind of frigging prize. 

 

Okay, so maybe he was more than a little bugged about the vulture was trying to make himself into a house pet by bearing legal gifts.

 

But he wasn’t going to dwell on it.  Not when the tang of saltwater hung in the air, and the cotton candy hues of sunset hung in the sky.  This was his happy place, and damned if he’d let the likes of Pierce ruin it for him. 

 

@hashtaghero: Feels something like Summertime

 

[8:38 PM]TEDDI:  😲 Have my eyes deceived me?  Did you just make a Twitter post without being nagged into it??

 

Jon chuckled as he typed out his reply. That reaction was the only reason he’d done it.

 

[8:39 PM]JON: Keeping the mystery alive.  Can’t have you taking me for granted while I’m gone.

[8:41 PM]TEDDI: At the risk of stealing your social media mojo, there’s not a single moment with you that I take for granted.

 

That felt heavier than the first night at the beach should, so he decided to lighten things up.

 

[8:44 PM]JON: Take THIS for granted…  Days are numbered on that beige bed.  

 

That last day at her house, she talked him out of it with wicked promises for the cauldron of color.  Figuring she’d earned a little leeway because of that whole deal with Pierce plus a driveway driving lesson, he let her get away with it – even if she did chicken out on the Chevelle’s back seat. 

 

The Gypsy made up for it by fulfilling those wicked promises, but next time?  Next time, there would be no excuses. 

 

[8:46 PM]TEDDI:  But I’m the one doing the numbering.

 

The feisty response was a welcome surprise that had him grinning at the screen.

 

“What are you up to, old man?  Is Uncle Dave sending you dirty jokes again?”

 

His thumb tapped the button that would dim the screen as his daughter joined him on the side porch sofa, pulling her feet up so that heels dug into the cushion and her toes hung over the edge.  Jon hooked an arm around her neck and kissed the temple exposed by a messy ponytail.

 

“Why?  You want me to forward ‘em to ya?” It was easier to play along than to explain who was on the other end of that message.  He would, eventually, but it was their first night here.  Relaxation was the key.

 

“As if.  You two have the raunchiest sense of humor.”

 

“It’s the Jersey way, baby.”

 

“I know that all too well,” she sighed.  “See if you can’t channel some of the more cultured places in your life for the rest of the week, would you?  Jacey and her mom are coming tomorrow.  Play nice.”

 

“Me?  Play nice?”  Jon gave an offended to snort to keep from groaning with disappointment.  He wasn’t yet relaxed enough to welcome strangers in his house, but since it was for Stephanie, there wasn’t a choice.  He had to. “I’ve hosted presidents and music icons.  I can play nice with the best of ‘em.”

 

“We haven’t had anybody like that here since the divorce.  Mom was always the one who kept everything going when we had company.”

 

“Oh, for Christ’s sake.  Not to belittle your mom’s people skills, but I am capable of being a good host.”

 

“Of course you’re capable,” his bratty daughter placated with a condescending pat to his thigh.  “When you want to be.  I’m encouraging you to want to be.”

 

Jon grunted into his wineglass and swallowed down the rosé with the desire to stick out his tongue at her.  Since she became an adult, Stephanie enjoyed being the grown up in their relationship.  Most days, he endured it, because she was smart like her mother and more mature than he felt like being.  This was a case when he thought it better to at least pretend maturity.

 

“Just remember this is your friend and her mom coming to visit; not a blind date for me.” 

 

“We’ll see.”

 

Turning his eyes toward her in the dimming daylight, he delivered a somber look.  “I mean it, Stephie.” 

 

“You might like her.”

 

“Have you even met her?”

 

“Well… no, but Jacey’s great and she never complains about her mom.  I’m sure she’s very nice.”

 

Whatever.  He had no interest in the hypothetical nice woman.  He had a legitimately nice one already, who was a sex fiend and baked kippers.  That was a hard-to-beat combination. 

 

“You didn’t see your brothers with their dirty mitts in my cookies, did you?”

 

“No, but I ate one.  They’re fantastic.  Which bakery did they come from?”  She eased the wineglass from his grip and tipped it up for a swallow before returning it empty.

 

Frowning, he grumbled, “Get your own damn wine, kid.  And the cookies are homemade.  No bakery.”

 

“Really.”  Interest sparkled in the eyes that were a lighter blue than his and rimmed with navy.  “Who’s sending you homemade cookies?”

 

How should he answer that?  By referring to Teddi as his social media consultant?  A friend?  The woman he wished was coming tomorrow instead of the hypothetically nice woman?

 

He was spared from choosing by the arrival of his in-house sommelier.  “Who needs more wine?”

 

“Me.”  Jon held his empty out to his oldest son and wine mogul in the making.  “Your sister drank all mine.”

 

“She’s a bitch like that,” Jesse consoled as pink juice gurgled out of the bottle. 

 

“Yeah, well, this bitch just found out Dad’s got someone sending him homemade cookies.”

 

Jesse’s eyebrows shot up with the appropriate amount of surprise.  “Oh, yeah?  I had a couple earlier.  Those are some damn tasty treats.  Who’s the baker extraordinaire?”

 

“I knew you little shits were into my cookie stash.”  He wasn’t really all that annoyed since the cookie container was a big one and filled to the brim.  In fact, Teddi’s note had instructed him to share with his kids.  He just enjoyed complaining about it.

 

His son shrugged without remorse when claiming one of the side chairs and putting his feet on the table, along with the near-empty wine bottle.  “If it’s in the kitchen, it’s fair game.  Your baker good with any other delicacies?”

 

Nookie cookies.

 

But he wasn’t telling his children that. 

 

“Who cares?” Stephanie interjected with annoyance.  “I want to know who it is.”

 

“It’s no clandestine secret, so stop looking at me like that.  My social media consultant sent them.”  An uncomfortable lump formed in his gut at slighting the woman who was more than a consultant, and he dumped wine down his throat, hoping to dissolve it. 

 

“What’s her name?”

 

“Dr. Theodosia Montgomery.”

 

Stephanie slipped her phone out of her hoodie pocket to tap and scroll along the screen that brightened the surrounding dusk.  “Master’s degree, Ph.D., communications, psychology, another Master’s… but nothing about her personal life.  Or a picture.”

 

“She likes her privacy,” Jon said, unsurprised that it took his daughter ten seconds to unearth the same information he’d spent an hour wringing from Google. 

 

“Oh, wait.  Here’s something.  Her grandmother died a while back and must’ve been somebody important in Boston.  Mary Peabody.  There are some photos of guests leaving the funeral, and Dr. Montgomery’s name is listed.”  The phone was pushed in his direction.  “Which one is she?”

 

There were four photos, the first of which identified Randolph and Endicott.  Both had their heads held high and appeared arrogantly unaffected by losing the Peabody matriarch.  Whether that made them assholes or confirmed the old lady was the dragon Jon suspected her to be, he didn’t know.  Probably both. 

 

The second one was another man and woman, identified as Warner and Midge Peabody.  Those names didn’t ring a bell, but the next photo was Craig and his wife.   

 

Teddi was in the last one, captured a group of them trooping toward the limousines.  She was the only one identified in the caption that listed her as Mary Peabody’s adoptive daughter.  Looking distressed and holding the hand of a man he presumed to be Truman, she trailed significantly behind everyone else.  Tori was the only one who seemed to notice and peered back with concern while balancing a toddler on her hip. 

 

He pointed to Teddi’s image.  “That’s her.”

 

“Lemme see.”  Jesse leaned forward and snatched the phone, but the Stephanie’s frown wasn’t directed at him.  Jon was on the receiving end of that jewel, and he pretended not to notice in the fading light.

 

“I guess that’s her husband?” she asked as he nonchalantly sipped wine.

 

“I guess.  He died a while back, too.”

 

That revelation was enough to neutralize the frown and spark a gleam of speculation.  “So, she’s single.”

 

“Yeah.”

 

“And you’re dating her.”

 

Jon reared back with a scowl.  How the hell did Stephanie jump to that conclusion?  He’d done nothing that would suggest that.  Nothing.  “Where the fuck did that come from?”

 

“You smiled when you found her in the pictures.”

 

Had he?  Okay, so what?  “Her dress is black.  Since she only wears beige, I got a kick out of seeing her in something different.”

 

His traitorous son passed the phone back and hopped on the suspicion bandwagon.  “How often have you seen her to know what she usually wears?  Isn’t this a fairly new thing, the social media?  Which I could’ve taught you, by the way.”

 

“Or me.”

 

“Good to know you’re both IG geniuses, but my manager booked me with a professional, so I went.  End of story.”

 

Which was exactly what happened, but the longer this conversation went, the guiltier Jon felt about hiding his relationship status.  It wasn’t like he was ashamed of Teddi.  She was beautiful, smart, kind, and funny.  What the hell was there to be ashamed of? 

 

“Whatever, Dad.  We all know if you didn’t want to do it, you wouldn’t.” 

 

He turned to the slender shadow that was his daughter, and though her eyes weren’t clearly visible in the dusk, he did his best to meet them when saying, “You’re right.  I wouldn’t.  I do it because it makes sense, and because I like her.”

 

“Like her, like her?”

 

Ah, fuck it.  I’m tired of this game. 

 

“Yeah,” he admitted, actually enjoying the way it felt.  “Your old man is dating someone.  Now stop trying to hook me up with Jacey’s mom.”

 

Rather than being pleased, however, his woman-child conjured up another of those frowns.  This one was more thoughtful than the last, though.  “You need to invite her to the beach.  We want to meet her.”

 

“And see if she’ll bring more cookies.”

 

He cut smiling eyes to Jesse, but his mouth didn’t turn up before informing them both, “I did.  She won’t come.”

 

“Why?”

 

“She’s… complicated.”

 

“Gonna need more than that,” Stephanie flatly informed him, again swiping his wineglass for a healthy swallow before returning it.  “It offends me that she doesn’t want to meet your children.”

 

“It’s not like that.”  Except that it was.  “Well, sort of not like that.  It doesn’t have anything to do with you guys specifically.  She has agoraphobia.”

 

“She’s afraid of heights?”

 

“No, dumbass,” Steph berated her brother.  “That’s acrophobia.  Agoraphobia is avoiding situations that might cause anxiety.”

 

Before Jesse could retaliate, Jon stepped in to offer, “If you include ‘recluse’ in that definition, it describes Teddi perfectly.  She stays home alone ninety-eight percent of the time, and usually only interacts with people through electronic means.  If she has to leave the house, it’s a major event that requires meditation jewelry, prescription drugs and a hell of a lot of coaxing.”

 

He couldn’t quite decide if their silence was a good or a bad thing until Jesse broke it.  “Uh.  No disrespect to her struggles, but how do you see this working out, Mr. Social Butterfly?  I bet you have at least five parties lined up this month.”

 

Seven, actually. 

 

“We’re taking it one day at a time, and I’m helping her work on it.  We went to Lema’s last weekend without too much issue.”

 

Steph’s sigh carried an air of disappointment.  “Like Jess said, no disrespect to her struggles – or her, for that matter – but Dad… do you like this woman or just feel sorry for her?  It’s pretty shitty to let her think she’s your girlfriend if you’re taking her on as a charity project.” 

 

“No, she’s not a fucking charity project,” Jon snapped without thought.  “Her condition means we don’t do the traditional dinner and a show dating, but there’s more to her than agoraphobia.  A hell of a lot more, so don’t judge her on that alone.  That’s what’s shitty.”

 

When there wasn’t a sound beyond crickets in the wake of his mini-tirade, Jon shifted uncomfortably with the realization that he might have overreacted.  Especially since his children were looking at each other and chatting telepathically about that overreaction. 

 

Jesse finally shrugged and nodded, and with the non-verbal conversation finished, Stephanie returned her focus to Jon. 

 

“We’re going to need to meet this woman.  ASAP.”