An Unexpected Visit—Part II

"You are so big!"

"Yes, that's what happens. They grow," mumbled Owen, closing the door behind him, winking at his niece.

Veronica swat his arm as she turned back to Grace and held her at arm's length, shopping bags dangling from her wrists. Her eyes twinkled with excitement while she continued to drink in the teen she had seen sparingly during her entire existence. Of her shortcomings in some sixty-odd years of living, being a present grandmother was currently at the top of the list. A role she still hadn't quite grasped nor added to her resume of life.

"And that hair! It's so luscious." She smoothed bright red painted fingertips down her curled locks. "You definitely got that from my side of the family."

Grace nervously smiled. "Grandma, Mom didn't tell us you were coming."

"Oh, your mother didn't know. I wanted it to be a surprise!"

Veronica looked past her in the direction of the kitchen, her lips curling into a smirk when she saw her daughter staring back at her. Speechless.

Owen too caught sight of her blank expression, verging on what he'd call a death stare, and groaned. It was his mother's anxious tone and lofty talk of keeping her presence a surprise that commenced this air of dread. "Alicia will receive my visit better if you don't tell her. You know how she is." Yes, knowing his sister as he did, being unforthcoming was a big mistake. Her gaze feeling as if it were boring a hole through him said so. Any high hopes he had for this evening was quickly swept away into a land of unattainable life goals and wanderlust.

"I'm going to go put this," he held up a grocery bag, "in the kitchen while you two…get acquainted." He smiled at them warmly before traipsing off to his mute sister.

"Don't get into a fight," Veronica called after him then turned her attention back to Grace, draping an arm around her shoulders. "Where's your brother? I have gifts for you both!" She handed her two bags, wrapped boxes tucked inside.

"In his room studying for a test." She rounded the corner from the entryway, steering them into the living room. "Zach! Grandma's here!"

"I can't get over how beautiful you've grown." Veronica set the remaining bags on the coffee table, watching as Grace began to open her gifts. "I bet you have the boys lined up, picking them off left and right," she said with a wiggle of her brows.

Grace chuckled, relieved when her brother emerged from the room and joined them.

# # #

"So this is your surprise visitor? For me?" said Alicia, slamming a drawer.

Owen eased onto a barstool, hastily removing three bottles of wine from the grocery bag. "Yes. But look. I brought your favorite cabernet," he said with an uneasy smile while dangling a bottle.

She rolled her eyes. "You could have told me, Owen."

"Would you honestly still have agreed if I told you it was her?"

She turned to look at him, her answer halted when the subject of their brewing squabble entered the room.

For fleeting seconds, the three of them said nothing. Each digesting the moment for what it was. Owen cautiously glanced between his mother and sister, promptly sensing their need for a reunion without a third party present. He began to slowly rise from the stool.

"I actually have a call to make. I'll uh," he pointed towards the dining room, "take it in there."

Alicia folded her arms across her chest and shook her head, watching him leave before turning back to her mother. As she stared at her, words tripped on the tip of her tongue, fighting to make their way out, but didn't against the rampart of her lips. What was it she even wanted to say?

Years had flown by. It felt like a lifetime since they had last been in the same room. So much had happened. Life tested her in ways she never imagined. Funny, it was in some of those bemoaning moments when she thought her feet would no longer hold her upright, that of all people, she could call on her mother. To peel her from a wall of defeat and be her pillar of strength, suspend her up when gravity pushed her down. Of course, courtesy of colorful postcards that were sent, Veronica was in a different country in those moments, enraptured by the company of a well off gentleman showering her with pleasures while she walked through hell on the other side of the world.

Now, miraculously, she was here. In the flesh. She hadn't changed much. Her hair was longer, her skin tattooed a golden hue seeming as if she had spent weeks lazing on a beach beneath a tropical sun. She looked different but familiar. That trademark judgmental look in her eyes practically shouting back at her dispelled any further doubt that her mother was indeed here, in her kitchen, and not some figment of her imagination.

Veronica started to ease her way around the island and bridge the gap between them, breaking Alicia's train of thought.

"Hi, Alicia."

"Mom…"

Veronica opened her arms, pulling her into a reluctant hug. "It's so good to see you!"

"Mm-hmm. What are you doing here?" Alicia asked once they pulled apart.

"Well, after a lovely, recent trip to Fiji with Jared, who I'll tell you about later," she clasped her hands together and smiled widely, "I decided I needed to visit my children and grandchildren. Mainly you."

Alicia arched her brow. "After nearly three years?"

Veronica threw her hands up in the air. "W-w-what?" she stammered. "Should I not have come?"

"I'm just…surprised." She shrugged.

"I called and wrote. It's not as if I completely forgot about you."

"I know, Mom." A tired sigh stained with hurt passed through her entire body at the passive reminder.

"And I like your old house better." Her eyes roamed around the room in a mixture of curiosity and another expression Alicia couldn't digest. "Why didn't you tell me you moved?"

Alicia shook her head, chuckling. "How could I, mom? I never knew where you were. You jumped from one continent to the next."

Veronica pursed her lips, the simple statement resounding in her ears like a renunciation of failure.

"Fair enough."

She continued to survey the room, ingesting the smaller place her daughter now called home. A visual disapproval stamped to every corner in which her focus lingered. It was when she began to tiptoe towards the direction of the maid's room was her unasked question addressed.

"Who or what are you looking for?" asked Alicia, consciously trying to conceal her brewing annoyance.

"Peter. Owen said you took him back after the hookers."

Alicia sighed and turned back to the stove, remembering that she purposely omitted the latest details of her marriage to her brother for this very reason. He told their mother everything.

"Yes we are back together, but he's living in an apartment not far from here," she said. As much as she didn't want to relay their current arrangement, honesty was best to avoid a cannonade for more information later.

"Why isn't he living here if you're back together?"

"Because…we were having some issues and it was best to work through them living apart."

Veronica's lips puckered as her eyes narrowed. "Is this about me and your father? Is that why you can't walk away?"

"What gives you the impression that I want to walk away?"

"You should after what he did to you! Actually, you need to divorce him as soon as you can. Don't wait any longer."

"I'm not you, Mom. I don't just walk away from commitments I make." Alicia turned in her direction, her eyes shooting daggers as she reached for the glassed baking dish on the island countertop and swiveled back to the stove, misting the glassed bottom with non-stick spray. "I have no plans to divorce Peter."

Veronica gripped the edges of the island, eyes bulging, mouth open. "Why not?"

Alicia slowly topped the can of spray and half-pivoted to face her. "Because I don't want to."

"So you'd rather adapt to your unhappiness?" Veronica sucked her teeth. "Your father would agree with me that you should divorce him. He wouldn't want this for you. Peter's just stringing you along until the next young thing catches his eye."

Alicia exhaled a slow breath, mentally counting to ten. Bringing up her father was a raw nerve. Her mother knew that and struck it when she felt necessary.

"Is this why you came to visit?"

"No," Veronica said softer, her tempered stance shrinking. "I wanted to see you and Owen, and the kids."

Alicia turned back to the stove and began to place the filled dishes in the oven. "Well, I'm sure Zach and Grace will enjoy spending time with you."

"Owen told me he also invited Peter. Is he coming tonight?"

"Possibly."

She watched her busily occupy herself, signaling that their debate about her decisions regarding her son-in-law and their marriage was over. Regret washed over her. This wasn't entirely how she wanted their conversation to go. What she couldn't squeeze on a postcard, spilled out of her without warning. Granted the delivery could have been better, but she couldn't help herself.

"Would you like me to help with anything?" she asked, eyeing her tense backside.

"No, I've got it."

Veronica brushed her hair back from her face and nodded, wanting to say more but not knowing exactly what to say. Or that this was the right time. They both could use a recess.

"Okay, I'll go bond with the kids more. They're just so big now!"

Alicia watched her go out of the corner of her eye, wondering if Owen brought enough bottles of wine to survive the duration of dinner.

Timing was coincidental when just as she placed the lamb in the oven, did the front door swing open, revealing Peter. Relief was an understatement when she saw his tall form treading her way.

She speedily washed her hands and checked to make sure Owen was still engrossed in his phone call in the dining room. When she noticed his back to the entrance, her guard faltered slightly.

"Hi," said Peter, loosening his tie. Setting his keys and phone on the countertop, he leaned down and greeted her with a kiss on the cheek.

"Hi."

"Mom rescheduled dinner so I'm all yours tonight."

Her lips were pressed firmly together as she grabbed two shot glasses from a shelf and set them on the counter. He made himself comfortable within a barstool, perplexed as he watched her move about the small space without uttering a word.

"Are we celebrating something?" he asked.

Grabbing the bottle of tequila she kept nestled way back in the cabinet beside the refrigerator, she walked back over to him, removed the cork and poured. He eyed her flighty motions, wanting to ask about her evident irritable mood but didn't want to rock the boat.

"My mother is here," she finally replied.

He reached for his glass and clinked it with hers. About to quaff the content, he held it in front of his lips as her words dawned on him.

"Veronica?" he asked in disbelief.

"Yes." She downed her glass in one swig and he followed suit.

"Where?" He looked around behind him, scanning the entry points.

"She's 'bonding' with Zach and Grace. I assume in one of their rooms if you didn't see them when you walked in."

"Why is she here after all this time?" She was about to pour another round when he took the bottle from her. "This isn't going to help, Alicia."

"It will help me deal with her tonight," she seethed.

"Peter!" Her piercing voice caused the miniscule hairs on the back of his neck to rise. "Hello, darling."

He slowly rose from the cushioned seat, surprise masked on every inch of his face. Alicia snatched the bottle from his grasp.

"Hi, Veronica." He bent down to kiss her cheek.

"It's been awhile," she said with a tap to his shoulder.

"It has. How have you been?"

"I hear you moved out."

He snickered at her trademark frankness as his eyes shot to his wife whom was in the process of downing her second glass.

"Uh, yes. I did."

"Alicia also said you two aren't getting divorced."

Peter cleared his throat and nodded. "That's right."

"Uh huh. But you're living apart." She looked to her daughter knowingly, watching as she continued to drown her sorrows, confirming her suspicions. "What's the real reason you moved out?"

Alicia nearly choked on her drink as she quickly swallowed. "Mom!"

"What?" She feigned shock. "It's a perfectly innocent question. You were basically talking to me in code."

At that moment, Owen waltzed back into the room, eyeing the scene before him. Based on the different expressions plastered on each of their faces ranging from confusion to horror, he pocketed his cell phone and folded his arms across his chest, bracing himself for a challenging hour of refereeing.

"So," he said slowly, "what'd I miss?"