She folds the money in his hand. “I’m positive. I’d still be unloading my car if not for you.” With one hand on his back, she walks him to the door. “Now go. I’m starving.”
He starts down the hall toward the stairs and turns back around. “By the way, what do you want on your pizza?”
“Anything but anchovies.” She closes the door behind him and returns to the mess in the living room. Her toothbrush can wait. Right now, she’s craving a cup of tea. She attacks the kitchen boxes until she locates her Keurig machine, two coffee mugs, and a box of chai tea. She fills the Keurig with water, steeps the tea, and takes her mug over to the window. The sun is a glowing ball of orange as it dips below a mountain ablaze with red and yellow tree foliage. The setting moves her to tears. Her first night in her new home.
Her phone vibrates in her back pocket with a call from her listing agent. “We’ve got ourselves a bidding war,” Patricia blurts when Presley answers. “I’ve received three contracts, all for full asking price.”
Presley continues to stare out at the mountains. Is she doing the right thing in selling the house? Even if she ends up back in Nashville, she has no use for a five-thousand-square-foot house. She can hear her mother now, dry martini in hand. “Dump the house, Presley. Invest the money. When the time is right, buy something more suitable for you.”
Let go, Presley. Time to move on with your life.
“That’s exciting, Patricia. How do we decide?”
For the next few minutes, they talk about Patricia’s strategy to get the interested parties to increase their bids. Presley has no sooner hung up with Patricia when Everett returns with the pizza. She brews him a cup of tea, and using washcloths for napkins, they eat the entire pizza straight out of the box. Afterward, they stretch out on the hardwood floor with their heads propped on pillows.
“So, Presley, I’m curious why you picked little old Hope Springs for your weekend getaway? The inn isn’t that special. There are equally desirable resorts closer to Nashville. Like Blackberry Farm, for example. I’d understand if you were meeting a friend or family member. You had to purchase a plane ticket to get here, for crying out loud.”
“If you must know, I came here on a mission.” She tells him about the adoption file she found in her mother’s desk and the woman who lives at 237 Hillside Drive whom she believes to be her birth mother.
Everett brings himself to a sitting position. “Whoa. That’s some story.” With knees bent, he rests his head on folded arms. “Did you know you were adopted before you found the file?”
“Yes,” she says. “My father died from cancer when I was six, but my mother has always talked openly with me about my adoption. She and my dad couldn’t have children. They were blessed to have gotten me.”
“That must have been hard for you growing up without a father.”
Presley hangs her head. “Dad and I were close, and even though I was so young when he died, I still miss him a ton.”
“Do you have any idea who your birth father is?”
She cuts her eyes at him. That’s a strange question. Then again, maybe not so strange coming from a male perspective. “No clue.”
“Did you ever consider trying to find out about your biological parents on one of those websites like 23andMe?”
“I thought about it a lot, actually. I have the test kit to prove it. But I never pursued it out of respect for my mother—my adoptive mother, that is. It’s funny. Before I found that envelope, I never thought of Renee as my adoptive mother. She was just my mom. I’m grateful to her for giving me a wonderful life. At the same time, I’m grateful to my biological mother for giving me life.”
“You mean instead of aborting you?”
At first, Presley thinks Everett is kidding, but his face is serious. And troubled.
She gives him a shove. “Jeez, Everett. Way to be blunt about it!”
He shrugs. “Why sugarcoat it? What would you do if you found yourself burdened with an unwanted pregnancy?”
“That’s a loaded question.” Presley gets to her feet and goes to the window. “Because I was adopted, I’ve thought about it a lot over the years. Putting a baby up for adoption is the ultimate sacrifice. Suffering through nine months of pregnancy, only to give your baby away. I couldn’t do that. I’m thankful I haven’t had to make that decision. If I got pregnant now, at age thirty, I would raise the baby on my own.”
“What if the baby’s father wanted you to have an abortion?”
Presley is glad her back is to Everett. She doesn’t want to see his expression, to know what he’s thinking. “I would never do that. It would help if the father wanted to be a part of the baby’s life. A child should have two parents. But it wouldn’t be a deal breaker. I have enough love in my heart to be both mother and a father.”
“So, you don’t think the father has a right to insist the woman have an abortion?”
Presley twirls around to face him. “How did this turn into an ethical discussion?”
“Right. Sorry.” Everett’s eyes are glassy, as though he’s returning from a faraway place. “Aside from the address on the torn envelope, do you have any other documentation to prove this woman is your biological mother?”
Turning back to the darkened window, she mumbles, “No.” She thinks of Rita and her daughters in their house on Hillside Drive. They’ve finished dinner by now, and the girls are probably doing their homework. She wonders if Rita is folding laundry. Or planning a trip on her computer. Or grading papers if she’s a teacher at the high school. “The last thing I want to do is cause trouble for her. I’ll understand if she wants nothing to do
