The hopeful arch along her mother’s brow eased. “Then your husband must have sent those things. He signed the notes with your name, too. I thought maybe you knew.”
“No, I didn’t.” Jaye jammed a glass into the dishwasher’s top rack. What was Mitch thinking? Her parents didn’t need stemware.
“I have a feeling your father isn’t the only one who did some sleuthing these last few weeks.” Cecelia’s mouth lifted in a poor imitation of a grin. “Your husband figured out your father’s weak spot is football. In December, he invited us to your house to watch a game.”
Jaye’s insides flipped upside down. How did Mitch expect her to welcome her mother and father with open arms after what they’d done to him, not to mention her?
“We didn’t respond to Mitch’s invitation because we were going through a rough spot.” Cecelia twisted the dishtowel in her hands. “I left your father.”
The platter slipped through Jaye’s hands, splashing into the sudsy water. Swiveling her head, Jaye studied her mother’s hands. “You’re not wearing your wedding ring.”
“I removed it the night you and Mitch left the house.”
Distress cramped Jaye’s lower abdomen. “Because of us?”
“In a way, yes.”
Jaye inhaled, the air above the sink scented with buffalo sauce and dish soap. “Please, don’t blame my husband.”
“But I do.” Cecelia set the towel on the counter and looked into the living room. “When Mitch came into our home that night, he was a man crazy in love. He’d do anything to be with you, even if he had to take a hard look at his flaws and reverse them. I’ll never forget the way he got down on one knee and looked at you.” Cecelia let out a soft sigh. “He still looks at you the same way. Like you’re the only thing he cares about.”
“I know,” Jaye whispered, desperately happy she’d found such a man.
Cecelia rested her perfectly manicured hands on the kitchen counter. “I didn’t recognize Simon when he blew up at the two of you. I couldn’t believe he could be so cruel. That night, I packed a bag and flew to our place in Denver. At first, your father didn’t realize I’d left him. He assumed I just went skiing.”
“Oh, no.”
“Then he began to send dozens of flowers and boxes of jewelry. He texted me at least five times a day, but I didn’t respond. I refused to talk about our issues via text messages. He flew out to visit after Christmas.”
Jaye pressed her fingertips to her mouth. “Why did he take so long?”
“Your father is very uncomfortable sharing his feelings.”
“I think incapable might be more apropos.”
Cecelia lifted a shoulder. “You didn’t hear from us at Christmastime because neither of us wanted to admit things weren’t perfect.”
“Gee, Mom. In most families, people share their heartaches.” Jaye dropped the rest of the dishes into the sink to soak.
“I’d like to become better at sharing how we feel. I’d like to be a normal family.” Cecelia clasped her hands in front of her and let out a small hiccup. “When I look back at how poorly we reacted when you got married, I feel sick to my stomach. I don’t blame you if you never want to see us again.”
Horrified, Jaye watched, as her mother’s nose turned a bright pink.
Cecelia’s eyes filled with tears. “Will you ever forgive us?”
Her father’s attention shifted to the kitchen, targeting a potential emotional outburst with the sharp gaze of a hawk.
Jaye tried to think of a way to defuse the situation. In a flash of bumbling stupidity, she pushed a box of crackers down the counter. “Here, Mom, eat one of these.”
Simon Davis stood. “Cecelia, what are you doing?”
Her mouth turned down and she hiccupped again, louder.
“You’re not the one who should be asking forgiveness. I’m the one at fault.” Simon pulled a hand down his face and glanced at Mitch. “Turns out, my daughter’s instincts were right about you. No matter how hard I tried, I couldn’t find anything wrong. The more I dug, the more impressed I became. I’m sorry for being a pompous, overbearing jerk.” Simon turned his gaze toward his wife. “From now on, I’m not working on weekends. I want to spend those days with you, Cecelia. I need you, dammit.”
A strange sound burst from her mother—part sob, part laugh of relief, loud as the bark of a mastiff.
“Jayson, you were also right about David. I fired him last week.” Simon tucked both hands in his pockets and squared his shoulders. “You’re angry at me, for good reason. You’ve done everything I ever asked, and I took you for granted. Am I asking too much for a second chance?”
There wasn’t an “I love you” anywhere in his apology. Jaye evaded her father’s stoic gaze and glanced at Mitch, tempted to throttle him for interfering. “I’d like to speak with you in our bedroom, please.” Each clipped word rattled with anger.
Mitch faced her and gestured toward the hallway leading away from the living room. “I’ll join you after I show your parents the guest room.”
Ice crackled over her insides. “Of course. You knew they’d use that room long before I did.”
Jaye stared out the window at the mountain rising along the horizon, a dark hump blocking the stars covering the lower portion of the sky. “Did my parents accept your invitation to stay the night?”
“Yes.” The bedroom door closed with a gentle thump. “They shouldn’t drive all the way to Syracuse this late. I insisted they stay.”
“You should feel gratified they listened.” She tried to keep the bitterness out of her voice. “I’m still waiting for them to listen to me.”
“They’re here because they want to reconcile, Jaye.”
“No. They’re here because they think all is forgiven, thanks to you.” She unbuttoned her blouse with sharp, angry flicks of her fingers and shot him a frown. “My mother said you’ve been sending them gifts and signing
