Page 78 of Second Chance Fate

“She also told her that she looked like the before picture, that she envied everyone who hadn’t met her, that she was proof evolution is bullshit, and that if ignorance is bliss, she must be ecstatic all the time. Oh, and she went old school, which, I thought you’d appreciate, she told her, even Bob Ross calls her a mistake.”

Caleb couldn’t count the number of times he’d been over at Josh’s house and Nonna was watching Bob Ross. It was her favorite show. He was famous for saying there are no mistakes.

“Her parting remark was one that even Renata couldn’t hide her amusement when telling me.” Josh’s tone was light, and Caleb could practically hear him smiling.

Renata Blackstone was known for her stoic nature.

“Wow, she got Renata to crack?”

“Yep.”

“Okay, I have to hear it.”

“Renata said while they were dragging Nonna out of the room, she shouted, ‘Your face makes onions cry.’” Josh laughed.

Caleb knew that this was funny; he could see the humor in it, but the truth was, he felt a heaviness. A burden. This woman was going around causing so much drama that she was inciting people to feel the need to come to his defense. If it wasn’t him, then it would be someone else. He needed to address this in a drastic way, in a public way, to make this right.

He sighed as he pulled up to his parents’ house. “Hey man, I’m at my parents’; I’ll call you later.”

“Have you told them yet?”

“That’s what I’m doin’ now.”

“Now?”

“Yep.”

“So Owen knows?”

“Taylor’s talking to him.”

“Oh, okay. Hit me up later. Let me know how it goes.”

“I will.”

Caleb ended the call and got out of the Jeep. His mind was spinning, trying to predict the ripple effect from Patsy’s actions today, the ones he was aware of so far. It seemed her behavior was escalating. He was halfway up the walk to his parents’ front door when it opened.

His mom appeared, donning her retro apron that had a picture of a stereotypical June-Cleaveresque ’50s housewife wearing oven mitts, holding a rolling pin with the words BAKING in bold, all caps, and beneath it in tiny cursive writing: because murder is wrong. Baking was his mom’s version of letting off steam, of going down to the bar and having a few beers, of escaping. Whenever she was stressed, worried, overwhelmed, anxious, angry, confused, or basically any emotion that wasn’t happy, she baked. Most kids had positive associations with the smell of cookies, muffins, and cakes. Caleb didn’t have negative associations, because it wasn’t like she ever took out her moods on him or his dad, but the first thing he thought when he smelled baked goods was, uh oh, what’s wrong with Mom?

“Well, Mr. Hot Pastor, it seems you’ve been causing quite the scandal.” Her arms lifted to the side, outstretched.

“Looks that way.” Caleb walked into her embrace.

“There you are!” His dad’s voice boomed from the recliner as Caleb shut the front door behind him. “Your mother’s been in the kitchen baking all day. Did you hear about Patsy and Leonora going at it in the women’s locker room?”

“I did, and don’t say it like that.” He lowered himself down onto the couch, and Captain hopped up beside him. He reached out to pet him, and he purred as he nuzzled his head against his palm.

“So, what’s going on?” his dad prompted as he pushed down the footrest of the recliner and sat up. Tennille, who was curledup in his lap, flattened her ears as she nuzzled her face into his dad’s arm, having zero interest in the gossip. “You’ve kept us in suspense all day.”

Caleb knew there were quite a few ways to approach the information he needed to give his parents. He’d gone over all of them in his head and decided on starting from the beginning. “Do you remember when I went to Florida with Josh for his uncle’s funeral?”

His dad stared at him blankly, which meant he did not.

“Yes.” His mom nodded. “It was right around your twenty-first birthday.”

“Yep. That’s right. Well, I met a girl there?—”

“Rebecca,” his mom stated as if it was common knowledge.

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