Chapter 19

Evie

Even with Margo"s thick Australian accent coming through the car speakers, I"m instantly transported back in time as I turn onto the street where I grew up. All sorts of childhood memories come flooding back to me.

Countless summer days spent with my sisters, riding our bikes around the neighborhood and through the local park.

Eating ice cream with Levi after a day spent on the beach.

Watching the game with Dad on our big-screen TV, him whooping and hollering and swearing like a sailor.

And as I drive past the Rademacher"s house, all I can think about is Fraser and those late nights we shared.

Now that I know the truth, I"m not upset things turned out the way they did. He did what he had to do to protect his family.

I personalized it. Made it about me. Took it as a sign of rejection when him not coming over to say goodbye or acknowledging my bracelet was because he had a pregnant teenage sister to console and a training camp he got shuttled off to without warning.

It all makes sense now.

It must have been so hard for him—for all of his family—but things have turned out well. Dawn is doing great, Oakey is the coolest six-year-old ever, and Fraser"s living his major league dream.

Speaking of, I"m very happy to report that after hitting a rough patch, the Swifts have rallied. They"ve dug deep and won their last three games, plus the decider, and secured themselves a spot in the conference finals.

Talk about an up-and-down season. If they manage to ride this hot streak, they could go all the way and win the Stanley Cup this year.

I pull into the driveaway of my parents" house.

Margo finally takes a breath, so I switch my mind back into work mode and decide to bring up something I"ve been meaning to tell her.

"I"ve been working on something."

"What is it?"

"Well, despite my days at the network being numbered, I"m putting together a package to show Fraser what an interview segment could look like."

"That"s fantastic news. I reckon you"re onto a winner with that, hon. And it"s not too late. I say go for it. It could be enough to save you."

"I"m not making any promises," I say, trying to reset her expectations into the realm of reality. "I"m still ninety-nine percent sure Fraser will veto the idea, but there"s no harm in raising it with him, is there?"

"Exactly. Have you got an angle?"

"I do."

"Ooh," she squeals. "Do tell. Oh, no. Damn. I"m getting another call. Double damn. I have to take it. We"ll talk later, yeah? You"ve made me very happy, hon."

The call ends, and I turn off the car, sitting silently for a few moments. "What do you think, Daisy?"

She sighs in sympathy, and I imagine her saying, "You"re down to your last two choices, Evie. And a girl"s gotta do what a girl"s gotta do."

"Ain"t that the truth."

Last choice number one—putting together a package and presenting it to Fraser.

Even if he says no—which I fully expect him to—at least when I look back on this time in my life, I"ll know I did everything I could to save my career. That I didn"t slink away from the challenge, and that I gave it my all.

And the angle I"ve come up with?

Well, since Fraser has been so closed off, he"s developed a reputation for being a little…gruff. I want to change that inaccurate perception and present his softer side. And the best way to do that would be to show him with his family, especially Dawn and Oakey. He loves that kid with all his heart, and he"s so great with him. That"s the Fraser Rademacher I want the world to see.

Plus, it also allows me to slip Dawn"s story into the segment—if she and the rest of the family would like to be involved, that is. It could finally put an end to the ugly rumors and speculation that have dogged the Rademachers since they pulled the plug on their show.

They"ll have full control of the narrative since I have no desire to make the piece exploitative in any way.

I know Fraser is—and will always be—a private person, but in this way, he and his family are in the driver"s seat. They control what and how much they want to reveal.

I still don"t think he"ll go for it, but it"s one of the last two remaining options I have.

The other option?

I get out of the car and walk toward my childhood home. It backs onto the Pacific Ocean, and the salt-tinged air tickles my nose as I take in the stucco walls, red tiled roof, and arched doorways.

I reach the front door and press the bell, the distinctive chime echoing throughout the house.

"Evelyn," Mom says, sounding surprised as she opens the door.

"Hey, Mom." I hug her. "Why do you sound surprised to see me?"

I called and arranged this visit with her yesterday.

She gives me a once over. "It"s just that you said you"d be here at two o"clock."

"Yeah, and it"s two o"clock," I say.

"Exactly. I"m glad to see you"ve improved your punctuality. Come in."

I step into the house biting my tongue—literally. I"ve been late twice in the past year, once because I got held up at work, and once because I was hanging out with Hannah and the alarm I"d set to remind me to come here didn"t go off.

Don"t engage, Evie. You"re here for a reason. Focus on that. Focus only on that. Hey, defensemen, you"re awake today, Great. Something tells me I"m going to need you.

I follow her into the formal living room.

There"s a tray laid out on the coffee table with a kettle, two tea cups, and a plate with an assortment of pastries.

"I wasn"t sure if you"d be hungry," Mom says, taking a seat. "Two o"clock is such a strange time to meet. Have you eaten? I can get Louisa to make you something if you like."

"That won"t be necessary, Mom," I say, sitting opposite her and helping myself to a mini cinnamon roll.

"Tea?"

"Yes, please."

Mom pours the tea, the aroma of citrus and spice wafting in the air. She hands me a cup and saucer adorned with a pretty floral pattern. "Here you go."

"Thanks."

She sits down and lifts the porcelain mug to her lips, her eyes never leaving me. "So, to what do I owe the pleasure of this visit? I assume you need something."

"Mom. Geez. Can"t a daughter just visit her mother and hang out?"

She quirks a brow. "You want to hang out with me, Evelyn?"

"Sure. Why not? How is everything?"

"Fine."

"Dad?"

"He"s fine."

"The ladies at the country club?"

"Also fine. Evelyn." The cup clinks against the saucer with a sharp ding. "You did not come here to make small talk. If you have a point, please just get to it."

"Okay, okay. Just promise me you won"t get all Mom about it." She looks about as unimpressed as I expected that comment to make her look. "I came here today to talk to you about your contact in Washington."

She perks up. "Really?"

"Yes. Work isn"t going very well."

A puzzled expression crosses her face. "Why not?"

"For a number of reasons I"d rather not get into, but mainly because my segments aren"t attracting viewers."

She makes a quiet sound I can"t decipher, then says, "Well, that"s odd."

"Why would that be odd?"

"Because I think your segments are lovely, Evelyn."

"You…watch my segments?"

"You don"t have to sound so surprised. Of course I watch them. I"m allowed to, aren"t I?"

"Of course. Yeah. It"s just…"

When I don"t follow that up with anything, she prompts, "It"s just, what?"

"Well, didn"t you once say morning shows are—and I"m paraphrasing a little here—basically for morons who need to have something on while they get ready for their day?"

"I highly doubt I used the term moron. But to your point, while I may not be the target demographic of The Morning Buzz, I make sure to tune in to watch your segments. Just like I listen to that sad excuse for music Levi"s band makes, and I torment myself by watching recaps on YouTube of whatever sad excuse of a reality TV show Harper is producing."

There is so much to unpack in that sentence…so of course I latch on to the most important detail. "You watch YouTube?"

Mom sighs. "I may be old, but I"m not ancient."

I crack a grin. "Louisa showed you, didn"t she?"

Mom stifles a smile. "Actually, it was your father. The point remains—I support all my children. Even Laney, who for the life of me, I still can"t fathom why she would choose to work as a maid?—"

"She started off as a maid, but now she runs the hotel, Mom."

"Still. It"s a waste of her intellect, if you ask me."

Which no one is, I think, but wisely kept to myself.

Two for two, guardsmen. We"re on a roll today.

"But back to your request. I"d be more than happy to set up a meeting with Devlin Wilshire. I hear he"s on the lookout for a political reporter."

"That"d be great. Thanks, Mom," I mumble into my tea.

I"m grateful for her help. I am. I just wish I wasn"t in a position to be asking for it in the first place. Moving to Washington and reporting on politics is the last thing I want to do.

But what other choice do I have?

I"ve even been considering taking Fraser up on some of the not-so-subtle hints he"s been dropping lately and taking a business course so I can sell my bracelets online.

I slurp my tea and finish off the rest of my pastry while Mom sits there, assessing me.

"What"s the matter, Evelyn? You don"t seem happy. This could be a great opportunity for you. A steppingstone to a real reporting career."

I wipe my hands on the sides of my pants, which earns me a look of mild disgust. "And what if I don"t want to be a real reporter?"

"What is that supposed to mean? Why wouldn"t you want that?"

"I don"t know. Maybe because being the reporter I am now doesn"t feel as good as I thought it would. Maybe because I"m starting to question if journalism is even the right career for me. Maybe because I just feel this constant, nonstop pressure from you to wear the right clothes, and go to the right college, and wipe my hands on all the right surfaces. It"s…It"s too much, Mom."

She stills, save for her eyes, which are doing that darty thing they do whenever she"s busy thinking.

Or scheming.

"You feel pressure from me?"

I nod.

"Really?"

"Yeah, Mom. All the time." I pause, placing a hand on my heart. "I just…I just want your approval."

"You have my approval…mostly."

"I want it unconditionally. Even when you don"t understand or agree with what I"m doing. I know moms are always gonna mom, but I need you to trust me. You and Dad raised me well. I"m smart. But I will make mistakes. I"ll have stuff I"ll need to figure out. I just want you to be there for me. Not if I say or do or wear the things you want me to, but regardless."

She places the cup and saucer on the coffee table and squares her shoulders. "I"m going to tell you something I"ve never told you before."

"You and Dad are lizard people and only eat time-traveling vegetables."

"Excuse me?"

"Never mind. Continue. Please."

"What I was going to say is that I only want what"s best for you, Levi, Harper, and Laney," she begins.

"I know that, Mom."

She folds her hands neatly in her lap, trying to mask her discomfort. Mom is the queen of chitchat and can make polite small talk with anyone.

But talking about real things? This is way outside her comfort zone.

"As you know, your father and I got married quite young."

"You were twenty, right?"

"I was. Just turned. By the time I turned twenty-one, I had dropped out of college, gotten married, and had my first child."

This much I know.

"Do you know which university I dropped out of?"

"I have no idea—Wait. No. Don"t tell me. UCLA?"

"Correct. And would you like to take a guess at what I was enrolled to study?"

"No way. Journalism?"

Mom nods. "That"s right. Now…Listen carefully because I don"t want you to misunderstand what I"m about to say."

"I"m listening. Carefully."

"Being a wife and mother is, by far, the biggest blessing of my life. I love your father with all my heart, just like I love all my children. However…I have also put my own life on hold for my husband and my children. It was a little different once you and Levi were born, but for the first few years with Laney and Harper, I followed your father around the country as he played. I never went back to college to get my degree. I devoted myself to raising my children. I didn"t pursue a career. My path was laid out in front of me. I never got to make mistakes and figure stuff out on my own. And while I"m very happy with my life and everyone in it, I want you to have what I never did. Choices."

I take a few deep breaths, processing everything she just said. I look up at her and say, "Mom, I hear what you"re saying. Things make a lot more sense now, like why you pushed so hard for me to go to UCLA and study journalism, but if you want me to have the ability to make choices, you have to step back and let me make them, and…" I add this last part as delicately as I can. "They have to be my choices."

"I realize that. It"s just that I"ve had four children. I wanted one of them to go to a university. Does that make me a terrible mother?"

"It doesn"t make you a terrible mother," I say, offering her a smile. "But Levi and Harper did go to school in LA."

"Oh, please. One-year diplomas from some ridiculously overpriced media entertainment school don"t count," Mom says with an unimpressed eye roll.

Normally, I"d defend my siblings and say that it still counts as an education, but right at this very moment, I let it slide. Because I get what Mom"s saying, even if it is all sorts of messed up for her to be laying all her unfulfilled expectations on me.

I"m the youngest. Shouldn"t she be over parenting by now and just be glad I"m alive and not in jail? Why did my siblings fail me and not tire her out? Oh, that"s right—because none of them attended an approved four-year college, that"s why. Thanks, guys.

I hang around for another ten minutes or so before telling her I should get going.

"Oh, I almost forgot to ask," Mom says as we reach the entryway. "How"s Fraser?"

"Uh, he"s great."

"And how are things with the two of you?"

"Also great."

Mom"s still under the impression we"ve really been dating this whole time, and I have to say, she seems to be on board. I guess that"s because Fraser ticks off all her potential husband requirements. Plus he"s a hockey player, and I suspect that since she married one, that might sweeten the deal even more.

"Excellent. In that case, can you please extend an invitation to him to join us for a family dinner next week?"

"Really?"

"Yes, really. I know he feels like part of the family already because of Levi, but if he"s an important part of your life, I"d like to make more of an effort to get to know him better. Bring it up with him next time you see him, and let me know what he says."

"I will. Bye, Mom."

"Goodbye, Evelyn."

I sigh into the speaker of my phone during my chat date with Fraser that night. "Do you think we"ll ever get to a point where we don"t feel like we"re a major disappointment to our parents?"

"Maybe once they"re dead?" Fraser offers.

"Normally I"d agree with you, but I think it"s unlikely in my case."

"Why is that?"

"Well, knowing Mom, and with the way AI is advancing, I"m sure she"ll find some way to express her displeasure at my life choices from beyond the grave."

"So I take it that your time with her today didn"t go well?"

"It actually wasn"t as bad as I thought it would be. We talked about some…interesting stuff. But still, I hate having to ask her for anything, much less something I don"t really want."

I"ve told Fraser about how Mom is going to set up a meeting for me with her Washington contact, who happens to be the husband of one of the women she used to be on the Winter Carnival Planning Committee with until they left Comfort Bay and moved to D.C.

I may have also grumbled, for possibly not the first time, about how much I do not want to be pursuing this option.

"Oh. That reminds me," I say.

"Yeah?"

"You"re invited to a family dinner next week."

The line goes quiet.

"What is it? What"s wrong?" I ask when the silence stretches for too long.

"Nothing. It"s great. I"d love to go."

"But?"

"But will there be chilis?"

I laugh. "Probably. But don"t worry, I"ll get Mom to ask the cook to go easy on you."

"Thank you." He lets out an audible sigh of relief. "So, in what capacity exactly have I been invited to the family dinner?"

Before I can answer, he says, "Actually. Can I call you back in literally one second?"

"Uh, sure."

We end the call and a second later, my phone buzzes, but this time it"s not a voice call from Fraser.

It"s a video call.

I reject it and text him.

Evie: Nope. Not happening.

Evie: Not talking on video.

Evie: I look terrible.

Fraser: Is that why you rejected the call?

Evie: It is.

Fraser: But you look beautiful.

Evie: You haven"t seen me tonight, so you have no way of knowing that.

Fraser: Actually, I do.

Evie: How?

Fraser: Because you"re always beautiful.

How?

How does he always know the most swoon-worthy thing to say?

But still, I will not allow myself to get sidelined by Fraser"s swooniness.

I press on.

Evie: Why do you want to switch to a video call?

Fraser: Well, because we"re about to have "the conversation".

Fraser: And before you make some crack like: and by "the conversation" do you mean why do people in Britain butter their bread for a sandwich?

Fraser: I want to be serious for a moment.

Fraser: Because by "the conversation" I mean talking about us.

Fraser: Specifically, there"s a question I"ve been meaning to ask you.

I almost drop my phone.

It"s happening! It"s happening! It"s happening!

Fraser is going to ask me to be his girlfriend.

My instincts may have let me down in the past, but I know I"m right about this. I"ve been sensing him skirting around the topic for a while now.

He"s finally going to do it…and my chin is dripping in H?agen-Dazs ice cream, and I haven"t changed out of my workout gear from my Pilates class this afternoon.

Fraser: I think that conversation warrants some face-to-face time. Don"t you?

Evie: Give me five minutes.

Fraser: Normally I wouldn"t rush you, but I have been waiting YEARS for this moment.

Fraser: So…I"ve started a timer.

Fraser: smiley face emoji>

Fraser: stopwatch emoji>

Fraser: red heart pulsing emoji>

For not the first time, I scramble to make myself look presentable for Fraser.

I throw on a clean sweater, wash my face, tame my hair into a ponytail, and slap on some lip gloss and blush.

It"s not perfect, but it"ll do.

The screen is lighting up as I walk back into the living room.

Wow. He wasn"t kidding, he really was timing it.

I plop myself in an armchair, lift the phone up to above chin height, and take the call.

"Hi, and thanks for calling Paul"s Pizza and Pasta Pie Shop. We bake "em, you take "em. How can I help you today?"

Fraser leans back in his armchair. "Is this your idea of being serious?"

"Hey, my head"s spinning. I had to make myself presentable in under five minutes. A weaker woman would have crumbled, but not I."

"No. Definitely not you." He licks his lips. "You look great, Evie, though I suspect you looked great before, too."

I wave my hand in the air, grinning. "You"re just saying that because you didn"t see the state I was in. I was giving facemask high school Evie a run for her money."

He shakes his head, his blue eyes sparkling. "Got it all out of your system?"

"Yes." I give a firm nod. "Ready to commence seriousness."

As soon as the words leave me, my stomach swoops, just like when you go over the top crest of a rollercoaster and have that second or two before you commence the descent.

Because if I"m right, when Fraser opens his mouth, we"re going to enter completely uncharted territory.

"Evie, getting to know you again these past few months has been incredible. I"ve never met anyone like you because I don"t think there is anyone like you on this planet. You"re smart. Funny. Beautiful, especially when you wear sweatpants and ugh boots."

A giggle bursts out of me. "Don"t forget the wet hair."

He grins. "How could I forget?"

Then he sucks in a breath, his eyes darken, and I can tell this is it. The moment he"s been building up to.

"Evelyn Freeman, will you be my girlfriend?"

My heart swells in my chest. "Oh, Fraser."

I honestly never thought this day would come, that my high school crush, the guy who left without saying goodbye, would be asking me out.

"Of course I"ll be your girlfriend."