Now or Never Read online

  Now Or Never

  Ruth Hay

  Contents

  About This Book

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Afterword

  Also by Ruth Hay

  To my husband, who has always had the benefit of good timing.

  * * *

  Tempus fugit. Time flies.

  ~ Virgil

  About This Book

  Now or Never is the third book in the series, Prime Time, which began with Anna Mason’s story in Auld Acquaintance.

  * * *

  In this book, two of Anna’s dear friends travel to Italy for very different and urgent family reasons.

  * * *

  Will Maria find common ground at the villa with her rebellious teenage daughter before it is too late?

  * * *

  Will Susan persuade her husband, Jake, that a new, unproven treatment for multiple sclerosis may be a risk they cannot afford to take?

  * * *

  Anna helps both her friends from a distance then draws them together for an unexpected event that provides an exciting conclusion.

  Chapter One

  It is never good to make decisions based on desperation, thought Maria.

  Desperation indicates fear, and fear can be smelled and tasted by your opponent and gives her, or him, an edge in any negotiations.

  Of course, in business dealings Maria knew she was the one who would benefit from the desperation of others in the trade. As an experienced store owner, she was adept at the hard sell. She knew when a fashion line was overpriced or just on the point of going out of style.

  She would pounce like a cat on a mouse, and emerge from the fray with a van-load of bargains.

  Why can’t I use that skill with Lucy, she wondered. Is it not possible to be objective and rational when dealing with my own flesh and blood?

  Paul insisted that the problems between mother and daughter arose from the fact they were too much alike. Maria always bristled at this accusation. She couldn’t see it herself.

  Lucy had always been a difficult child from minute one as far as her mother was concerned.

  Theresa had been the easy first child. She smiled and cooed as a baby and excused any errors her young parents had made with a benign wave of her chubby little hands. Maria managed to fit Theresa’s first years into her own ambitions to apprentice in a small store in the mall. It was this ease that had persuaded her to try for another child and, to Paul’s delight, a second daughter was born.

  Maria shifted uncomfortably in the driver’s seat. The 401 West from Toronto was quiet at this early hour and she sped along smoothly with time to think. If I’m honest, she admitted to herself, it could have been the timing that set us off on the wrong foot. Perhaps five years was too long between children or it was just when I was carving a career that required too many hours at my business. Maybe it was the contrast between the two babies that threw me off.

  Lucia was not the child of light that her name promised. Maria sighed as she remembered the long nights rocking a restless baby on her lap. Although Paul was a great father and less busy nowadays with his photography, in those days, it always fell to a mother to hear the cries and wake with a start when the tears began.

  It was not until she stopped breast-feeding that Paul could take over at night and Maria began to sleep for a few hours. Paul had a soothing effect on Lucy and the two bonded in the dark hours in a way Maria had envied. A pattern had been established that persisted right into the present. No matter what Maria tried to do, Lucy went first to her father and wheedled him into any crazy scheme she wanted to attempt, from decorating her room in black and white to arranging parties at the house with a group of strange teenage friends. Her mother was always cast in the role of over-cautious objector but, as she was often unavailable to supervise these schemes, Paul’s approval and involvement was the simplest solution. Lucy could cause explosive arguments when she wanted her way and over the years it was easier to give in than to fight her.

  “I know that was wrong!” declared Maria to the passing cars in the fast lane. “Everything I ever read on child-rearing said the opposite, but what’s a working mother to do when she has to earn the money for her family? There are only so many hours in a day and a peaceful household becomes a necessity at the end of a long shift at the store.”

  She punched the wheel in frustration. It was too late to turn back the clock. The past was what it was. But what about the future?

  A service centre appeared on the near side of the road and Maria diverted into the lane that led straight into the parking area. The sun was well up now and she took a deep breath of the cooler morning air as she straightened her back and rested her eyes on the trees surrounding the concrete.

  The fall weather had been remarkably mild, and leaves, which should be showing signs of colour by mid October, were still verdant in the warm breeze. Yet, winter was waiting patiently in the wings for its turn on centre stage.

  Perhaps there’s still time, she thought, as she headed into the restaurant for a latte. I am afraid I will have to do something soon to get closer to Lucy before it’s too late.

  “Look, Lucy! What are you doing here? Go home to daddy and tell him your troubles. I have enough to handle, or are you oblivious to that, too?”

  Theresa’s anger at her sister’s selfish behaviour spilled over, despite her usual control. She turned away from the teenager and lifted her young son, smiling to show him the burst of frustration was not his fault. With practiced ease she slid him into the high chair and placed a plastic bowl of dry Cheerios in front of him while she dealt with Lucy’s demands.

  “Cool off, sister dear!” came the sarcastic reply. “I only came to see if you would support me with mom, for once. You know it’s a great idea and it would really help me to get a showcase for my designs. Lots of kids in Arts school are really down with my stuff, you know. I could start selling right away if mom would cooperate.”

  “What do you expect me to do? Waltz right into her store and tell her how to run her business? You are the one who gets her own way every time, Lucy. Do your own dirty work!”

  Theresa stomped out of the kitchen with one quick look back to see Johnny happily making patterns on the tray with his cereal. She had no patience with Lucy. Didn’t the kid realize mornings were her busiest time with a baby to attend to upstairs, an eighteen-month old to feed and amuse and a husband’s early-morning mess to clean up and all this before the babysitter arrived and Theresa could turn her attention to reaching her part-time office job in something resembling a sane state of mind.

  As she changed Francesca’s diaper and made happy gurgling noises with her, Theresa’s mind was humming on another channel. The nerve of that girl! Coming to me for support with her crazy schemes! As if I care what she does with the weird clothes she puts together from second-hand discards and bits of junk she finds in bins at Goodwill. If she thinks mom will have anything to do with a display of that rubbish in her store windows she’s even more removed from reality than I thought she was.

  As Theresa picked up discarded socks and swiftly tidied the bed, the baby on her hip worked the usual soothing magic and her mother’s anger gradually dissipated. She sat on the edge of the bed while she dressed Fran for the day in the bright colours the baby loved
and she talked to her in a sweet tone that was really the self-talk Theresa needed to give herself.

  “Lucy just gets my goat, Frannie. I shouldn’t let her get to me but this is an old problem with the two of us. If I’m honest, baby, there’s a bit of jealousy there. I was the baby of my family once upon a time. Yes I was, sweetheart! I was the apple of my daddy’s eye until the screamer appeared on the scene. You won’t be jealous of your big brother will you, my darling?

  Your daddy and mommy love both of you just the same and my work will never get in the way of your happiness, I promise.”

  Three deep breaths later and a dozen kisses on Fran’s shiny, dark hair and Theresa felt calm enough to descend the stairs to the kitchen. Lucy was picking Johnny’s Cheerios off the floor, to his obvious delight.

  Theresa almost said, “Don’t encourage him, Lucy. He’ll do that for hours if you let him and I’ll never get him fed!” Just in time, she stopped the words from emerging and decided to play the adult role of the older, and hopefully wiser, sibling.

  “You’ll need to get off to school now, Lucy. I’ll think about what you said but I can’t promise anything. Mom’s due back from the fashion show in Toronto today. I wouldn’t tackle her until tomorrow. She’ll have to catch up with things first.”

  “Good advice, T’resa!” The old childhood name made Theresa smile and she almost gave her sister a hug, but that impulse died when Lucy added, “I thought you could give me a ride to school since mom’s away. I’ll just finish this coffee and then we can go. OK?”

  Maria crumpled the empty cardboard coffee cup but stayed seated in the cafeteria. A few moments of peaceful, quiet contemplation in her busy life were not to be squandered by rushing back to the car for the last few kilometres towards home.

  She reviewed the weekend’s activities in Toronto. The fashion show at Holt Renfrew was followed by meetings with buyers to discuss trends for the 2011 spring and summer seasons. The more input Maria had gathered, the more confusing the situation became. It looked like another year where the only option would be to declare a ‘do your own thing’ style. Maria knew this was a cop-out and indicated that no clear direction had emerged from the Paris and Milan shows of the previous spring. Without something new to offer her customers, Maria would have difficulty making a profit. Although she had fashion for a wide range of ages in the store, it was the rich matrons of London who braved the mall’s teen crowds to search out Maria’s fashion-forward couture. Her wealthy clients saved themselves long trips to New York and Toronto and relied on Maria’s personal service and her knack for spotting styles to suit them.

  These ladies frequently reported that their out-of-town friends often commented on their outfits during social occasions and winter cruises. When inquiries were made about where they shopped for such elegant clothes, Maria’s store was never mentioned and although this did not help her gain more customers, it did mean the ones she had were faithful purchasers who supplied the cash to maintain her stock and her reputation.

  Maria closed her eyes and rubbed her throbbing forehead with long, tapered fingers. The headaches were becoming more problematic. Did she need a stronger prescription for her glasses or just to wear them more often? Or perhaps it was the growing list of decisions she had to make that was causing her head to ache like this.

  She lifted her BlackBerry from its pocket on the front of her stylish black patent purse and quickly checked the family’s schedules. Joe would be home for supper tonight as he was in the studio today. Theresa was at work until 2:30pm and Lucy should be safely at school until at least 3:30pm with some sewing to do for a runway project in February, or so she said.

  A jolt of fear struck Maria with this thought. How much could she trust Lucy’s word? Young girls today were neither truthful nor dependable. Half the time, their parents never knew what they were up to or who they were with. Maria realized Lucy was wilful, impulsive and determined to fit in with her crowd. She was just the type to fall for some dangerous scheme and be led astray, and lately she was scorning any advice her mother might dare to offer.

  There was only one place Maria could head to where problems were unlikely to present themselves and where instant comfort could be found. She could feel the relief rush through her body and diminish the throbbing headache as she returned to the car and merged with the traffic heading to London. It wasn’t far to Theresa’s little house on the fringes of the city.

  The babysitter would welcome a few minutes to tidy things while Maria enjoyed the company of her grandkids. They were so precious. Everything people said about grandchildren was true in her estimation. All the fun parts and none of the work and worry, seemed like a good bargain.

  Was it guilt that made her love them so? Was she making up for lost time with her own daughters when she stole a few minutes with Theresa’s lovely family? Was it just a way to escape from worries at home?

  Theresa had been such a different child from Lucy. Even when Maria was working long hours at home, Theresa would seek out substitute mothers in the neighbourhood. Any of the women who were home with a brood of children welcomed the cute little girl who would happily amuse their babies and play nursery games with their toddlers. A quick call to Maria let her know where Theresa had landed and everyone was pleased with the arrangements.

  What Joe called, ‘benign neglect’ had given Theresa a foretaste of what she was meant to be, a superlative wife and mother to two darling little ones.

  Theresa had never displayed any interest in the fashion business. She cherished her family of soft dolls she called her ‘babies’, and refused to go to sleep at night until all of them were arranged in order of size against the footboard of her bed.

  It was easy to see why Theresa had chosen to marry young. School was not a good fit for her. It was as if she couldn’t concentrate on anything that didn’t contribute to learning how to be a good mother.

  Lucy, on the other hand, had owned only one Barbie doll whose hair eventually fell out from all the braiding and twisting into outrageous styles her owner had subjected it to. As a child she never played with her sister or made friends with the neighbours’ children. She was fascinated with the computer and had online buddies from an early age. Only her father’s insistence persuaded her to forego extensive tattooing by showing her how embarrassing her future wedding photographs would be if she indulged in the long dragon and snakes patterns she wanted.

  And now……………. things were not any easier. Education at a School for the Arts had awakened Lucy’s creative side and the result was not what Maria would have wished.

  She had to admit, however reluctantly, that the girl had her own crazy kind of ingenuity. She seemed to be capable of inventing new and cheap ways of putting outfits together. Maria was constantly surprised by Lucy’s attire when she emerged from her bedroom in the morning, heading for school. She had a knack for combining the most unlikely pieces into a different style each day. Maria knew the size of her daughter’s closet and often wondered how it held so many tops, pants, skirts and accessories.

  Her professional analysis, over years of observation, revealed that Lucy was re-making existing elements to create different looks. A pair of expensive dark-wash jeans purchased by her mother, would evolve into a hand-painted designer pair with the dragons and snakes motifs denied her by her parents. Next they would receive a sparkle accent, and later be cut down to capri length with a bleach wash to lighten the colour and a drawstring hem.

  By summer, these would transform into short shorts decorated with coloured patch pockets or draped in long fringes from a variety of unusual belts Lucy devised from old suede ties.

  The girl had style all right. Style that was the antithesis of everything her mother loved about fashion. Was this another way of rejecting her mother’s influence?

  Maria shook her head to release these uncomfortable thoughts. She could see Theresa’s driveway ahead. The very sight of that trim front yard brought down her blood pressure and she consciously relaxed
her face to prepare for the happy expression her beloved grandchildren expected and deserved.

  Chapter Two

  Susan’s heart sank when she saw Jake’s wheelchair rolled up to the desk and the computer screen blinking on another health-related web site. He had always followed events on the multiple sclerosis society’s web site, but since this summer’s advent of media attention to the new Liberation Therapy treatment developed by a vascular surgeon in Italy with the unlikely name of Dr. Zamboni, Jake had been obsessed with internet news and reports on the subject.

  Susan had tried, as delicately as she could, to divert him from what she considered another ploy to engender false hope in the large number of Canadians who suffered from MS. Her own background as a legal secretary for many years had conditioned her to be skeptical about any unproven claims, but she could only present negative information on a limited number of occasions before her husband exploded with frustration at her perceived lack of support and the topic was banned for the duration.

  Susan had to admit that the entire situation had caused stress between the two partners. Stress was never good for Jake. His MS was of the more common type that had periods of partial remission but these could be ruined by devastating attacks which were often produced when he was undergoing stress of one kind or another. Susan’s own stress level would rise whenever Jake spoke passionately about the latest Canadian to travel abroad and return from the angioplasty procedure with glowing reports of restored health and strength. She was increasingly afraid that her husband would want to invest their limited energy and financial resources in such an expedition. One she simply could not support.