Page 85 of The Guest Cottage
“Pixie,” Marlow started to say, ready to comfort her.
She shook her head. “I should’ve asked Dylan about providing for the baby, but I was just so mad at him . . . And embarrassed that I’d been so easy . . . And I honestly thought I’d be able to take care of myself.” She rolled her eyes. “None of that made any sense once I started getting sick, but by then it was too late.” She looked up at Cort. “That’s a bad memory, I guess. Sorry.”
“It was his loss,” Cort put in. “He screwed up with Marlow, and with you. He spent his last days being angry and making himself miserable, and in the end, he lost not one but two terrific women.”
Marlow smiled her agreement. “Perfect way to look at it.”
“I came to that conclusion about my father, too.” Understandably, both women went quiet again. Cort didn’t share personal stuff very often, but something about sitting here with these two special women, holding an innocent baby after a delicious home-cooked meal, made it feel just right. “My father spent his life drunk and angry. Mean and abusive. Sometimes I wonder what made him that way, if he had a really hard life before meeting Mom, and maybe he didn’t know any other way.”
“It’s possible,” Marlow agreed. “But that doesn’t excuse it.”
“No, it doesn’t. I don’t mourn his death. If anything, I’m glad he died when he did, because it gave Mom a chance to find peace.”
Pixie, a little lost because she didn’t know his history, tried to quietly leave the table.
“It’s okay,” Cort told her. “If you talk to a few people around here, you’ll hear about it.”
Pixie shook her head. “I respect you and Marlow too much to ever pry.”
“I admire that, but around here, no prying is necessary.”
“It’s true,” Marlow said. “I need to take you to the tavern where I work. They have a photo of Cort on the wall in his uniform.” She glanced at him, then added, “Looking very handsome, by the way.”
“That seems like a lifetime ago.” In the shortest way possible, he gave Pixie a rundown on his childhood. Predictably, tears welled in her eyes. She had to be one of the most tenderhearted young women he’d ever met, and damned if her vulnerability didn’t make him feel like a very protective big brother. A novel emotion, for sure. “Hey, I got through it, and luckily, nothing like that will ever happen to Andy.”
She nodded. “I’m determined that he’ll have a good life.”
“We’ll make sure of it,” Marlow said.
And that, of course, was why Cort loved her.
* * *
While Pixie nursed Andy in her bedroom and Cort got busy with the new lights, Marlow cleaned up the kitchen. The domestic routine was nice, especially since both of her dinner partners had tried to insist on helping. She’d been just as insistent that they were guests, and of course, she’d won in the end.
Just as she finished up, Pixie rejoined her in the kitchen with Andy now wide awake and smiling. “Thank you so much. I think that was the best meal I’ve ever had, especially with the great company.”
“We’ll do it more often,” Marlow promised.
“I should get Andy home now. It’s time for his bath.”
“I can drive you—”
“No, I’ll walk. It’s not far, and it’s a beautiful evening.”
Marlow glanced at the clock. It’d be light for some time yet. “You’re feeling strong enough?”
“I feel amazing, inside and out.”
Wonderful! Watching Pixie bloom was one of the most satisfying things Marlow had ever experienced. “All right, if you’re sure.” She walked with her to the door, where Cort, on a ladder, was adding the new, brighter lighting.
When he heard the plan, he glanced up to Pixie’s house, then apparently came to the same conclusion as Marlow. “I’ll be up in about an hour to change your lights, too. Will that disturb Andy?”
“No, we’ll be fine. And Cort? Thank you. For everything.”
“I’m the landlord,” he said, already back at work.
Pixie didn’t give up. “I meant for the conversation over dinner, too. Being here with you two, almost like a family . . . it’s a meal I’ll always remember.” Holding Andy in his carrier with one hand, the diaper bag over her shoulder, Pixie headed off across the lawn.
