Page 80 of Accidental Groom
Betty’s diner is the exact opposite of what my life has looked like lately.
It’s bright, plastic booths, black and white tiling, cheap coffee, and a view of the leaf-slicked sidewalk through booth-to-ceiling windows. It’s cheap, and it’s cozy, and the waitress smells of cigarettes and sounds like she’s got a frog stuck in her throat.
It’sfantastic.
Mary orders me pancakes with chocolate and strawberries before I can even get a word in.
“Carbs are your friend,” she says, sipping at her coffee. “Harry said you can be a bit funny with food.”
I pause with the creamer hovering over my cup of coffee.He said that?Henoticed?“I—uh, yeah, sometimes,” I admit, blinking through the awkwardness as I set down the cream.She’s a medical professional — I probablyshouldn’thide it, even if this feels like I’m being treated to some kind of friendly outing and not speaking to my midwife. “My mom was always really hard on me with food. Never really felt comfortable in my own skin because of it. I’m trying not to let it continue, especially not withheron the way, but it comes out more when I’m stressed.”
She watches me for a long moment, then reaches across the table, her softly wrinkled hand wrapping around my palm. Her grip is light, but it’sfirm. “Look. I’ve known Harry a long time,” she says, turning my hand over onto the table. “I knew Geraldine, too. I worked at that practice when she started coming in for migraines. That’s how I met the family.”
She sighs and traces the length of my middle finger up to the tip.
“Harry’s not perfect,” she says. “He’s a lot of things. He’s guarded, he’s too serious, he’s stubborn as a goddamn mule. And I don’t mean this as an insult to you — but he loved that woman. More than himself, I think.”
I swallow. “Every time she’s brought up, people are either angry at him or he loses it,” I murmur. “What…happened?”
She takes a deep breath, mulling over her words. “Geraldine had terminal cancer. Ovarian, to be exact. It was really aggressive, and by the time the doctors found it, it had metastasized. Her liver, her lungs, her intestines — it even got to her skin, believe it or not. It was too late to do anything other than brutally fight it for such a slim chance, or accept it and go into palliative care.”
My throat closes, my stomach turning. “I had no idea.”
Mary shrugs. “Most people don’t. Ger kept it really quiet,” she says. “She refused chemo. Said she didn’t want to fight when the odds were so low and she’d end up spending the last few weeks of her life miserable. I can’t blame her for that. That womanhatedbeing pitied.”
I open my mouth, trying to work out the best way to ask the question that’s dancing on the tip of my tongue without throwing my husband under a bus. “I don’t understand,” I start, blinking down at my coffee. “Why do people blame him? If she had cancer.”
Mary shakes her head. “Because people are idiots,” she says. “Geraldine went on her own terms. She didn’t let the cancer take her out; she went out with pills in the middle of the night. It wasn’t exactlypeacefullike you see in the movies. Harry’s the one who found her.”
Harry’s the one who found her.Jesus. “That doesn’t answer?—”
“She did it before she’d told anyone other than Harry, if I remember correctly. I knew, obviously. Frasier knew, but Frasier’s an arrogant prick who thinks every man with power is guilty of something, so I’m not surprised that he’s still of that mindset,” she says. “But as far as I’m aware, most people weren’t informed about her cancer because she didn’t want it known. So to them…”
“…it looked like she was so depressed she killed herself,” I finish for her, sitting back in my seat. “Shit.”
Mary shrugs. “It was Harry’s decision to hide it. I assume Geraldine made it clear to him that she didn’t want it going around, but I have no idea. I don’t even think George knows what happened.”
The waitress sets down the stack of pancakes in front of me, and as good as it looks, my stomach is already in knots.
“Most people just assume Harry either killed her himself or made her so miserable that she took matters into her own hands,” Mary clarifies. “Frasier, I believe, thinks it's the latter. But he never liked Harry anyway, thought he was cold and controlling.”
“Do you agree with that?”
“He’s private,” she says, as if she’s correcting Frasier. “Not cold. He grieves in silence, always has. But he would’ve thrown himself off the roof before hurting her.”
I think I believe her. At least, mostly — but a sliver of doubt was planted when he disappeared and ignored me when he was meant to be coming back in time for today's appointment. But part of me knows that I won’t get anywhere with any of it if I don’t speak to him about all of it. From the disappearance to the confusion surrounding Geraldine.
And god knows I havenoidea how to even confront him about that without it seeming like an attack he’s likely received a million times over.
Chapter 28
Harry
The gates groan open just as the first hints of dusk settle over the Hudson Valley. Everything is gold and shadow, Highcourt Hall’s stone façade catching the last of the sun before it slips beneath the hills. I shove my Bentley into park in front of the east wing’s door, staring at the house looming in front of me the way it always does — grand, cold, andmine. But not entirely, not anymore.
I’d wanted to feel steadier coming back. I’d thought the quick trip would give me a moment to breathe while solving an urgent problem, but instead, I’ve returned with a suitcase full of unanswered questions and the hollow weight of failing to meet expectations.
I missed the appointment.
