Page 5 of Fake-Off with Fate (Love in Maple Falls #1)
ASHLYN
I can’t help but fixate on my dad’s excessively cluttered desk. Leaning forward, I start to tidy it up, putting the pens in one container and the paperclips in another— why does this man have so many paperclips?
Meanwhile, he’s prattling on about this year’s Maple Fest. I’m barely listening when he says something about trying to talk the single members of the Ice Breakers into sponsoring a kissing booth to bring in more people from outlying towns.
“No one does kissing booths anymore, Dad. People are too afraid of catching a cold or God forbid, getting hoof and mouth disease.” Don’t even get me started on Covid.
My father looks appalled. “They don’t kiss with their mouths open, for Pete’s sake.”
“So, they pay to get a kiss on the cheek?” I want to know. What century is my dad living in?
He shakes his head. “Just a light peck on the lips. There’s no, you know …” He pauses dramatically before saying, “…tongue.”
“Mouth on mouth is enough to pass along any number of unsavory illnesses,” I tell him with authority. “Trust me, a kissing booth is a bad idea. ”
Instead of agreeing with me, he asks, “Why are you home? Did I know you were coming?”
“You didn’t,” I tell him. “Because I wasn’t planning on being here.”
His gaze narrows noticeably. “Then why are you here?”
After making a couple final tweaks to his desktop, I sit back and tell him, “I’m here to save your marriage.”
His face contorts into an expression of shock.
“What in the world are you talking about?” He clearly has no idea what he’s facing when he gets home.
This either means my mom has not made her feelings clear, or my dad truly isn’t paying proper attention to her.
I predict the answer isn’t much of a conundrum.
“You and Mom had plans with the Elliots tomorrow night, and you canceled in order to take a hockey player out to dinner.”
“I need the new captain’s support if I’m going to get him onboard with my kissing booth idea for Maple Fest.”
“No kissing booth, Dad,” I remind him sternly.
He huffs loudly. “I was also going to ask him to co-chair this year’s festival.”
Rolling my eyes, I tell him, “You don’t have to do it tomorrow night.”
“Fine,” he relents. “I’ll go to the stupid dinner party if it will make your mother happy, but I won’t like it.
” He continues, “Chuck Elliot will spend the whole night yammering about how he thinks the town should plant creeping thyme around all the lampposts. Who even cares about nonsense like that?”
You might think my dad would, considering he’s so preoccupied with all things Maple Falls, but I don’t tell him that. Instead, I inform him, “Mom doesn’t want to go anymore.” His look of confusion prompts me to clarify, “She’s busy throwing all of your clothes out onto the front lawn.”
My father stands up so abruptly his chair shoots out from beneath him and slams into the wall behind him. “What do you mean, she’s throwing my stuff out? How will that look to the neighbors? ”
“I’m pretty sure she doesn’t care. As far as Mom’s concerned, the two of you are over.”
Beads of sweat start to appear on his forehead. “She’s leaving me because I was going to miss one stupid dinner party?”
“She’s leaving you because she doesn’t feel valued by you anymore,” I explain. “You take calls when you’re out to eat; you make your own plans when you already have ones with her; and from what she told me last month, you don’t even tell her that you love her anymore.”
“I love her!” he says with heat as his face reddens. A sure sign he hasn’t bothered to tell her.
“Apparently, you don’t show it.”
He takes several steps and retrieves his chair before rolling it back to his desk. Then he sits back down. “ This is why you came home?”
I nod my head. “I thought the price of a plane ticket was worth trying to help you save your marriage.”
“I’ll reimburse you.” He’s clearly missing the point and I’m suddenly not so inclined to listen to his side of things.
“Dad,” I tell him plainly. “If you don’t take extreme measures, Mom is going to leave you. That’s it.”
“I said I’d go to the stupid dinner party!”
“And I told you that won’t be enough.”
He reaches for a tissue from the box across his desk. Wiping his brow, he asks, “What do I have to do, climb a mountain and shout my love from the highest peak?”
If his current state of fitness is any indication, he’d probably have a heart attack after the first few feet. “You have to go away with Mom and make her your sole priority. I mean it. No telephone. No television. No computer. Just Mom.”
He looks so appalled I almost laugh out of sheer nervousness.
“No phone?” he demands.
“Mom doesn’t feel like you see her anymore.” I stare at him intensely as though daring him to tell me I’m wrong. Luckily, he’s smart enough not to.
My dad is quiet for a long moment before he finally concedes. “I’ll sit down with your mother and get something on the calendar.”
“That’s not going to be enough. You can always cancel something that isn’t set in stone.”
“What do you want me to do, Ashlyn? Leave today?” It’s clear he doesn’t see this as an option.
“That’s exactly what I want you to do.”
“We won’t be able to get a reservation anywhere last minute.” Then a slow smile crosses his mouth. “Unless we go up to the lodge.”
My father is a bigger idiot than he’s been letting on.
“You can’t take Mom away right here in Maple Falls.
Your preoccupation with this town is the problem.
” Before he can protest further, I tell him, “I bought you airline tickets and reserved you a bungalow in Barbados. You leave at ten o’clock tomorrow night.
You can reimburse me for those tickets.”
He jumps to his feet again. Putting his middle finger and thumb together, he makes a loud snapping sound. “Your mother can’t expect me to leave town just like that!”
“She doesn’t expect it because she doesn’t know about it.”
“Then why do I have to go anywhere?”
“Because you want to save your marriage?” I remind him. I have heartfelt sympathy for all the years my mom has had to put up with this.
Pacing back and forth in front of me, he says, “If she doesn’t know about the trip, why do you think she wants to go?”
“She doesn’t want to go,” I assure him. “She wants to leave you.”
“What about my job?”
“What about your job?” I demand.
“I’m needed here!” He says this like Maple Falls is on fire and he’s the only person in a fifty-mile radius with a garden hose .
“Surely, you can leave for a week.”
“A week! There’s no one who can take over!” Is it me, or has my dad always had this enormous sense of self-importance?
“ I’ll take over.”
His eyes widen with surprise. “You’d actually be a very good mayor.”
“You’ve mentioned.”
“If I agree to this, and that’s a big if, no one can know I’ve left town.”
I’m starting to think he might be having some serious cognitive issues. “Why can’t they know you’re gone?”
“I will not have the citizens of Maple Falls feel they aren’t important to me.” Yet, he doesn’t seem to mind if that’s how his wife feels. “If I agree to this, you have to pretend like I’m still here.”
“How in the world will I do that, Dad?”
“When people call, tell them I’m in an important meeting and that I’ll get back to them.” He looks at the calendar on his desk. “You’ll have to meet with the Ice Breakers’ captain tomorrow night, too.”
“I’ll reschedule that one for you.”
He shakes his head with intensity. “No. You have to go. Tell Jamie I’m dealing with a crisis and couldn’t make it myself. Get him to agree to co-chair the festival this year.”
At this point, I’m willing to do whatever my dad wants just to get him to make things right with my mom. “Fine. I’ll come to work and cover for you. Now, will you convince Mom to go away with you?”
My father’s complexion turns so gray, it looks like he’s about to expire on the spot. “Yes. Fine. I’ll do it. Just text me the details of our trip.”
“I’ll text them to Mom, if she agrees to go with you.” I reach out my hand and demand, “Give me your phone.”
He looks affronted. “I will do no such thing. How will I be able to call anyone?”
“You’ll have Mom’s phone,” I remind him .
“But she won’t let me use her phone unless it’s an emergency.” His eyes widen as the reality of my plan starts to sink in. He tries one last time. “You can’t seriously take my phone.”
“Hand it over,” I order. Once I have ownership of his most prized possession, I point toward the door. “Let’s go. You’re going to need every minute you can get to convince Mom you’re serious about being a better husband.”