She opened her mouth, closed it, opened it again. That is not a relevant question, she said finally. I didn't say it was. She looked at him for a long moment. Then she picked up her tablet again, but she didn't look at the documents.
She looked out the window instead, and Malcolm watching the trees thicken around them, the ocean growing closer with every mile thought one morning, then the next one. He had no idea what he was walking into. Neither for once in her very controlled life did she. They turned through the gates of Hartwell Resort at 4:17 p.m. and the first person they saw standing in the circular driveway with a glass of champagne and an expression of pure maternal delight was Diane Caldwell, Vanessa's mother, already opening her arms, already smiling, already looking at Malcolm with the warm and immediate approval of a woman who had decided before he'd even stepped out of the car that this was the man her daughter had been waiting for. There she is, Diane called out, radiant.
And this must be Malcolm. Malcolm stepped onto the gravel. He felt Vanessa's hand find his arm. Not his hand. Not yet, just his arm.
A touch that said, "Here we go." Without saying anything at all, he straightened. He smiled. And for the next 48 hours, Malcolm Brooks, single father, project manager, man of careful rules, would walk into the most complicated situation of his adult life. He was almost certain he'd be fine.
He was completely wrong. Diane Caldwell embraced him before he had taken three steps. Not a formal hug, not a polite arms length nice to meet you hug. A full two- armed. I've heard so much about you, embrace that lasted long enough for Malcolm to briefly wonder if he'd accidentally agreed to be her son.
"We are so glad you're here," she said, pulling back to look at him with both hands on his arms, as though examining something she'd long been waiting to see in person. Vanessa has told us well. She hasn't told us nearly enough honestly and we've had to pull it all from Clare. But what we have heard, she turned to beam at her daughter. He's wonderful, isn't he?
He looks wonderful. Mother, Vanessa said with the precision of someone diffusing something. I'm just looking. Diane released Malcolm's arms but didn't step back far. How was the drive?
Are you hungry? They've set up cocktail hour on the east terrace, but I can have something sent to your room if you need to rest. You must be tired. 4 hours in a car. We're good, Vanessa said firmly.
I'm great, Mrs. Caldwell, Malcolm said. It's a pleasure to meet you. Diane looked at him when he said it. Really? Looked at him.
And something in her expression shifted something that moved past the performance of maternal welcome into something quieter and more genuine. Call me Diane," she said. "Please." And then she took both of their bags from the driver's hands before anyone could stop her. Handed them off to a resort staff member with brisk authority, linked her arm through Malcolms, and said, "Come, come.