Becoming My Ex’s Mother in Law by Aurora Starling

Chapter 18 

My heart skipped a beat as my eyes caught the elderly woman’s. The elderly woman seemed to say something to Mr. Vanderbilt, who nodded and walked off in the direction of a nearby hot dog stand. The elderly woman then turned to me and motioned for me to come to her. 

Without missing a beat, I walked over to her. 

“I noticed you watching us,” the elderly woman said. “Are you a friend of Nick’s?” 

“Not exactly. I’m more like a potential client. My name is Crystal.” 

The elderly woman smiled. 

“I’m Eliza. He’s a fantastic dressmaker, isn’t he?” 

“That’s what I’ve heard.” 

Eliza sighed in the same way that a teenager does when she’s in love for the first time. 

“Nick’s the best at just about everything. We have so much fun together, and I can’t imagine a better person 

than he is.” 

I smiled. This woman truly was in love. I would kill to have what she had. 

My mind flashed momentarily to Andrew, but I quickly shoved the thought aside. 

“You know,” Eliza whispered and leaned in close, almost conspiratorially, “we plan to get married.” 

“Really?” I said, surprised. 

“I know, we’re so old, but we just love each other so much.” 

“No, no, that’s not what I meant. I only mean that, well, I’m glad to see that happy endings can happen at any 

age. 

I sighed and whispered the next part. 

“Maybe my happy ending isn’t a total loss yet.” 

Eliza smiled and brought her hand to my face, running her thumb along my cheek. 

“A sweet, charming, beautiful young woman like you? There’s bound to be a happy ending in your life.” 

I quickly wiped the tears from my face. This wasn’t something to cry about. 

“Well, I don’t mean to intrude. I better let you get back to your date.” 

I grabbed Eliza’s hand and gave it a light squeeze. 

“And thank you,” I added. 

I walked away as briskly as I could, looking over my shoulder just once to see Mr. Vanderbilt return to Eliza with two hot dogs in hand. The joy radiating off them was positively contagious. 

That evening. I tracked down Mr. Vanderbilt’s house. It took some doing, but I finally found someone willing to point me in the right direction. When I reached the address they gave me, I could hardly believe that I was in the right place. 

It was a run–down two–story Victorian with overgrown grass and rose bushes in the front. The paint was chipped, and the gutters were in need of a good cleaning. The car in the drive seemed fairly old as well but in good condition. 

As I walked up the dilapidated steps, my attention was drawn to the porch and the well–loved swinging bench. It was white with a faded red heart on its back. I imagined that many wonderful memories were made there. 

I took the rusted wolf–shaped knocker and knocked three times before waiting for someone to answer. To my relief, when that someone came, it was Mr. Vanderbilt. 

His eyes widened in surprise. 

“Ms. Blanchard?” 

“Hello, Mr. Vanderbilt. Please, call me Crystal.” I must have reminded him of the latter about three times by that point. 

“Yes, yes, Crystal. What can I do for you?” 

Even though I had rehearsed this many times in my head on the way there, I still found myself hesitant to say anything now that I actually stood in front of him. Still, I was not about to back down. 

“I met Eliza earlier today. She told me that you two are getting married.” 

“She did, did she?” Mr. Vanderbilt smiled, ever so slightly. “She told me she had met a nice young woman named Crystal today, and I assumed it was you.” 

I blushed but continued with my pitch. 

“Well, you know that I am part of a wedding planning company. I was hoping to plan your wedding, for free.” 

I didn’t think it was possible, but Mr. Vanderbilt’s eyes grew even wider than when he answered the door. I thought for sure that he was going to answer in the affirmative until I heard a heavy set of footsteps stomping up behind him. 

“My father is almost 70, he doesn’t need a wedding!” a masculine voice roared. “Get out!” 

I looked over Mr. Vanderbilt’s shoulder. Not far behind him stood a squat man holding strangling the n*eck of a glass beer bottle. He looked very unkempt, and judging by the enormous pit stains on his wife beater, he hadn’t bathed in days. 

I crossed my arms over my chest and raised my chin in defiance. 

“You should respect your father.” 

Mr. Vanderbilt’s son spat in my direction. 

“And you should mind your own f**king business.” 

I glared at the man. I didn’t need Susan’s power to know that he didn’t like me, but that was okay; I didn’t like. him, either. 

I looked from Mr. Vanderbilt to his son and back again. Then I glimpsed at the living room behind Mr. Vanderbilt, finding sparse furniture, an old television, and beer bottles and cans littered everywhere. Between the house’s exterior and its interior, it was obvious now that Mr. Vanderbilt was in dire need of money. “Mr. Vanderbilt, can I please speak to you outside, privately?” I asked, gesturing toward the porch. 

Mr. Vanderbilt glanced back at his son, who looked angry enough to blow any second. Then, as though in his own act of defiance, he turned to me and nodded. Closing the door behind him, he followed me over to the porch, and we sat down together on the rickety swinging bench. 

“My wife and I used to sit here and watch the sunset together,” Mr. Vanderbilt said wistfully. He didn’t look at me. “She’s been gone 10 years now.” 

I stared straight forward as well, my gaze focused on nothing. 

“I think that’s enough time. Is that what your children are worried about? That you haven’t waited enough time. since your wife died before you started dating again?” 

“No.” 

When Mr. Vanderbilt did not offer up any further information, I decided that it was a subject best left alone. Instead, I reached into my purse and pulled out about $200 worth in cash. It wasn’t a lot, but it was a lot more than I should be carrying on me–and it would probably mean the world to Mr. Vanderbilt. 

“Here,” I said as I handed him the money. “You need to get away. Fast.” 

He stared at the money, his mouth open, as he spread the bills between his hands. 

“I know that it’s not a lot,” I continued, “but it should get you a night or two at a cheap motel. That should give you some time to figure things out.” 

“I can’t take this from you,” he said, pushing the bills back at me. 

I held my hand up, refusing to take the cash back. 

“I insist. And I insist on giving you and Eliza the best wedding possible, for free.” 

He shook his head, obviously in disbelief. 

“My children- 

“Don’t worry,” I said with a broad smile, “I won’t let them get in the way. I will give you two a beautiful memory