Still, Millie was feeling uncomfortable, and when she was nervous, she babbled. "Charlotte was just here a minute ago," she said, because for sure he must have seen her. "She's talked us into staying here for the night."
"Ah. Lucky you. I haven't had any success that way, myself," he said with a rueful smile.
Oh, thought Millie, that was putting her foot in it! Her husband began studying the wallpaper, which just infuriated her. He never knew what to say at times like these.
"I'm sorry," Millie murmured, because she didn't know what to say, either.
"Oh, don't be sorry!" Eric said. "I didn't mean it the way it sounded." He made the corners of his mouth go up, but Millie wasn't convinced in the least.
He said, "Would you like me to retrieve your luggage from the Stone's Throw Inn?"
Millie pointed in some confusion to Charlotte, who was in the next room talking to someone Eric's age. "I think she's just asking someone—"
"Well! Let's see if I can't take over; they'd recognize me at the inn, since I picked you up there earlier."
He excused himself, and Millie gave Jim a poke for not handling the situation better.
****
Eric was aware, as he approached the woman from whom he was separated, that he was fighting for his emotional life. Charlotte Anderson had put up a wall between them that he hadn't yet been able to scale. It was a pretty wall, to be sure—all covered with sweet-smelling roses—but that had made it all the more difficult to climb.
If only she'd scream at him, curse him, throw things. But no, she was always unfailingly kind—when wasn't she kind?—and polite, but crushingly firm: she wasn't prepared to take him back. He had already spent nearly a year dying a slow and painful death, watching his life-blood slowly ooze from his self-inflicted wounds.
And now she was seeing someone! Carl! That ... that gigolo! He had to be a good six or seven years younger than Charlotte. Granted, she still looked younger than Carl did—contractors weathered more quickly than most—but for two cents Eric would knock his block off. If he could. Eric felt personally betrayed by the man.
After throwing so much business his way over the years ....
He went up to his wife in time to see Carl accepting a room key from her and smiling at something she said. She turned to Eric and the smile lingered, and yet something fell away from it. He felt as if he'd just hosed off half the petals from a blooming rose.
He nodded to the guest—who was, after all, just a guest, not the father of the bride or even the estranged husband of the bride's mother—and said, "Excuse me, Carl, would you? I'll just steal Charlotte for a minute."
Eric felt pleased with his collegial manner, but when he got Charlotte to the side he wanted desperately to take her in his arms and kiss her. It had been so long. He missed her so much. To lie with her in their old bed tonight—that would be heaven.
"Lotty," he said, feeling entitled to use the pet name on this of all days. "I—you look really beautiful," he said, interrupting himself. How had he ever been oblivious to that? "What a glow you have today."
"Thank you, Eric," she said, smiling. "You look very dapper yourself."
"Our little girl. Can you believe it?"
"I know," her mother said with a half-mournful smile. "They grow up so fast."
He pretended to be in the way of a passing guest and moved in closer to his wife. She stepped aside, too. He ended up no closer.
"Holly's in good hands, right?" he asked, desperate to keep the conversation going.
"Eric! How can you ask?"
"Of course she is," he said quickly. "But you know I want the best for her."
"I do know, Eric," said Charlotte. "You always have."
She recognized that, then; that for most of his life, he hadn't been a shit. He'd been a good father, a loyal husband. For almost all of his sixty-three years. Heartened, he said, "The house is going to seem emptier." He wanted to say, even emptier.
Charlotte said, "Oh, not at all. Those two hang out here all the time; it will be more of the same—only better," she added with a secretive smile.
Guilt didn't work on her; nothing did. Desperate, he said, "I've just been talking with the Steadmans, and they told me they're staying here tonight. I offered to run over for their luggage; the innkeeper saw me pick them up earlier, so at least there wouldn't be any question."
Charlotte's smile broadened, sending his spirits soaring. She did appreciate the gesture!
"Eric, that would be so nice," she said, even laying her hand on his forearm.
The heat of her touch sizzled through his shirtsleeve. For the hundred-thousandth time in the past year, he flayed himself for being a fool.
"Carl," she said gaily across the room. "Could you give me that key back? Eric's offered to go instead."
Carl flashed a grateful grin and said, "Here you go," and tossed the key underhand to Eric, who dropped it and then scooped it up quickly.
He turned in time to see his wife rejoin Carl and walk into his old study. He smiled to himself: a sad, wistful, melancholy smile. He'd just been too smart by half.
On his way out, he detoured past his daughter, mostly to breathe in her happiness; it might last him through part of the long night ahead. "Hey, punkin, you got your curls back," he said, slipping his arm around her and giving her a peck on the cheek.
"I know," his daughter said. She scrunched her face in disgust. "After all that work blow-drying it straight this morning before the rain."
"You look radiant. Happy?" he murmured.
"Oh, Dad," said Holly, sighing. "More than anyone in the world." Her face lit up, and Eric didn't have to ask why. He turned in time to see his son-in-law and ex-rival coming to reclaim his bride.
"Hey-y-y," he said good-naturedly to Sam. "Give me a break. You'll have her for the rest of your life."
"Not long enough," said Holly's husband, and Eric knew too well it was true.
He was about to say, "Treat her well," but it would be stating the obvious, and besides, he had no right to be giving that advice. Instead he smiled and said, "You're a damn lucky guy, Sam."
He yielded his daughter with more grace than he'd just yielded his wife, and then he went out to his car, slapping the inn key idly against his thigh.
****
Holly, arm in arm with the man she loved, watched her father leave. "I wish he could be even a tiny fraction as happy as we are," she said, sighing.
"That would be blazingly happy indeed," said Sam, stealing yet another in an endless series of kisses from his new bride.
Holly enjoyed the kiss—she was no fool—and then resumed her train of thought. "At least he's over Eden. Frankly, I didn't think he'd be able to resist her when she tried again. I keep pointing that out to my mother, how he deserves credit for that, but so far she's not impressed."
Sam said, "I dunno. I just saw her talking to him, and she looked pretty happy."
Holly smiled and said, "That's because she knows our secret."
"Holy cats, you told her? When?"
"Just a little while ago. I wanted her to know before we go off on our honeymoon."
"Uh-oh." Sam glanced guiltily around the conservatory and shepherded his wife away from their guests and behind a huge schefflera. "What did she say?"
"She asked me when my due date was."
"Cool."
"Yeah, she obviously forgives you. Just don't go stealing her station wagon and taking it for a joyride around the island," Holly teased.
Sam grinned and said, "The hell with the Volvo; I have my eye on your dad's new Porsche."
Sighing, Holly murmured, "Yes ... the Porsche. That didn't help his case with my mother any. What repentant man needs a Porsche?"
"Holly, if it was meant to be, it will be."
"I know," she said, slipping her arms around his neck. "Sam? Will you love me forever?
His face softened in a look that took her breath away. For an answer, he repeated part of his vow from a few hours before. "You
're my sun, my moon, the stars beyond," he whispered. "You are my life."
He kissed her again, a long, tender, utterly devoted kiss, and Holly knew that he meant it forever.
They were discovered by Billy, sweating profusely despite the undone bowtie and rolled-up sleeves. "Hey, you two, let's move it. Daylight's burnin'. Besides," he added to Sam, "I can't get out of this godforsaken monkey suit until you do, man. Have mercy, will ya?"
And so Holly and Sam changed into island wear—shorts and tee shirts—and ran through a hail of rice under brand-new sunshine (which everyone took as an omen), and Jack drove them and Billy to his waiting seaplane, and Billy flew them to the neighboring island of Nantucket and their waiting bed.
And Holly and Sam stayed in that bed for the rest of the day and much of the next, without once coming out to say hi to the innkeeper.
More for your Nook by Antoinette Stockenberg
(Select a book title to visit the Nook Book Store and purchase a copy.)
Available for your Nook April 2012.
A Month at the Shore
" An addictive, captivating story of love, family and trust."
-- Romance Reviews Today
Laura Shore has fled her humble past on Cape Cod and made a name for herself on the opposite coast. But when she returns and joins forces with her two siblings to try to save Shore Gardens, the failing family nursery, she finds that she hasn't left the past behind at all. Kendall Barclay, the town's rich son and her childhood knight in shining armor, lives there still, and his hold over Laura is as strong as ever. Like a true knight, he's attentive, courteous, and ready to help -- until a murder is uncovered that threatens the family, the nursery, and Laura's deepening relationship with him.
Select here to read the prologue of A Month at the Shore.
Keepsake
Wonderful, witty, humorous writing
--The Romance Reader
KEEPSAKE ... a postcard-perfect town in Connecticut. When stonemason Quinn Leary returns after seventeen years, he has one desire: to prove his father's innocence of a terrible crime committed when Quinn and Olivia Bennett, town princess, were high-school rivals. Class doesn't matter now but family loyalties do, and they're fierce enough to threaten the newfound passion between two equals.
Select here to read the prologue and four sample chapters of Keepsake.
Beyond Midnight
"Full of charm and wit, Stockenberg's latest is truly enthralling."
--Publishers Weekly
In 1692, Salem, Massachusetts was the setting for the infamous persecution of innocents accused of witchcraft. Three centuries later, little has changed. Helen Evett, widowed mother of two and owner of a prestigious preschool in town, finds her family, her fortunes, and her life's work threatened —all because she feels driven to protect the sweet three-year-old daughter of a man who knows everything about finance but not so much about fathering.
Select here to read two sample chapters of Beyond Midnight.
Embers
"A deft blend of mystery and romance … sure to win more kudos"
--Publishers Weekly
To Meg Hazard, it seemed like a good idea at the time: squeezing her extended family into the back rooms of their rambling Victorian home and converting the rest of the house into a Bed and Breakfast in the coastal town of Bar Harbor, Maine. Paying guests are most welcome, but the arrival of a Chicago cop on medical leave turns out to be both good news and bad news for Meg and the Inn Between.
Select here to read two sample chapters of Embers.
Time After Time
"As hilarious as it is heart-tugging ... a rollicking great read."
--I'll Take Romance
In Gilded-Age Newport, an upstairs-downstairs romance between a well-born son and a humble maid is cut short of marriage. A hundred years later, the descendants of that ill-fated union seem destined to repeat history. Or not.
Select here to read two sample chapters of Time After Time.
A Charmed Place
"Buy this book! A truly fantastic read!"
--Suzanne Barr, Gulf Coast Woman
USA TODAY bestselling author Antoinette Stockenberg delivers an original and wonderfully romantic story of two people -- college lovers separated for twenty years -- who have the chance to be happy together at last. But family, friends, an ex-husband, a teenaged daughter and an unsolved murder seem destined to keep the lovers star-crossed, until Dan takes up residence in the Cape Cod lighthouse, with Maddie's rose-covered cottage just a short walk away ...
Beloved
"Richly rewarding … a novel to be savored."
--Romantic Times Magazine
A Nantucket cottage by the sea: the inheritance is a dream come true for Jane Drew. Too bad it comes with a ghost —and a soulfully seductive neighbor who'd just as soon boot Jane off the island.
Emily's Ghost
RITA Award Winner
"Booksellers' recommended read."
--Publishers Weekly
A showdown between a U.S. Senator (with a house on Martha's Vineyard) who believes in ghosts and a reporter who doesn't. What could possibly go wrong?
About the Author
USA Today bestselling novelist Antoinette Stockenberg grew up wanting be a cowgirl and have her own horse (her great-grandfather bred horses for the carriage trade back in the old country), but the geography just didn't work out: there weren't many ranches in Chicago. Her other, more doable dream was to write books, and after stints as secretary, programmer, teacher, grad student, boatyard hand, office manager and magazine writer (in that order), she achieved that goal, writing over a dozen novels, several of them with paranormal elements. One of them is the RITA award-winning EMILY'S GHOST.
Stockenberg's books have been published in a dozen languages and are often set in quaint New England harbor towns, always with a dose of humor. She writes about complex family relationships and the fallout that old, unearthed secrets can have on them. Sometimes there's an old murder. Sometimes there's an old ghost. Sometimes once-lovers find one another after half a lifetime apart.
Her work has been compared to writers as diverse as Barbara Freethy, Nora Roberts, LaVyrle Spencer and Mary Stewart by critics and authors alike, and her novels have appeared on bestseller lists in USA Today as well as the national bookstore chains. Her website features sample chapters, numerous reviews, many photos, and an enchanting Christmas section.
Visit her website at antoinettestockenberg.com to read sample chapters of all of her books.
If you enjoyed reading this novel, please "Like" Antoinette Stockenberg's Facebook author page!
A Month at the Shore Sample Prologue
Antoinette Stockenberg
" An addictive, captivating story of love, family and trust."
-- Romance Reviews Today
Laura Shore has fled her humble past on Cape Cod and made a name for herself on the opposite coast. But when she returns and joins forces with her two siblings to try to save Shore Gardens, the failing family nursery, she finds that she hasn't left the past behind at all. Kendall Barclay, the town's rich son and her childhood knight in shining armor, lives there still, and his hold over Laura is as strong as ever. Like a true knight, he's attentive, courteous, and ready to help -- until a murder is uncovered that threatens the family, the nursery, and Laura's deepening relationship with him.
Prologue
The day after eighth-grade graduation was the best and worst of Kendall's life.
He was minding his own business, which happened to be tracking down a snowy owl that had been sighted in a woods just outside of town, when he heard boys' voices farther up the trail.
He was sorry to hear them. He didn't want to be caught with a pair of expensive binoculars around his neck and looking for birds, so he got back on his bike with every intention of leaving the way he had come: quietly. As he pedaled off, the voices got more shrill—whoops and yelps, the sounds of small-town kids on the warpath. He would be fair game for them, he k
new from experience, so he picked up his pace.
And then he heard the scream. It was a girl's cry, frightened and angry at the same time, and it sent chills up his back and arms. He slammed on the brakes so violently that his bike skidded on the soft path and went out from under him, falling on top of him and scraping across his pale, thin legs.
He righted the bike, but his hands and legs were shaking as he mounted it again and set off in the direction of the scream. Part of him was hoping and praying that it was all just fooling around; but part of him knew better.
He found them in a clearing next to the trail where he knew kids liked to hang out drinking and smoking—and, he had always assumed, having sex. Four boys had a girl cornered.
She was standing in front of the campfire rocks. Ken couldn't see her very well because she was shielded by the four boys. They were practically shoulder to shoulder, but one pair of shoulders stood higher and broader than the rest: they belonged to Will Burton, the doctor's son, a bully who had squeezed more than one allowance out of Ken on a Friday afternoon. Will's younger, red-haired brother Dagger was there, too, and two other kids that Ken didn't recognize.
"Hey!" he yelled at their backs, almost before he could think about it.
They all turned around at the same time, surprised and therefore pissed. But Ken wasn't looking at them, he was looking at her. He was stunned to realize that she had breasts; how had he never noticed that? She was clutching her torn shirt to herself, but he could see her dark pink nipple. Instantly he looked away. When he looked back again immediately, he saw that her face was all flushed and her cheeks were wet, and he felt desperately ashamed.
"Leave her alone," he said in a voice filled with fury.
Will Burton just laughed. "Ooh, I'm scared. What're you gonna do? Run and tell your daddy?"
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