by Sara Arden
“What about you? Was it a good time for you, too?”
“I thought it was kind of a trick when we were invited along. It was one of the last good times my mother had, too. Even though I know we were just invited to keep you out of her hair, I’ll always be grateful for that trip.”
“You’re talking about everyone else but you, Gina. Is that what it’s like for you still? Always thinking of everyone else?”
His question was so pointed that it was sharp. She didn’t want to think about that; she didn’t want to be any more vulnerable than she already was. But either choice here left her open to his blades. She remembered the last night out on the water.
“It was one of the best for me, too. That’s why I brought it up.” She exhaled heavily and took a sip of her tea, the sweet tang of it on her tongue making the memory even more vivid.
“The sweet tea,” he said as soon as she thought it. Like he knew what she was thinking. “You made a jar of it. That last night, when we were lying on the deck listening to the loons.”
“Trying to see the stars but it was too cloudy.” She remembered thinking that maybe that night was the one. The one where he’d realize she was alive. That she was a woman.
That he wanted her.
“Talking about how it would be to stay there forever?”
She sighed at the memory. “Yeah. We thought that was some kind of huge dream to have a houseboat there. Or even a little cabin. It was our own nirvana, you and me.”
“Crystal always wanted the big city. She wanted lights and people. She wanted the rush, and all we could talk about was sweet tea and fireflies.”
“That made her so mad.”
“So mad she spent the night with one of the local boys. Your mother was so mad at her that we left an hour late because she wasn’t home yet.”
“I was okay with it. I wanted to stay as long as was humanly possible.” Gina laughed at herself.
“I thought my world was going to change that night. I thought we were finally through the dark,” he confessed, looking out into the darkness rather than at her.
She thought that for herself as well, but it hadn’t happened. “I’m sorry it didn’t.”
“I used to be sorry. But if it had, I don’t know where I’d be. I like who I am now.”
She exhaled. “Can I be honest?”
“That’s preferred,” he said drily.
Walking down memory lane with him was bittersweet, but it wasn’t the past she was worried about. It was their future together. Gina decided to be honest. “I’m glad you like who you are now, but that’s someone I don’t think I know. I’m not sure what to do here.”
“Me, either.” The air between them hung heavy and strange. He took the plunge first. “So today didn’t go as I’d imagined it.”
“And how did you imagine it?” She wondered if he’d ever had the same thoughts about her as she did about him, but then she dismissed the idea before it could take root. Before it could make this any more awkward than it already was.
“I don’t know. But not as it went.” A genuine grin curled at the edge of his mouth.
It’d be hard to deny him anything with him flashing that grin around. That was a glimpse of the boy she’d known and it was even more endearing on the man he’d become.
“I wasn’t trying to keep you from her.” That was as close to a peace offering as she could manage.
“Deep down, I know that.” He didn’t speak for a long moment and the creaking of the rocking chair against the floorboards echoed with all the force of a gunshot. “But you still have to meet me halfway.”
She was torn between being glad he was willing to do that and angry that he could just decide to buy a house because he felt like it and she was working two jobs and going to school trying to raise his daughter.
Worse, if she lived in the same house with him, married to him, how would she hide her attraction to him?
Gina had to remind herself that this wasn’t about her. It was about what was best for Amanda Jane. It had never been hard to do things for her. There had never been any question that she’d take her discharge from the army when her two years was up, knowing that Amanda Jane needed her. She knew that would make it harder to go to medical school. Harder to do everything, but it had been no sacrifice.
Living under the same roof with Reed Hollingsworth? Torture.
“I don’t know. We may not have the best life, but I like this house. I love that she can run and play here. I like that I can point to a place in the backyard and say that’s where she smelled her first flower.”
“But this isn’t yours. Not really. Wouldn’t you rather live somewhere that will one day belong to her? Where she can look at a chair in the corner and say that’s where Gina-bee used to read me stories. This is where my dad taught me to ride a bike. God, Gina. If we do this right, we can give her everything that we never had.”
All of her protestations died on her tongue. She’d been about to defend herself, the home she’d provided for Amanda Jane, but she realized he wasn’t saying it wasn’t good enough. He was saying they could do even better together. He didn’t say “I can give her...” he’d said we.
He had this way of speaking that made her imagine picket fences, family picnics and happily-ever-after. She had to keep herself grounded. There was no relationship between them. He just wanted a chance to raise his daughter.
She hurried to add, “I just don’t see how this will work.”
“I’m not under any illusion that this will be easy. There will be a lot of compromise for both of us.”
“I’ll be honest, I’m terrified of moving in with you. I’m terrified that you’ll try to control us with the money. I’m terrified...” She didn’t say the rest of what she was feeling. It was too much.
“I’m terrified, too,” he confessed.
That was when his warm, strong fingers closed around hers.
“But everything is going to be okay, Gina.”
This wasn’t exactly what she’d pictured when she imagined one day holding hands with Reed Hollingsworth, but it wasn’t bad. Maybe it was better than what she thought she wanted.
The gesture was meant to comfort her, reassure her.
And strangely, it did. She’d felt so alone while going through this, and realizing that he had doubts and fears didn’t make her position less secure, but more. To her, it meant that he’d thought about the realities of their situation, but he still wanted to try.
He believed he knew what he was in for.
She held his hand in silence for a long time into the quiet night.
CHAPTER SIX
“AMANDA JANE TEXTED to tell me that Operation Frogfest is a go.” Maudine Townsend put her phone down next to her stack of poker chips.
“Frankly, Maudy, I’m surprised.” Helga pushed her chips around. “You know, if this little plot of yours doesn’t work, we’re going to have to give up our Friday nights. At least until after the case.”
“You know, I’m actually surprised that Reed’s lawyer didn’t ask for another judge.”
Helga shrugged. “He probably figures that you know everyone.”
“Or he’s plotting something.” Maudine’s eyes narrowed further.
“Not everyone’s brain works like yours, Maudy.”
“Yes, it does. Don’t tell me you’re not curious.”
“Actually, I think since we’re here, we could work on Marie. She’s too young to be a Glory Grandmother.”
“She’s very good at what she does. Her tiramisu is to die for. And that cute little bed-and-breakfast for romantic hideaways? It’s perfect. She has a sense about people who belong together.”
“She does,” Helga agreed. “But her husband has been dead a long time. Her son, Johnny, is grown and Ma
rie is too young to spend the rest of her life alone.”
“Maybe she doesn’t want to be with anyone else. After mine died, well...I’m done with that.”
“Marie is only forty-five. It’s too young to dry up and be the cranky old Italian grandmother. All of her friends are...us.”
“There’s nothing wrong with us.”
“Except that we’re sitting in my basement, drinking Herb’s beer and playing poker. But we lie and tell everyone we’re playing pinochle and sipping tea like the old broads we are.”
Maudine sniffed. “I am not an old broad.”
“You most certainly are. But it’s okay. We play cupid rather well.” Helga shifted her cards.
Maudine’s phone beeped. “Another text. They’re on the porch drinking sweet tea and holding hands. Everything is coming together.” She sounded like some kind of movie villain.
“Tell that child to get in bed.”
“She is.”
“You know what I mean.” Helga nodded. “And are we matchmaking or playing poker because I’m about ready to beat you.”
“I know. Which is why the matchmaking is so much more fun.” Maudine sighed.
“You’re a sore loser, Maudine.”
“I never lose when it counts.” Maudine grinned.
“This is like herding cats. I give up.”
“You fold? I win.” Maudine looked very pleased with herself.
“No, you don’t, you old bat. But what are we doing? I don’t have that paperwork on my desk yet.”
“You will. Tomorrow, we’re going to shove them together every chance we get.” Maudine started putting the cards away. “Frogfest is magical.”
“Not for the frogs,” Helga offered helpfully.
Maudine growled.
“Look, I just don’t understand why you think they need to get married. Gina has her whole life to decide.”
“But I don’t have mine.”
Helga narrowed her eyes. “Yes, you did. You made your choices and now you’ve got to let her make hers.”
“But they’re all wrong.” Maudine huffed.
“So were yours when you made them. So were mine. And we turned out fine.”
Maudine raised a brow. “Maybe so. But I’ve already lost a granddaughter, the daughter I never had, and my son...who knows. Gina and Amanda Jane have known so much pain and so much loss. So has Reed. I didn’t do right by that boy. But I am now and you’re going to help me.”
Helga harrumphed. “You say that like I haven’t been part of every scheme that’s hatched in your head like a goose egg since we were babies.”
Maudine returned the harrumph, with interest. “You don’t seem like you’re on board.”
“I am on board. With Gina’s happiness, not your idea of what it should be. That’s for the girl to decide.”
“Youth is utterly wasted on the young.” Maudine shook her head.
“That’s kind of the beauty of it, don’t you think?”
“No.”
Helga laughed. “She will find her way, Maud.”
“Maybe. But we need to help her at least see the path.”
“Okay. How do you propose we help her see the path? I mean, we’ve practically shoved her nose in it.”
“Well, I haven’t gotten that far. At least not past Frogfest.” She shifted in her seat.
Helga laughed. “Then I suppose we’d better get to plotting, but first, you’re going to tell me how you are.” She held up her hand. “How you really are. Not what you want everyone else to think.”
Maudine shifted in her chair a bit. “Some days are better than others. I’ve had my last chemo treatment, but I still feel like refried turds. Is that what you wanted to hear?”
“Yes.” Helga grinned. “Because I want you to be honest with yourself and me. I don’t care about everyone else. But this? You’re my best friend and you didn’t have to do this alone.”
“I did.” She nodded. “Because if you were there? I wouldn’t have had any courage at all. I’d have leaned on you too much.”
“I could handle it.”
“But I couldn’t, Helga. It was easier to be strong if I knew I had to, if that makes sense.”
Helga nodded. “I suppose it does. But I still think you should tell Gina.”
“And put more on her shoulders?”
“Wouldn’t you want to know if your positions were reversed?”
“Stop playing devil’s advocate. This isn’t the courtroom. It’s my granddaughter’s and great-granddaughter’s lives.”
“Exactly my point, Maudy.” Helga gave her a disapproving look.
“Yes, fine. I’d like to know if our situations were reversed. But that’s the luxury of being a grandmother.” Then Maudine wilted in her chair. “She’s had enough to deal with, and I should’ve done more when she was younger. I feel like I failed her. I failed Crystal. If I’d—”
“If you’d what, Maudine?” Helga interrupted. “What exactly was there you could’ve done to save Crystal when she didn’t want to be saved? I know this is hard to hear, but you can’t help someone who doesn’t want it. You did everything you could.”
“No. I didn’t.” She shook her head, guilt weighing down on her shoulders. “If I’d been a better mother, maybe my son wouldn’t have left his wife. Maybe then, his wife would’ve had insurance and maybe she would’ve had a shot at beating this same cancer.”
“Oh, honey.” Helga’s eyes watered in a rare show of emotion. “I see kids in my courtroom all the time who wouldn’t be in the trouble they’re in if they had parents who cared. And I see kids who have parents who’ve done everything humanly possible and their kids are still in trouble. I can tell you, you’ve done all you could do.” Helga straightened. “You know if I thought you’d fallen down on the job at any time, you’d have gotten an earful from me. Friendship does not rose-colored glasses make. At least not for me.”
Maudine sniffed, her own eyes watering because she knew it to be true. “Thank you.”
“Now are we going to plot or finish up this hand?”
“We’re going to plot, of course.” Maudine sat up straighter. “Frogfest is going to be the perfect time to push them together. To make them both see what a perfect little family they’ll make.”
CHAPTER SEVEN
REED FOUND HIMSELF facing the mirror in the bathroom, the harsh lights illuminating all the dark things he’d been trying to hide.
He looked into his own eyes and he reassured himself that he liked what he saw there. Even though there was that part of him that was afraid someone would wake up and realize he wasn’t allowed to be this person—that he’d snuck through some invisible barrier to success and they’d kick him back to his rightful side—he knew that wasn’t the case.
Reed had worked so hard to get where he was. No matter what that voice in his head told him, he wasn’t an imposter. He’d put in the work. He’d earned his place. He’d taught himself the stock market, began with penny stocks until he’d graduated to blue chip stocks, then he’d cashed in some of those and started buying up struggling companies and forming them into something new, something viable, and selling them for a profit.
He also knew that life was full of success and full of failures and he had to choose each day which thing he was going to focus on.
He reiterated all of the things he was thankful for to himself. This was his coping mechanism. Then he tucked it away deep down where no one could see it but him. It was almost a kind of armor that shielded him from the inside out.
Frogfest. He scrubbed his hand over his face. He hadn’t thought about that in a long time. Glory was full of small festivals that brought people from the surrounding cities in for little weekend getaways and brought in tourist money. There was something plann
ed every couple of weeks and for the big holidays, the whole town got involved. It was genius marketing, really.
As a kid, Frogfest had been his favorite, as well. Sippin’ Cider Days was the least because it meant it was time to go back to school and he’d never had any money for anything. Frogfest was the last time he’d been with his mother when she was sober. She’d bought him a frog plush and promised him that things would be better.
And he’d believed her. He’d clung to that round-eyed, happy-faced stuffed animal every night before he went to sleep like it was some kind of talisman that could force her to keep her word. For a while, it seemed like it had.
Until Walter.
Walter had been the beginning of the end for his mother and for him.
He shoved those thoughts out of his head. They didn’t matter. They were in the past and Reed wouldn’t live in the past. He lived in the ever better, shinier future where things were still made of unfired clay and could be remolded over and over again until Reed had what he wanted.
Panic clutched at his throat. A sudden fear that everyone would know he was faking it—faking success, faking being a whole person. All the expensive cologne and hand-tailored suits in the world couldn’t hide it.
He exhaled, thinking about all the things he could do to quiet that voice in his head.
But none of them were acceptable, none of them were any action he’d ever take again. All he could do was let these feelings run their course.
Reed promised Gina everything would be okay, and it would.
If for no other reason than Amanda Jane.
He didn’t think it was possible to feel such an immediate, overwhelming connection to another human being. Reed thought that it would take time to get to know her; that he’d have to sort of fall into feeling like a father. Grow to love her.
The ferocity of emotion that raged in his chest like a lion was instant and eternal. He’d live for her, die for her and everything in between.
But it also made him wonder what was really wrong with him that his own mother hadn’t felt that way about him. Why hadn’t he inspired such devotion? Was he defective somehow and would that defect burrow into his relationship with his own daughter?
