“See?” Tina challenged Cory. “She thinks I’m doing well.”
“You’d do better in a home all on one level,” Cory argued.
“I’m not moving to one of those old-people developments,” Tina insisted. The water boiled, and she dropped the tea ball into the pot. “I’m not that old.”
“They’re for people fifty-five and older,” Cory said, eyeing Talia for confirmation. She nodded. “That’s middle-aged. You’d fit right in.”
“I fit in fine here,” Tina insisted, even as she struggled to reach some mugs in a cabinet above the stove. Cory crossed to her side and pulled the mugs off the shelf for her. She detoured to the refrigerator for milk. Talia knew from experience that milk would not improve the flavor of Tina’s home-made tea. “But enough about me,” Tina said. “Tell me about that wonderful granddaughter of mine. She’s graduating tomorrow?”
“Yes,” Talia said.
“And then she’s going to that tough university?”
Talia frowned. “I don’t know how tough it is. I’m sure it will challenge her academically, but—”
“Tufts,” Cory broke in. “Tufts University.”
Talia suppressed a smile. Tina didn’t seem to realize she’d made a mistake. She poured the tea, which fortunately looked weak.
Talia took a sip and tried not to grimace. Cory tossed a subtle smile her way, informing her that he shared her opinion of his mother’s tea. Then he gamely sipped from his mug.
“Tina,” Talia ventured, “I don’t know if Cory’s explained to you what my business is. If you move up to the Brogan’s Point area, I can have someone come in a couple of days a week to help you out. She could vacuum and dust, fold your laundry, run errands for you—or drive you, if you wanted to run those errands yourself. It’s obvious you don’t need much help—” another fib; the woman needed some help, although not as much as some of Talia’s clients “—but I could have someone do some of the chores you no longer want to do for yourself.”
“I don’t want to do any of them,” Tina said with a surprisingly robust laugh. “But they gotta get done. And you know what, Talia—I’m not the sort of person who wants paid help. Maids, servants, chauffeurs—that’s not me.”
“Oh, it’s nothing like that,” Talia assured her.
Cory laughed. “They don’t wear uniforms, Mom.”
“My staff is mostly just local women who want part-time, flexible jobs. They work while their kids are at school.”
“And there’ll be a nursing component, if you need a little extra medical care,” Cory said.
Talia shot him a look. She hadn’t made her mind up about Rhonda’s plan yet. Her attorney had thought it sounded like a great idea, and he’d promised he could structure an arrangement with Rhonda that would give her the autonomy she needed to run the nursing side of the business but would leave Talia as the CEO. It all sounded promising, but she hadn’t made a final decision.
Cory must have read her annoyance. “You know you’re going to do it,” he said. “You’d be a fool not to, and you’re no fool.”
She couldn’t argue that.
“I wish I had some cookies or something,” Tina said. “I feel like a bad hostess.”
“We didn’t come here to eat, Mom,” Cory reminded her.
“No. You came to tell me I should move to some clean, sterile condo.”
“Once you move there, you can make it as unsterile as you want,” he pointed out. Surveying the kitchen, Talia shuddered to think of just how unsterile Tina’s home was.
“If you move to Boston, I could move in with you,” Tina said, fixing Cory with a stare. “Get a bigger place. All on one level, if you want. When you kids needed a home, I took you in. Now you think I need a new home. Fine. If getting me out of this house means that much to you, you can take me in.”
Cory leaned back in his chair, his eyes narrowed. Clearly, this was not something he wanted to do.
Talia thought about describing the condos she’d shown Cory a couple of nights ago. Some were too fancy, some were too pricy, but surely Cory could find a place his mother would tolerate.
Before Talia could speak, a gust of wind swept past the house, and through an open window she heard the tinkle of a wind chime.
That couldn’t have been the same wind chime Tina had hung on her back porch all those years ago. That old wind chime had been loud and clanky, like empty aluminum cans clattering inside a trash can. The noise had given Talia headaches. She used to pray for calm weather, just so she wouldn’t have to hear that racket.
This chime sounded sweet and light, like the laughter of angels.
Curious, she rose from her chair and crossed to the window, which overlooked the back porch. There was the wind chime. It looked exactly like the one she’d remembered, a circle with brass bars of various lengths hanging from it. How could something that had sounded so awful then sound so delightful now?
Remaining by the window, she rotated to view the table. Cory could take his mother into his home in Boston, if he moved to Boston himself, but he wouldn’t. He could be responsible up to a point—responsible enough to make sure his mother was living in a safe place, with the supports she needed. But taking her in?
“You can live with me,” Talia said.
***
She was crazy, Cory thought. Certifiably insane.
She’d resented his mother when they’d lived here. She’d thought his mother was a head case. Hell, his mother was a head case. Why on earth would Talia want to take the woman into her home now?
She walked back to the table and resumed her seat. Nudging her mug away, she said, “Grammy’s gone, and Wendy will be heading off to the tough university in a couple of months. I’m all by myself in a four-bedroom house.”
“It’s got stairs,” Cory reminded her.
“The room I use as my office on the first floor could be turned into a bedroom. There’s a full bath on the first floor. And you know, with a little physical therapy—” she gave Tina a pointed look “—you could probably get around better than you’re getting around now.
“I tried physical therapy,” Tina said.
“You’ll try it again.” Talia smiled. “I’ve got a big back yard. Maybe we could put in some raised beds so you could do your gardening without having to bend over. But no pot. I mean it. And I’ll drink my own tea. Those are my terms.”
“Tally.” Cory had to keep her from making a mistake, something she might regret down the road. “Are you sure?”
“If it doesn’t work, we’ll make other arrangements. These things don’t always work.” She turned to his mother, still smiling. “You and I know they don’t always work. But we survived that, didn’t we? Who’s doing your hair, by the way? It looks crooked.”
“I cut it myself. I can’t wear it long anymore. Too much hassle.”
“I’ve got a great stylist. I’ll take you to see her. She’s not too expensive.”
Of course she wasn’t. Talia didn’t do too expensive..
“So, what do you say? Will you give it a try?” she asked.
His mother settled in her chair and tipped her head to one side, regarding Talia thoughtfully. “You’re right,” she said. “It doesn’t always work. The biggest heartache of my life was that you and Cory didn’t work. Because sweetheart, you were the best thing that ever happened to him. And you hurt him so bad when you left. Me, I could handle your leaving. Cory couldn’t.”
“Mom.” She was embarrassing him. Talia didn’t need to know this.
“It’s true. All you ever wanted was for her to trust you long enough to get your degree, and she couldn’t do it. There was no right or wrong. You were kids. You both knew what you wanted, and you were both determined to get it. You were both too impatient.” She glanced at Talia and chuckled. “Maybe you should’ve smoked some of my pot. It would have mellowed you out.”
“God, no.” Talia laughed.
“Such a good little St. Agatha girl. Those St. Agatha kids never did
anything wrong, did they.”
“They got pregnant,” Talia reminded her.
“Best thing you ever did. Look at that wonderful daughter of yours.” She sipped her tea and smiled. “All right. I’ll think about it.”
“You have my phone number,” Talia said. “And you’ve got Cory’s, too. Let us know what you decide. Really, Tina, I think Vanessa could do wonders with your hair. A little trim, a little evening things out. It’ll look great.”
The rain picked up in strength, pattering against the open window. Through the screen, he heard the gentle ringing of his mother’s wind chime. That sound used to set Talia’s teeth on edge. Now, she seemed to enjoy it.
Women. He couldn’t understand them. He especially couldn’t understand Talia. She’d been simmering and stewing the entire drive down to Providence, but now she looked serene, seated at his mother’s table. Something had changed.
He had no idea what it was, but he wanted it. He wanted to touch it, hold it, call it his. Forever.
He said nothing, other than the usual goodbyes, until he and Talia left the house. The rain was spilling out of the sky; they got drenched walking the short distance from the front door to his car. They ducked inside, and Talia raked a hand through her wet hair, scattering droplets of moisture through the car.
“Tally,” he said.
“No,” she cut him off. “I’m not nuts. I know what I’m doing. It’s just that she was right. She opened her home to us—to me—when I had nowhere else to go. My own parents disowned me, but your mother took me in. So it’s my turn to be as generous as she was. If it doesn’t work, we’ll try something else. You were the one who said risks didn’t scare you, and the worst that can happen is that they don’t work out.”
“Yes, but…I wasn’t talking about my mother.”
Talia smiled. “Your mother did her best when we lived with her. Unfortunately, her best wasn’t very good, but she tried. The least I can do is try, too. Trust me, Cory. I’m not nuts.”
“I wasn’t going to say you were nuts.”
She arched her eyebrows. Raindrops glittered in her lashes. “What were you going to say?”
“I love you.”
***
He’d never said that before. Not those words.
He’d said she turned him on. He’d said he would marry her. But I love you?
“You love me because I’m nice to your mother,” she guessed.
“No. I appreciate that, but that’s not why I love you.” He reached across the gear stick and gathered her hand in his. She decided the car was not too small, after all. It was just small enough. “I love you because you forgive. Because you grow. All those years ago, you didn’t have faith that I could make things right for you and Wendy. You couldn’t give me the time I needed to make a life for us. But now…” He shifted his gaze to the water-streaked windshield, and his fingers tightened around hers. “When you invited my mother to live with you, it was like you’d discovered your faith. Not St. Agatha faith. Faith that people can make things right for each other.”
It was true. She hadn’t had faith in him all those years ago. She should have. He’d done exactly what he’d promised: Educated himself. Forged a career. Supported his daughter. Become a man.
She’d loved him all along, even when she’d had no faith in him. Even when she’d left. Maybe he was the one who’d had to discover his faith in her.
“So,” she said. “You love me.”
“Yes.”
“Where does that leave us?”
He smiled, one of his sexy, dimpled smiles. “We could get married.”
“That’s about as romantic as the last time you proposed,” she said. “In fact, I think you used the exact same words.”
“They worked then. You married me.” He lifted her hand to his lips and pressed a kiss to her palm. “Marry me again.”
“I’ll think about it.”
“Okay.” He released her hand and started the engine.
On the drive back to Brogan’s Point, they talked about Wendy’s commencement ceremony tomorrow, what time it began, what the school’s contingency plan was if the rain continued overnight. They talked about Tina, what her needs might be, what accommodations Talia would have to make in her house to make it comfortable for them both. Just thinking about Tina’s moving in filled her with a surprising swell of relief. The house was too big for her alone. She’d dreaded the thought of having all that square footage to herself.
If she married Cory, he could move into the house with her.
Him and Tina. Would it be too crowded? Could they manage it?
Why not? She and Cory had managed to raise a child. They’d managed to do this when they were barely children themselves, when they had less than nothing. When they were broke, and they needed more schooling, and they were immature and, as Tina had said, too impatient. They’d still managed to produce a fabulous young woman.
A fantabulous young woman.
“Don’t take me home,” Talia said as they neared the exit for Brogan’s Point.
“You don’t have work to do?”
“I do,” she said. “But…let’s go to the Faulk Street Tavern instead. I think we need to drink a toast.”
He smiled and cruised down the ramp.
He drove through Brogan’s Point as if he were already at home there. Just a few days, and he knew his way around better than she had when she’d been living in the town for several months. Since it was early in the afternoon, finding a parking space near the pub was easy. They raced through the rain to the door and stepped inside.
As she’d expected, the tavern was nearly empty. A man slumped on one of the bar stools, nursing a drink. The tall bartender with the short, tawny hair was wiping down the bar, but she smiled and nodded as Talia and Cory strolled to a vacant booth. Setting down her dishcloth, the bartender circled the bar and crossed to their table.
“Too early for my wait staff to be here yet,” she said. “What can I get you?”
“Champagne,” Talia said. “We’re celebrating.”
“Good.” The bartender named a few champagne brands. Talia wouldn’t know one from another, so she let Cory pick. “What are you celebrating?” the bartender asked as she set two square cocktail napkins on the table.
“Our daughter’s graduating from the high school tomorrow,” Cory said.
“That’s right. You told me that the other day.” The bartender nodded. “And I still think you don’t look old enough to have a daughter graduating from kindergarten, let alone high school.”
Cory chuckled. Talia only smiled. “We’re older than we look,” she said, because right now she was feeling quite mature. “We’re also celebrating a wedding,” she said.
Cory’s gaze met hers across the table. His smile was quiet, but dazzling. “Yes,” he said. “We’re celebrating that.”
“Champagne, then,” the bartender said.
She turned and started back toward the bar, but halted and spun back to them when Cory called after her. “Is there a way to get the jukebox to play ‘Moondance’?” he asked.
She shook her head. “The jukebox plays whatever it wants. Stick a quarter in it. Take a chance.”
She continued to the bar, and Cory reached into his pocket. “I’ve got a quarter.”
“Then go for it,” Talia urged him. “Take a chance.”
She watched as he stood and walked across the room to the jukebox. He studied it for a minute, and she studied him. His tall, lean body. His strong shoulders. His taut hips.
He turned her on.
And she loved him.
He slid his quarter into the slot, and pivoted back to her. Then he opened his arms in invitation.
She had no idea what song might emerge from the jukebox. But whatever the song, she would gladly dance with Cory. She rose and hurried into his arms, and the music began to play.
***
About the Author
Judith Arnold is the award-winning, bestselling author
of more than ninety published novels. A New York native, she currently lives in New England, where she indulges in her passions for jogging, dark chocolate, good music, good wine and good books. She is married and the mother of two sons.
For more information about Judith, or to contact her, please visit her website. Feel free to check out her other books and sign up for her newsletter.
If you enjoyed Moondance, I hope you will consider posting a review of it online. Thank you!
***
Check out the next book in the Magic Jukebox series, Take the Long Way Home, which tells Maeve Nolan’s story!
Entering the Faulk Street Tavern shouldn’t have been such a big challenge. Yet as Maeve Nolan stood outside the door on a drizzly October afternoon, the air gray and heavy with the scent of the nearby ocean, she wondered if she had the courage to open the door.
She assumed her father would be inside. Some cops took their coffee breaks at Riley’s on Main Street or Dunkin Donuts down on Route One. But Ed Nolan had told Maeve that whenever he had a few free minutes during his shift, he headed over to the Faulk Street Tavern. Not for booze—he had that situation under control, thanks to the woman who owned the bar and kept his mug filled with hot, strong, sobering coffee.
The tavern had stood on Faulk Street, just a short block from Atlantic Avenue and the ocean beyond, for as long as Maeve could remember. She had never entered the place, though. When she’d left town, she’d been eighteen—too young to order a drink in a bar. She supposed she could have gone into the tavern and ordered a Coke, but why would she? She could buy a Coke for a lot less at the supermarket, and if she wanted something harder, she could filch a beer or a few shots of whisky from her father’s stash. In those days, he wouldn’t have noticed.
She was ten years older now, and she could waltz into any bar she wanted and order any drink. And at least for the moment, she could pay for that drink without worrying about how much cheaper it might be elsewhere.
Moondance Page 16
