A Second-Chance Proposal

by Lia London

  A Second-Chance Proposal

  Proposal Series Book 1

  Lia London

  A Second-Chance Proposal is a work of fiction. Any similarities that characters share with real persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.

  Copy right © 2019 Lia London

  All rights reserved.

  Dedicated to my mother, who passed while I was writing this book.

  With special thanks to Victorine Lieske and Liwen Ho, two talented romance authors who helped me polish this story for you.

  Table of Contents

  Table of Contents

  Willa

  Mac

  Willa – a month later

  Mac – a week later

  Willa – a day later

  Mac – a heartbeat later

  Willa – half an hour later

  Mac – an hour later

  Willa – a few days later

  Mac – a few days later

  Willa – a few minutes later

  Mac – for the next three hours

  Willa – two weeks later

  Mac – a few minutes later

  Willa – a few minutes later

  Mac – a half hour later

  Willa – a few minutes later

  Mac – a few hours later

  Willa – an hour later

  Mac – a few days later

  Willa – a few days later

  Mac – the next day

  Willa – seconds later

  Mac – later that night

  Willa - meanwhile

  Mac – later that night

  Willa – the next morning

  Mac – a few days later

  Willa – a few days later

  Mac – a few days later

  Willa – two weeks later

  Mac – the next morning

  Willa – half an hour later

  Mac – at the same time

  Willa – twenty minutes later

  Mac – two weeks later

  Willa

  “I think this is it, Melina. Orrin said he wanted me to meet his mom tomorrow.” Willa Filmore unloaded the top layer of clean laundry from her hamper into the first drawer. “If I pass the Mom Test, I think he’s finally going to ask me to marry him.”

  “Don’t be an idiot. No one passes the Mom Test. No woman is ever good enough for some mom’s beloved baby boy.”

  Willa chewed the inside of her cheek and fingered the most recent couple photo, printed at a mall kiosk and tucked under a magnet on her decorative corkboard wall-hanging. She remembered the joke he’d cracked right before he snapped the selfie was taken and grinned anew.

  Melina whistled into the phone. “Hello? Are you going to say yes?”

  “Duh.” Willa opened drawer two: summer tops. “Melina, how can you even ask?” T-shirt burritos flew into the drawer in a cascade of white, yellow, green, and pink. “We’ve been dating for over two years. He’s smart and cute and—”

  “A bit of a snob?”

  Willa frowned. “Why do you always say that?” Drawer three: socks and hose, all tucked and balled for convenient paired sorting. She tossed with better accuracy.

  “Because he’s forever talking about how much money he makes and how fast he’s advancing in his career.”

  “Who cares if he’s rich?” Willa’s tosses turned into angry spikes, causing some of the wads to bounce back out. Grunting in frustration, she stooped to pick up an errant fuzzy ball.

  Melina sighed. “I just think you need someone more service-oriented. You’re in elder care, for crying out loud. You hang out with people who drool and wheeze and barely have a dime to spare, and he’s always off at some fancy business luncheon working connections.”

  “Whatever. I won’t hear you complain when he foots the bill for dinner tonight. Don’t be late!” She hung up and slid her phone into the back pocket of her denim capris with a happy sigh. Her future looked bright. She’d scored top marks at a placement agency for in-home caregivers, and the manager assured her she’d be able to get a sweet deal for her before the summer’s end.

  Unless, of course, Orrin hurried up and proposed already. Then she’d have to go live with him in his deluxe condo, oh darn.

  The phone rang and she snatched it out of her pocket quickly. “Hiya handsome. I was hoping you’d call soon. What do you think about meeting up with Melina and—”

  “Hey, Willa.” Something in Orrin’s voice sounded off. Like off-planet.

  “What’s wrong?” Willa sat forward on the edge of the couch. “Are you sick?”

  “No, but I can’t make it tonight.”

  “But Melina’s already got a date, and I still haven’t told you all about my placement tests.” She waited for an answer. “You there?”

  “Yes, I’m here. But I won’t be there tonight.” He cleared his throat in a very uncharacteristic way. “Um, there’s no easy way to say this. I think we need to step back. This isn’t really working out.”

  Willa felt the floor drop out from under her. “I thought I was finally meeting your mom.”

  “Yeah, no. That’s not going to happen.”

  “But…” She sank to her knees.

  He’d disconnected.

  Willa stared at the phone, blinking its Call Ended message. Her eyes blurred and settled on the photo strip from the mall where he kissed her cheek as she laughed. Hot tears vaulted from her eyes. “But you were finally going to ask me to marry you.” Willa hugged herself. “And I was going to say yes.”

  Mac

  Mac Norton drew a shuddering breath and nodded at the small circle garbed in subdued tones who had come to pay their last graveside respects to his mother, killed in a car accident. The late summer sun pressed down on his shoulders, adding to the weight of responsibility that now became his. As Mac cradled the flower wreath that had adorned his mother’s coffin, he could only think of how he wanted to hold her in a tight embrace.

  Now, he walked with vacant eyes and an aching heart back to his car.

  “Mac?”

  He turned to face Aunt Laila. She was a few years his mother’s elder but never as wise or kind.

  “I’ve got a few boxes of stuff from the house for you to take down to Gramma.”

  “Oh. Right.” Mac frowned. “Gramma doesn’t have room in her car?”

  “She doesn’t drive. A friend brought her up. Their car is too small to carry more than I already sent.”

  “Right.” He pocketed his keys and followed her down the narrow drive, pausing to admire the serenity of the shaded hillside. For the first time, he noted that the sun shone brightly. Wasn’t it supposed to rain at funerals?

  The sound of Laila’s clicking heels stopped, and he looked up to see her unlocking the back of her SUV. “You’re going to have to step up now. Daphne did a lot for Gramma.”

  Mac nodded. “I’ll check in on her.”

  “You’d better. I can’t imagine Daphne’s death is going to be good for her.”

  A flash of anger melted away a corner of the numbness. “It’s not good for me, either.” He’d never known his father. “I’m an orphan now.”

  “Oh, don’t be so melodramatic. You’re twenty-eight. Orphans don’t have beards.”

  Mac’s nostrils flared, but he remained silent, scratching at the stubble on his cheek. Had he really forgotten to shave for that long?

  Laila pursed her lips and gave him a brief conciliatory hug and then turned to the memorabilia stuffed in her car. “You get the big box, and I’ll bring the bags.”

  He obeyed as if he were ten years old again, dutifully trudging after her back to his car. With everything loaded, he sighed and squinted down the winding drive.

  Laila exhaled loudly through her
nose. “Call me if you need anything.” The words were right, but he knew she didn’t mean them.

  Mac nodded and pulled out his phone to verify Laila’s number in his contacts. It wasn’t there. He watched her retreating back and turned off his phone completely.

  Willa – a month later

  Willa pulled up in front of a pair of matching bungalows with gabled porches. One was blue with white trim, the other white with blue trim, and a narrow driveway leading to a detached garage separated them. The lawns showed signs of intermittent care, mowed recently and watered with only a few weeds marring the green. Overhead, the canopy of oak leaves created a warm, dappled glow. Willa got out of the car and smiled at the scene, transported to innocent days gone by.

  A white-haired lady opened the door of the house on the left and looked at her expectantly.

  “Are you Mrs. Asher? I’m Willa Filmore. We spoke on the phone.”

  The woman’s face brightened. “Oh, how lovely. You got here quicker than I thought. Do come in. And call me Elfie.”

  “Elfie?” Willa chuckled inwardly, thinking how elf-like the tiny woman was.

  “Short for Elvina. Have a seat.” Elfie swept a hand in the direction of an old, high-backed love seat. “I’ll go turn off the oven. I was about to put another batch of cookies in, but if I get distracted talking to you, I’ll end up burning the house down. Can’t have that.”

  Willa grinned. “Do you want to talk in the kitchen, so you don’t lose track?”

  Elfie paused and wagged a finger. “Maybe when we’re friends. A woman’s kitchen is her private sanctuary, you know.” She slipped through a door to the right leaving Willa to count the doilies and knick-knacks. Dozens of silvery picture frames showing black-and-white faces of yesteryear crowded the mantle above the fireplace.

  “You have a lovely home, Mrs. Asher.”

  “Elfie,” corrected the woman, re-entering with a glass of lemonade and a plate of sugar cookies. “I had one batch baked already. Let me know if I used too much nutmeg.”

  “Thank you.”

  Elfie sat down in the most modern chair in the room, a stuffed beast with the large flowers and colors of the late sixties. “So, are you going to be in the area for long? My daughter insists I have help, but I don’t want to change out caregivers every year.”

  “Yes, I’m here long-term if you need me.” The placement service had said she’d need to pass a two-week trial period before securing the job, and she hoped to make a good impression. “I’ve spent the last few years in the area working in Adult Protective Services.”

  “Good heavens, you’re a body guard?”

  Willa laughed. “No, no. Not that kind of protection. A case-worker. I had a set of clients that I checked in on regularly.”

  Elfie squinted at Willa thoughtfully. “And the cookies?”

  Willa took a bite. “Not too much nutmeg. Just right.”

  Elfie chortled. “I think I’m going to like you. Let’s finish these cookies, and you can go check out your new space.”

  “Yes, thank you. Did I understand correctly that my room is actually next door?”

  “Not just the room. You can use the whole house.”

  Willa’s eyes widened. “You’re kidding. Shouldn’t I just be in a spare room here?”

  “I’m an independent little invalid,” said Elfie with a twinkle in her eye. “Besides, the space between the houses is so close, it’s like walking across a hall. My husband and I bought these bungalows forty-two years ago. They’re all paid off.”

  Willa couldn’t believe her luck. If she got this job permanently, she’d have a little house in the deal!

  “Good neighbors are worth more than money, and we’ve always tried to rent to nice people. Of course, if I end up hiring you, you’ll be contractually obligated to be the best neighbor ever.”

  Willa laughed at Elfie’s mock serious tone. “I’ll work very hard to live up to that, Mrs. Ash—Elfie.”

  Elfie patted the white curls framing her face. “I don’t suppose you’re available. I’ve got a grandson about your age. He’s not bad looking.”

  Willa pressed back a grimace. “Um, I’m sure he’s as charming as you are, but I’m not really interested in a relationship. It’s too much of a headache trying to understand men.”

  “Maybe. But the convenience of going without them at your age doesn’t make up for the inconvenience of not having a man around later.” Elfie leaned her elbow on the armrest conspiratorially. “If nothing else, for taking out the trash and changing light bulbs. All the stuff I’ll have to pester you for now.”

  “I use those LED bulbs, so they’ll outlast me.”

  “I’ll find something else for you to do, then.” Elfie grinned. “Want to go look?” She pushed herself out of the chair.

  Willa rose automatically. “Yes, please.”

  “I’m sure you’ll fill it up with sunshine soon enough with all your golden hair and cheery smile.” Elfie grasped Willa’s arm as if walking down the promenade with her beau. “I hope you’ll enjoy the place. The plumbing sings a little in the mornings, but the water’s hot enough.”

  “I sing a little in the mornings, too. If you’re lucky, the plumbing will drown out the noise.”

  Mac – a week later

  “Mac, honey, I don’t suppose you could come out here and look at the washer at your earliest convenience? It’s not draining properly.”

  Mac sighed. “Sure, Gramma.” He hated to ask, but ventured, “Is your care provider not able to do it?”

  “Honey, she’s a sweet girl, very useful, but she’s not a mechanic.”

  “Neither am I, Gramma.”

  “Daphne said you could fix anything under the sun.”

  At the mention of his mother, Mac sagged. Growing up without a father in the house, he’d adopted the role of handyman when repairs needed doing. If he didn’t know how, he taught himself, and his mother often praised him for it. She would want him to help Gramma if he could. “Is tomorrow soon enough? I’ve got a project meeting I can’t get out of today, and I’ll need to go find my tools after work.”

  “Yes, honey. Thank you.” Gramma’s voice changed. “You really should meet the caregiver girl. She’s cute as a button and very sweet.”

  Mac rolled his eyes. “I’m sure she is.” She was probably forty years old, too. Gramma had tried many times to set him up with some woman or other over the years. “I’ll see you tomorrow around five.”

  Willa – a day later

  Willa crossed the narrow drive separating their two kitchen doors and peeked in. “Need any help with dinner prep, Elfie?” she called.

  Elfie crooked her finger. “Come here. I want to show you something.”

  Willa hesitated. “I thought you said a woman’s kitchen was her sanctuary.”

  “That’s what I say when it’s messy. It’s mostly clean now. Come on in.”

  The scent of lemon accosted Willa, and she left the door ajar to air out the fumes. “Aren’t I supposed to be helping you cook and clean up?”

  “Oh, I just had a sandwich. Now I’m sorting through some old memorabilia.” She held up a photograph of two young women with eighties big hair. “Don’t they look like you?”

  “Are these your daughters?” One of them looked vaguely familiar, though she couldn’t think why.

  “Dippy and Lippy, yes.”

  Willa measured her response. “Dippy and Lippy?”

  “Nick names, of course. Dippy was the flighty one, and Lippy is forever bossing everyone around.” Elfie took the photo and tapped the girl on the left, her voice fogging as she spoke. “She was such a good girl.”

  Was? What had happened? Did she turn to a life of crime? Had she disappeared? Run away with a traveling circus? Willa knew from experience to let Elfie’s story unfold naturally. “You love her very much.”

  Elfie held the picture to her chest and nodded, her eyes closed. “Yes. Very much.”

  Unsure of what to say, Willa wrapped an arm
around the little woman’s shoulder and waited. She felt frailer than expected.

  Elfie patted Willa’s arm. “I’m glad you’re here.” She pointed to two large boxes on the counter. “That one is for donations, and the other is for dumping—because some of these things are too ugly to see the light of day.”

  “These are some pretty snappy suspenders,” teased Willa, holding up a pair with rainbow stripes.

  “Honestly, who wears things like that?” Elfie fell silent as if her mind had drifted a million miles away.

  Willa waited patiently, listening to the sounds of the evening: a dog barking, a twilight lawn mower, a car door slamming. She caught a movement outside the kitchen window. “I think someone’s here.”

  “Oh, that’ll be my grandson to check the washer.”

  Willa glanced down the driveway in time to see a man pull the garage door open and step into the shadows. “Oh, good. I’ll be glad to get my undies clean.” She gasped. “My undies! I left the basket with my underwear stuff right on the washer. Oh, how embarrassing.”

  Elfie chuckled. “Well, go and get them. You don’t want to scare him with your unmentionables.”

  Blushing, Willa jogged down the drive and peered into the dark, empty space. Only the washer and dryer occupied the one-car garage. “Do you want the light on, sir?” She pulled the string that lit the overhead bulb.

  The man knelt with his head inside the washing machine, holding up a flash light, and she wasn’t sure he’d heard her. She reached carefully over him to grab her laundry hamper, but her foot accidentally brushed against his leg. He jolted, banging his head on the interior of the machine. “Ow. What the—?” He extracted himself, rubbing his scalp, and looked up at Willa.

  “You!” they both cried in unison.

  “What are you doing here?” he demanded, laughter and shock both playing in his tone.

  Willa stared at Mac Norton, her heart pounding in her chest. “I live here.”

  Mac scrambled to his feet. “But that’s impossible. This is my Gramma Elfie’s house.”