Find My Way Home (Harmony Homecomings)

by Michele Summers

“Not really. I have to finish this inventory, but we’re still on for tomorrow night, right?”

  “Sure. What time?”

  “Come by around seven and I’ll cook for you.”

  “Great. I’ll bring the wine.” Keith leaned down to peck Gail on the lips when he heard a huge snort in Maddie’s vicinity. Gail’s cheeks pinkened, and she brushed Keith’s jaw with a quick kiss.

  “Madeline, let’s go.” Keith squeezed Gail’s hand before leaving the store with an ill-humored Maddie in tow.

  They rode in silence on the twenty-minute ride back to Harmony. Keith did his best to ignore Maddie’s looks of disgust she kept shooting in his direction. After about the third grunt/sigh she heaved, Keith gave in and spoke first.

  “What’s your problem?”

  “Nothin,” she mumbled.

  “Spill it. Because I’m not putting up with your hostile attitude anymore.”

  Maddie straightened in her seat and uncrossed her arms. “I don’t like that girl,” she blurted. “She’s stupid.”

  “Madeline,” he growled. “You don’t even know her. And if you keep up this rude act, you’re never going to get to know her.”

  “Good. I don’t want to get to know her.” Maddie pushed out her bottom lip. “Are you like dating her or something?”

  “Or something.” Keith watched the road and tried not to picture his daughter’s neck as he strangled the steering wheel.

  “Gross, Dad. I saw you try to kiss her. Does that mean you’re going to marry her?”

  “Just because I kiss a girl doesn’t mean I’m going to marry her.” Keith came to a full stop at an intersection near the overpass. “Why don’t you like her? You barely said three words.”

  Maddie shrugged her shoulders beneath her pink sweater with the lime-green trim. “I don’t know. She’s…she looks like a kindergarten teacher.”

  “Huh?”

  “She looks…boring. Are you dating her? Like, only her?”

  “We’ve gone on a few dates. She happens to be very nice and sweet. If you’d give her a chance—”

  “Why don’t you date Bertie? I like Bertie. She’s not boring, and she doesn’t wear those ugly clothes. Bertie’s pretty and she has really cool shoes. And Bertie’s fun. Bertie’s mom died when she was like fourteen, and we have lots—”

  “I know all about Bertie’s mom and dad. But I’m not dating Bertie. We’re just friends. Bertie is my decorator—”

  “Designer,” Maddie interjected. “And why not? Why can’t you date your designer? Bertie’s smart, and she wants to learn how to play tennis. You can teach her that. And she said she’s so happy I’m living in Harmony now. She’s gonna let me help her with a house she’s building for this poor family. She said I can help paint walls and stuff. And she said that I could help her raise money for that Jaycee Park, the one with the messed up tennis courts. And—”

  “Enough!” Keith felt like shit when he saw Maddie’s head jerk back and her mouth gape open. “Bertie has other plans,” he bit out like rusty razor blades. And they didn’t include him and an instant family. Not that he could blame her. Her dreams included living in a big city and creating big-city designs. He got that. “I know you like her, but she’s only my decorator. Nothing else.”

  “Bertie’s more than a designer. She’s my friend and she—what plans?”

  “Madeline, listen to me. Bertie is a nice person, but she’s nice to all her clients. She’s getting paid a shi…boatload of money to do this job, and when she’s done, she’s moving away.”

  Maddie gasped. “That’s not true!”

  Dread and fear and a few other emotions tumbled around inside Keith’s constricted chest. A part of him didn’t like the idea of Bertie moving away any better than Maddie did, but another part of him wished she’d hurry up and get the hell out of town before he ruined any chance of happiness for his daughter and himself. But right now, he needed to tell a hard truth and break his daughter’s heart. Keith sighed.

  “Ask her if you don’t believe me. Before she started our house, she was moving to Atlanta to take another job, but your Aunt Francesca convinced her to stay.” By dangling a hundred and fifty G’s in front of her nose. “But as soon as she’s finished, she’s moving. She’d like to explore other avenues with her career. And I think that’s smart. She’ll be much happier.”

  Maddie shook her head at Keith, wearing the I-can’t-believe-you’re-my-dad expression. “You could convince her to stay, Dad,” she said in her grown-up voice.

  Keith chuckled. “How do you figure?”

  “Because. I just know. I can tell when you look at her.”

  A horn blared as Keith almost swerved into the next lane. Prickly heat flushed his neck and crept toward his face. Jesus. Was he that transparent? He prayed like hell his ten-year-old daughter didn’t know what he was really thinking when he looked at Bertie. The very idea horrified him. Fifth-grade sex education would never be the same.

  Keith was almost afraid to ask. “Uh, how do I look at her?”

  “Like she’s beautiful. Like you always want to be with her.” Maddie pressed her face into the glass of the passenger window. “Not like the way you looked at Gail.”

  ***

  Several weeks later, on a Friday afternoon, Francesca’s ears perked up as she heard her front door slam. Maddie’s and Keith’s loud voices carried from the foyer to her sitting room. Francesca lowered the reading glasses from her nose and turned her head toward the door to listen.

  “I can’t believe you’re dating her again. That’s like your third date this week, Dad,” Maddie said in a petulant voice.

  “That’s right and it’s none of your business,” Keith said.

  “It sure is my business if you marry her!”

  “Watch your tone, young lady,” Keith snapped. “If you don’t straighten up and stop riding my ass, I’m going to have your favorite person strip your brand-new room of all that furniture and donate it to her charity.” Keith’s voice grew louder as he moved closer to the sitting room. “Now go upstairs and get your things together.”

  Francesca could hear Maddie stomping up the stairs, adding extra noise as only a mad ten-year-old could do. Maddie’s “favorite person” these days was also Francesca’s favorite person…Bertie. Now if Francesca could make Keith see that Bertie was his favorite person too, then all would be right in the Morgan/Balogh household.

  Francesca had been holding her tongue and biding her time as she observed Keith fight his attraction to Bertie. But ever since he’d been paying more attention to his young lady in Raleigh, Francesca could feel the tension building around him and Maddie. A week ago, upon Francesca’s orders, Keith had reported in with a great deal of attitude and resentment. After much prompting on her part, he filled her in about meeting Gail and how she’d be a perfect mother to Maddie. But with everything he told her, he never mentioned if Gail would be perfect for him. So, Francesca had concluded that she would have to intervene to keep him from making another horrible mistake. What Francesca didn’t hear from his description of sweet, young Gail was exactly what she needed to know to make her next calculated move.

  Keith slipped into the sitting room and threw himself onto Francesca’s love seat. “Jesus. Remind me again why it was such a good idea to have her home.”

  He leaned his head back and sighed. She frowned at him. “I take it you two have been arguing again.”

  He grunted, his eyes closed. “Thank God you’re the one taking her to Virginia to pick up her things from boarding school and not me, because I’ve a good mind to dump her on the side of the highway and leave her there. Maybe you can talk some sense into her,” Keith said, keeping his eyes closed.

  Francesca studied his hard features, noticing he didn’t look peaceful or even particularly happy. “Hmmm, maybe. So you have another date with”—Francesca motioned with her
hand—“what’s her name?”

  “Gail.” Keith peered at her through slitted lids.

  “Yes. From Barnes & Noble. She sounds like a lovely girl.” Francesca added extra emphasis to the word “girl,” hoping Keith would register that he didn’t want a child bride. From what Francesca could gather, this young, innocent girl would never stand a chance at reining him in or keeping his attention. Even his ten-year-old daughter sensed that this relationship was doomed, but Maddie didn’t have the maturity or the right words to express her instincts.

  Francesca shuddered at how quickly Keith would lose interest…sexually. She hated to think of her nephew as a cad toward women, because he wasn’t. But she also knew he shared his father’s sharp intellect as well as his way with women. And Keith would die of boredom within weeks if his next wife didn’t challenge him mentally and physically. He’d be miserable before the ink dried on their marriage license.

  Francesca placed the magazine she’d been reading on top of her gilded coffee table. She felt a twinge of guilt for Keith’s rash choice when it came to finding a partner. But she couldn’t sit by any longer and watch him muck up his life. She used the best weapon at her disposal to spur him into action—threatening for custody. Keith wore a cloak of grief, guilt, and pain so thick that he didn’t see how it dragged him and Maddie down. Francesca never considered herself a cruel person, especially with regard to anyone she loved, but the time had come for her to play the card she held close to her chest—the mother card.

  Francesca smoothed the hem of her dark brown gabardine skirt. “I spoke with your mom earlier today.”

  Keith sat forward, clearly alert. “Yeah?”

  “She called to speak with Maddie. I’ll have Maddie call her back while we’re on the road.”

  “That all she wanted?”

  Francesca spotted the tightening in Keith’s broad shoulders. She remembered when his remoteness first appeared regarding his mother. Right around the time Angelina left him at boarding school and moved to Europe. “No. She also wanted to know about you. I told her all about young Gail, and how you’ve finally met someone nice. And how she’d make a good mother to Maddie. Of course, having never met the girl”—she shot Keith a piercing glare—“I’m only going on what you’ve told me. And I’m trying to ignore all the things Maddie has told me.”

  Keith reached for the magazine on the table. “Yeah, Gail’s a real nice girl,” he said with no enthusiasm, as if he were speaking about getting his tires rotated. He showed more excitement when he talked about his next stock purchase than he did when he spoke of Gail.

  “Well, your mother certainly approved. She thinks this is the best thing for you.” Keith gave Francesca an odd look. “You know she never liked your choices in women, and Adriana was no exception—”

  “I don’t want to talk about Adriana,” he interrupted.

  “I understand. This isn’t about Adriana or your past. This is about your life moving forward with Maddie.” Keith gave her a jerky nod. “But Angelina really likes the sound of Gail. She was practically overflowing with excitement. She said there’s nothing wrong with a simple, sweet girl who can bake cookies and loves to read children’s books.”

  Keith tossed the magazine back on the table and rose from the love seat. “As if she’d know anything about that. What else did she say?” he asked, peering out the French doors to the freshly mowed lawn.

  “Well, I’m not sure, but I think she might make arrangements to come to your wedding.”

  Keith’s body jolted as he turned around. “You told her I was getting married already?” his voice sounded strangled. “Jesus. I haven’t even gotten past first base with this girl, and you’ve got my mother making wedding arrangements.”

  On the inside, Francesca smiled and patted herself on the back, knowing that if Keith had any feelings for Gail whatsoever, wild bulls couldn’t hold him back. On the outside, she squared her shoulders and lifted her nose, giving the impression of great disappointment.

  “Keith Morgan, I hope you are conducting yourself in a gentlemanly manner. From what you’ve told me, this young girl is not experienced in the ways of the”—Francesca fluttered her hand—“you know what I mean. I hope you don’t frighten her. You could very well be her…first.”

  Color flooded Keith’s cheeks as he cringed. “What else did you tell Mommy dearest about my upcoming nuptials?” he smirked.

  “I didn’t give her an exact date, but I did say you’d gotten rather serious and I wouldn’t be surprised if it happened in the next few weeks.”

  Keith shoved his hands in his front pockets. “I’m guessing you left out the part where you’re holding a gun to my head.”

  “Don’t you think you’re being a bit dramatic, dear? I merely gave you an incentive to get moving, because I’m concerned about Maddie, as is your mother. You may not believe this, but Angelina only wants the best for her granddaughter.”

  Keith gave a humorless laugh. “Evident by all the times she’s actually seen Maddie and how often she stays in touch.”

  “I’m not making excuses for my sister. I know she’s been less than an ideal grandmother, or mother for that matter.” Francesca glanced away from Keith’s stern expression. “All those years she chose to be…away after your father died, I always filled in.”

  Keith gave a harsh laugh. “Away? Is that how we’re phrasing it these days? I prefer the term abandon. She abandoned her only child and she has never apologized for it. Never.”

  Francesca had definitely struck a nerve, and Keith had every right to be angry. But she had hoped that as he matured into a grown man, he’d find a way to forgive his mother. And she prayed that once this act of tough love had ended, he’d find it in his heart to forgive her as well.

  Angelina wanted to make peace with her son, but she was afraid and ashamed. Keith’s dad had been her life, and when he dropped dead of a heart attack in his prime, Angelina drowned herself in misery and mourning, leaving her young son bereft, without his dad and then without his mother. Much as Keith had done when Adriana died. Francesca knew that Keith had never made the comparison, because he hadn’t loved Adriana the way Angelina had loved Harrison Morgan. And Francesca didn’t think she needed to point it out to him…yet. But back in Miami, Keith had come dangerously close to repeating history by shutting down and leaving Maddie the same way.

  “You have every right to be angry with your mother…and me.” Francesca held Keith’s attention. “Maybe I shouldn’t have always filled in where she left gaping holes. Angelina knew you had me and I’d always be here for you. I don’t know.” Francesca swallowed as she adjusted the silk Hermes scarf tied around her neck. “I probably enabled her poor behavior. For that, I’m terribly sorry.”

  “I’m not. I’m glad you were always there for me. You were a great mother to me when she chose not to be around and I appreciated it.” Keith pushed his fingers through his hair, sighing. “I don’t want her input right now. She doesn’t know anything about me, or Maddie for that matter.”

  “I understand.”

  “No, I don’t think you do.” Keith took a deep breath. “I don’t want her planning my wedding or giving her opinion on something or someone she knows nothing about.” Keith began to pace across the antique Aubusson rug. “Whoever I choose to marry in the next few weeks whether it be Gail or Ber—uh, or that crazy lady with the leopard suit and green Jell-O, it’s going to be my decision. So do me a favor and keep my mother out of it.”

  “As you wish, dear.” Francesca said, wearing a sober expression. On the inside, she’d donned her best pale blue Chanel suit with her gray South Sea pearls and stared down an aisle of a church with tears in her eyes. And the sight before her was a bride in an original Vera Wang wedding gown, a concoction of elegant beads, tulle, and lace worn by…her favorite person.

  Chapter 18

  “I’m weak. And stupid. I’m a weak, s
tupid, desperate, small-town girl.” Bertie dropped the large roll of fabric she’d checked-in against her purchase order on the floor of her office. It was Friday afternoon. Three weeks had passed since she’d locked lips with Keith in the back office at the Dog. Three weeks of reliving the stupidest, most impulsive moment of her life. Three weeks of avoiding him, although that hadn’t been hard. Aunt Franny had informed Bertie that he had enrolled Maddie in a private school in Raleigh, which had kept him busy and away from the house.

  Christ on a cracker. She’d officially lost it. She’d become one of those batty, silly, impetuous old ladies. The ones everyone talked about that lived in small towns but didn’t have the sense they were born with. The ones who collected scraps of lace and rubber bands. The ones who always washed and reused tin foil and had drawers and drawers full of those twisty-tie thingies and old packets of duck sauce from the 1980s. The wacky, aimless neighbor who wore weird hats and jogging suits with appliques. Yep. All Bertie needed were a few homeless cats or twenty and a talking parakeet on her shoulder.

  “So you grabbed the guy and kissed him. Who wouldn’t?” Gary said as he used a box cutter to cut the plastic from another roll of fabric and inspected the contents. She and Gary had been working like dogs all week on the renovations. Bertie had only three weeks to finish and the pressure was building.

  “I know. That’s the problem. Everyone wants to kiss the guy or, in Jo Ellen’s case, do him in the back of her pink pick-up. I’m his designer. I’m supposed to be working with him, not trying to find a way to work under him. I’m not supposed to be fantasizing about his muscular, tan arms and his rock-hard chest.” Or the way he freaked over his daughter and how he tried to be a good father. That part got Bertie every time.

  Of course, Keith being gorgeous and totally edible didn’t hurt, but Bertie was more drawn to his human side. The side where he panicked and made rash decisions and then regretted it. The side where he didn’t believe in himself or his parenting skills. The tough, competitive, professional tennis player who had it all—including gobs of money—struggled with mundane things, like how much TV he should allow his daughter to watch or at what age should she be allowed to shave her legs. Bertie found his vulnerability and uncertainty to be way sexier than his thick hair and piercing dark eyes.