“I guess not,” Bobby conceded grudgingly.
Inspiration struck. “I have an idea,” Sam said. “Davey went to this school. I’ll bet his mom knows all the teachers. Want to go by the bookstore and Shanna can tell you all about her?”
Bobby nodded eagerly. Anything to delay the inevitable, apparently.
“Okay, we’ll do that first.”
“And then lunch at Sally’s?” Bobby wheedled. “I’d probably feel better after a grilled cheese sandwich.”
Sam nodded. “But after lunch we come straight back here and get you registered. Deal?”
Bobby clearly realized it was the best deal he was likely to get. “I guess,” he said eventually.
Sam started the car and drove into town. Five minutes later, he’d explained the situation to Shanna. “So, do you happen to know the first-grade teacher?”
Shanna’s expression brightened. “You bet I do. Her name is Amy Pennington.”
“Is she mean?” Bobby asked, trepidation in his voice.
“No way. She’s very nice. She’s been here for a very long time.” She sat down on one of the low chairs in the children’s section right next to Bobby, then leaned in to confide, “You know who she reminds me of?”
“Who?” Bobby asked.
“Mrs. Claus.”
Bobby’s eyes went wide. “Santa’s wife?”
Shanna nodded, a smile tugging at her lips. “Don’t ever tell her I said that, though. Here, I’ll show you.” She pulled a Christmas picture book from a nearby shelf and flipped through the pages, then pointed. “There you go. You wait till you meet Mrs. Pennington and then tell me if I’m right.”
Bobby giggled, and Sam’s heart filled with a mix of emotions he couldn’t quite identify. Happiness at the sound, to be sure, and relief, but it was more than that. He felt a tiny bit like a dad who’d faced a monumental hurdle and somehow gotten over it just right.
“Thanks, Shanna,” he said as Bobby scampered off to choose a new book for his collection.
“Not a problem. I’m so glad you thought to bring him here.” She gave him a reassuring look. “You might want to remember that you won’t always have all the answers when it comes to your kids, but knowing when to ask for help and where to go to get it is sometimes just as important.”
“How about bribing him with the promise of lunch at Sally’s? Is that as smart?”
She laughed. “Sometimes you have to wing it and do whatever it takes to get the job done. Just don’t back down once you’re back at the school. Remind him he made a deal with you and hold him to it.”
Sam sighed. “Does it ever get any easier?”
“You’ve been at this for what, a month maybe? I’ve been at this parenting thing for a whole lot of years now. I’ll let you know when I finally start to see easy.” Her expression sobered. “Of course, it helps that I have Kevin right there to pick up the slack. You could always ask Carrie for backup.”
“I’m already relying on her a lot, maybe even too much,” he said. “I don’t want to take advantage of her. I gather she’s still recovering from the last jerk in her life who did just that.”
Shanna looked surprised. “She told you about Marc?”
“Enough that I understand why she’s gun-shy about getting involved with anyone else she perceives could be using her.”
“Recognizing that just proves you’re a thousand times more sensitive than he was. You have my stamp of approval, for whatever that’s worth.” She gave him a long look. “Just don’t ever force me to admit that I was wrong about you. I hate being wrong.”
He laughed. “Most people do. And I’ll do my best not to hurt Carrie. That’s a promise.”
She nodded. “Good enough for me.”
Sam looked around for Bobby and found him absorbed in a book he’d chosen. “Come on, kiddo. Let’s pay for that and grab some lunch.”
Bobby jumped up and headed for the register. Sam paid Shanna for the book. “I owe you a lot more than this for the advice.”
“Nope. That was on the house.” She grinned at Bobby. “Remember what I said about Mrs. Pennington. That’s just between us.”
Sam thought of Carrie’s secret that Bobby had inadvertently blurted out all too recently. “You might not want to count on that,” he warned Shanna.
She shrugged. “I’ll recommend her to Bree for this year’s Christmas production. Amy will be so flattered she’ll thank me for making the comparison.”
“Do you have a positive spin for everything?”
“I do these days,” she replied cheerfully. “That’s what a happy marriage will do for you. You might keep that in mind.”
“So Mick’s not the only meddler in the family,” he said wryly.
“He’s just the tip of the iceberg,” she confirmed.
For some reason that didn’t bother Sam half as much as it probably should.
* * *
“Dinner with Trace and me tonight!” Abby declared in a brief, but pointed voice mail.
Carrie listened to her mom’s message and recognized a command when she heard it.
Sighing, she returned the call. “Are you cooking?” she asked when Abby picked up.
Her mom chuckled. “What do you think? I know my food’s never going to lure you over here. Jess is sending over a roasted chicken, red bliss mashed potatoes, veggies and the inn’s chocolate decadence cake.”
“Wow! Is this a big occasion?”
“It is if one of my daughters is coming for dinner after a long absence,” Abby said.
“I just saw you at the inn,” Carrie protested.
“Two weeks ago. And you haven’t seen Trace for even longer, to say nothing of your little brother. We miss you, sweetheart.”
Since she knew she’d been deliberately avoiding them, Carrie could hardly deny that her absence had gone on too long. “What time?”
“Dinner will be at seven, but come whenever you’re ready.” There was a slight pause before her mother added, “Anyone you’d like to bring along?”
There it was, Carrie thought triumphantly. The ulterior motive. “So this isn’t really about catching up with me. It’s about Sam. You want to check him out.”
“I thought it might be nice for his nephew to get to know Patrick,” her mother contradicted.
“I’m sure it would be, but I am not bringing Sam within ten miles of anyone in this family just yet. O’Briens tend to get ideas and then try to ram them down the throats of innocent people.”
“Have you ever known me to do such a thing?” Abby asked, an almost believable note of hurt in her voice.
“Only because I’ve never dated anyone seriously in Chesapeake Shores,” Carrie replied. “And because you don’t want me to accuse you of taking after your father.”
Abby laughed then. “Well, that’s true. Okay, come on your own. We’ll try to make do with just your company.”
“I’m so flattered. Love you, Mom.”
“Back at you. See you tonight.”
As soon as she’d disconnected the call, Carrie regretted not agreeing to bring Sam and Bobby along. At least they would have provided a very nice distraction from the night’s likely remaining mission: getting a fix on her plans for the future. She couldn’t help wondering how surprised they were going to be when she arrived with a written list of answers all prepared for them.
* * *
Carrie walked into the house that had been her home for most of her life just as her stepfather came down the stairs looking as if he’d just been for a swim fully clothed. She couldn’t seem to stop the grin spreading across her face.
“Did Patrick win the bath war?” she teased.
“Of course he did,” Trace said. “I’m not sure why your mother insists he take a bath when he’s spent the entire day swimming. Nor do I understand why a kid who’s a little fish from morning till night balks at getting into a bathtub.”
Carrie kissed his cheek. “Just to give you a rough time.”
“You a
nd your sister were never this impossible,” Trace said.
“Because we were your little angels,” Carrie replied sweetly. “And we wanted you and Mom to get back together, so we were always on our very best behavior.”
Her mother walked into the foyer just in time to overhear her. “I don’t recall any of that,” she said. “I recall bath times with protests at decibel levels that could have registered down the block. I recall two girls who ran away from home and scared the daylights out of me. I recall—”
Carrie laughed and cut her off. “Mom, you don’t need to recount all of our bad behavior. Let Trace have his illusions.”
Abby slipped an arm affectionately around Trace’s waist, then jerked away. “You’re soaking wet!”
“Thus the comparison of Patrick’s bath-time behavior to Cait’s and mine,” Carrie said. She glanced at Trace, then shook her head at his besotted expression as he stared at his wife. It had always been that way. Unlike her memories of her dad and the nonstop arguments, her memories of her mom and Trace were all colored by the absolute conviction that they loved each other and her and Caitlyn like crazy.
“Maybe I should go upstairs and check on my little brother,” she murmured and moved toward the stairs. “Is he supposed to be in bed or is he coming down here to have dinner with us?”
“He’ll join us,” Abby responded distractedly. “Trace, you need to get out of these wet clothes.”
“Anything you say,” he said, a wicked twinkle in his eyes as he reached for the buttons on his shirt.
“Not here,” Abby protested, but she was laughing. “Impossible man!”
Carrie laughed and left them to their flirting. That, she thought as she climbed the stairs, was what she wanted, a marriage in which the romance stayed alive. It was exactly as Bree, Shanna and Heather had suggested earlier.
She found her little brother, still damp and wearing nothing more than his favorite Spider-Man underpants, sitting on the floor playing with his LEGO. Her grandfather, who’d given Patrick the most expensive set he could find, claimed he was already seeing signs that Patrick would follow in his footsteps as an architect. Given the wobbling structure he was working on now, Carrie wasn’t so sure.
“Hey, bro,” she said, earning a glance and a grin.
“Did you bring me something?” he asked. Patrick was well aware that his big sisters were put on this earth to spoil him.
“Broccoli and spinach,” she replied, keeping her expression serious.
“Yuck!”
“That is no way to show your appreciation for a gift,” she admonished.
“Broccoli and spinach aren’t presents,” he replied reasonably.
“Oh, okay,” she grumbled. She reached into her purse and tossed him the bag of penny candy she’d brought.
His eyes lit up and he tore into the bag.
“Hold it! After dinner,” she said firmly. “Or Mom will kill us both.”
He giggled. “She told Grandpa Mick never, ever to bring candy into this house again.”
“Has he paid any attention to her?”
Patrick nodded. “He hides it outside, and then I go out and find it.”
A typically sneaky Grandpa Mick maneuver, Carrie concluded. She reached for the bag. “Then maybe, if you already have candy hidden away, you shouldn’t have this.”
“Yes, I should,” he said, tightening his grip. “It’s my present. You can’t take it back.”
“What have you got for me, then?”
He scrambled up and hugged her. “Thank you.”
She ruffled his strawberry blond hair, creating a halo of the curls he hated. “You’re welcome, peanut. Now put on your pj’s and come downstairs. We’ll be eating dinner soon. I hear there’s cake for dessert.”
That earned a fist pump. He searched through a drawer, tossing things on the floor, till he found a pair of pajamas he liked, then pulled them on. The top was inside out, but Carrie refrained from pointing that out. Even as a toddler her little brother had had a well-developed independent streak. It was only strengthening as he prepared to go off to preschool this year.
As they reached the top of the stairs, he gave her an impish grin. “Wanna race?”
Before she could reply, he’d perched on the banister and was flying down the railing. Carrie watched, heart in her throat, till he reached the bottom. She recognized for the first time how much her mom must have aged watching her and Cait test their limits.
As she followed her little brother downstairs using the actual steps, she spotted her mother waiting at the bottom.
“You know,” Abby said a little too casually, “if you’re going to open a day care, you’re going to have to keep a much closer eye on the kids.”
Carrie regarded her with shock. “Who said...? How did you...?”
“Word travels,” she said. “You should know that by now.”
“But I haven’t discussed this with anyone except Luke. He took a vow to keep it to himself.”
“And I didn’t hear about it from Luke.”
“Who then?”
“Does it matter? Is it true? Are you considering opening a day care?”
Carrie ignored the question, still trying to figure out where the leak had been. Then it hit her. Davey, of course. Sam had told her himself that Bobby had let it slip around the boys. Henry would never reveal a word, but Davey was a loose cannon.
“Have you spent any time with Kevin lately?” she inquired innocently.
A faint blush tinted her mother’s cheeks. “I’ve spoken to your uncle. Why?”
“Did he happen to pass along any tidbits of family gossip?”
Her mom frowned. “Okay, yes, but what I want to know is why my brother knew about this before I did?”
“He didn’t hear it from me, if that makes you feel any better,” Carrie said, and explained the likely scenario that led from Bobby to Davey to Kevin.
Abby laughed. “Oh, sweet heaven, if the next generation is starting this early spreading family gossip, we’ll never be able to keep another secret.”
She linked her arm through Carrie’s and led the way into the kitchen. “You can fill us in over dinner.”
Trace looked up. “Fill us in about what?”
“Carrie has decided what she wants to do with her life.”
Her stepfather’s gaze narrowed. “Does it involve going anywhere near that fashion designer?”
“Definitely not,” Carrie assured him.
“Okay, then. Whatever it is, I’m all for it.”
Carrie heard the unconditional support in his voice and felt her heart lift. She knew he meant every word. From the moment Trace had come into their lives, he’d been not only a devoted husband to her mom, but a steadying influence for her and Cait. He thought they were capable of anything. And, in part, because of that unwavering faith in them, they believed it, too.
13
“You have to understand that I’m just at the beginning stages of thinking this through,” Carrie told her mom and Trace after a bored Patrick had gone back to his room after dinner. “I don’t have all the details worked out. Or any of them, for that matter. I just have lists, a whole lot of very long lists.”
“You’ve always been a natural with kids,” Abby said, her expression thoughtful. “You know, there was a time when I thought you might want to go to medical school just like your sister and become a pediatrician.”
“Not me,” Carrie said at once. “The process takes way too long. You know how impatient I am. I couldn’t wait to get on with my life, even though I obviously didn’t know quite what I wanted that life to be. As for the whole medical thing, that’s Caitlyn’s passion.”
“And you think opening a day-care center could be yours?” Trace asked, studying her closely. “You honestly think you’ll be happy staying here and looking after kids? Kids, who aren’t your own, that is. I think your mother and I figured you’d be settled down with a whole brood by now.”
Carrie shrugged. “So did I,
but it hasn’t happened. I’m trying to find an alternative that will be a good fit, something I can be as excited about as Cait is about medicine.”
“It’s a big decision,” he reminded her, as if she weren’t already very well aware of that.
Carrie knew he was making his point only to be sure she wasn’t diving into something this demanding on a whim. Taking care of other people’s children was a huge responsibility. She’d seen that firsthand since she’d been working with Julie. And once she’d committed to it, it wasn’t something she could walk away from on yet another whim. People would be counting on her.
“I know it must seem as if this whole idea has come to me out of the blue and I can’t deny that a few months ago, it had never once crossed my mind,” she conceded.
“What happened?” Trace asked.
“You mean besides realizing that I was in a dead-end relationship and quitting my job with no prospects for another one?” she said dryly.
“Leaving Marc and that job were the smartest things you’d done in a while, if you ask me,” Trace told her, not even trying to hide the disdain he’d managed to mask while the relationship had been new and, she’d claimed, everything she’d ever wanted. “You were too good for him and that job wore you out. It didn’t make you happy.”
“I loved my job,” she protested. And at first Marc had been as attentive as she could possibly have wanted. It was only later that she’d realized that all that attention she’d basked in was nothing more than a jaded attempt to make sure she continued to do his bidding.
Trace regarded her skeptically. “Which part of the job made you want to jump out of bed in the morning? And before you answer, remember my history. I was dragged into banking by my father—a nice, stable career path I was supposedly destined to follow. It would have meant good money and stability for sure, but I hated every minute of it. It wasn’t until I convinced Dad that my sister was more suited to that career and I was free to continue with my design business that I was truly happy.” He gave her a long look. “So I know a little bit about how important it is to choose what you were truly meant to do and not let anyone or anything stand in your way.”
Carrie heard what he was saying. “Okay, it wasn’t the PR job I loved so much. It was Marc. You’re right about that. I wanted to impress him.” She shrugged. “And I happened to be good at public relations. There’s a lot to be said just for being good at what you do. Especially in that world, praise is seductive. And I wanted to do something that would make the family take notice and be proud of me.”
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