by Olivia Miles
She swallowed, not wanting him to go but not knowing what else she could say about that, either. “I’ll see you later,” Bridget said, watching him walk back toward the dock that led up to the house, hating the tug of disappointment that lingered in her chest.
She pulled her book out and opened it to where her bookmark had last been placed, but she didn’t read any of the words. Instead she looked out to the sea, at the very view Jack had just been staring at, and wondered if he might come down again around dinnertime…
Chapter Nine
Margo had asked for a meeting on Friday morning, and with only a bit of trepidation, Bridget agreed. The wedding was quickly approaching, and she felt lucky to have reserved one large tent and enough to house the fifty-guest figure Margo had mentioned on such short notice. Hopefully it would force Margo to stick to that number.
Abby was already sitting with Margo at their favorite corner table at Angie’s Café, sipping coffee and pointing excitedly to something on her notepad. Margo looked up as Bridget approached with a look of amusement. “Abby’s already planned the menu.”
Bridget felt something in her stomach knot. She knew that Abby was excited about this. Now. But there was no predicting how she’d feel in a week or two. Bridget would feel a lot better about Margo’s wedding if they were hiring outside caterers.
“Are you sure you want to take this on, Abby?” she said, as she sat down. “It’s your sister’s wedding. Don’t you want to be a guest, not work the event?”
“You’ll be working the event,” Abby countered.
“Yes, but most of the work I’ll be doing is in preparation for the wedding. By the time it starts, the job will really shift to the catering.” And if Abby was handling that, no doubt, Bridget would have to pitch in, too.
“Not necessarily,” Abby said. “I’ve come up with an idea for heavy hors d’oeuvres by station. Everything could be set up in advance, and since the weather is still mild, we won’t have to worry about anything spoiling.”
Bridget glanced at Margo, who seemed surprisingly on board with this suggestion, and looked at the notes Abby had on the table. She had to agree that this was a good idea—in theory.
She looked up at Margo. “It’s your decision. Your big day.”
“Abby did a great job with the Carrington wedding,” Margo said. She grinned. “If you want to take this on, Abby, I won’t stop you. God knows it will save a lot of money!”
True, all true. Still, Margo didn’t see the sides of Abby that Bridget did. She had been living her own life in South Carolina, unaware of the endless stream of bad choices their youngest sister had made over the years, hopping from one job to the next, living day by day, without a plan.
Bridget literally tensed at the thought of it.
“Angie is going to make the cake,” Margo announced, to Bridget’s relief. “And for the dress…” Here she turned to them both, her eyes wide and a little hesitant. “I was wondering how you both felt about me maybe wearing Mom’s dress.”
Mom’s dress. Bridget had almost forgotten it, and the endless afternoons that she and her sisters would spend in the attic as children, dressing up and standing before the full-length mirror, each taking a turn to play bride while the others were given roles like maid of honor or, often times for Abby, flower girl.
Their mother’s dress was a classic. White satin with capped sleeves and a sweetheart neckline with a bodice that pinched at the waist and then flared out into a ball gown. A row of buttons down the back didn’t disguise a zipper; no, those buttons were the real deal, and the girls would take hours pinching them through the holes, delighting in the finished product.
“I don’t want to step on any toes,” Margo continued. “We all loved that dress and we all have a right to it, and well, we’re all single.”
Gee, thanks, Bridget thought.
“And well, I didn’t know if either of you had your heart set on it, for when you have your day.”
Bridget pinched her lips, holding back the tug in her heart from registering on her face. She didn’t dare think of another wedding day—or a real wedding, at that. She’d had her time. She’d had a family. She had a child. She was a mother now. That was her role. Not bride. Not even wife. It was just…reality.
“You should wear the dress,” Bridget said firmly. “In fact, it’s still in storage, and I even had it cleaned before we redid the attic.”
Margo’s face lit up. “Can I come by and try it on soon?”
“Of course,” Bridget grinned. She swept her eyes over her sister’s lean figure. “But it should fit. You’re even the same height as Mom.” Both were five foot five, whereas Bridget was an inch taller, and Abby was an inch shorter.
“The middle child in every way,” Margo grinned.
“I wish Mom and Dad could be here for this,” Bridget said, wishing when she saw the hurt in both of her sisters’ eyes that she had kept that sentiment to herself.
“They’re here in spirit,” Margo said, blinking quickly. “It’s our family home. And with how we’re all pulling together, it’s a family wedding.”
Abby tapped her notepad triumphantly, and Bridget hid her concern the best she could. It was a family wedding. But as usual, it would be on Bridget to see to it that it was a success.
***
Jack didn’t look up from his screen until close to dinnertime that night, alerted by the rumbling in his stomach and the sounds of other guests opening and closing their doors.
He looked at his word count. A lot to go but…not bad. If he kept up like this, he might just pull it off. If he kept it up…Familiar panic rolled through him, and he closed his laptop and stood, not wanting to think about it anymore.
He grabbed his room key and wallet and closed the door behind him. From the base of the stairs he could hear male and female voices, discussing dinner options, before closing the front door of the house behind them.
He went downstairs, knowing it would be too much to expect a second invitation to dinner, and wishing it wasn’t. But instead of finding Bridget in the lobby or dining room, he saw her daughter instead, in the back conservatory, poised over a notebook, pencil in hand.
“You seem to be working hard,” he observed, daring to steal a look at the notebook she had spread open before her.
“I have a homework assignment. On the weekend!” She said this as if it were the single most absurd thing she had ever heard in her life.
“Well, what’s the assignment?” He tried not to smile at the stern look on her face.
“I have to write a story.”
A story? He perked up at this. “Oh? What’s yours about?”
“It’s about my Mimi’s cat. Mimi is my mommy’s grandma,” she explained. “And her cat got lost.”
“Was lost? Or is lost?” God, listen to him. He sounded like such an adult. When did that happen? Last time he checked, adults didn’t order takeout seven nights a week and frequently not bother to make their beds. Adults didn’t stare at a blank computer screen instead of doing their job for months on end either. At least his own father hadn’t. His father was an accountant. A numbers man. And Jack had been…a disappointment. Well, at least until he started earning real money for his work.
“He is lost!” Emma blinked rapidly and her chin began to wobble and something in Jack just turned to mush.
He dropped into a nearby chair. “Well. Let’s take a look at this story. I happen to be very good at writing stories,” he reassured her when she looked up at him skeptically.
“Really? Okay!”
He took the notebook she handed to him and began reading. “My Mimi’s cat is very fat. And very spoiled too. This is probably why Mimi named him Pudgie.”
Oh dear. He cleared his throat and turned his back slightly from the little girl, so she wouldn’t see he was actually choking down laughter.
When he’d composed himself, he continued. “Pudgie likes to climb the drapes and wander the halls. Pudgie does not like my Aunt Margo. On
e time he scratched her and he hisses at her too.”
He looked up and raised an eyebrow. “Is this true?”
Emma nodded solemnly. “Margo doesn’t like that cat.”
He turned the page. “Now Pudgie is gone and Mimi can’t stop crying and everyone is sad. I am sad too.”
Well, crap. Now Emma was crying.
Jack stood, bewildered, not sure what to do. He didn’t grow up with his half-sister and he never spent time with younger children, especially as an adult. Did she need a hug? A pat on the head?
He looked around desperately for Bridget, not sure what she’d make of this. He’d made her child cry. Damn it.
“That’s a great story!” he said. “But I bet we could make it even more exciting. You want to know how?”
Emma nodded, but continued crying into her hands.
Jack licked his lips. “Well, this is supposed to be a story, meaning you could make up parts. I think you could talk about Pudgie’s adventure. I bet he’s having one, after all.”
Emma sniffed and looked up at him, her blue eyes watery and her cheeks pink. “Really?”
“Of course!” Jack said. “He’s taking a big adventure right now. Exploring…maybe he chased a mouse!”
Emma giggled. “Maybe he climbed a tree!” She grabbed her notepad and turned to a fresh page, where she started scribbling something. “I’m going to call my story Pudgie’s Big Adventure!” She held up the paper to show him, and Jack didn’t know if he should point out that “adventure” was misspelled or leave it be. He decided to say nothing.
“I’m going to have him follow a mouse up a tree! Then, in the tree, he could meet another cat! And fall in love!”
Jack stifled a groan. Did it always come back to this? Boy meets girl?
He looked up at that moment to see Bridget standing in the doorway, her eyes soft with appreciation.
Yes, he thought to himself, he supposed it always did come back to this.
***
Bridget wasn’t sure what she was more surprised by, that Jack seemed to be so engaged with her child, or just how much she had wished for a scene like this. A father figure for Emma, right here, in her home.
There was no denying the fact that Emma had a father. Ryan was usually good for his every other weekend visits, but more often than not, something came up for work and he had to cancel or reschedule. But it was the day to day moments, the routine of things as simple as bedtime stories and takeout meals that Ryan was missing.
“Emma was telling me that your grandmother’s cat has gone missing.”
Bridget blew out a breath, nodding. “Pudgie.” That name was so ridiculous. “Yes, he is the apple of Mimi’s eye. I’m afraid she’s very upset.”
“How long has he been gone?”
“Since Tuesday,” Bridget said, thinking that this really wasn’t looking so good anymore. “Everyone at Serenity Hills is looking for it.”
“Serenity Hills?”
“Oh, the nursing home where she lives,” Bridget explained. She shrugged. “All we can do is hope. I don’t see how he could have gotten out. And he’s so…”
“Spoiled!” Emma finished, laughing wildly.
Bridget couldn’t help but laugh, too. “Mimi adores that cat and she’d given him a very good life. He has every motivation to come back to her.” Which was what made it so strange that he was staying away for so long…
“I’m going to take her to The Lantern tonight to cheer her up,” Bridget continued. “Speaking of that, Emma, you had better go change into your ballet outfit so we’re not late for class. And bring a change of clothes. Daddy will be picking you up straight from the studio to take you to the movies.” The plan had been in place all week, but Bridget couldn’t help but hold her breath, waiting for a text or call to inform her that Ryan was busy at the restaurant and couldn’t make it.
“The Lantern?” Jack asked, when Emma scampered out of the room.
“My Uncle Chip’s restaurant. My sisters and I take our grandmother there once in a while. Chip was my mother’s brother, but he’s still like family to Mimi.”
Jack’s smile seemed sad. “Another family dinner, then.”
Bridget wasn’t sure if this was a hint at an invitation, but Jack didn’t seem like the indirect sort. “We try. It’s not always easy with our busy lives. If you like clam chowder, no one serves it better than Uncle Chip,” she said, hating the edge of hope that lilted her voice.
“I might give it a try then,” he said, backing out of the room as another guest emerged.
Bridget bit back a wave of impatience. Room Six was already becoming a bit high maintenance. Honestly, who ran through two bars of soap in one day?
“Well, I might see you later then,” Jack said.
She nodded, and smiled long after he had gone, hoping that she would, until the stern gaze of the sixty-something Room Six guest forced her attention elsewhere, where she did her best to keep her smile polite and hospitable, even though her mind was racing with anything but professional thoughts.
Chapter Ten
Abby had spent the day experimenting with new recipes: the brioche French toast had been delicious, the vegetarian quiche not so much. Salt, she decided, as she sat down across from her grandmother and sisters at what had become their signature table at The Lantern, reserved just for them each time they came, which was about once a month, sometimes more. The quiche definitely needed more salt, but something else, too…
A good, sharp cheddar. Or feta. She’d try both, she decided. Still, given her budget and her current financial situation, she’d be living off the rather bland quiche for the next few days. Worse things had happened!
“Mimi, I have some good news,” Margo said with a smile that almost seemed a little nervous. She held her hands together, her right hand covering the beautiful engagement ring that now resided on her left ring finger.
“You found Pudgie?” The joy in Mimi’s face was heartbreaking, and the sisters exchanged worried glances.
“No…” Margo bit her lip, frowning. “I’m sorry, Mimi, not yet. But…I’m getting married.”
Mimi frowned. “I thought you were married.”
Oh dear. It was happening more and more, instances where Mimi was confused. She was always mixing Abby and Margo up, based solely on their similar hair color, and then there was the string of events that led to her having to move into Serenity Hills in the first place, the final straw being the time she left the stove burner on, which was discovered by Bridget when she stopped by to check in.
“I was married,” Margo said slowly. She widened her eyes to Abby, then Bridget, for help, but what could they say? “But Ash and I…aren’t married anymore.”
Mimi folded her arms in her lap. “So two of my granddaughters are divorced then,” she said loudly, causing the patrons of the nearby tables to turn to look at them.
Bridget fluttered her lashes and lifted her wine glass to take a long sip.
“Well, I’m getting remarried. To Eddie Boyd.”
Surely Mimi knew Eddie. Not only was he the town sheriff, but he was also Margo’s high school sweetheart.
“Well, it’s about time! You two were so sweet together back in high school,” Mimi explained, cracking her first real smile all week. “When is it?”
“Two weeks from tomorrow,” Margo said.
“Two weeks!” Mimi shrieked, again drawing the attention of other customers.
“It’s a small gathering. At home,” Margo explained. Her smile looked a bit forced, as if she had somehow expected this all to go a little differently.
“At the inn,” Bridget added, lest there be any confusion.
“And I get to cater the event!” Abby said, which seemed to make everyone’s smile slip, just a bit. She shifted in her seat uncomfortably, all her old insecurities flooding back. With a shaking hand, she took a sip of wine, trying to restore her courage. She would show them. She thought she had once, but this time…she’d be sure.
“So i
t’s a celebration of sorts,” Bridget said, giving Margo a kind smile, and despite all the frustration Abby had built up for her sister, in moments like these, when Bridget stepped up and did whatever she could to please everyone else, she couldn’t help but love her.
And maybe, miss her mother more than ever.
I’m going to make you proud, Mom, Abby silently pledged. This time she meant it, this time she would.
And it started with making Bridget proud. Because without her oldest sister’s support, Abby couldn’t help but feel like all her dreams were hopeless.
***
Jack pushed through the door of The Lantern, immediately taken in by the nautical theme and the cheerful din. The bar was to his right, and he walked over to it. In New York, he was used to eating alone, but here, in this small town, he felt out of place and conspicuous.
“What can I get you?” a guy behind the counter asked.
“I’ll take whatever’s on tap,” Jack said, picking up a menu.
A moment later the man slid him a draft. “The name’s Chip. Let me know what I can get you and I’ll be sure you’re taken care of.”
“Chip. Bridget’s uncle, right?”
Chip’s grin showed that he was pleased by the connection. “That’s right. You know my niece?”
“I’m staying at the inn,” Jack said, but even as he said it, he knew that there was more to it, and he sensed that this Chip fellow did, too.
He did know Bridget. Or he was starting to. And it had been a long time since he’d gotten to know anyone. Or let anyone in.
And he wasn’t so sure how to feel about that.
“Ah, well, if I know Bridget she’s giving you the royal treatment then.” Chip’s eyes gleamed when he spoke of his niece, and Jack couldn’t blame him. She was a nice woman. Smart. Pretty. Driven.
