Paige and Aaron were in the kitchen with Celia when Rachel joined them. Excited about their beloved great-grandmother’s imminent arrival, they were both chattering like magpies, making Celia laugh at their enthusiasm.
“Why don’t the two of you go outside and play for a while?” Rachel suggested. “It’s a beautiful afternoon and you need to work off some of this energy.”
“It sure would be a great day to swing,” Aaron hinted broadly. “I bet I could almost touch the sky if we had a swing set.”
Rachel rolled her eyes. “Yes, Aaron, I know you want a swing set. You’ve only hinted about it a few thousand times now. But today you’ll have to be content with your other toys. Now, scoot.”
“You’ll call us when Granny Fran gets here?” Paige demanded on her way out.
“I promise,” Rachel assured her.
She closed the door behind the children, then turned to find Celia looking at her with a quizzical expression.
“What?” Rachel asked.
“The kids told me that Seth Fletcher had dinner here last night.”
Rachel gave a mental groan at the unnecessary reminder of something she’d been trying unsuccessfully to put out of her mind all morning. That kiss, for example. And the dreams that had followed it.
“It was business,” she said a bit too brusquely. “I’d better baste the ham. It smells good, doesn’t it?” She opened the oven door, carefully avoiding her sister’s eyes.
“Business?” Celia repeated, sounding skeptical. “What kind of business?”
“Celia, the man is my attorney. That’s all.”
“Hey, come on, Rach. I saw the way he looked at you in your office the other day. It was more than professional interest.”
Rachel did groan then. So Celia, too, had found Seth’s behavior curious. So much for pretending she’d only imagined it.
“He seemed very nice,” Celia offered. “And you have to admit he’s great looking. That smile...”
“He’s too young,” Rachel muttered.
“He’s a full-grown male, Rachel. A couple of years’ difference in your ages doesn’t change that.”
“He’s...cocky,” Rachel added, blushing at her own inanity.
Celia laughed. “Aren’t they all?”
Rachel sighed, closed the oven door and turned to face her sister. “I’m just not ready to start dating again, Celia.”
Celia’s smile faded. She reached out and took Rachel’s hands in her own. “Honey, it’s been three years,” she said gently. “It’s time.”
“Even if it is,” Rachel murmured through a tight throat, “I wouldn’t pick someone like Seth. He’s too...too...”
“Too dangerous?”
Startled by Celia’s choice of description, and the confidence with which she’d said it, Rachel shook her head. “I’m not sure I know what you mean.”
Celia’s smile, this time, held a wealth of understanding. “I mean that Seth is the type of man who could make a woman do something foolish. Make her forget to be cautious and controlled. A woman might even be tempted to fall in love with a man like that.”
A ripple of pain coursed through Rachel in response to the word. “I’ve been in love,” she whispered. “It hurts too badly when it ends, however it ends.”
Celia’s hands tightened around Rachel’s fingers. “I’m sorry, Rachel. I didn’t mean to upset you like this,” she said contritely. “I only thought...”
Seeing the distress in Celia’s blue eyes, Rachel made an effort to shake off her moodiness, which she blamed on tension and lack of sleep. “Look at us, standing here wasting time when there’s so much to be done. Do me a favor and make a pot of coffee while I cut up a salad, will you? You know how addicted Adam is to his coffee.”
“I also know that he thinks I make the worst coffee in history,” Celia said, more cheerful now.
“Oh, that’s right, he does. Maybe I’d better make it.”
Celia laughed and reached for the coffeemaker. “Don’t you dare. Making Adam drink my coffee is one of my most cherished pleasures.”
“You’re a wicked woman, Celia Carson.”
Celia sighed gustily. “Yeah, right. Wicked Saint Celia.”
Which, of course, reminded Rachel of Celia’s date with the dashing Damien Alexander. It worried her a bit that Celia was very evasive in response to questioning during the next ten minutes. Celia finally, firmly, changed the subject by asking about the children’s schoolwork. Rachel went along only because she didn’t want to tempt Celia to turn the interrogation back to her own complex relationship—or lack of one—with Seth Fletcher.
* * *
The doorbell rang less than half an hour later. Celia went to answer it while Rachel hastily wiped her children’s hands and faces with a dampened dish towel and straightened the bow in Paige’s hair. Deeming them ready for greeting company, she led them into the living room.
The children broke away immediately to descend upon the tiny, gray-haired woman standing in the middle of the room. “Granny Fran! Granny Fran!”
Their great-grandmother gathered them into her arms. “Paige! Aaron! Goodness, how you’ve both grown.”
Rachel couldn’t help laughing. “It’s only been a month since you last saw them.”
Her grandmother smiled over the children’s heads. “I know. But they seem to have grown a foot apiece.”
Rachel kissed her grandmother’s soft cheek, inhaling the familiar scent of jasmine. “Did you have a nice drive?”
“It only took two hours,” Frances replied. “Adam’s new car is quite comfortable.”
“I usually make the drive from Malvern to Percy in an hour and a half,” Adam said dryly. “Gran wouldn’t let me drive above fifty.”
Rachel turned to speak to her cousin, who had been talking to Celia while the others exchanged greetings. She had to rise on tiptoe to kiss Adam’s hard, lean cheek. “I’m glad you were able to fit us into your busy schedule,” she joked. “Did you have a nice drive?”
“She chewed my butt all the way here,” Adam murmured ruefully. “Seems she’s gotten the idea that I need taking down a peg or two.”
Rachel laughed softly.
“And so you do,” Frances informed Adam, proving that her hearing was as sharp as it had ever been.
Adam didn’t even bother to look abashed. There was a softness in his dark eyes when he smiled at his grandmother that Rachel never saw there at any other time. Dr. Adam Stone was not a soft man in any sense of the word. Brilliant, capable and reliable, he could also be arrogant, demanding and temperamental. At thirty-eight, he was tall and fit, his dark hair just showing a touch of silver at the temples, his skin firm, tanned and unlined except for shallow creases around his eyes and mouth. His nose had a very faint bump that was the result of his childhood fall from Granny Fran’s apple tree. Rachel had often wondered why the talented plastic surgeon hadn’t bothered to have that minor flaw corrected. He certainly would have encouraged his patients to do so!
Celia—who was one of the two people in the world Adam could never intimidate, Granny Fran being the other—cocked her head and looked at her older cousin with an impish grin. “Well? Did it work?”
“Did what work?” he asked indulgently.
“Did she take you down a peg or two or are you still on a royal high horse?”
Adam frowned. “I think you’ve mixed a few metaphors.”
“Which means you aren’t going to answer, right?”
“I never respond to mixed metaphors,” he said gravely.
“Well, I’ll answer,” Frances said with a shake of her head. “The lecture didn’t help a bit. The boy’s still as cocky as ever.”
Celia giggled and glanced at Rachel. “Aren’t they all,” she murmured, repeating the words she’d used earlier in reference to Seth.
Rachel sent Celia a look of mild warning and turned back to her houseguest. “I’ve made the guest room ready for you, Granny Fran. I want you to be sure and tell me if you need
anything at all while you’re here. Adam, you’ll carry her bags into the guest room, won’t you?”
“It will be my pleasure,” he said with a touch of irony. “Celia, you’d better show me the way. I’m not sure I remember which room is which.”
“We’re having glazed ham and angel biscuits for dinner,” Rachel told him, knowing those were two of his favorites.
“And broccoli-rice casserole?” he asked, slanting a smile at Celia.
Celia laughed. “Of course.”
“Pecan pie for dessert,” Rachel added tantalizingly. “With ice cream, if you like.”
He sighed. “For all that, I’d almost paint the guest room.”
Celia snorted. “You’ve never held a paintbrush in your life.”
“Okay, so I’d hire someone to paint the guest room,” Adam amended, following her out of the room. “Same thing.”
Frances had been holding a colorful shopping bag. She offered it to Paige. “There’s a gift for you and one for Aaron in here.”
The children thanked her promptly and then pounced on the bag. Rachel placed an arm around her grandmother’s shoulders and led her out of the room, leaving the children to exclaim over their gifts. “Would you like a cup of tea?” she asked as they entered the kitchen. “Or Celia made coffee.”
“Celia made coffee?” Frances repeated. At Rachel’s nod, Frances cleared her throat and said, “I think I’ll have tea.”
Rachel laughed. “Good choice.” She filled the teakettle and set it on a back burner of her electric stove. “Have a seat. It’ll just take a minute.”
Frances took a chair at the heavy oak kitchen table, but asked, “Are you sure there’s nothing I can do to help with dinner?”
“No, everything’s almost ready.” Rachel pulled out another chair and sat close to her grandmother. “Cody will be joining us for dinner. He had a golf game this afternoon, but he promised he’d come here directly from the country club.”
“That boy and his golf. I think he’ll be golfing on Judgment Day.”
“Most likely,” Rachel agreed.
“I’m glad he’s coming. It will be nice having all my grandchildren together for dinner. It’s been a while.”
“Yes, it has, hasn’t it? I wish Mom and Dad were here.”
“I talked to them yesterday. Bill still seems to be content with his work in Saint Louis. And I think your mother finally feels at home there, after almost six years.”
“It was a hard adjustment for her,” Rachel agreed. “After living in central Arkansas all her life, it wasn’t easy to pick up and move when she was almost fifty. But it has been a good move for Dad. He seems to really enjoy working with the mental health center there.”
Bill Carson was a psychologist. He’d worked for the Arkansas health system for years before accepting the position in Saint Louis. Now, at fifty-six—with several years remaining until retirement age—he still enjoyed the challenges of his work. His wife, Evelyn, a year younger than her husband, hadn’t been as excited about the career move, since it had meant leaving her children and grandchildren.
At the time of the move, Celia had just entered her senior year of high school. She had been so upset at the thought of leaving her friends only months before graduation that she’d moved in with Rachel and Ray during that final year of school. Rachel had enjoyed having her younger sister in the household. Celia and Ray had gotten along well, and Celia had been a lot of help with Paige, who’d been just a baby at the time. That experience had left Rachel feeling even more responsible for her younger sister than ever, which explained her intense concern about Celia’s involvement with Damien Alexander.
“Speaking of the rest of the family,” Rachel said, “how’s Aunt Arlene?”
A slight frown creased Frances’s brow. “The same as always,” she said with a sigh. “Always suffering some imaginary illness, always complaining about one thing or another, always calling on poor Adam to drop everything and rush to take care of her, and then throwing a hissy fit when he can’t make time for her.”
“‘Poor Adam’ is quite capable of standing up for himself, even from his mother,” Rachel said.
“I suppose,” Frances agreed wistfully. “I swear, that daughter of mine is enough to try the patience of a saint.”
Rachel hoped her grandmother wasn’t comparing Adam to a saint! That would be stretching things. She prudently bit her tongue.
Two years older than her brother, Rachel’s father, Arlene Carson Stone had never gotten over her resentment at being widowed young. Though her husband had left her financially secure, with enough money to raise her son in pampered luxury and a firmly established place in Little Rock society, she had spent the thirty years since his death bemoaning her fate in being left to raise her “poor, fatherless child” alone.
She had called Rachel nearly every day for months after Ray’s death to compare their situations and cry buckets of tears over their shared misfortune. Rachel had made herself a firm promise during that time that she would never give in to public self-pity, and that she would never allow herself to become as emotionally dependent on others as Arlene had been since her own husband’s death.
“So, tell me, Rachel,” Frances said, suddenly changing the subject. “What’s been going on in your life? I hope you’re taking more time for yourself lately.”
Rachel stood and busied herself preparing her grandmother’s tea. “I’ve been rather busy with the business lately. But I take time off with the children occasionally. We drove into Little Rock just last week to visit the children’s museum.”
Frances didn’t look particularly impressed. “But what about yourself? Have you done anything just for fun? Are you seeing anyone new?”
What was it with everyone lately, urging her to have fun and to start dating again? Rachel wondered in silent exasperation. They acted as though she were still Celia’s age, rather than a mature woman of thirty-one. “No, Granny Fran, I’m not seeing anyone,” she said, sternly ignoring an unbidden mental image of a green-eyed, sexy-smiled attorney.
The front doorbell provided another welcome distraction. “That must be Cody,” Rachel said, leaping gratefully on the change of subject. “I’ll go let him in. And I’ll send everyone else to join you in the dining room now.”
As she’d expected, Rachel saw her brother’s face through the tiny, diamond-shaped window in her front door. “You’re just in time to eat,” she said. “I’ve just sent everyone in to sit—”
She stopped abruptly at the sudden realization that Cody hadn’t arrived alone. Seth Fletcher stood behind him, smiling blandly.
“I hope you don’t mind,” Cody said in a mischievous murmur. “I brought a friend.”
Chapter Five
Seth spoke before Rachel had a chance to say anything. “Actually, our golf game took longer than we’d expected. I’m just dropping him off here. He assured me someone would take him home later.”
He wanted to make it clear that he wasn’t inviting himself to her home when she was entertaining her family. He was planning a pursuit of her, but he would try not to cross the boundaries of common courtesy while doing so.
“Come in and meet my grandmother before you go, Seth,” Cody urged his friend. “You’ll like her. She’s cool.”
Seth shook his head and took a step backward. “No, I don’t want to intrude on your family. I’ll meet her another time.”
“Don’t be silly, Seth. You aren’t intruding. There’s plenty of food and an extra place at the table. Please join us for dinner,” Rachel urged, sounding invitingly sincere.
He hesitated, searching her face for any sign that she would rather he leave. Was it only good manners urging her to ask him in, or did she really want him to stay? As much as he wanted it to be the latter, he was afraid to get his hopes up too much.
She reached out and took his arm, pulling him inside. “Come in,” she repeated with a smile.
She dropped his hand immediately after he stepped through the door
, but now he was smiling, too, encouraged by her actions. Okay, so maybe she was only being polite; he’d settle for that.
She was wearing her hair down, again. The thick, dark mane gleamed in the light and rippled around her shoulders when she moved. He itched to bury his hands in it; it had been all he could manage not to do so last night. He’d resisted only because he hadn’t wanted to take advantage of her when she’d called on him to help her. She was wearing casual clothing again today, a navy-and-white striped tunic sweater with navy stirrup pants and navy flats. The outfit emphasized her slender build and long legs; he liked it. But then, he’d have liked anything that didn’t resemble those keep-your-distance suits she usually wore.
He was wearing jeans again, and a white sweatshirt with a screen print of a golfer on the front. She probably thought he didn’t own a suit. He did, of course. Two of them. He just didn’t wear them unless it was absolutely necessary.
She’d turned back to him and was looking at him with a polite, impersonal, gracious-hostess-to-welcome-guest smile that annoyed him a little. “Everyone’s waiting in the dining room,” she said. “I hope you like glazed ham.”
Cody laughed, his blue eyes glinting with amusement. “Take my word for it, Rach, there is nothing this guy won’t eat. He’s got an appetite like Godzilla.”
Rachel lifted an eyebrow and glanced at Seth’s slim waistline. “I find that hard to believe,” she said.
“He’s got the metabolism of a race car, apparently,” Cody teased. “He burns off calories faster than he consumes them.”
Rachel sighed enviously. “It must be nice.”
Embarrassed by the attention, Seth cleared his throat and motioned toward the dining room. “After you, ma’am.”
He noticed that Cody seemed to be watching him rather intently as they followed Rachel to the dining room. Seth had been very careful not to say much about Rachel during the golf game. Now he suspected that he hadn’t been as successful as he’d hoped at masking his growing interest in Cody’s sister.
A Man for Mom Page 6
