by Anna Adams
“Mom’s making your work difficult?” he asked.
Her hesitation softened his resentment. She could easily have ratted his mother out, but she only shrugged, her high ponytail snaking silkily across her shoulders. “She’s dithering. She wants to do the site right for you.”
“She never dithers. That day your mother and my father sneaked into Nan’s house, something woke up in my mom. She makes decisions with reckless abandon.”
Emma’s smile relaxed. “What’s reckless about her decisions?” she asked.
“She never looks back. Whatever happens, she lives with the consequences, but she doesn’t look for the right moment to make the right choice.”
“Sometimes the worst can happen while you’re waiting.”
He eyed her. “What are you saying?”
“I don’t know. Your mother makes me think differently after I deal with the way her brain works. My other jobs are beginning to suffer.”
Emma began to type so furiously, he wondered if she was forming real words. If she was trying to distance herself from him, she miscalculated. Her confusion made him curious, and the soft curve of her cheek, the elegant column of her throat, tickled by strands of dark ponytail curls, did not make him want to leave her alone.
“Don’t pander to her. Just give her an ultimatum. You’re doing me a favor, and she won’t want to waste your time.”
“I can’t accuse her of matchmaking any more plainly than I have, and she denies it.”
“I love her like a mom,” he said, with a smile to put Emma at her ease. “But the woman’s slippery. You have to be blunt.”
“You could stop accepting her crazy invitations.”
“There’s nothing crazy about a dryer element being burned out in an inn. I’ll give her credit for an actual emergency, but she chooses her moments to tell me when she needs help.”
Emma tugged at her shirt as if she were putting a business suit in order. All he saw was the panicked rate of her respirations. Emma closed her laptop and slid it into the quilted floral print bag she carried. Next, she flipped the pages on a thick, well-used notebook, filled with her loopy handwriting.
“I’m trying to help you,” he said.
“Help what?” His mother popped out of the utility room beyond the kitchen, hugging the dryer element close. “Emma, if you need a hand from Noah, we can always cut today short.”
“I don’t need anything from Noah.” Emma shoved the notebook in her bag, grimacing. “I’ll send you those answers you wanted. Then we’ll meet again at the library.”
With that, she stood, her chair scraping over the wide plank floor. “Good night, Suzannah. Good night, Noah.”
“Drive carefully,” Suzannah said. “It’s starting to spit snow out there.”
Already at the door, Emma looked back, clearly wishing she could throw her belongings at both the assembled members of the helpful Gage family. Instead, she made a noise in her throat as if she were swallowing a scream and she eased the screen door open with too much control.
“What happened?” Noah asked his mother. “I only told her to stop letting you manipulate her.”
“I wouldn’t do that. You know me, son.”
His mother patted him on the head, as she hadn’t done when he was the proper age for such affection. He scraped at his hair with his fingers and snatched the dryer part off the table.
His former fiancée’s frustration was contagious. “Emma and I are not getting back together, Mom. We were bad for each other, and she was so unhappy she left town. Stop trying to make her care for me again.”
“You’re full of advice,” his mother said. “I’ll let you know if I decide to take it. And about that dryer? Don’t you need to get that fixed in a hurry so you can get out of here?”
“Nice way to throw me out, Mom.”
“I can be frustrated, too. You haven’t been happy in years. I’m trying to help you. Maybe you two should see where you stand after four years. Before Emma leaves and you both waste more time alone.”
“Stay out of it.” He went to the laundry room and swore at the dryer until he felt more human.
CHAPTER NINE
DURING THEIR NEXT meeting—at the library—a cookery class in the upstairs classroom was learning how to prepare a full Thanksgiving meal. By the time Emma finished answering all of Suzannah’s questions, they were both pausing to cast longing looks at the stairs that led to the food.
“What are you doing for Thanksgiving, Suzannah?” Emma asked as they repacked their laptops.
“I suppose I’ll cook. I have to for the guests, but my family rarely joins us. I don’t think Noah and Owen care so much about tradition, but I like to keep it up for Celia and Chad. I’ll be frank.” She paused before she indulged in honesty. “I’ll be glad when I don’t have to cook such a big meal. Someday I may actually close the inn and take a vacation.”
“While I was away, I missed Thanksgiving the way my grandma did it here. I would have been thrilled to find a house like yours, offering Thanksgiving the way I remembered it.”
“Funny you didn’t come home for the holidays.”
“I told you I dreaded seeing Noah,” Emma said. “And I’ve been trying to learn who I am. I definitely don’t give up my heart to anyone anymore, and I’d never demand attention a man couldn’t freely give. But I’m not ready to come home yet.”
“I’ve wasted my fair share of time worrying about what I should be, too.”
“You seem to know now.”
“Not really. I was manipulating Noah and you when I should have just told you both I think you cared for each other enough to make a go of life together, but both your families got in the way.”
“You know it was over four years ago, though.” Emma clicked the latch on her laptop bag. “I’m sorry I wasn’t better for Noah.”
They pushed through both sides of the door and started down the concrete steps. “You stood by him through hard times that must have terrified a girl like you.”
“He stood by me even when my mother—” Emma stopped abruptly because she was thinking of the last thing Suzannah would want to discuss.
“He has stood by your reputation. People were so willing to believe Odell’s juicier story. And I guess enough of our neighbors wanted to shove him down a flight of stairs, it seemed like he might be telling the truth.”
“I’m glad you’re all doing well without him, though. The inn is beautiful. Your two younger children are getting through school. Even Owen seems to be conquering his addiction. I’m so grateful for the work he’s done on my house. It feels like Nan is all around. I sense her happiness.”
“Louisa Dane knew how to be happy. Remember those times she invited us for Thanksgiving dinner?”
“Why don’t you all come back this year?”
Suzannah looked surprised. “What?” she asked, starting down the stairs. At the bottom, the workers and passing visitors didn’t seem to notice them.
“She always asked you when Noah and I were together. I’m planning to keep all her traditions, and I can cook. Usually. So you wouldn’t have to.”
“What about your father and Megan? He doesn’t think highly of Noah.”
“He had a talk with Noah the night Celia came home from school. I think they reached a truce.”
“Really?” Suzannah tugged at a small ruby she wore on a chain around her neck. “I’d like that. Let me talk to the children.”
Emma didn’t let herself worry that Noah would think she was luring him to her dinner table.
“Emma?”
Her mother’s voice startled her. She didn’t especially want to talk to Pamela with Suzannah at her side. They could both be sensitive to the past they shared.
“Not to worry,” Suzannah said, as if reading her mind. “I don’
t care what anyone thinks now. For the most part.” She held out her hand to Pamela. “I should have thanked you years ago for shaking me out of my stupor.”
Pamela looked taken aback, and Emma was hardly less so. Even in extremely small-town Tennessee, people observed the social niceties of not thanking the “other woman.”
“Suzannah, I’ve always wanted to apologize. What I did was unforgivable.”
“I forgave you years ago.” Suzannah let her hand go and nodded at Emma. “I’ll talk to you tomorrow, but I think Chad and I can take over the work now. We’ll see how it goes tonight when we schedule posts.”
“Bye, Suzannah.”
Emma and her mother stood in silence until Suzannah turned the corner. “Why are you here, Mother?”
“I thought you might let me take you to lunch.”
“Why couldn’t you wait until Suzannah left?”
“You heard what she said. She didn’t mind.”
“That was crazy. Maybe it was some perverse way of saving face.”
“I don’t think so. Compare her life now to her years with Odell.” Pamela turned the other direction on the sidewalk. “How about that lunch? We hardly see each other. I want to talk to you about Thanksgiving.”
“I’m cooking at home, Mother.” She shouldered her laptop bag more securely. “You’re welcome to come, but I did invite Suzannah and her family.”
“Thank you, but that’s what I wanted to say. I have plans. A friend, coming to town. He’s alone, too. We thought we’d spend the day together in Knoxville. I’ve found a place for us there.”
Emma was stunned to find it hurt that her mother still felt no desire to spend time with her. “I guess that sorts us out then.”
“But not about lunch,” Pamela said. “How about Ma Parker’s?”
Ma Parker cooked southern food the old-fashioned way. A good, churchgoing lady whose magic with the stove brought people through her doors.
“Sounds good to me. I haven’t been since I came home.”
“I’ll drive?” Pamela offered.
Emma shook her head, but then she glanced down at her mother’s pointy stilettos. “Can you walk that far?”
“Of course. I find heels more comfortable than flats. Your father used to say I’d deformed my feet so that I could no longer wear sensible shoes.”
She tried to imagine her parents having a teasing conversation. It must have happened. They must have loved each other once.
Emma walked at her mother’s side, distracted by the happy staccato Pamela’s heels tapped out on the sidewalk. They reached Ma Parker’s without speaking. An old school friend of Emma’s showed them to a table in The Blue Study. Surrounded by books and more books, Emma had a difficult time looking away from the shelves to read her menu.
“I suggest the grilled chicken salad,” Pamela said. “With Ma’s homemade vinaigrette on the side.”
“Are you suggesting I diet, Mom?”
“You can never be too careful too early.”
“It’s a wonder I don’t have self-esteem issues.”
“You had them,” Pamela said. “You seem to have left them behind in Europe.”
“Thank goodness,” Emma said as the server approached.
“How long have you been good friends with Suzannah Gage?” Pamela asked.
“She and I worked on a website for the clinic.”
“I gathered, but you’re clearly friends.”
As if she couldn’t be friends with Suzannah and still love her mother. “It doesn’t mean I don’t love you. She’s been telling Noah he should try to start over with me,” Emma said. “But I’m not sure he ever loved me, and I wasn’t capable of loving the way he needed it.”
“He did. I was there. He loved you deeply.”
Emma wasn’t about to dredge up the same old song with her mother.
“Whatever happened, it’s the past. Suzannah just hasn’t noticed yet.”
“What do you want from him, Emma?”
“That’s an odd question from you.”
Her mother only waited.
“Nothing.” That wasn’t true, but she and her mother had never discussed Emma’s, love life. Her mom had been too free with her own personal information, and Emma hadn’t trusted the lovely and vivacious Pamela enough to share secrets.
“Hey, you can trust me now,” Pamela said as if reading her mind. “I stopped drinking. I think alcohol made me a little reckless. I don’t tell everything to anyone anymore. I prefer being the mysterious, but fashionable, lady of a certain age whom one glimpses in the see-and-be-seen places of Bliss.”
“You view this town through rose-colored glasses.”
“I’m not angry about living here. If you still are, why did you come back?”
“For a visit. I mean, I see it as home. Cozy. Nan’s kitchen and Dad’s orchard. Snow on the mountains and the fields and skiers all incognito in their gear. Content to be here because we’re all so good at keeping quiet.”
“Now that’s true. Maybe the only job more thankless than Noah’s would belong to the editor at the Bliss Constitution.
“Big name for the little paper that covers the world,” Emma said in concert with her mother, parroting the paper’s motto. “I used to read it online while I was traveling,”
“Did it report anything about Noah’s progress through school?”
“It covered his buying out Dr. Bragg’s practice. Why are you so determined to talk about him?”
“Maybe because I want you to have a better chance at happiness than I did. If you care for the man, give him another chance before you lose him.”
Emma didn’t have to answer because the server brought their drinks. Pamela waited until after the girl left them.
“What? What did I say wrong now? I see you still find time to judge me.”
“Are you trying to tell me you want Dad back?” Emma choked out. “Because that can’t happen. He loves Megan. They’re having a baby. You are not allowed to explode in the middle of his life again, Mother.”
Their server delivered bread, butter, olive oil and herbs, along with a frankly curious glance.
Pamela smiled until the girl left, and then she leaned across the table. “You, Emma,” she said. “I lost you.”
Emma covered her mouth. “I don’t know what you mean, but you can’t lose me. I’m your daughter.”
“You don’t want to spend time with me.” Pamela sounded brave rather than whiny, a feat Emma had to admit she’d never managed. “I’ll earn your trust someday, but until then let me offer you good advice about that man you can’t get out of your head.”
“Mother, it’s over.”
“Decide what you want and then make it happen.”
“Maybe it was always that easy for you. It isn’t for me.”
“I’m not talking about sex. You youngsters. Is that all you think of? Tell me what you want for him, if not from him.”
“I’d rather not.”
“Then I’ll take a stab in the dark. You want him to be happy, to forget all the bad times between you.”
“That doesn’t sound so bad.” Emma reached for bread, which made her mother frown in disapproval. “I need carbs.” And she needed something in her mouth to keep herself from spilling her guts. She wanted Noah to be free of all the things that held him in the past. His duty to his family. His duty to this town.
“Make him an offer he can’t refuse.”
“What?”
“Take a stand, Emma.”
“I did that and I lost him.” She breathed deeply. “Mother, I’m used to living without Noah. I have favorite places in the world and friends who don’t judge me because of a mistake I made four years ago. I’m still learning to believe someone in the world would love me e
nough to put me first.”
Pamela looked up at the doorway. “Someone important must have come to the door. Ma’s going to greet him personally. How can you provide funding for Noah? Let’s think.”
“You totally stopped listening to me.” At the moment she’d bared her soul. Typical.
“I wonder if the council might be more receptive to an existing building, rather than new construction.”
“Noah’s plan considered that. Unless Ma or someone else wants to retire and sell their property, there’s nothing available.”
“Well, you have a start. You know what you need to do.” Pamela froze in her chair, looking suddenly very young. And vulnerable. “Your father,” she said.
Emma closed her eyes. Maybe he’d pass the room without seeing them. He was a VIP in Bliss, and Ma Parker would be escorting him to one of the tables where the best and brightest were seen and did their seeing, in The Ballroom.
He stopped, smiling at seeing Emma, a smile that faded as he noticed Pamela.
Emma and her mother laughed nervously. He crossed the room, to their table.
“Dad,” Emma said, feeling as if she had a mouth full of cardboard. “Won’t you join us?”
“No,” he and her mother said at the same time.
“Thank you,” Brett added.
Pamela picked up her ice tea as if she wished she’d given up wine at a later date.
“I thought you might be with Noah. I didn’t expect—” He broke off because any name he might call Pamela would not endear him to Emma, and she appreciated his restraint.
“We met on the street,” Pamela said.
“I see. I wonder if you could ask Noah to call me, Emma. I might have a meeting for him. The other council members have agreed to see him privately.” Brett nodded at Ma Parker. “Juanita’s waiting for me. I should go. Pamela.”
“Brett.”
He leaned down to press a kiss to Emma’s temple. “Troublemaker.”
“See you later, Dad.” Only he could reduce her to a toddler again without raising her hackles.
Pamela beamed after her ex-husband left the room. “I see you’ve decided on a stand,” she said. “A little more tact, and I think you could swing that clinic funding. You know all the same council members your father calls his friends.”
