Mother Knows Best

by Barbara Bretton

  How I spent my summer vacation...

  What a column that would make.

  What a colossal joke.

  Chapter Nineteen

  The Marino house was filled to the rafters. Relatives jammed the doorways and roamed the scruffy backyard and littered the porch and patio with cake crumbs and cigarette butts and good cheer. And why not? Joey had come through his surgery with flying colors and was home for his birthday with a prognosis for a future as bright as the red, white and blue balloons that bobbed happily everywhere Diana looked.

  Apparently there would be at least one happy ending that summer and Diana rejoiced for Joey and Mary Ann and their victory. If only her story had a happy ending as well....

  Like a fool, she had hoped against hope that Gregory would be part of the celebration. During the long drive out to Quogue she had imagined, time and again, how he would look, what she would say, how it would feel to see him come through the doorway and sweep her up into his arms the way he had so many times before.

  She forced a smile as Joey's Aunt Ida and Uncle Joe took the floor to show the youngster what dancing was all about. She'd met so many people that afternoon, aunts and uncles, grandmothers and grandfathers, friends and acquaintances who'd all found the time to drop by and offer the boy a piece of their own strength. Dave and Peggy were there with the baby -- how big he'd gotten so quickly! -- and even Charlie had raced by to drop off a present for Joey and some toys for Daisy and her pups, who showed little sign of leaving the comfort of the Marino abode.

  To think the one man who understood the true nature of Joey's triumph hadn't bothered to even call....

  Tears were coming all-too-easily these days and she blinked rapidly to clear her eyes then slipped out the back door to regain her composure. Mary Ann Marino slipped out right after her and the two women wandered over toward the swing set in the far corner of the yard.

  Mary Ann lit a cigarette and sat down on a swing. "Have you heard from him?" she asked.

  Diana shook her head, wishing she smoked. "Have you?"

  "Not a damn word. I thought he'd at least manage a card for Joey."

  "So did I," Diana said. "I guess there aren't any mailboxes on the high seas."

  "Hmmmph," said Mary Ann around her Marlboro. "Don't make excuses for him."

  Laughter rang out from the small house and the two women listened to Joey's high-pitched voice as he exclaimed over one of his presents.

  "Joey loved that videotape on the Yankees you gave him," said Mary Ann, flicking an ash from her cigarette. It was the first time since Diana had known the woman that Mary Ann's smile actually reached her eyes. "He wants to stay up late tonight and watch the whole thing."

  Diana made some pleasant innocuous remark that died out a few words before the end of the sentence. What am I doing here? she thought. These are Gregory's friends, not mine. She must look like some pathetic, homeless fool, clinging to the last remnant of a relationship that didn't last.

  She glanced at her watch and looked down at Mary Ann. "I'd better get going. I have a long drive back to my sister's."

  "You can spend the night," Mary Ann offered. "I can't offer you your own suite, but I can give you clean sheets and the best pillow in the house."

  Diana shook her head. "Deadlines are calling me," she said, hoping God would forgive her the ubiquitous social lie. "I should leave."

  They went inside where Diana quickly made her goodbyes. Joey was the center of attention, surrounded by aunts and uncles and cousins and a pile of gaily wrapped presents that almost reached the ceiling. He was still thin but his cheeks had filled out, his color was rosy, and for the first time he looked as if he believed he actually had a future to plan. Diana's heart filled with a joy so sweet it stole her breath away.

  "Are we still invited to the twins' birthday party in October?" Joey asked, blushing at the bear hug she gave him.

  "Joey!" his mother warned with an apologetic look at Diana. "Don't -- "

  "Of course, you're still invited," Diana said. "October 28th. Paula will send you the invitations in a few weeks."

  Cars filled the driveway and cluttered the street. Her own rented Buick was halfway down the block, wedged in between a Caddy and a beat-up Volkswagen with Connecticut plates. No sign of a vintage black Corvette.

  "Get used to it," she muttered as she walked slowly down the quiet residential street. He was gone, exactly as he'd said he would be and it was high time she got her act together and accepted the fact that it was over.

  A wolf whistle sounded from somewhere behind her and she ignored it. The only good thing about heartbreak was the weight loss that came with it. Too bad, Stewart, she thought. I finally have decent thighs and you're not around to see them. Wasn't that just the way of the world?

  She stopped next to the driver's door on the Buick and was about to insert the key when she heard a car slowing down behind her.

  "Diana."

  Her hand shook and she struggled to turn the key in the lock. It's my imagination...I was sitting in the sun too long...I haven't slept well lately...I haven't eaten.... It simply couldn't be him.

  "What happened to the station wagon?"

  The key fell to the ground and she rested her head on the roof of the car, feeling suddenly dizzy and weak. This was carrying imagination too far.

  But then she felt an arm snake around her waist and the scent of salt air and soap blossomed around her as she turned and saw Gregory Stewart.

  "I knew I'd find you here." He looked nervous and hopeful and painfully vulnerable.

  She swallowed hard against a violent swelling of emotion. "I never thought I'd find you here."

  "There's one thing to be said for heading out to sea alone: you have plenty of time to think."

  Her ribs ached from the rapid pounding of her heart. "Any conclusions?"

  "You were right," he said. "I owe this to Joey."

  "And yourself?"

  He drew her closer. "And myself."

  "I've done a lot of thinking, as well," she said, aware that each word she spoke carried a lifetime of importance. "You were right, too, Gregory. I was scared. I didn't know if I was ready to take a chance on you. I didn't know how to compromise."

  "And now?"

  Why not go for broke? "Living without you isn't living at all. I can't imagine anything sweeter than to go through life loving you," she said. "That's more than most people get in a lifetime." Good friends, a career she loved, and a man who was more wonderful than any she'd ever dreamed about. And if somehow that happiness could include a child for them to love, then she would consider her joy complete but the answer to that question, for now, was beyond her grasp.

  "I want children." The pain of that admission was visible in his blue-green eyes and she ached for what it had cost him to appear vulnerable. "I want children with you."

  Tears welled in her eyes. "Having your baby would be the most wonderful thing in the world," she whispered, "but even if it never happens, I'll still be the happiest woman in the world."

  "There's still a chance," he said, opening his soul to her.

  "We'll just have to keep trying, won't we?"

  "Every chance we get." He smiled and the old sparkle was back. "I'm not against adoption."

  Her heart soared. "Neither am I."

  "I've spent five years running from the truth," he said, brushing a stray curl back from her face. "I had cancer and I beat it and I've felt guilty ever since. That damned all-clear mark became a badge of honor." He stopped and she could feel his heart beating faster beneath her hand. "When Joey got sick, I couldn't handle it. I couldn't figure why I beat it and a good kid like that had to pay for it."

  "That's not the way life works, Gregory." She couldn't wait to see his face when he heard Joey's good news.

  "I know that now."

  No one had a guarantee of happiness. You had to work for it every day, for the rest of your life -- no matter how long or short that life may be. Cancer had little to do with it; c
ourage, everything.

  "I've changed," he said, meeting her eyes, "but one thing hasn't: I still love you."

  She didn't bother to hide her tears. "We have a lot to work out." She wrapped her arms about his waist and felt his warmth and weight against her.

  "Let's start with your great husband hunt." He kissed her mouth and throat and shoulder. "It's finished."

  "Are you sure?"

  "Positive. You're going to marry me."

  "I love it when you're macho."

  His grin was wicked and wonderful. "Just wait until the wedding night."

  "I might not be able to."

  "That's what I was hoping you'd say."

  "We still have a lot to learn about each other," she warned. "We'll have a lifetime to do it."

  "What about your trip to the Caribbean?"

  "How does a sailing honeymoon sound? We could get married on Saturday and leave the next morning."

  She tried to speak but her throat was so tight the words couldn't escape.

  "This time all the cards will be on the table," he said. "I love you, Diana. I always will."

  She raised up on tiptoe and whispered something in his ear, something private and warm and filled with promise for the future, and then she surrendered herself to the power and wonder of love.

  Arm in arm, they went back into the house to wish Joey a happy birthday.

  Author's Note

  Readers are everything.

  Seeing your name in print is terrific. Good reviews put a smile on an author's face.

  Royalties help keep the wolf from the door. But the absolute best thing about being a writer is being read.

  Knowing that your words are making someone you're not even related to happy. Knowing that your story is helping to make a bad day better for a stranger who needed to escape for a few hours. Knowing that the imaginary friends you've spent the last few months with are out there in the world becoming just as real to a reader you'll never meet but know and love just the same.

  See what I mean?

  Readers are everything.

  So this one is for the wonderful readers (and knitters) who have taken time over the last few years to let me know how much they enjoy my books.

  Thank you from the bottom of my heart.

  And if you're new to my work, welcome. I hope you'll check out these other titles and excerpts and let me know what you think. You can always reach me on Facebook or Twitter, or directly at barbara AT barbarabretton DOT com or barbarabretton AT gmail DOT com

  Happy reading!

  A Soft Place to Fall – contemporary romance

  A Shelter Rock Cove book

  The first time they met, his dog trashed her car.

  The second time they met, she set fire to her bathroom.

  The third time they met, they fell in love.

  Annie Galloway isn't looking to fall in love again. Sam Butler doesn't want a home and family of his own.

  Too bad fate has other plans . . .

  From Booklist

  It's been two years since Annie Galloway's husband died, and she is finally putting her life back together, even though she stays in Shelter Rock Cove, Maine. Annie has never lived anywhere else, and her life is tied to the small community, which is a blessing and a curse. Her mother-in-law took her in at sixteen when her parents died, and she feels grateful for her love, but her husband was not the saint that everyone thinks he was. When she meets Sam Butler, a Manhattan investment broker hiding out in the small town and reevaluating his life, they instantly connect, but some townspeople are suspicious of the newcomer and his relationship with Annie. Sam and Annie do keep secrets from each other, hoping to keep their newfound love separate from the past, but prying neighbors may tear them apart. Once again Bretton creates a tender love story about two people who, when they find something special, will go to any length to keep it.

  Patty Engelmann Copyright © American Library Association. All rights reserved

  #

  Chapter One

  They saved the bed for last.

  Annie Lacy Galloway stood at the bottom of the stairs and watched as the two impossibly skinny young men maneuvered the huge sleigh bed through the narrow upstairs hallway. She winced at the sound of wood scraping against wallpaper. She knew it would be a tight fit but she hadn't let herself consider that it might be impossible.

  The moving boys paused at the top of the stairs and considered their options.

  "How'd you ever get this up here anyway, Mrs. G?" Michael, the one whose voice still hadn't made up its mind between soprano and tenor, called down to her. "This is like shoving an elephant through a keyhole."

  She'd found it at a yard sale six months after Kevin died, a wreckage of wood that looked much the way she'd felt inside. "I feel bad taking your money for this," the man had said as they loaded the pieces into the back of her Jeep. She spent weeks sanding the elegant curves and flat planes, stripping away years of neglect and damage, not even sure if the pieces could ever be put back together again into a recognizable whole. It still wasn't finished yet. Come spring, she intended to stain the sanded wood a deep cherry wood then coat the whole thing with a satiny finish that would grow more lustrous with the years.

  "Turn it toward the window," she said. "Once you clear the top of the railing, you'll have it made."

  Danny, her nephew by marriage, crouched down near the foot of the bed. "It comes apart," he said, fingering the supports. "Maybe we could --"

  "No!" Annie forced her voice down to a more acceptable volume. The poor boys looked downright scared. "I mean, feel free to remove the stair rails, if you have to, but please don't touch the bed."

  "You're the boss, Mrs. G," Michael said.

  She turned in time to see a third moving boy grab for the cardboard box near the front door. The box marked "Fragile."

  "Not that one." Annie raced back downstairs. "I'm taking that one in the car with me."

  "You sure?" Scotty had been Kevin's top student, the one who was on his way toward bigger and better things. He was smart and funny and built like a two-by-four, all straight edges and long lines. Scotty nailed the Bancroft Scholarship, Kevin. You would've been so proud of him. Years ago, she had been the one with the Bancroft and the big dreams of studying art one day in New York. It seemed so long ago, almost as if those dreams had belonged to somebody else. The sight of the young man in her foyer awoke so many memories of Christmas parties and summer barbecues when they had opened up the house to students and their parents. Kevin loved those parties, loved being at the center of all the activity, laughing and joking and --

  "There's plenty of room in the truck, Mrs. G."

  "That's okay, Scotty," she said, wondering when he had started shaving. Wasn't it just yesterday that he was raking their lawn for two bucks an hour? "I'll take it over in my car." Her life was tucked away in that box: old love letters, wedding photos, newspaper clippings, and sympathy notes. The sum total of her thirty-eight years on the planet with room left over for her best wineglasses and her journals.

  He pointed toward a box resting near the piano. "How about that one?"

  Annie grinned. "Be my guest."

  He hoisted it on his shoulder with a theatrical grunt. "See you at the new house."

  "The new house." Claudia Galloway appeared in the doorway to the living room. She dabbed at her eyes with a linen handkerchief, one of those flimsy bits with the hand-crocheted edging that were her trademark. "It's not too late to change your mind, Anne."

  Annie thrust her clenched fists deep into the pockets of her bright red sweater. "Claudia, we've gone over this before. I --"

  "This is your home," her former mother-in-law broke in. "This is where you spent your entire married life. My God, you're even sold most of your furniture. How can you turn your back on everything Kevin meant to you?"

  "I don't need this house to remind me of all that Kevin meant to me."

  "Is she at it again?" Susan, Claudia's oldest daughter, poked her head
in the front door. "Ma, you already built a shrine to Kevin. Annie doesn't need to build one too."

  Annie shot her best friend a look of pure gratitude. I owe you big time, Susie. Godiva, if I could afford it, or Dom Perignon. "Are they finished in the garage?"

  "The place is stripped bare as chicken bones after a barbecue."

  "Really, Susan." Claudia frowned at her daughter. "A bit less colorful language, if you please."

  "Mother, I sell real estate for a living. I am a master of the colorful metaphor."

  "I could do with a tad less sarcasm as well."

  "Coming through!" Michael and Danny had found a way to maneuver Annie's sleigh bed downstairs without major architectural damage and had it aimed at the front door.

  "That ridiculous bed," Claudia murmured as she stepped aside. "Really, Annie. I don't know what you were thinking."

  I wasn't thinking, Claudia. You've been there. Don't you remember how it was? I hurt too much that first year to think of anything at all.

  "Mother," said Susan, "why don't you go have lunch with Jack and the boys. I know you love the chicken sandwich at Wendy's. We'll see you later at the new house."

  Claudia looked from Annie to her daughter and in that instant Annie regretted all the sharp words she had bitten back. She was family to Claudia, same as any of the children of her body, and that gave her the right to annoy the daylights out of Annie. Suddenly her redoubtable mother-in-law looked small and old and vulnerable and Annie's heart twisted in sympathy. She loved Claudia dearly even if sometimes she wished for a bit more breathing room.

  "I have a better idea," Annie said, putting an arm around Claudia's fragile shoulders. "Why don't both of you have lunch with Jack and the boys and we'll meet up at the house."

  "We can't leave you alone," Claudia said and for once Susan agreed with her mother.

  "Sure you can." Annie started moving them toward the door. "I'll be fine. I promise."

  "Are you sure?" Susan asked. Her eyes were wide and dark-brown and she looked so much like Kevin that there were times when Annie had to turn away.