by Mia Ross
She was shaking her head, looking truly appalled. Ridge was getting that gross specimen feeling again.
After several uncomfortable seconds, she said, “I’m still trying to understand how a man your age with a successful business doesn’t have an address.”
“Not everybody likes being rooted in one place.”
He didn’t know why he felt compelled to defend his lifestyle to her, but he couldn’t help it. He wasn’t one to second-guess his choices, but for some reason this pretty, soft-spoken woman was beginning to mess with his confidence.
“Meaning you think I do?”
From the way she hurled the words at him, Ridge knew that despite his best efforts, he’d managed to insult her.
“I assume so, with your kids and everything,” he said, trying to soothe whatever nerve he’d struck. “You grew up here, and you’re still here. That’s nice.”
“For me,” she filled in, still challenging him. “But not for you.”
“Settling doesn’t work for me.”
“You think I’ve settled?” She jumped to her feet like he’d attacked her. “You don’t know the first thing about me.”
“I didn’t mean it like that.”
He tried to explain that he’d meant settling down wasn’t right for him because, despite searching from coast to coast, he’d never found a place where he really wanted to stay. But he could tell she wasn’t hearing him anymore.
Marianne ripped his check from the printer and signed it in a furious scrawl. After shoving it into his chest, she pivoted on her heel and stormed out.
Chapter Three
Marianne’s unforgivable outburst with Ridge followed her like a thundercloud all day. She’d been short-tempered and mean, which was very unlike her. Hard as she tried, she just couldn’t shake her dark mood. She knew perfectly well that he hadn’t intended to put her down or in any way suggest that her life was less fulfilling than his.
Unfortunately, knowing that didn’t help lift her spirits. After a marathon session of laundry and housework to work off some of her frustration, she exhausted herself to the point where she felt more normal. Not entirely, but close enough to be better company.
Later that afternoon feeling contrite for being so prickly, she let Kyle talk her into playing Monopoly. Most days, the long, involved game didn’t suit her very well because it gobbled up so much of her precious spare time. But her kids loved it, even though she wasn’t sure Emily totally understood the rules. As a teacher, Marianne recognized that the game was good practice for adding numbers and counting spaces. For the kids, the fact that they always beat her was a definite bonus, and she went along because it made them so happy.
Today, it was the perfect way to apologize for her behavior without having to invent an explanation for it.
“I’ll buy it,” Emily announced when she landed on her fourth railroad. She didn’t have enough money, but Kyle was the banker and he gave her the deed card and some “change” that would keep her in the game.
Kyle loved to win, and Marianne was impressed by the generosity he’d shown his sister. She reached over to ruffle his hair, but he pulled away and she settled for an approving smile. When the screen door creaked open, she glanced up to find John coming in for his usual Sunday afternoon leftovers raid.
“There’s more in the fridge on the side porch,” Marianne said as she tossed the dice for her next move. Counting out the spaces, she groaned when her impoverished terrier landed in front of Kyle’s hotel.
“Welcome to the Boardwalk,” he crowed, holding out his hand. “Two thousand, please.”
“Aw, man,” John sympathized. “How much have you got?”
“Fourteen dollars.” She surrendered it and her piece to Kyle, who promptly buried the dog under the hotel that had bankrupted her.
“Nice,” John chided him as he plunked himself down on the bench next to Kyle. “Nothing like having a heartless zillionaire in the family.”
The comment rattled Marianne, and she prayed her son hadn’t inherited his father’s ruthless streak. If he had, she’d have her hands full reining it in. There was no way she’d just stand by and let him follow in Peter’s greedy footsteps.
“I still have some money, Uncle John.” Emily waved two fifties in the air. “And I’m gonna pass Go on my next turn.”
“Good for you, darlin’.” Crossing his arms on the table, he nudged Marianne’s elbow. “How’re you doin’?”
Puzzled by the question, she leaned back and saw uncharacteristic concern in his eyes. “Fine. Why?”
“You seemed off earlier today. Lisa was worried.”
“But not you?” Marianne asked, although she knew the answer. He might lack polish, but her carefree younger brother had a tremendous heart.
“Maybe a little. So what’s my answer?”
“Just tired is all,” she said. Even to her own ears, she sounded unconvincing.
“Wouldn’t have anything to do with tomorrow’s date, would it?”
As soon as he said it, she knew what had been eating at her all weekend. She hadn’t consciously realized it, but he was right.
Eleven years ago tomorrow, she’d married Peter.
Tears threatened, and she swallowed hard to keep them under control so she wouldn’t upset the kids. After so long, she was dismayed to discover that those memories hadn’t faded. They were lurking in the shadows, waiting for an opportunity to burst free and hurt her all over again.
“I guess,” she managed, forcing the words around the sudden lump in her throat. “I hadn’t thought of it until now.”
He gave her a smile of encouragement. “Lisa’s working this afternoon. I’ll stay with the kids if you wanna go talk to her.”
Marianne prided herself on being strong and competent. She hated asking for help, even when she probably needed it. Although she was no psychiatrist, she assumed it stemmed from becoming the Sawyers’ mother hen when she was only seven.
The kids’ laughter got her attention, and she looked over at them. Tucker was paws-up on the table, nosing through Kyle’s enormous pile of money.
“I’m fine,” she repeated.
“Come on,” John scoffed, tilting his head with a doubtful look. “This is me you’re talking to.”
Lisa was such a great sounding board, Marianne was tempted to take him up on his offer. But she seldom left the kids with anyone, even family. It felt wrong somehow. To avoid insulting him, she hedged. “I don’t know. The diner might be busy.”
“On a gorgeous day like this? Everybody’s off fishing or having a picnic somewhere. That place is probably a ghost town. She’ll be glad for the company. And when was the last time you went out on your own?”
“Christmas,” she shot back.
“Sure, to shop for presents for all of us.”
Again with the tilted head. He was reminding her more of Tucker by the second, but she had to admit that John’s suggestion made sense. Times like these, she really wished she could talk to her father. Even if he didn’t have a solution, Dad had always listened, reminding her that she didn’t have to manage everything on her own.
“Kids, I have some errands to run in town. Will you keep an eye on Uncle John for me?”
They agreed enthusiastically, and he grinned. “That reminds me, can you stop by Gerber’s and pick me up some socks?”
“What happened to all your socks?”
“Tucker.” He nudged the Lab’s belly with his bare foot. “He goes nuts over ’em.”
“You shouldn’t let him in your house.”
“That’d be no fun at all.” Reaching into one of the cargo pockets on his shorts, he pulled out a very thin nylon wallet and opened it. After rummaging through, he looked up and gave her one of his gotta-love-me grins. “I’ll pay you back.”
> “If you and the kids stay out of trouble while I’m gone, we’ll call it even.”
“Done. I’ll handle supper, so you don’t have to come back till after that.”
“Yay! Uncle John’s making supper!” Emily approved, clapping her hands. “Can we have chocolate cake?”
John let out a groan. “Are you trying to get me in trouble?”
“As if you needed any help with that,” Marianne teased.
“We’ll do something your mom would be okay with.”
He flashed Marianne an angelic smile she wasn’t buying for a second. But after they shook on their deal, she went into the pantry to get her purse from its hook. The newspaper on top of the recycle bin caught her eye. The book reviews were showing, and she tore the page out. Gerber’s sold everything, including the latest bestsellers. Instead of wallowing in memories of her failed marriage, maybe she just needed some time to herself to read more than a few pages of a book. A piece of one of Ruthy’s blue-ribbon desserts wouldn’t hurt, either.
It wasn’t like her to be so impulsive, and the prospect of breaking loose for a while definitely appealed to her. Feeling better already, she kissed the top of Emily’s head, fist-bumped Kyle and headed out the door.
* * *
“Ruthy, this isn’t peach cobbler,” Ridge insisted as the first forkful practically melted in his mouth. “It’s a dream.”
“Well, thank you.” The petite woman behind the counter refilled his coffee. “There’s plenty more if you want it.”
“Count me in.”
Before going down to the other end of the counter, she gave him a warm, motherly smile that crinkled the corners of her cornflower-blue eyes. Judging by the traces of gray in her light brown hair, he pegged her somewhere between fifty and seventy. But she struck him as one of those people who didn’t really age because they simply refused to get old. His grandfather was like that, and Ridge had every intention of following his example.
While he enjoyed his pie, Ridge admired the diner’s charming country style. He ate most of his meals out, so he’d been in plenty of restaurants, but none of them compared to this. With pale-green-checked curtains and well-used tables and chairs, it had the look of a place the locals genuinely enjoyed. The collection of knickknacks on high shelves along each wall caught his attention, and he examined each piece with curiosity. He was wondering about the life-size black rooster when the bell over the door chimed, and he glanced down to see who was coming in.
Marianne Weston.
He spun his stool around so she wouldn’t see him, and barely fought off the urge to bury his face in his hands like a two-year-old. His last conversation with her had turned into a losing battle for him, and only a masochist would invite another one. Ridge suspected that she felt exactly the same way.
To his great relief, Lisa popped her head over the swinging kitchen door and winked at him. She came out to hug her sister, turning her away from the counter and aiming her toward a booth in the back. Ridge appreciated her running interference for him, but he decided it was best not to tempt fate.
As Ruthy came his way, he handed her enough to pay for his dessert with a generous tip. “That was fantastic, but I think I’ll take a rain check on the extra piece.”
As she slid the money into the pocket of her ruffled apron, she didn’t say anything. When she looked up, she gave him a knowing smile. “Ridge, are you up for a little advice? It’s on the house.”
“Sure.”
“Sometimes the toughest nuts have the sweetest hearts. Do you know what I mean?”
This kindhearted stranger had nailed his problem dead-on, and he couldn’t hold back a grin. “Yeah, I do. But I’ve tried all different kinds of nuts, and I won’t be having any more. They don’t seem to agree with me.”
“They’re not all the same. Some are even worth the trouble it takes to crack them open.”
* * *
“Mind if I join you?”
Marking her place with her napkin, Marianne glanced up to find Ridge standing by her table. She’d noticed him at the counter when she came in, but he was talking to Ruthy so she hadn’t interrupted. Seeing him now made her wonder if God was telling her—none too gently—to explain her erratic behavior to the poor, unsuspecting man who’d borne the brunt of her temper tantrum.
“Not a bit.” She put her book away and smiled as he sat down. “I’m glad you came over. I owe you an apology.”
He gave her a puzzled frown. “For what?”
After a sip of water, Marianne filled him in on her John-inspired epiphany.
“Yeah.” Ridge nodded. “That makes sense.”
Not to her, she thought, but it was nice of him to try to make her feel better about it. “Things have been so crazy with the end of school and the wedding and all, I never even thought about it.”
“You didn’t really forget, though. Your subconscious knew, and it was making you miserable.”
Surprised by his insight, Marianne shook her head. “That’s what Lisa said when I told her about it just now. You two must listen to the same radio shrinks.”
Completely unfazed, he grinned back. “Some of what they say makes sense. If folks paid more attention to their hearts and less to the space between their ears, they’d be a lot happier.”
“Is that your secret?”
“You betcha. Fretting about stuff you can’t control doesn’t change a thing. It just sucks the life out of you.”
Marianne wished she could share his perspective. She envied his easygoing disposition, the way he seemed to ignore things that drove her completely bananas. Then again, his full sum of obligations was his business, an old plane and a beat-up duffel bag. It was easy to be even-keeled when your boat didn’t get rocked on a daily basis.
“If I tell you something you won’t like,” Ridge began, “do you promise not to shoot the messenger?”
Talking to Lisa and now him had drained most of her tension away, and Marianne was feeling more generous. “Sure. Go ahead.”
“Your family never liked your ex.”
“The boys didn’t like Peter,” Marianne corrected him. “They told me every chance they got. It wouldn’t surprise me if they even said it to his face.”
“Matt told me Lisa and your dad agreed with them. None of them liked the way he treated you. Matt said it was like the guy thought you were just something pretty to show off.”
“Why didn’t Dad and Lisa say something?”
Ridge shrugged. “Maybe they figured you saw something in him they didn’t, and they loved you, so they decided to keep quiet.”
Marianne’s heart sank, and she sighed. “It looks like I’m the only fool in the family.”
“Not a fool,” he amended with a sympathetic smile. “In love. Sometimes people change, or it turns out they’re not who we thought they were.”
Marianne’s thoughts drifted to the rocky start she and Ridge had gotten off to. Matt had very few friends, but he’d chosen the restless pilot as his best man. That meant he trusted Ridge, a big deal for her reserved brother. Maybe there was more to their guest than met the eye.
“I should get going,” Ridge said, standing up from the table. “Betsy’s probably refueled by now, and I should get back to work.”
Giving her a much-needed smile of encouragement, he left Marianne alone with her book.
After several chapters and two decadent pieces of pie, Marianne finally felt ready to go home. When she got there, she found John in the kitchen, whipping up his specialty—scrambled eggs and grilled-cheese sandwiches. Glancing at the clock, she realized she’d been gone almost four hours. When mom guilt started in, she firmly pushed it back. She’d needed a break, and she’d taken it, she told herself firmly. Her children had fun with their uncle while she enjoyed some alone time.
Every
body won, and she was no longer a contender for the Wicked Witch award. It was all good.
The kids were at the table cleaning up the pieces from a game of Sorry. Several boxes were stacked on the counter, telling her John had managed to keep them busy while she was gone.
Setting her shopping bags on the counter, Marianne kissed the top of Emily’s head and patted Kyle’s shoulder. “It looks like you had a good time.”
“We sure did,” Kyle said. “Ridge was kinda wandering around, so I invited him in for some lemonade and he ended up staying a while. He really likes your lemonade.”
“It’s the vanilla.” Standing on tiptoe, she kissed John’s cheek. Very quietly she said, “Thanks for the break.”
“No problem.” Balancing a sandwich on his spatula, he asked, “Want one?”
“Sure, thanks.” She sat down at the table with the kids. “Did you let Uncle John win any of these games?”
“Nah, that’s cheating,” Kyle informed her. “Ridge said we had to beat him fair and square.”
“You don’t get anywhere in life if people just hand things to you,” Emily added in a very serious voice. “You have to learn it.”
“Earn it,” Kyle corrected her with a grin. “It means you worked for something and deserve to have it.”
“Ohhh.” She nodded. “That’s important.”
“It sure is.” Marianne smiled her thanks as John set a plate in front of her. Ridge’s lesson on deserving to win impressed her. No doubt, he’d gotten it from the grandfather he so obviously admired.
“Just so you know,” John said casually, “I invited Ridge to the Fourth of July picnic. He wasn’t planning on staying that long, but I thought it’d be nice for him to see Matt and Caty when they get back.”
“Fourth of July!” Emily crowed, clapping her hands. “Can we get a bounce house, Mommy? And a waterslide like last year?”
“More fireworks,” Kyle added while he chewed. Marianne glared at his poor manners, and he swallowed. “Sorry. Could we please get more fireworks this year? That way Granddad can see them from heaven.”
