A Year of Extraordinary Moments (A Magnolia Grove Novel)
Page 1
PRAISE FOR BETTE LEE CROSBY’S NOVELS
THE SUMMER OF NEW BEGINNINGS
“Once again Crosby has written a beautiful story filled with loving, caring—and sometimes a little flawed—characters who struggle to end up with the lives they are meant to live.”
—The Book Bag
“A heartwarming story about family, forgiveness, and the magic of new beginnings.”
—Christine Nolfi, bestselling author of Sweet Lake
“A heartwarming, captivating, and intriguing story about the importance of family . . . The colorful cast of characters are flawed, quirky, mostly loyal, determined and mostly likable.”
—Linda’s Book Obsession
“Crosby’s Southern voice comes through in all of her books and lends a believable element to everything she writes. The Summer of New Beginnings is no exception.”
—Book Chat
SPARE CHANGE
“Skillfully written, Spare Change clearly demonstrates Crosby’s ability to engage her readers’ rapt attention from beginning to end. A thoroughly entertaining work of immense literary merit.”
—Midwest Book Review
“Love, loss and unexpected gifts . . . Told from multiple points of view, this tale seeped from the pages and wrapped itself around my heart.”
—Caffeinated Reviewer
“More than anything, Spare Change is a heartwarming book, which is simultaneously intriguing and just plain fun.”
—Seattle Post-Intelligencer
PASSING THROUGH PERFECT
“Well-written and engaging.”
—Kirkus Reviews
“Crosby’s characters take on heartbreak and oppression with dignity, courage, and a shaken but still strong faith in a better tomorrow.”
—IndieReader
THE TWELFTH CHILD
“Crosby’s unique style of writing is timeless and her character building is inspirational.”
—Layered Pages
“Crosby draws her characters with an emotional depth that compels the reader to care about their challenges, to root for their success, and to appreciate their bravery.”
—Gayle Swift, author of ABC, Adoption & Me
“Crosby’s talent lies in not only telling a good compelling story, but telling it from a unique perspective . . . Characters stay with you because they are simply too endearing to go away.”
—Reader Views
BABY GIRL
“Crosby weaves this story together in a manner that feels like a huge patchwork quilt. All the pieces and tears come together to make something beautiful.”
—Michele Randall, Readers’ Favorite
“Crosby is a true storyteller, delving into the emotions, relationships, and human dynamics—the cracks which break us, and ultimately make us stronger.”
—J. D. Collins, Top 1000 reviewer
SILVER THREADS
“Silver Threads is an amazing story of love, loss, family, and second chances that will simply stir your soul.”
—Jersey Girl Book Reviews
“Crosby’s books are filled with love of family and carry the theme of a sweetness for life . . . You are pulled in by the story line and the characters.”
—Silver’s Reviews
“In Silver Threads, Crosby flawlessly merges the element of fantasy without interrupting the beauty of a solid love story . . . sure to stay with you beyond the last page.”
—Lisa McCombs, Readers’ Favorite
CRACKS IN THE SIDEWALK
“Crosby has penned a multidimensional scenario that should be read not only for entertainment but also to see how much, love, gentleness, and humanity matter.”
—Gisela Hausmann, Readers’ Favorite
ALSO BY BETTE LEE CROSBY
Magnolia Grove Series
The Summer of New Beginnings
Wyattsville Series
Spare Change
Jubilee’s Journey
Passing Through Perfect
The Regrets of Cyrus Dodd
Beyond the Carousel
Memory House Series
Memory House
The Loft
What the Heart Remembers
Baby Girl
Silver Threads
Serendipity Series
The Twelfth Child
Previously Loved Treasures
Stand-Alone Titles
Cracks in the Sidewalk
What Matters Most
Wishing for Wonderful
Blueberry Hill
Life in the Land of IS: The Amazing True Story of Lani Deauville
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, organizations, places, events, and incidents are either products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.
Text copyright © 2018 by Bette Lee Crosby
All rights reserved.
No part of this book may be reproduced, or stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise, without express written permission of the publisher.
Published by Lake Union Publishing, Seattle
www.apub.com
Amazon, the Amazon logo, and Lake Union Publishing are trademarks of Amazon.com, Inc., or its affiliates.
ISBN-13: 9781503904705
ISBN-10: 1503904709
Cover design by Rachel Adam Rogers
In loving memory of
Virginia Ann Wilson
You were taken too soon
but will forever be remembered.
Contents
1 Alice DeLuca
2 Philadelphia
3 Magnolia Grove
4 Meghan Whitely
5 The Question
6 Tracy Briggs
7 The DeLuca Farm
8 Dominic DeLuca
9 A Question of Time
10 Alice DeLuca
11 Back to Barrington
12 Getting Ready
13 The Event
14 Tracy Briggs
15 The Truth of Friendship
16 The Job
17 Early Closing
18 The Next Morning
19 Alice DeLuca
20 Later That Evening
21 Broom’s Advice
22 Alice DeLuca
23 In Search of Answers
24 The Sweetest Season
25 Cause for Concern
26 Sister Help
27 Meghan Whitely
28 Ready, Set . . .
29 The Event
30 Tracy Briggs
31 The Search
32 The Report
33 Alice DeLuca
34 The Visit
35 Tracy Briggs
36 The Best of Times
37 Cherished Moments
38 Sunday Dinner
39 Top of the World
40 Lessons of Love
41 Alice DeLuca
42 The Appointment
43 McGinley & Hudson
44 The Plan
45 Alice DeLuca
46 Two Days Later
47 Dominic DeLuca
48 The Darkest Night
49 The Next Day
50 Dominic’s Visit
51 Two Days Later
52 Saying Goodbye
53 A Changed Outlook
54 Dominic DeLuca
55 The Battle Begins
56 True Calling
57 Meghan Whitely
58 The Snip ’n Save Problem
59 Family Meeting
60 Lila Briggs
62 The Interviews
63 Meghan’s Decision
64 Meghan Whitely
65 The Way It Is
66 Reading of the Will
67 Tracy Briggs
68 Fair Trade
69 A Unanimous Decision
70 Meghan Whitely
71 Wedding Bells
Epilogue
Acknowledgments
About the Author
1
Alice DeLuca
I’m an old woman now and not long for this world, but I’m not afraid of dying. What I am afraid of is leaving behind a grandson who will follow in his mama’s footsteps. I’d like to believe that in the years she’s been gone my Dorothy has straightened herself out, but inside my heart, I fear this may be little more than wishful thinking.
There is an old adage that says a child’s ways can be formed by either nature or nurture. In Dorothy’s case, it was a bit of both. She had her daddy’s genes and was the spitting image of him in more ways than a person could count: dark hair, long-lashed eyes capable of looking a hole through you, and a stubborn streak a mile wide. Just like Joseph, she’d set her mind to something and then have it her way, come hell or high water. Instead of correcting such behavior, he applauded it.
“A bit of mischief takes the sting out of life,” he’d say when she told us of shenanigans like sneaking in the side door of the Rialto to watch a show without paying or thumbing a ride out to the fairgrounds with a perfect stranger.
I’d scowl and tell her such things were not at all good ideas, but she chose to listen to her daddy. Joseph and I had just the one child, and since she turned out as free-spirited and irresponsible as him, that was probably a blessing.
I know you’re wondering how it was I married such a man; there were times when I wondered it myself. But when we met, I was barely seventeen. Joe was two years older than me and as handsome and charming as a man could possibly be. The first time he pressed his mouth to mine, my knees turned to jelly, and there was no resisting him.
Once it became obvious I was expecting a baby, my daddy marched himself over to the DeLuca farm and had a heart-to-heart talk with Daddy DeLuca. That same day, Joe’s daddy demanded he do the honorable thing and marry me. There was no wishy-washy discussion about it; a week later, Joe did what his daddy told him to do.
That was fifty years ago. Back then folks thought having a baby out of wedlock was something to be ashamed of. Nowadays they say it’s socially acceptable, and maybe it is for the parents, but what about the baby? You can argue this for a month of Sundays, but as far as I’m concerned, a child still needs a mama and a daddy.
The thing I regret is not being more like Daddy DeLuca when Dorothy came home with a toddler and no word of who the father was. I started to say she needed to think about the baby and get her life back in order, but Joe stopped me.
“Butt out,” he’d said. “It’s her life, and if she doesn’t want to be tied down by marriage, she shouldn’t have to be.”
Hearing the regret in his words, I realized he was thinking of himself as much as he was thinking of Dorothy. Joe didn’t think I knew, but I did, and it pained my heart to know he felt the same about marrying me. Like every young woman, I wanted to believe that the man I was going to spend the rest of life with was marrying me because he loved me like I loved him, not because it was something his daddy made him do.
For the next ten years, I held my tongue and didn’t say a word as Dorothy shuffled poor little Dominic from town to town, looking for her “inner self.” That inner self was all she cared about; she didn’t give a fig about the boy’s education and upbringing. Two years after Joe died, she came home, and for a while I thought maybe she’d come to her senses and would be ready to take on the responsibility of motherhood. I was wrong. She stayed for a few months, then took off for California and left twelve-year-old Dominic with me.
“I’ll send for him as soon as I get settled,” she’d said, but she never did.
Once in a while we’d get a postcard saying she was in one place or another, but there was never any mention of coming back to claim her son. It’s little wonder he grew up with a chip the size of a sapling on his shoulder and his mama’s irresponsible attitude. Dorothy’s daddy stopped me from insisting she settle down and make a family for her boy, but Joe’s gone now, and this time I’ll do things the way I see fit.
Only God knows whether I’ve got a month, six months, or a year left on this earth, but I promise you this: I’m going to use every last day I’m graced with to make sure Dominic doesn’t follow in his mama’s footsteps.
2
Philadelphia
Three and a half years ago, Dominic DeLuca left Magnolia Grove, Georgia, for the second time, and that’s when he swore he’d never return. Never mind his grandma still lived there and was getting on in years. As far as he was concerned, the town held nothing but bad memories. When he allowed himself to think about it, he could still picture his mama’s car disappearing in the cloud of dust she’d kicked up as she’d sped down the road. He’d called out to her, but there was no way of knowing whether she’d heard him, because she’d never glanced back.
And then there was the thing with his ex, Tracy. She’d turned her back on him the same as his mama had.
“I never want to see you again,” she’d said, which was fine as far as Dominic was concerned. He couldn’t abide her uppity sister and had no need of a kid who’d been trouble from the day he’d been born almost five years ago.
He hadn’t spoken to Tracy for over three years, not since that Thanksgiving Day when they last saw each other, and he had no intention of ever doing so. He’d been the one to reach out last time; there was no way he’d do it again. Sure, that day he’d had a few drinks to bolster his courage, but she’d turned it into an issue. Instead of being happy about his offer to get married and be a real daddy to Lucas, she’d pounced on him, calling him a drunk. He didn’t need that kind of shit; not now, not ever.
Yeah, they’d been good together, but that was in the early years before she’d had the kid. Once Lucas came along, everything changed. The good times were gone. The only interest Tracy had was Lucas, and she was forever talking about how he needed this, that, and the other thing.
“What about me?” Dominic had asked. “What about my needs?”
That was something for which she’d had no answer. Little wonder he’d decided to take his pleasure elsewhere.
Dominic’s cell phone was bulky in his pocket, so he left it lying on the shelf while working. It rang when he was at the far end of the bar pouring a double bourbon for Willie Edwards. He caught the familiar sound of the ringtone, but with one thing and another, he forgot to check for missed calls.
It was two hours later when the phone rang again, and Dominic answered. There was a fragile sound to his grandma’s words as she asked how he was. It was so like her to ask about him. It had always been that way, almost as if she was trying to make up for what had happened. After he’d complained about working too hard, she moved on to give him the news.
“The cancer is back,” Alice said softly. “I’ve been to Dr. Willoughby, and the tests confirm it.”
Dominic stood speechless for a moment. He’d always known this was a possibility, but he’d never really expected it to happen. His grandmother seemed so strong, so in charge of life. Twice before, she’d beaten it, and he wanted to believe she would do it again.
“So . . . what’s it going to be, chemo or—”
“Nothing,” she said and gave a frail laugh. “This time it’s too late. I’ve got five, maybe six months, but it’s unlikely to be longer.”
He inhaled sharply but said nothing.
“I know how you feel about Magnolia Grove . . .” She hesitated, as if considering what she was going to say next, then went on. “I was hoping you could come home and spend some time here. Someone will need to take care of things—details, final arrangements, the house—”
>
“What about Mama?”
Several moments ticked by before Alice spoke again. “I haven’t heard from Dorothy for almost fifteen years.” A labored sigh rattled up from her chest. “I doubt she’d come home even if I could get in touch with her.”
It was a hard truth to accept, though now, it came as no surprise. The woman who claimed to be his mother was off somewhere, busy with something else. Unavailable. The resentment of those years rose in him like a storm brewing.
“Figures,” he said sharply. “I’m not exactly eager to see her anyway.”
They spoke for several minutes; then Dominic said, “I’ll be there in a week, maybe less.”
“Good.” The relief in her voice was clear. “I’m really looking forward to seeing you.”
After hanging up, Dominic thought about what he had to do. He hated the idea of returning to Magnolia Grove, but after all Alice had done for him, he had to go. He was the only one she had, just as she was the only one he had. Once Alice was gone, there would be no one; an absentee mama who couldn’t be found didn’t count.
That thought lodged itself in Dominic’s chest like a huge chunk of granite.
“Hey, there,” Willie called out. “Did you not hear me ask for a refill?”
“Yeah, I heard.” Dominic took a bottle of bourbon from the back bar and poured a generous amount over the ice in Willie’s glass. He pushed the drink across the counter, then poured a second one for himself. Figuring this would be his last night of working at Rosie’s, he decided to make the most of it.
“Cheers,” he said in a flat voice.
He lifted the glass to his mouth and chugged down the pain-dulling elixir. That drink was followed by another and then another. By the time the bar closed at 2:00 a.m., he’d lost count.
Once the last patron stumbled out and Dominic flipped the lock on the front door, Rosie sauntered out from the back office. She had twenty years and a good thirty pounds on Dominic but was still pleasing to look at.
“Pour me a double,” she said and wriggled onto a stool.
He set two glasses on the bar and poured heavily.
It wasn’t unusual for Dominic to have a drink or two during the evening. Every so often, the house bought a round for customers, and they in turn bought him one. Supposedly it was good for business, but this was the first time he’d ended up totally sloshed.