Summer Kisses

by Sarah Morgan

  Jenna swallowed. ‘If I can.’ Then she gave a sigh. ‘No, of course not. Not everything, but—I love her. I want her to be happy.’

  ‘Has it occurred to you that she might like a new man around the house?’

  ‘I think it would unsettle her.’ Jenna finished the bandage, concentrating on the job. ‘Is that comfortable?’

  Mrs Parker put her weight on her leg. ‘It’s perfect, as usual.’ Her voice calm, she picked up her handbag. ‘You’re not the only one who can love, you know. And if love is wanting someone else’s happiness, maybe Lexi should be thinking of yours. Maybe you should give her the chance to worry about you for a change. I want you to think about that.’

  ‘Mrs Parker—’

  ‘Just think about it. I’d hate to see you turning your back on something special. I’ll send the next person in, shall I? Don’t forget to drop in for tea when you’re passing.’ With a quiet smile, the dragon of Glenmore opened the door. ‘I happen to know that Rev King has a date free in December. I always think a winter wedding is romantic. And I expect an invitation. I have a particularly nice coat that I haven’t had reason to wear for at least two decades.’

  * * *

  ‘He rolled in a pile of something gross and now he stinks—Mum, are you listening to me? Basically, the dog is rank.’ A frown on her face, Lexi helped herself to crisps from the cupboard and waved them under her mother’s nose. ‘Junk food alert! Time to nag!’

  Her mind miles away, Jenna stared out of the window, trying to find the right way to say what needed to be said.

  ‘On my fourth packet—’ Lexi rustled the bag of crisps dramatically. ‘Might add some more salt to them just to make them extra yummy—’

  ‘Lexi…’ Her strained voice caught her daughter’s attention.

  ‘What? What’s wrong?’

  ‘I—there’s something I need to talk to you about. Something very adult.’

  ‘Is it about the fact you’re having sex with Ryan? Because honestly, Mum—’ Lexi stuck her hand in the crisp packet ‘—I don’t want to know the details. I mean, I love you, and I love that we talk about stuff, but I don’t want to talk about that. It would feel too weird.’

  Stunned, Jenna felt her face turn scarlet. ‘You—I—’

  ‘Don’t get me wrong. I’m basically cool with it, Mum. I’m pleased for you.’ Grinning, Lexi nibbled a crisp. ‘It’s nice for someone of your age to have some excitement.’

  Jenna moved her lips but no sound came out.

  Lexi squinted out of the window. ‘Better pull it together fast, Mum, lover-boy is strolling up the path. I’ll go and let him in, shall I?’ She sauntered towards the door, crisps in her hand. ‘Hi, Ryan. I’m glad you’re here, because Mum so needs a doctor. She’s acting weird. I’ve waved, like, five packets of crisps under her nose and she hasn’t even reacted. Normally she’d be freaking out and going on about too much salt, too much fat. Today—nothing. What’s the matter with her?’

  ‘Perhaps you’d better leave us for a moment.’ Ryan dropped his car keys on the table, but Lexi shook her head and plopped onto a chair by the kitchen table.

  ‘No way. I’m fed up with being the last person to know stuff around here. If you want to get rid of me you’ll have to kick me out, and that will be child abuse.’

  A smile flickered at the corners of Ryan’s mouth. ‘Presumably that wouldn’t be a good start to our relationship.’

  Lexi looked at him thoughtfully. ‘You’ve got a thing for my mum, haven’t you?’

  Ryan winced, and Jenna came to her senses. ‘Lexi!’

  ‘It’s too late for discipline. I’m already full of crisps.’ Lexi folded her arms. ‘It would be great if someone around here would give me a straight answer for once. I know you like my mum, so there’s no point in denying it.’

  ‘That isn’t quite how I’d describe it,’ Ryan said carefully, and Jenna felt the pulse beat in her throat.

  Lexi didn’t pause. ‘What words would you use?’

  ‘I love your mum.’ Ryan spoke the words calmly, with no hint of apology or question. ‘I love her very much. But I realise that the situation is complicated.’

  ‘What’s complicated about it? She’s divorced, and you—’ Lexi frowned. ‘Are you married or something?’

  ‘No. I was in the past.’

  ‘So, basically, you’re free and single?’ Lexi grinned cheekily. ‘I missed out the “young” bit, did you notice?’

  ‘I noticed. Remind me to punish you later.’ A sardonic smile on his face, Ryan sat down at the table. ‘I’m not sure what order to do this in. If you want to be part of a family that already exists, do you propose to the woman or the daughter?’

  ‘Don’t waste your time proposing to me,’ Lexi said casually. ‘You may be hot, but you’re way too old for me. How old are you?’

  ‘Thirty-six.’

  Lexi shuddered. ‘You’d go and die, or something, while I was still in my prime. Mind you, that has its advantages. Are you rich?’

  ‘Lexi!’ Jenna finally found her voice. ‘You can’t—’

  ‘Actually, I am pretty rich. Why does that matter?’ Ryan’s long fingers toyed with his keys. ‘Are you open to bribery and corruption?’

  ‘Of course. I’m a teenager. The art of negotiation is an important life skill.’ Lexi grabbed a grape from the fruit bowl and popped it in her mouth. ‘So how big a bribe are we talking about? If I let you marry my mum you’ll buy me a pink Porsche?’

  Ryan grimaced. ‘Not pink. Please not pink.’

  Glancing between the two of them in disbelief, Jenna shook her head. ‘Can we have a proper conversation?’

  ‘We are having a proper conversation.’ Lexi looked at Ryan speculatively. ‘What music do you like?’

  ‘I have eclectic tastes.’

  ‘In other words you’ll pretend to like anything I like.’

  ‘No. But I’m sure there would be some common ground.’

  ‘If I let you marry my mum, will you teach me to abseil?’

  Jenna felt faint. ‘Lexi—Ryan—for goodness’ sake—’

  ‘I don’t see why not.’

  ‘And surf?’

  ‘Your balance was pretty impressive on those rocks, and you don’t seem to mind being swamped by seawater.’ Ryan gave a casual shrug and a smile touched his mouth. ‘Looks like I’m going to be busy.’

  ‘And you promise not to tell me what time to go to bed or nag me about my diet?’

  ‘You can eat what you like and go to bed when you like.’

  Lexi fiddled with his car keys. ‘Do I have to call you Dad?’

  ‘You can call me whatever you like.’

  ‘I never thought about having another father.’

  There was a long silence, and then Ryan stirred. ‘How about another friend? Have you thought about having another one of those?’

  Lexi gave a slow smile and stood up. ‘Yeah,’ she drawled huskily, ‘I could go with that. I’ll leave you two alone now. The thought of watching a man kiss my mum is just a bit gross. I’m taking Rebel down on the beach to wash off whatever it is he’s rolled in. I reckon it’s going to take me at least two hours to get him clean, and I’m going to bang the front door really loudly when I come back.’ Grinning wickedly, she scooped up the lead and then walked over to Jenna. ‘Say yes, Mum. You know you want to.’ She glanced over her shoulder to Ryan. ‘And he’s pretty cool—for an older person. We’re going to do OK.’

  Jenna couldn’t find her voice. ‘Lex—’

  ‘You’re almost too old to have another baby, so you’d better not waste any time,’ Lexi advised, kissing Jenna on the cheek.

  Sensing Ryan’s eyes on her, Jenna swallowed. ‘Lexi, we won’t—’

  ‘I hope you do. Think of all the money I’d earn babysitting.’ Lexi grinned. ‘How much would you pay me to change nappies? I’ll think about a decent rate while I’m scrubbing Rebel. See you later.’ She sauntered out of the house, leaving the two of them alone.

  Awa
re of Ryan still watching her, Jenna opened her mouth and closed it again.

  He stood up and walked across to her. ‘I had an unexpected visitor this morning.’

  ‘You did?’

  ‘The Reverend King.’ There was a gleam of humour in his eyes. ‘He wanted to know exactly what time we wanted the church on Christmas Eve. Apparently it’s been reserved provisionally in our name. His suggestion was just before lunch, so that the entire island could then gather for food at our expense. I wondered what you thought.’

  Jenna swallowed. Then she turned her head and stared into the garden, watching as Lexi put Rebel on his lead and led him through the little gate towards the beach. ‘I think that life sometimes surprises you,’ she said huskily. ‘I think that just when you think everything is wrong, it suddenly turns out right. I think I’m lucky. What do you think?’

  Ryan closed his hands over her shoulders and turned her to face him. ‘I think we only have two hours before Lexi comes home.’ His fingers were strong, and he held her as though he never intended to let her go. ‘We should probably make the most of it. Especially if we want to make a baby before we’re both too old.’

  She made a sound that was somewhere between a laugh and a sob and flung her arms around his neck. ‘What if I can’t? What if I am too old? What if I can’t give you a family?’

  His hands gentle, he cupped her face and lowered his mouth to hers. ‘Marry me and you will have given me all the family I need. You. Lexi.’

  ‘But—’

  ‘Sometimes we don’t begin a journey knowing where it’s going to end,’ he said softly, resting his forehead against hers as he looked down at her. ‘Sometimes we don’t have all the answers. We don’t know what the future holds, but we do know that whatever it is we’ll deal with it. Together. The three of us. And Rebel, of course.’

  The three of us.

  Holding those words against her like a warm blanket, Jenna lifted her head. ‘The three of us,’ she whispered softly. ‘That sounds good to me.’

  * * * * *

  Read on for a sneak peek of

  ONE SUMMER IN PARIS

  by USA TODAY bestselling author Sarah Morgan!

  Grace Porter woke on Valentine’s Day, happily married and blissfully unaware that was about to change.

  Downstairs in the kitchen she added slices of cheese to the bread she’d baked fresh the day before, put fruit and raw vegetables into lunch boxes and then checked her list.

  Number four on today’s list: remind Sophie about dinner.

  She glanced up. “Don’t forget Dad and I are out tonight. Your dinner is in the fridge.”

  Her daughter, Sophie, was messaging a friend. “Mmm…”

  “Sophie!”

  “I know! No phones at the table—but this is urgent. Amy and I are writing a letter to the paper about that development they’re going to build on the edge of town. Dad promised he’d publish it. Can you believe they want to close the dog shelter? Those dogs are going to die if someone doesn’t do something, and that someone is me. There. Done.” Sophie finally looked up. “Mom, I can make my own lunch.”

  “Would you include fresh fruit and veg?”

  “No. Which is why I’d rather make my own.” Sophie gave a smile that didn’t just light her up, it lit Grace up, too. “And you’re starting to sound like Monica, which is a little scary.”

  Her daughter was like sunshine. She made the world a brighter place. For years Grace had been braced for her to rebel, take drugs, or roll in drunk after an illicit party with friends, but it hadn’t happened. It seemed that Sophie’s genetic makeup favored David’s side of the family, which was a relief. If Sophie had an addiction it was causes. She hated injustice, inequality and anything she deemed unfair—particularly when it related to animals. She was the champion of all dogs, especially the underdog.

  Grace was quick to defend her friend. “Monica is a wonderful mother.”

  “Maybe, but I can tell you that the first thing Chrissie is going to do when we get to Europe this summer is feast on a ton of fries to make up for all the years her mom wouldn’t let her touch them.” Sophie finished her oatmeal. “Did you say something about dinner?”

  “Have you forgotten what day it is?” Grace closed the lunch boxes and put one next to Sophie. The other she slid into her own bag.

  “Valentine’s Day.” Sophie slid off her chair and picked up her empty bowl. “The day it becomes public knowledge that nobody loves me.”

  “Dad and I love you.”

  “No offense, but you’re not young, cool and athletic.”

  Grace took a mouthful of coffee. How much should she say? “It’s still Sam?”

  Sophie’s smile faded as if someone had hit the dimmer switch. “He’s seeing Callie. They walk round together holding hands. She keeps giving me these smug smiles. I’ve known Callie since I was three, so I don’t understand why she’s doing this. I mean date him, sure. That sucks, but it’s life. But it’s like she’s trying to hurt me.”

  Grace felt a burning in her chest. Not heartburn, but parenthood. As a mother, her role was to support from the sidelines. It was like being forced to watch a really bad play without the consolation of knowing you could leave in the interval.

  “I’m sorry, honey.”

  “Don’t be.” Sophie put her bowl in the dishwasher and then added the one her father had left on the side. “It would never have worked out. Sophie and Sam sounds pretty lame, don’t you think?”

  Her hurt slid into Grace and settled deep in her gut.

  “You’re going to college soon. After a month in California you won’t even remember Sam exists. You have your whole life ahead of you, and all the time in the world to meet someone special.”

  “I’m going to study, graduate top of my class and go to law school where I can learn how to sue people who are assho—”

  “Sophie!”

  “Er…not very nice people.” Sophie grinned, slung her backpack over one shoulder and stroked her long ponytail over the other. “Don’t worry, Mom. Boys drive me insane. I don’t want a relationship.”

  That will change, Grace thought.

  “Have a great day, Mom, and happy anniversary. Twenty-five years of not yelling at Dad when he leaves his socks on the floor and his dirty plate on top of the dishwasher. Major achievement. Are you seeing Mimi today?”

  “This afternoon.” Grace slid her laptop into her bag. “I made macarons, like the ones she used to buy in Paris. You know what a sweet tooth your great-grandmother has.”

  “Because she lived in Paris during the war and she had no food. Sometimes she was too weak to dance. Can you even imagine that?”

  “That’s probably why she talks to you about it. She doesn’t want you to take things for granted.” She opened the box she’d carefully packed that morning, revealing pastel macarons lined up in neat rows of rainbow perfection.

  Sophie made a sound that was almost a purr. “Wow. I don’t suppose I could…?”

  “No.” Grace closed the box. “But I might have packed a couple for your lunch.” She tried not to think about the sugar, or how Monica would react to the inclusion of empty calories in a lunch box.

  “You’re the best, Mom.” Sophie kissed her cheek and Grace felt warmth flood through her.

  “Do you need a favor or something?”

  “Don’t be cynical.” Sophie grabbed her coat. “Not many people would teach French at an assisted living center, that’s all. I think you’re amazing.”

  Grace felt like a fraud. She didn’t do it out of any sense of charity, but because she liked the people. They were always so pleased to see her. They made her feel valued.

  It was embarrassing to think she could still be needy at her age.

  “Their French Club is the best part of my week. Today being Valentine’s Day, I’ve allowed myself to be creative.” She picked up the stack of menus she’d designed. “The staff are laying the tables in the restaurant with red-and-white tablecloths. We’re eati
ng French food, I’m playing music… Knowing your great-grandmother, there will be dancing. What do you think?”

  “Ooh la-la, I think it sounds great.” Sophie grinned. “Just remember that the average age of Mimi’s friends is ninety. Don’t give them all heart attacks.”

  “I’m pretty sure Robert has his eye on Mimi.”

  “Mimi is a minx. I hope I’m like her when I’m ninety. She has this wicked twinkle in her eye… It must have been fun having her living with you when you were growing up.”

  It had been lifesaving. And that, of course, was why Mimi had moved in.

  It was a time she’d never discussed with her daughter. “She’s one in a million. You’ll be okay tonight?” She checked the kitchen was tidy. “There’s casserole in the fridge. All you need to do is heat it up.”

  “I’m eighteen, Mom. You don’t have to worry about me.” Sophie glanced out the window as a car pulled up outside. “Karen is here. I need to run. Bye.”

  Telling Grace not to worry was like asking a fish not to swim.

  Two minutes after Sophie had left, she slid on her coat, picked up her keys and walked to the car.

  Turning the heat up, she focused on the drive.

  Four mornings a week, Grace taught French and Spanish at the local middle school. She also tutored children who were struggling and occasionally gave lessons to adults keen to improve their language skills.

  She took the same route she always took, seeing the same houses, the same trees, the same stores. Her view only changed when the seasons changed. Grace didn’t mind. She savored routine and predictability. She found comfort and security in knowing what was going to happen next.

  Today the snow lay deep on the ground, coating roofs and gardens in thick slabs of white. In this little corner of Connecticut the snow was likely to linger for many weeks. Some people embraced it. Grace wasn’t one of them. By March, winter felt like a guest who had outstayed her welcome. She longed for sunshine and summer dresses, bare legs and iced drinks.

  She was still dreaming of summer when the phone rang.

  It was David.

  “Hi, Gracie.” That voice of his still made her insides melt. Deep and gravelly, but smooth enough to soothe life’s hurts.