Mornings, Bridget found, were always the most challenging part of the day. Even before she’d taken over this house and opened the inn, it had been that way. Back then it had been the endless scramble of showering, dressing, making Emma’s breakfast, cleaning up breakfast, checking over homework, and getting Emma to school before running to work at the real estate agency where she’d worked for eight years following her split from Ryan.
There was always something to cause delay: forgotten homework at the bottom of Emma’s bag; a missing field trip permission slip, misplaced library books, or missing keys.
Today, it was missing socks.
“What do you mean you have no matching socks?” Bridget added muffins to the basket of mixed pastries as quickly as her hands would allow her, even if she did only have one guest, and even if he probably wouldn’t come out his room at all today, much to her chagrin. Still, service was service, and she wasn’t about to let anything slip.
“I have a pink one and a grey one and purple one and a striped one. Oh! And one with hearts!” Emma called in delight from her bedroom.
Bridget popped the lid of a box of croissants and began arranging them in one of the baskets. The order was smaller than usual, and whatever didn’t get eaten this morning, she’d bring over to Serenity Hills when she and Emma visited Mimi after school today.
Her phone buzzed. She glanced at the screen. Margo. She’d have to call her back.
“There are some with polka dots!” Emma offered.
Bridget bit back her frustration. She dumped the remaining pastries in the basket, flipped over the ones that landed askew, and all but ran them into the dining room, where she’d already set up the fruit and yogurt. Even though she’d expected the dining room to be empty, she couldn’t help but feel a little disappointed that Jack hadn’t emerged from his room yet.
Well. No time to dwell. She had a missing sock to find and a pot of coffee to make.
“Emma,” she said, as she walked into their living quarters, through the small sitting area, and into her daughter’s pale pink bedroom. “If I open that drawer and find a matching pair of socks, I’m not going to be happy. I still have to make the coffee and we’re supposed to leave in—” She glanced at her watch. “Six minutes!”
Emma’s eyes turned comically round, and Bridget fought off a smile as she opened the top drawer of the white dresser she’d pilfered from Abby’s childhood bedroom. Sure enough. No matching socks.
She frowned as she rifled through them.
“I told you there weren’t any!” Emma declared, folding he arms over her chest. “I don’t lie.”
Bridget looked down at her daughter and stoked her cheek. Its softness never failed to surprise her. “Of course not, sweetheart. Sometimes mothers are just better at finding these things…”
And sometimes not. She stared into the contents of the drawer. “How is this even possible?” And what were the odds? One of each pair, but no match at all?
“Maybe the machine ate them,” Emma offered.
It seemed like a half-reasonable explanation at the moment. “Maybe,” Bridget said, shaking her head. “Well, we don’t have time to bother with this right now. You’ll just have to wear sandals today.”
The forecast had called for sunshine and blue skies and a high of seventy. Fair enough for sandals this once.
“But what about gym class? And recess!” Emma’s lower lip began to quiver.
Bridget tried not to let the impatience register on her face. “Emma. It’s just for today—”
“Hello!” a voice called from the kitchen. A female voice. In fact, if Bridget didn’t know better, she’d say that was her sister Abby’s voice.
She hurried into the kitchen, where sure enough her sister stood, laden with shopping bags.
“I’m here to make breakfast!” she announced.
Bridget blinked. She tried to think of something diplomatic to say, something that wouldn’t hurt her sister’s feelings but that would nip this whole scheme of Abby’s in the bud. “Abby, I—”
“Mommy!” Emma came bursting into the room, clutching a fistful of socks. “I don’t want to wear mismatched socks to school!”
“Why not?” Abby said cheerfully. “They still cover your feet. And it’s kind of interesting. Personally, I’d choose the one with hearts and the pink striped one.”
“Really?” Emma smiled, revealing two spaces where her grown-up teeth were yet to make an appearance. “Cool.”
Cool. Bridget felt a little pang in her chest. Her baby was saying words like “cool.” Where was the little toddler who called her backpack a “cack cack”? Next thing Bridget knew, Emma would be asking for a cell phone and wanting to color her hair.
She sighed. For now, she should just be grateful that Emma still wanted to hold her hand. That was something. Something she’d hold on to…forever, if she could.
Emma ran off to her bedroom, and Bridget turned to her sister. “Thank you.”
Abby just shrugged. “That’s what aunts are for. Especially the fun ones,” she added with a grin.
Bridget eyed the shopping bags uneasily. “Why don’t I take Emma to school and then we can finish our conversation from the weekend?” She could offer her one weekend a month, something to start with, and something she could supervise.
She glanced at the clock. They only had four minutes now. Hurrying, she went to the coffee machine and started a pot. “Emma, don’t forget your library books!”
“Too early for coffee?” a voice behind her grumbled.
Bridget felt the hair on the back of her head stand up. He’d emerged. She’d half expected not to see him at all today…even if she had made sure to swipe her lipstick on a bit earlier than usual.
“Good morning!” she said brightly, turning to face him.
Her stomach knotted at the sight. A blue rugby shirt hugged his chest in all the right places, and his hair was perfectly tousled, as if he’d just rolled out of bed.
Her lids fluttered.
“Hello…” He gave a slow smile that undid her. “I hope it’s okay that I’m in here. Or is the kitchen usually not open to guests?”
“Usually not,” she admitted. “But I’m always happy to make an exception for my favorite guest.”
Abby turned to her with wide eyes, and Bridget felt her cheeks start to burn.
Dear God, she was flirting. And she didn’t flirt. Never had. Her own mother used to elbow her ribs and tell her that she needed to try a little harder, show the guys she was interested. Instead, she’d hidden in the corner at school dances and in the cafeteria, clinging to her friends and blushing anytime a guy looked her way.
The shy girl thing had worked with Ryan. He liked the chase. But if an eight-year dry spell said anything, it didn’t work in general.
Oh, Mom, she thought, feeling that ache in her chest. What she wouldn’t give for just one more conversation. One more family meal. There had been so many times over the years she still wished she could pick up the phone…especially all those long, lonely nights when Emma was a baby, and she was so overwhelmed and didn’t know who to turn to for help.
“Favorite guest, or only guest?” Jack shot back, cocking an eyebrow devilishly.
“Only guest,” Bridget admitted with a laugh. “Though another couple is arriving today. We’ll be full up by Friday for the Flower Fest this weekend.”
It was one of her favorite festivals that Oyster Bay offered, and Emma was especially looking forward to entering the hat decorating contest, even if she would be attending the event with her father this year.
“Flower Fest?” Jack didn’t look sold on the idea.
Bridget started the coffee and explained, “It’s an annual event to celebrate spring, really. There are flowers, of course, but…other festivities, too.”
“Maybe I’ll check it out,” Jack said to her surprise.
She hoped the expression on her face didn’t reveal how pleased she was.
“The coffee will be ready in two minutes,” she said. “And while you wait, there are some pastries and fruit in the dining room.”
“Same as yesterday?” he said good-naturedly.
Bridget frowned. She wasn’t used to having guests stay for more than a night, two at most. “Well, yes—”
“Unless, you’d prefer an omelet?” Abby cut in, refusing to meet Bridget’s eye.
Jack looked pleased. “An omelet sounds great, actually.”
“Great. Spinach and goat cheese is today’s special.”
“Wow, that sounds delicious,” Jack said, grinning, as he wandered into the dining room.
Indeed it did, Bridget thought, her lips thinning. It wasn’t until he was out of ear shot that she turned to her sister, hissing, “Abby, I told you—”
“You’re going to be late to school,” Abby said pleasantly. “And like you said, we can talk about all this when you get back.”
Oh, they would, Bridget thought, grabbing a light jacket and her car keys. They most certainly would.
***
When Jack returned to the kitchen for a cup of coffee, he had the uneasy sensation that the auburn-haired woman was giving him the once-over. He shoved his hands into the pockets of his jeans and gave her a grin, hoping it passed for friendly and not suggestive.
“I don’t think we’ve met,” she said, thrusting out a hand. “I’m Abby Harper, Bridget’s younger sister.”
Ah, so this was Abby. His grin came a little easier now. He almost felt like he had an advantage in this situation. “Bridget mentioned you.”
“Oh?” Abby looked decidedly interested, and she showed no signs of making his omelet until he continued.
“We were talking about this house last night at dinner,” he said. “She mentioned Room Four technically used to be your childhood bedroom.”
“Did you say dinner?” Abby frowned. “I didn’t realize Bridget was serving her guests dinner.” She stepped back, seeming flustered.
Immediately, Jack realized he had stepped into something he didn’t want to be a part of—a family matter that was none of his business. Abby’s brow was pinched and her eyes were darting over the room. “Oh, no. It was…Well, I was hungry. And she was making a lasagna, so…” He shrugged. No use in explaining further. It was dinner. Nothing more.
Then why did it feel like something he needed to hide?
“I see.” Abby’s face relaxed just in time for her the corners of her mouth to curl. “Yes, I see.”
Oh, brother. Now she was really getting the wrong impression. Jack held up a hand. “It’s not what you think. I’m…”
“Married?” Her brow lifted.
He almost laughed out loud at her audacity, but he couldn’t help but like her for it. Her green eyes held his, clearly waiting for an answer.
“No,” he replied.
“Engaged?”
“No. Happily single. And…very busy.” He gave her a pointed look, then made a show of looking at the carton of eggs. His stomach rumbled and, much as he was enjoying Abby’s company, the familiar sensation of anxiety was starting to take over, just like it did every time he thought of his looming deadline.
“Of course! The omelet. Coming right up, sir.”
“I’ll wait in the lobby,” he said, thinking how formal and uncomfortable it would be to sit at the long dining table all by himself and be served by this woman. “Is the inn usually this quiet?”
Not that he minded. In fact, he preferred it to the drunken cheers of celebration he’d suffered through during the weekend. Still, he couldn’t use it as an excuse for his lack of productivity, much as he wished.
“It always fills up by the weekends. Especially this weekend,” Abby said chattily.
Jack hovered in the doorway, realizing by posing the question he wasn’t going to get out of the room anytime soon.
“Flower Fest is one of the best festivals in Oyster Bay. Everyone comes out to the town green, and they fill the stands with food and flowers, and there’s a live band. Crafts for the kids. Of course, when the weather is bad, they have to cancel, and just hold a giant flower sale instead at the town hall,” she chattered as she finally fetched a bowl and cracked an egg into it. “But everyone comes out for it. You should go!” She looked up at him, grinning.
“I have a lot of work to do,” he said, the anxiety really burning now.
“Suit yourself, but it’s a lot of fun. Anyway, the inn will be full up. Couples, no doubt, in search of a romantic weekend excursion.” She gave him a lingering look as he backed out of the room, finding relief in the empty shadows of the front parlor.
Still, he chuckled to himself as he sat down in an armchair near the fireplace. She was an interesting character. And he could use one of those about now.
***
Bridget pulled Emma up to the Kiss N’ Cry, eager to get back to the inn, and not because of Jack. No, it was better that she didn’t see him again. Better that she let last night’s dinner fade into her memory like the kiss had. She’d just been hospitable. Nothing more. He was a guest, and she had food. Tonight she was having dinner with Mimi, so there would be no repeats. Definitely not.
“Did you remember your library books?” she asked as Emma unhooked her seat belt.
“They’re in my locker,” Emma said, shaking her head.
Bridget tried to listen to herself objectively. Was she a nag? Probably. But, really, what choice did she have?
“Have a great day at school, honey. When I pick you up, we’re going over to visit Mimi.”
Emma wrinkled her nose. “Is Pudgie going to be there?”
Bridget sighed. It had been Abby’s brilliant idea to get their grandmother a cat when she moved into Serenity Hills—the one pet that was permitted. Unfortunately, the good intention had backfired, and everyone aside from Mimi had a problem with the obese feline.
“It’s not Pudgie’s fault he doesn’t behave,” Bridget told Emma. “It’s Mimi’s fault for spoiling him so much.” My goodness, if anyone overheard, they would think Pudgie was a boy, not an animal. She grinned at her daughter, “Tell you what, I’ll let you push Mimi’s wheelchair when we go into the cafeteria.”
Emma’s eyes danced at this suggestion. Cheap thrills, Bridget thought, shaking her head as she watched Emma run onto the playground of the very school she’d attended a staggering number of years ago.
Not much had changed since then. The jungle gym and slide and swings had been upgraded, but the rest was the same, right down to the principal and the school librarian, who was a stickler about late books.
But a lot had changed, Bridget thought, as she circled onto Main Street and headed back to the inn. Back then she’d still lived in the big, Victorian house with her sisters and parents and grandmother. There had been Sunday dinners and festive holidays and summers that felt like they lasted forever. Later, in high school, there had been Ryan. Cool, handsome, and just charming enough to keep her hanging on, even when he’d stand her up for dates, and later, drag his feet on the topic of marriage. Once they’d finally gotten married, he’d dragged his feet about a house, and kids, spending all his energy on his restaurant instead.
Even though they’d only divorced eight years ago, it felt like a lifetime ago. Like she’d been a different person. Like she’d been a fool.
Well, never again. She wasn’t going to be a fool again.
But she’d also never leave Oyster Bay. She loved it here. Loved its history and its memories. Even the tough ones.
And maybe, maybe she’d get married again. If she was lucky enough to know that, this time, it would last.
She managed to hit every green light and made it home in record time. But Abby’s car wasn’t the only one in the lot she’d carved out to the side of the house. Margo’s silver SUV was right beside it, and fortunately no one else, meaning her newest guests were yet to arrive.
She pulled into her reserved spot closest to the house and, because she couldn’t resist, smoothed her hair when she stepped out of the car.
Honestly!
She hurried up the front steps and into the foyer-turned-lobby of the large home. Glancing into the dining room, she was deflated to see that it was empty, and that Jack had probably returned to his room, where he would stay for a good portion of the day.
Relaxing her shoulders, she walked down the hall and into the kitchen, where Abby and Margo were standing at the island, deep in conversation.
“What did I miss?” she said as she set her handbag down on a stool.
“More like what did I miss!” Abby wagged her finger in Bridget’s direction. “So you’re serving dinner to guests now?”
Bridget felt her cheeks flush. Guilty as charged. “It was a one-time thing. I only have one guest and the man was hungry.”
“Uh-huh. And I’m a blonde.” Abby gestured to her auburn hair. “Sounds like a date to me.”
“It wasn’t a date.” Wait, had Jack implied otherwise? Her heart sped up for a moment before she pushed the thought firmly back into place. She walked over to the counter to begin cleaning up the breakfast dishes, only to notice that someone had already cleaned them. Abby? More like Margo.
“Well, he couldn’t stop praising your lasagna,” Abby said. Before Bridget could perk up at this, she continued, “Of course, he was raving about the omelet I made him. Says it was just as good as anything he can find in New York.”
Bridget picked up a rag and began scrubbing the counters. She knew a twinge of jealousy when it struck. She still felt it at times when she went to her ex-husband’s restaurant and saw him with whatever young, skinny thing he happened to be dating that week. Even though she knew his love life was a revolving door, it still hurt to feel like she’d been replaced.
“So you talked to him then?”
“Only briefly,” Abby said. “Long enough to learn where he was from and how long he’s here. I told him some things to do in town. “
“That’s all?” Why did she care? And why did she ask? Now her sisters would never let her forget this. She glanced in their direction to see smug smiles on their faces. Yep, sure enough.
“He seemed far more interested in asking about the history of the inn than paying me any attention, if that’s what you’re after,” Abby replied.
“That’s not what I’m after,” Bridget said irritably, but that wasn’t true and Abby knew it. It was…exciting to have a handsome, single man upstairs, as a guest in her home. Even more exciting that he’d given her a romantic moment that had been missing from her life for long before she was even divorced. Ryan had never been one for impromptu gestures or flowers or flattery. His mind was always on something else, primarily his restaurant. So really, it was forgivable that she was still caught up in the fantasy of it all. And really, that’s all it was. A fantasy. Because the reality was that a week from Friday, Jack would be on his way back to New York and she’d be alone in this house again.
Well, not entirely. She had Emma. Thank God for her.
“What brings you by?” she asked Margo.
Her middle sister beamed, and something in the look in her eyes gave Bridget the answer. Her stomach felt funny, and she suddenly wished she hadn’t asked, or that she could feel happier in this moment than she did.
“Well, I was waiting to have you both together, and seeing as I do…” Margo held out her left hand and wiggled her fingers to reveal a beautiful diamond ring. “Eddie proposed last night!”
Bridget blinked, knowing she should react differently. She should squeal with delight, run over and fling her arms around Margo’s shoulders, tell her this was the best news she’d ever heard. But, she couldn’t. Instead, all she could think was that Margo had never known divorce the way Bridget knew divorce. Margo and her husband had split, amicably, and then Margo had soon thereafter reconciled with her high school sweetheart, whereas Bridget had struggled as a single mother on a fixed income without a single date (unless you called last night’s lasagna dinner a date, which it wasn’t) for eight years and counting.
Call her selfish, and maybe she was, but instead of feeling happy for Margo, all she felt was sorry for herself.
The ache in her chest was still pulling hard when she tore her gaze from the sparkling diamond to Margo’s face, and all at once, that pity was replaced with shame. Margo’s smile hadn’t been this bright in more years than Bridget could count. She’d found her happy ending, and Bridget was always a sap when it came to those.
“I’m so happy for you!” she said, feeling it, right to the heart, as she went over and hugged her sister.
“He proposed on a Monday night?” Abby was saying in a tone that implied she had opinions on this.
“He was going to wait until the Flower Fest this weekend, but well…” Margo shrugged. “We had a nice dinner, and one thing led to another.”
“I think Monday is a perfect night for an engagement.” Bridget gave Abby a scolding look. “It’s less expected that way. More romantic.”
“When do you think you’ll get married?” Abby wanted to know.
“Soon,” Margo replied. “Three weeks. Well, two weeks from Saturday.”
“Three weeks!” Bridget couldn’t hide her shock. Margo hadn’t even been single yet, and now she was getting married again? She’d never known what it felt like to eat dinner alone, with only the television to keep you company, or to go to a New Year’s Eve party without a date, and certainly no one to kiss you at the stroke of midnight.
“It’s my second marriage, and I already did the big church wedding thing,” Margo explained. “I want to get married the way I always wanted to. Here, in the backyard of this house. We already lost so much time…We didn’t want to waste any more.”
Now all those self-pitying thoughts officially screeched to a halt. “You want to get married here? In three weeks?”
Margo was nodding, but she was biting her lower lip, her eyes seeming to search Bridget’s for approval. “It wouldn’t have to be anything fancy. Just forty or fifty people or so.”
Oh my God. Bridget felt the room begin to spin.
“A tent. Maybe two.”
“I can cater!” Abby offered.
Margo seemed fine with this, and Bridget was too overwhelmed to reply. She tried to think of her upcoming reservation list, but she couldn’t seem to think straight.
“We wouldn’t need to stay at the inn. No out of town guests,” Margo said. “So you wouldn’t need to worry about a packed house. But I always wanted a backyard wedding.”
They all did. It had been something they’d talked about since they were children, each putting their own spin on it. Instead, Bridget had eloped with Ryan, Margo had moved down south and had a big, church wedding of her mother in-law’s dreams, and Abby…Well, Abby was happy keeping things casual.
“It will be gorgeous!” Abby was staring at Bridget now. “Won’t it?”
Bridget forced herself out of her internal dialogue. “What? Yes. Yes, it will be beautiful.”
“So it won’t be a problem.” Margo looked at her beseechingly, but Bridget couldn’t speak.
A wedding here, in less than three weeks? How could that possibly be a problem?
But this was her sister. This was family.
And besides, if she was ever so lucky to be in Margo’s position, she knew she’d want nothing but the same.
Not that she had time to think about dating or marriage. Life was complicated enough as it was, without having to worry about romance, too.