Chapter One
Beth Whitaker hated flowers.
Sure, they were pretty, and some of them even smelled good. The right assortment could dress up a dinner table, and she could appreciate how each one was different. But flowers were a sign of weakness.
And death.
People brought flowers to gravesites and hospital rooms. One of her earliest memories was being pulled out of kindergarten to attend her great-grandmother’s funeral. She didn’t remember the way Grandma had looked in the casket or who else had been there, but she distinctly remembered the smell of the flowers.
It was the same smell that had filled Mom’s hospital room ten months ago. Floral sympathy left as sour a taste in her mouth as floral courtship. Pining over some man, waiting for him to bring flowers for no reason.
Weakness.
Now Beth sat in the small exam room, waiting for Dr. Berry to check on her mother. The checkup they’d been waiting for, the one that told them her mom had recovered from her stroke.
But Beth knew better. After all, she was the one taking care of her mom on a daily basis.
“Would you stop doing that?” Her mother’s brows matched her mouth, turned down like blankets in a fancy hotel.
“What am I doing?” Beth’s own wrung-out hands drew her attention to her lap. “Sorry. I’m nervous.”
Her mom waved her off. “I’m fine. I feel great.”
“I just hope it’s not the calm before another storm.”
“You are so negative, Beth,” her mother groaned. “Is this how I raised you?”
Beth shot her a look. It was, in fact, exactly how she’d raised her. The difference was that her mom’s near-death experience had given the elder Whitaker a new, cheery outlook on life. One she flaunted like a child wearing a new dress.
“You’ve gotta realize one of these days that life is short. It’s time you get back to your own life and let me worry about mine.”
Beth stood. “What is taking so long?”
Despite her mother’s protests, Beth opened the door and started down the hall—more to get away from her mother’s lecture than to search for Dr. Berry. The nurses’ station around the corner might provide an escape, or at least some answers as to what was holding up the good doctor.
But when she reached the end of the hallway and overheard someone say her name, Beth stopped.
“I guess Miss Most Likely to Succeed is just a commoner like the rest of us,” a woman’s voice mocked. “Didn’t she always talk about getting out of this dead-end town?”
“Tandy, stop. Her mom had a stroke.”
“Ten months ago. She had plenty of time to get out of here before that. Years, in fact.”
From where she stood, Beth heard papers rustling and fingers clicking on a keyboard.
“Give her a break,” the other woman said.
“Sorry. I just can’t stand these rich girls who think they’re better than everyone else.”
“It’s not like everything’s come easy to her, Tandy. She’s had a rough few years.”
There was a pause then—for effect? An eye roll? Beth could only imagine.
“If you’re talking about Michael, she should’ve known.”
Beth tensed at the mention of his name.
“I mean, everyone else did.”
“I think it’s sad,” the other nurse said. “If the homecoming king and queen don’t stay together after high school, what chance do the rest of us have?”
“You can’t be serious.”
“Why not?”
“You voted them Cutest Couple, didn’t you?” Her voice dripped with sarcasm.
“Why are we still talking about high school, Tandy? The rest of us have moved on, including Beth Whitaker.”
“Yeah, she moved straight out of her college dorm and into her parents’ house. Guess the black hole of Willow Grove sucked her back in with the rest of us.”
The nurses laughed. Hometown girls, no doubt—the kind who’d always wanted out of Willow Grove but never left.
Who was she kidding? She’d just described herself. She wasn’t supposed to still be here. That was never the plan.
“Just a temporary gig,” her father had told her when he’d hired her at his company. “You’re different, Beth. You can get out of here and do so much more with your life.”
The job at Whitaker Mowers turned out not to be a temporary gig. And she’d turned out to be a major disappointment. When she thought of how much she had cost him, her stomach tied itself into a thick knot.
“Beth?”
One of the nurses—Jillian, her name tag said—had turned the corner and now stood in front of her, and Beth felt weak and helpless all over again. It was getting old. She wasn’t the kind of person who should feel this way.
“What are you doing out here?”
Beth could tell by the look on her face—the nurse knew she’d heard the conversation. She should tell Jillian and her friend exactly what they could do with their high-and-mighty attitudes. She should—but she wouldn’t. She didn’t have the courage or the energy, so she chose to ignore it. Never mind that its sting had already done its damage.
“Sorry, I was just looking for Dr. Berry.”
“He’s back with your mom.”
Beth straightened. “Thanks.”
“We’re all pulling for her,” Jillian said. “We’re hoping for good results.”
Beth started back down the hall, trying not to think of the day her perfectly planned-out life had taken a turn for the worse. The very worst.
Some days she wished she was still blissfully unaware of the truth about the man she’d devoted so many years to. Her first—and only—love had broken her heart.
She wondered if she’d ever find all of the pieces.
She could practically smell the tulips he’d sent in an effort to win her back. Cards attached to bouquets had gone unread and were thrown away until finally, one day, the flowers stopped coming.
He’d gotten the hint.
And it was on that day Beth realized she’d wasted years of her life building a relationship with a man who could never really love her. The only person Michael really loved was himself.
When she reached the closed door of her mother’s exam room, Beth barged in on Dr. Berry talking in hushed tones the way doctors always seemed to do.
“What’s wrong?” she said as soon as she opened the door.
The doctor turned to her, a puzzled look on his face. “Hi, Beth.” He smiled. He had a fatherly way about him with his gray hair and glasses. He wore a blue dress shirt rolled at the sleeves and a nice gray-and-blue tie. He was handsome with caring eyes, the kind that danced a little.
“Sorry,” Beth said. “I just assumed . . .”
“She assumes a lot, Dr. Berry. It’s not her best quality.” Her mom tossed a smile over her shoulder toward Beth—a smile that faded in a reprimand as soon as their eyes met.
Beth sat, shaking off the effects of the conversation she’d overheard in the hallway.
She’d been so confident once. A high performer, an overachiever. She’d grown up believing her father when he’d told her, “Beth, I don’t care if you’re a woman in a man’s world. You were born to lead.”
Michael had taken that from her.
Leaving should’ve made her stop loving him. It sickened her to think of how many times she’d wished she’d never found out the truth. It would’ve been easier to go on believing everything was fine.
Her own weakness disgusted her. She’d never been this woman before. Or maybe she’d never had occasion before for her weakness to show through.
But here she was. Still running the office at Whitaker Mowers. Still living in Willow Grove. And still completely unwilling to even consider putting herself out there again.
Most days she was fine with the way her life had turned out, but lately—and always when she ran into old friends from high school, especially the ones who’d moved away—she had this disheartening sense of discontent.
She should’ve made more of herself by now.
And now she was stuck. Her father’s death had left her with a responsibility to carry on the family business. Did it matter that she didn’t love it? No. She didn’t get to be choosy after the mistakes she’d made.
Still, sometimes it gnawed at her—this idea that maybe she’d lost herself along the way. Had she become the opposite of what her father had wanted her to become?
Had she become the kind of woman who wanted a man to bring her flowers?
She shook the taunting thoughts away. She didn’t want to think about her poor judgment right now.
Beth forced herself to focus on Dr. Berry’s assessment of her mother’s condition. The words “miraculous recovery” and “near 100 percent” caught her attention. Did Dr. Berry know that her mother hardly moved from her chair in the living room? Did he know she still required help in the shower? Mom still needed her. Otherwise, Beth would’ve moved out and into her own apartment. Maybe even finally found a job in the city like she’d always intended.
Wouldn’t she have?
In the car on the way home, a soft smile rested on her mother’s face.
“You look happy,” Beth said.
Her mom glanced at her. “Why does it sound like an accusation when you say it?”
Beth kept her eyes on the road. “Obviously the doctor was a bit optimistic, don’t you think?”
She could almost hear her mother frown. “No, I don’t. I agree with everything he said.”
“Near 100 percent? Mom, you still need help walking around the house. That’s not a full recovery.”
Her mother was quiet for a long moment. “Have you ever thought that maybe I don’t actually need help? But that I’m not going to turn it down if you offer it?”
“I don’t understand.”
“You heard Dr. Berry. I’m better, Beth. A little slow, maybe, but the day of my stroke, we didn’t even know if I’d be able to speak again.”
Beth remembered. She’d been so filled with panic, so full of guilt. She couldn’t help but think that if her father were still alive, none of this would’ve happened.
And she couldn’t help but think that her father would still be alive if it weren’t for her.
“Well, I still think you’ve got a ways to go.” Beth turned onto their road, a private, tree-lined drive that took them to the front of the large white house out on the edge of town. Daddy had done well for himself and continued to take care of his family even after his death.
What she wouldn’t give for just one more conversation with him. Would he have still pushed her toward the big dreams—the city life—if he’d known he wasn’t going to live? Or would he have changed his tune, telling her to take care of their family business, to watch over everything he’d spent his life building?
Beth killed the engine in front of the garage, but before she could get out, her mother rested her hand on Beth’s.
“Are you happy, Beth?”
She hated it when her mom took on this serious tone. It seemed like Lilian Whitaker was plenty lighthearted with everyone except Beth these days.
Beth made her mother’s brow furrow.
“Of course, Mom.” She laughed the question off.
“When was the last time you felt genuine happiness?”
Beth’s mind spun, trying to recall a moment of pure joy. How sad that she came up empty. “My work makes me happy. I like knowing I’m carrying on the Whitaker name.”
“In a job you’ve never loved.”
“Where’s this coming from, Mom?”
Her mother gave a soft shrug. “I guess I have a new perspective is all. A new lease on life. And I don’t like seeing you this way.”
“What way? I’m fine. I have responsibilities here.” I have to make up for the things I ruined. I owe that to him. “Don’t you want Dad’s legacy to go on?”
“Not at the expense of your happiness.”
“I’m fine. I just—”
“You’re not happy. And you haven’t been for a long time. The life you used to dream of—it’s not the one you’re living. And that concerns me.”
Beth looked away. Her mom didn’t get it. Things changed. People, plans, dreams—they all changed. Once upon a time, Beth had dreamed of art school and paint-covered hands. A healthy dose of reality had changed her. What was to say that hadn’t happened again?
“Don’t use my health as a reason to stay here, Beth. Not if this isn’t what you love.”
Beth sighed. “I can’t imagine leaving you now, Mom. I don’t care what Dr. Berry says, you’re not strong enough.”
Her mother’s smile waned. “I appreciate that, and I appreciate you helping me, but I’m getting stronger now. It’s time for me to get on with my life.” She stilled a moment. “And time for you to get on with yours.”
Her mom squeezed her hand, then turned toward the car door.
“Here, let me—”
“No, Beth.” Lilian stared at her own hand on the door handle. “I need to start doing things for myself again.”
Beth watched as her mother opened the door gingerly, still in pain. But she didn’t jump in to help. Instead, she sat in the car while her mom inched her way out, closed the door and then walked toward the house, a smile lighting her face.
A smile that was less optimistic and more triumphant.
A smile that told Beth that while she’d been trying to help her mom recover, what she’d actually done was get in the way.
Her mother’s words hung in the stale air of Beth’s closed-up Audi. Her mother didn’t understand. Beth had tried to be genuinely happy once, and it hadn’t panned out. And now, the only thing on her mind was making amends for the things she’d done.
Happiness wasn’t in the cards.