Chapter 6

Barbara had intended to quickly drop by her mom’s house to collect the old clothes she’d put aside for the Bridgeport program. But when Barbara stepped into her childhood home, her mom wasn’t in. Amy was there, sitting in the living room with the babies, reading a book.

Thus, Barbara was more or less forced to sit with her sister-in-law, thank the maid for the cup of tea she’d brought, and study her sleeping nephews, who clearly took after Patrick. The cute twins were sleeping peacefully on their stomachs, their chubby faces turned to the same side, both smacking their lips in their sleep. Barbara would have loved to pick them up and cuddle them. When Hamilton and Scott had been this small, she could never get enough of holding and snuggling them. There was nothing more adorable than tiny babies.

“Eleanore told me you’re organizing a bazaar,” Amy said innocuously, tucking her legs beneath her as she studied Barbara with a friendly expression. She looked enviably fresh for such a delicate woman who’d had two babies only weeks ago. You would expect a new mother to be sporting rumpled clothes, stringy hair, and dark circles under her eyes, but the woman Barbara’s brother had met in Rome several years ago and married after only a few weeks looked crisp and sweet, her dark-blue eyes bright. Though Barbara wasn’t much older than Amy, she felt like an old crone next to her. Maybe that was down to the fact that Amy was beaming while Barbara was as far from that as she could be.

“Luckily, I’m not organizing it on my own,” she said as she sipped her tea. “I’d probably go crazy if the responsibility lay only on my shoulders. It’s chaotic enough as it is.”

“When is it?” Amy asked, still meeting Barbara’s gaze with that open, welcoming expression on her face.

Barbara set her cup on the small coffee table and made a dismissive gesture. “Not until next month. And our storeroom is already bursting at the seams with donated clothes.”

“Well …” Amy twisted her lips into a thoughtful pout before suggesting hesitantly, “If you don’t have enough room to store everything, you could use the sunroom. I’m not working at the moment, so nobody’s using it.”

It was a kind gesture, considering the sunroom was used as Amy’s studio so it would mean a lot of rearranging on her part, but Barbara wasn’t ready to accept her sister-in-law’s help. It was a matter of principle. Patrick might have forgiven his wife for leaving him without warning and keeping the fact that he had become a father from him for five years, but Barbara couldn’t forget how badly her brother had suffered when he’d returned from a business trip to discover Amy had disappeared.

Yes, Barbara liked her sister-in-law, and could even understand that the quick wedding and subsequent move here had been too much for her, but she still held it against Amy that she’d hurt Patrick so deeply. It didn’t matter that Patrick had been running around with a moronic grin on his face ever since he’d made up with his wife.

“That’s very kind of you,” she replied coolly, “but I think we’ll manage.”

“Well”—Amy shyly cocked her head to one side and offered a weak smile—“if you run out of room, I can clear out of the sunroom any time.”

Barbara nodded. “I appreciate that.”

Her sister-in-law tucked a strand of blond hair behind her ear. “Do you need more clothes donations? Audrey’s growing so fast; I have a bunch of clothes still good as new that don’t fit her anymore. Plus, my maternity wardrobe. I’d gladly donate that if you think you’d have any use for it.”

Barbara raised an inquisitive eyebrow and leaned back in her armchair. “Your maternity clothes? Don’t you want to keep those?”

“Why?” Amy smiled. “Do I still look fat enough to fit those giant sacks?”

Barbara clucked her tongue and rolled her eyes. “Of course not. You look like you never birthed a child, let alone three.”

“Then take the clothes. I’d rather not look at them. I’m just glad I don’t have to wear all those tent-like dresses anymore. Really, they’re like circus tents.”

The word circus immediately triggered Barbara’s memory: endless conversations and jokes about clown college. She suppressed it. “I just thought you might want to keep them so you don’t have to buy a whole new wardrobe for your next pregnancy.”

Amy burst out laughing. “My next pregnancy? Are you in cahoots with your brother?”

“Which brother would that be?” Barbara replied carefully.

Now it was Amy’s turn to roll her eyes. “Which brother do you think? The one that got me into this mess in the first place.” She waved a hand toward the twins and groaned, but it didn’t sound convincing. “Patrick’s already talking about us having a fourth, but the twins haven’t slept through the night even once yet.”

“Oh.” Barbara cleared her throat. “And you’re not so fond of the idea of having another kid?”

Amy smiled impishly. “Ask me again when I’m not so sleep-deprived. Which probably won’t be for at least three more years.”

“You sound pretty optimistic,” Barbara replied, amused.

Amy shrugged one shoulder. “Audrey was the easiest baby you can imagine,” Amy said in a gentle voice. “She rarely ever cried, to the point that I started to worry something wasn’t right. A neighbor had a baby boy around the same time, and he cried all the time. I can’t really compare the boys yet, since they’re only a few weeks old, but maybe girls are just easier.”

Barbara didn’t reply but lowered her head to take another long look at the babies, while her stomach did strange flips that made her uncomfortable.

Her sister-in-law didn’t seem to notice. “I think Patrick would like another daughter,” she confided shyly, “so it’ll be sort of even. But that will certainly have to wait another while.”

The lump in Barbara’s throat was painful. She took a deep breath and placed both hands on her thighs. “I forgot I have another meeting in Bridgeport,” she said firmly. “Could you let Mom know I’ll come by again another time?”

She ignored the perplexed expression on her sister-in-law’s face, gave her a weak smile as she rose from her seat, and then rushed from the house.

Driving away from the mansion through the park-like grounds, steering her car down the drive where her dad had taught her to drive, Barbara took a deep breaths and focused on keeping her trembling hands on the steering wheel, lest she hit one of the old trees that lined the driveway.

Instead of giving in to the panic, she turned up the volume on the radio and leaned back in her seat. Nearly as soon as she’d regained her composure, the music went off as a call came through the hands-free setting from her cell phone. She didn’t feel like talking to anyone, but she accepted the call, only to be greeted by the genial voice of Marcus Lindsay.

“Hello, Barbara. I hope it’s not a bad time.”

“No, not at all,” Barbara assured him, and it was the truth. She was actually glad for the distraction of this man who’d invited her to an elegant restaurant last weekend and pressed a kiss to her cheek when they parted in front of her door.

His warm laugh penetrated the silence of her car. “I was told it would look extremely pathetic and desperate if I called you right after our first date, so I waited a few days. What do you think? Do I still look pathetic and desperate? Should I have waited another day?”

The corners of her mouth twitched. “Who told you a thing like that?”

“I’d rather not say, in case I look even more pathetic and desperate.”

“Fine.” She giggled. “I probably don’t want to know who’s giving you dating advice.”

“Exactly! You definitely don’t want to know.” He cleared his throat, and the jolly tone of his voice became sober. “It was a lovely evening.”

Apart from the fact that Barbara had debated whether to cancel the date up until five minutes before it actually happened, and apart from the additional fact that she’d been thinking about James when Marcus kissed her on the cheek, it had actually been a very nice evening.

“Yes,” she replied softly. “It was.”

“I’d really like to repeat it, but of course I have no idea what you think about that.”

She had no idea either. While she sensed she wasn’t quite ready to open up to another man, she also wanted to move on with her life and stop being stuck in the past.

She swallowed her misgivings. “Do you like classical music?”

***

“Mr. Campbell?”

James looked up from the menu and saw a pretty young woman with blond curls standing by his small table in the tiny Italian restaurant. She seemed to know him and gave him a friendly smile, tugging on the hem of the short shorts she wore with a casual tee. He struggled to recall where he might have met her before.

Apparently, she realized his conundrum, because her smile widened. “Maggie Fraser. I was Scott’s—”

“First grade teacher,” he interrupted, shaking off his confusion. “Please excuse me for not recognizing you right away, Ms. Fraser.”

“Just Maggie, please,” she said with a wink. “During breaks, I prefer not to hear any ‘Ms. Fraser.’”

That sounded so unpretentious and genuine that James returned her smile, and continued to look into her eyes until he realized he’d been staring without having the grace to offer her a seat for too long. He cleared his throat and pointed at the empty chair across from him. “Would you like to have a seat?”

“Sure, thanks,” Scott’s teacher replied. She’d been the most patient teacher his very active son had had so far. “I’m just waiting for my order to go,” she explained, sinking down on the chair and gave him a prompting look. “Have you ordered yet?”

He shook his head and put the menu down. “Do you recommend anything?”

“Actually, everything is really good here,” she said cheerfully. “But I’d have to say you need to try the calzone, if you’re not scared of carbs.”

His eyebrows traveled up. “Scared of carbs? Is that a thing?”

“I’m afraid so.” Maggie Fraser laughed and took the menu from him. “It’s a fad,” she said, turning the menu around and knitting her brows as she scrutinized it. “If you’re not fond of pizza, I’d recommend the spaghetti fra diavolo, or the seafood salad.”

James leaned back in his chair, pleasantly surprised by the easygoing schoolteacher. “What did you order?”

Her mouth twisted into an impish smile. “To be honest, I have no idea. I take potluck on Tuesdays.”

“You take potluck?”

She nodded merrily. “I let them surprise me. As you may have noticed by now, this isn’t the first time I’ve been here …”

“You don’t say.” The corners of his mouth twitched.

“Oh, yes.” Maggie brushed back a stray lock of hair. “To my eternal shame, I must confess that I rarely cook. I come here every Tuesday after my tennis lesson to treat myself to a ton of carbs. The chef knows me, and I let him surprise me every week.”

“You play tennis?” James asked, surprised again.

She shrugged. “Yeah, but I haven’t been for very long. And I don’t think I’ll ever make it to Wimbledon or anything like that, so don’t go betting on me, Mr. Campbell.”

“James,” he said with a smile. “Even though I’m not on a school break, I also enjoy not being called Mr. Campbell.”

“Okay,” she said cheerfully. “So I take it you play tennis too?”

“From time to time. Though I lost a match against Scott and his older brother just a few weeks ago, so I don’t think I’ll be making it to Wimbledon before you do.”

“Ha!” Maggie wrinkled her nose in amusement. “Maybe it’s better that way. I heard you can get a nasty sunburn out there.”

“Heavens,” he declared in mock horror. “Then I’m glad I’ve never played there.”

“Absolutely,” she replied with a straight face, playing along with him. Then, with genuine curiosity, she asked, “How’s Scott doing in math?”

James rolled his eyes and chuckled. “I’d rather you ask how he’s doing at soccer! He’s not …uh, fond of math, to put it mildly. Every time I try to help him do his homework, he gives me this look like I just threatened to send him to military school. On the other hand, I could wake him up in the middle of the night and tell him we’re having soccer practice—and he’d be lacing up his cleats in no time.”

Maggie joined in his chuckling. “That’s not as rare as you’d think! I hear that all the time.”

“Well, my regard for your profession is growing with every passing second.”

“Thankfully, we have a long summer break.” She winked at him. “And how’s the little guy doing in general? I loved having Scott in my class. He was such a bright kid, the most fun by far.”

Naturally, her words made James beam with pride. “Nothing has changed there. Scott’s doing fine, and he’s still a great kid.”

“I don’t doubt it.” She studied him for a moment. “And how are you, James? Am I imposing on a well-deserved free evening or something?”

“You’re not imposing at all, but, yes, I am done working for the day and looking forward to a free night.”

“Well.” She clucked her tongue. “Your quitting time is way past my usual, but I’m sure you don’t have to go home and grade a bunch of disastrous math tests every night either, huh?”

“Nope. Though I sometimes spend my evenings dealing with disastrous quarterly reports or mismatched balance sheets.”

“Ouch.” She made a face. “I guess I’ll stick to math tests.”

James realized he was starting to laugh—loudly. And he hadn’t meant to. But he was sitting in this tiny Italian hole in the wall, feeling relaxed, with the aroma of fresh basil and garlic in his nostrils, as he chatted with a woman who made him want to laugh.

He hadn’t felt like this in a long time.

Just at that moment, the waiter brought Maggie’s food in a big brown bag. The smell wafting past James’s nose was delicious.

She gave a shrug. “Well, I think I’ll head home before my dinner gets cold. It was nice seeing you, James.”

He swallowed and gathered his wits. “Would you want to ask the waiter to unpack your food and put it on a plate? We could have dinner, and you could tell me about the worst math tests you’ve ever had to grade.”