BECAUSE HER MOTHER was still in school doing her principal thing, Brianna decided to enjoy her first day off in years and stroll around the town, checking out both the familiar and the new.
Olympic Mountain Paints was still there, next to Dinah’s Diner, which looked like a frozen photo from the 1950s. Around the corner was the Big Dipper, making Brianna wonder if kids still hung out there after movies at the art deco style Olympic theater. Though these days they’d probably be drinking frozen lattes instead of chocolate shakes.
What she remembered to be Fran’s Bakery had been given a face-lift and, as Seth had told her, was now called Ovenly. From the display of elaborate pastries in the window, the new owner catered to a different clientele than Cops and Coffee. Since she’d need to know how much the house was going to cut into her savings before she could fully come up with a detailed business plan, she decided against going in to talk with the owner right now. But she did think that contracting out the pastries could be a good plan.
The Quilters Garden was new. Across the street, Rain Or Shine Books—its hanging sign featuring a smiling sun peeking out from behind a gray umbrella—had moved into a store that had, when Brianna was younger, housed a camera shop. These windows were decorated for spring, with brightly covered romances depicting happy couples in meadows dotted with wildflowers and kissing beneath umbrellas and English gardens, along with tartan-kilt-clad men wielding swords, and kick-ass futuristic heroines wearing leather boots while wielding swords of their own as cityscapes smoldered behind them.
There were also children’s books featuring flowers and bunnies, spring cozy mysteries and a display of cookbooks with spring meal themes arranged next to a coffee table photography book by, coincidentally, “local author” Mai, titled A Pilgrimage with Tutu. The cover showed an elderly Hawaiian woman placing a lei on an aged white tombstone.
While Brianna paused in front of the inviting store, thinking of all the to-be-read books already on her e-reader, but unable to pass a bookstore without going in, Kylee and Mai came out with bright white bags bearing the store’s logo.
“There you are!” Kylee greeted her with her trademark hug that suggested she was a natural at calming stressed out brides and grooms, along with soothing any demanding mother of the bride that might threaten to cast a pall on the couple’s special day. “I was just about to call you and see if you wanted to come have tea at the Mad Hatter with us.”
“I just finished lunch,” Brianna said.
“With Seth Harper. We know.”
“Already? How?” It had been scarcely twenty minutes since she’d left Harper Construction. The Honeymoon Harbor grapevine had definitely gotten faster during her years away.
“We were at the Dancing Deer—which, by the way, is the coolest place to buy clothes on the peninsula—when Ethel called Dottie and Doris to tell her you’d shown up at the construction company with a cooler. So, you’re already doing the picnic thing?”
“Good ploy,” Mai said. “I snagged Kylee with a picnic in the French countryside the day after we met.”
Kylee shook her head. “That was my idea.”
“You thought it was your idea,” Mai corrected her. “Which was my even more brilliant idea to have you think it. Since you like to be the one running everything.”
Flame hair fanned out as Kylee shook her head. “I do not.”
Mai just tilted her head, crossed her arms and waited.
“Okay,” Kylee caved. “I may just be a bit of a control freak. But, excuse me, pot...kettle.” She turned back to Brianna, who’d hoped that the subject had moved away from her. “We had cheese, amazing chocolate and wine. What food of seduction did you use on Seth?”
“There was no food of seduction. No picnic. We ate in his office. It was a working lunch. Mom made extra chicken and potato salad for my welcome-home dinner, so I brought some to eat while we went over plans for Herons Landing.”
“Was there pie?” Mai asked.
“Rhubarb.”
“Your mother makes the best pie ever. We were at the farm last week for a fund-raiser for the animal shelter, and her key lime nearly made me change plans from having cake to pie for our wedding supper,” Kylee said. “But we’ve already ordered a dynamite cake from the place that took over Fran’s Bakery.”
“I saw that it had changed. Seth recommended the pastries.”
“They’re to die for. Fran retired to Palm Desert to spend her last years letting the California sun bake sixty-plus years of damp out of her bones, and she sold the place to this marvelous baker from New Orleans, Desiree Marchand. She changed the name to Ovenly, updated the design with help from your fabulously talented mom, and updated the menu, including adding a great selection of gluten-free pastries and cakes that taste like the real thing.”
“Our cake is going to be gluten-free,” Mai said. “And I swear you won’t be able tell the difference. Better yet, she didn’t even balk when we ordered a pair of Wonder Women for the topper.”
“I can’t wait to see it.” Brianna laughed.
“We have photos of what it’s going to look like.” Kylee waved her phone. “Come to tea, even if you don’t want to eat anything, and we’ll show you. And plan what you’re going to wear at the bachelorette party. Which, as maid of honor, you’re technically in charge of, but don’t worry, Mai and I will give you a list of our ideas and we can work it all out together.”
After nearly missing her friend’s wedding because of misguided priorities, there was no way Brianna was going to turn down a bachelorette party. Even though there were ones she’d arranged at hotels over the years that still gave her nightmares to remember.
“Tell me there won’t be strippers.”
“Not a one,” Kylee assured her.
“We’re remodeling a home and adopting a child,” Mai said. “Strippers have no place in that agenda.”
“And we’re not going to get drunk and throw up all over the back seat of the limo, right?”
“Absolutely not. We’re adulting,” Mai said firmly. “So, we’re just thinking of spending the weekend at this new spa resort on the coast.”
“Where we can be massaged, buffed, polished and pampered in the style to which we’re entitled,” Kylee said. “It’ll be a weekend of good food, good conversation and girlfriends. Along with a reasonable amount of adult beverages to get us tipsy enough to share secrets.”
“I have trouble believing you have any secrets.” Of the three of them, Kylee had always been the most extroverted. “That’s what you know. I didn’t come out until I was in college.”
“Zoe and I knew by the end of middle school.”
“You did not.”
“Did too,” Brianna shot back, then laughed when she realized they sounded as if they were back in middle school.
“How did you know?”
“I guess I always knew, without knowing what I was knowing. But what nailed it for me, figuratively speaking, was when you never joined in to the Team Dawson versus Team Pacey Dawson’s Creek debates. Even girls who mistakenly went with Dawson early on would swoon whenever Pacey would smile right into Joey’s eyes.”
“I may have already been leaning toward swimming in the girl pond,” Mai said, “but even my heart melted when Pacey painted that wall for Joey.”
Kylee let out a bright peal of laughter. “Okay. That was romantic,” she admitted. “But when they took off on the boat, I was fantasizing sailing off into the sunset with her, not him.”
“Katie Holmes is still hot,” Mai agreed.
“Even I can’t argue with that,” Brianna said. “As for the party, it sounds as if you’ve already got it all figured out.”
“We pretty much do,” Mai admitted. “But we’re open to ideas.”
“A coast sleepover sounds great.”
“Super. I hope you don’t mind, but since I didn’t think you were coming back home, we added a couple attendants who’ll be joining us.”
“Of course I wouldn’t mind. Anyone I know?”
“Do you remember Chelsea Prescott?”
“Sure. She was a year behind us. She had a sister who died, right?” Brianna’s memory was vague, given that Chelsea had always been one of those kids who stayed beneath the radar. “She hung out in the library a lot.” And had never shown up at any of the games or dances, or worked on homecoming floats, like the kids Brianna and Kylee had hung out with. “Her parents got divorced.” That part stuck out because Kylee and Chelsea Prescott had both ended up being raised by single moms, which, despite Honeymoon Harbor not exactly being the Pacific Northwest’s Mayberry, still hadn’t been all that common.
“That’s her. And all those hours in the library must have had an influence on her because she’s now the head librarian.”
“Mrs. Henderson retired?” The woman had been a fixture at the library for all Brianna’s life.
“Well, she is in her seventies,” Kylee said. “But, according to Chelsea, she still stops by at least once a week to make sure the place hasn’t fallen apart without her guiding hand.”
They shared a laugh. “I also asked Amanda Barrow.”
“The landscape architect who’s doing your yard?”
“That’s her. Wheel and Barrow,” Mai confirmed. “We’ve become friends. She’s supertalented. And nice.”
“And the only attendant who’s married,” Kylee said. “Her husband used to work for a tech company somewhere in Silicon Valley. But now he’s gone freelance, developing games. They moved here because apparently he thought he could be more creative away from the pressures of the tech world of incubators, beehives and, in his words, ‘sucking dick’ for funding.”
Brianna heard the odd edge to her tone. “You don’t like him.”
Her friend shrugged. “I don’t really know him. He just seems sort of off.”
“He’s a techie,” Mai said. “Those guys are all from a different planet.”
“That’s probably it,” Kylee agreed. “You’ll meet him at the wedding. I’ll be interested in your take on him.”
“Sure.” There was more there that Kylee wasn’t saying. But knowing she’d never been one to gossip, especially about her friends, Brianna didn’t push. “I’d love a chance to pick her brain about the landscaping.”
“She’s brilliant. Wait until you see the wisteria arbor she’s created in back where we’ll say our vows.”
“It sounds lovely.”
“Doesn’t it? We can work out all the details over tea,” Kylee said. “So, do you have time to catch up?”
Being with Kylee again caused another familiar click of being home. And going to the Mad Hatter reminded her of when they used to hang out at the Big Dipper and made her all too aware of Zoe’s absence. Which, in turn, had her wondering if it was this way for Seth. That he’d just be slipping into a good time and suddenly, out of the blue, the loss would hit. Of course it would. And how much worse would it be for him?
“Tea it is.” It wasn’t as if she had anything else to do at the moment, which was a strange feeling and gave her a sense of how her mother must view retirement. “I don’t think I’ve been to the Mad Hatter since my sixteenth birthday.”
“With Zoe and me,” Kylee said. There was a brief moment of silence as her brilliant smile faded. “I really, really miss her.” Her wide eyes glistened. “It’s not right that she’s not here for my wedding. I went to hers. We all pinky swore that whatever we were doing, wherever we were, we’d show up to take part in each other’s weddings.”
“I know. And it’s not fair.” Kylee’s passionate words also had Brianna feeling even more guilty for having been about to blow off this wedding for work. “But she’ll be with us in spirit.” Which sounded lame, but she hoped the others would realize it was heartfelt. “Before tea, I want to run in and buy Mai’s book so she can sign it.”
“You don’t have to do that,” Mai said. “I’ll give you a copy.”
“You have a baby coming. You can’t afford to give away books. Why don’t you guys go on ahead, and I’ll catch up.”
“All right,” Kylee said, spearing her with a stern, you’d-better-not-flake-out-on-us look. “Because I’m going to grill you about what you plan to do with Seth.”
“What Seth and I plan to do with Herons Landing, you mean,” Brianna clarified.
Kylee flashed her cover-girl grin and laughed. “That, too.”
* * *
THE PLACE WAS looking good as Seth worked his way through the final punch list on Kylee and Mai’s house. For some reason his dad hadn’t shown up, so he didn’t have to listen to him gripe about the state of the world, or try to dodge veiled questions about what his mom was doing, not that he’d tell if he knew. Which, thank God, he didn’t.
Life was weird, he mused, as he took out a screwdriver and lined up all the screw slots on the wall switch plates to a perfect vertical because anything off-center made him itchy. Watching his mom with Mike Mannion had him realizing how both sets of parents had openly worried about his and Zoe’s behavior. Especially that last summer after she’d graduated high school. He knew her parents had worried that he’d get her pregnant and from the safe sex lectures his mom had doubled down on, he knew the Robinsons weren’t alone.
They needn’t have bothered. Because Zoe had her (and therefore his) life all planned out. The military would fund her nursing degree, and she’d pay the government back with her service. Then, once she’d settled that debt, she and Seth would start their family while he restored houses for other families. Families she would take care of at Honeymoon Harbor General Hospital. Seth’s masculinity hadn’t been threatened that she was the one making all those plans because they’d sounded great to him.
Unfortunately, life had turned out to be a lot like restoring a hundred-year-old house. You could do all the damn planning, spreadsheets and blueprints you wanted, but something unexpected was bound to prove the old saying about God laughing while people planned.
Brianna had always been a planner, too. Although she’d talked only in generalities about her previous gig, he suspected that something unexpected had popped up to throw a monkey wrench into her life’s plan. Why else would she suddenly come back to Honeymoon Harbor without letting either her parents or Quinn know until she arrived that she was returning to stay?
Not that it was any of his business. All he had to do was remember that she was, first and foremost, a client.
“Seth?” He was in the master bathroom, checking out the faucet flow, when he heard his mother call.
“Just a minute,” he called back. “I’ll be right out.”
“Stay there,” she said. “I’ll find you.” Since the cottage was small, it didn’t take long. “Wow.” Caroline Harper stood in the doorway and stared up at the crystal chandelier designed to look like water flowing down one of the waterfalls that were so prevalent in the Pacific Northwest.
“Mai wanted a spa look,” he said. “Kylee wanted bling. This was the compromise.” The gray-veined white granite, white cabinets and gray wood-look floor said “spa.” As did the sea-glass-hued tile backsplash behind the double sinks that he’d also installed as an accent design in the shower’s gray-grouted white subway tile.
The deep, freestanding soaker tub was admittedly a modernistic anachronism to the Victorian age, but it was one of the few things the two women had immediately agreed on. Kylee had found it romantic, whereas its clean, curved lines appealed to Mai’s aesthetics. And while it did have an old-fashioned floor-standing tub filler, both women had been chosen a model without the period claw legs, which would have made cleaning the floor more difficult.
“I love it.” She stepped inside. “I especially like that the shower door doesn’t have a frame. It makes the two walls appear almost invisible.”
“Kylee had to give up the second showerhead for that end glass wall. But she agreed Mai was right not to tile it in.”
“Absolutely. It makes the room look so much bigger.”
“Always a plus when you’re dealing with a house where the historical committee makes you keep the same footprint.”
“Well, it’s perfect. I know the girls are going to be so happy here. And soon they’ll be decorating that nursery across the hall.” She cringed as her words sank in. “I’m sorry.”
It was the second time this week Seth had heard that apology, making him realize that that he was getting as sick of people still tiptoeing around the subject of Zoe’s death as he’d been with their earlier condolences.
“It’s okay.” Which was true. He didn’t feel that familiar stab to his heart at the mention of the room two women from The Clean Team had been keeping dust-free since he’d first closed the door. “Really. So, what brings you here?”
“I thought I’d let you know that I dropped by the office with this month’s accounts.”
Which she could have emailed, but his dad had been old school, insisting on keeping the books in an old green-papered accounting ledger. The subterfuge was that his mother, who’d been handling the business end of Harper Construction, had moved over to Quicken years ago and only duplicated the numbers on paper to keep the peace.
“Thanks.” Something in her voice had him eyeing her more carefully. There were shadows beneath her eyes that hadn’t been there when they’d had dinner at Leaf and her bright enthusiasm seemed to have deflated. “Are you okay?”
“Of course. I’m just a little tired.” She put her hand on her chest and coughed. “I think it’s from spring allergies.”
“Probably.” With all the Scotch broom blooming wild all over town, the explanation made sense. Even Bandit had been sneezing.
“Or it could be hot flashes.”
Jesus. “I think that falls under TMI, Mom.”
“Unfortunately, it’s part of female biology,” she said. “And considering that same biology had me spending hours pushing you out of my body, you don’t have any right to squirm with embarrassment.”
Having no response to that, he decided to accept the hot flash explanation, which was preferable to the idea of those shadows having come from still-hot Mike Mannion keeping her up all night.
“I’m not sleeping with Michael,” she said.
“Did I say anything?”
“No, but I’m your mother. You should know by now you can’t hide anything from me. Along with eyes in the back of our heads, mothers can also read minds.” As she’d just done his. “And you certainly wouldn’t be the first person to wonder.” She held up a hand when he opened his mouth to argue. “Oh, I’ve heard the rumors. But despite having moved out of the house and served your father with those separation papers, I’m still a married woman. I take those vows I made at the altar seriously. I’d never break them.”
“Okay.” And could this be any more uncomfortable?
“The same promise you made when you married Zoe in that lovely ceremony at Crescent Lake.”
It had always been one of their favorite places. They’d always planned to return. And never had. Yet more opportunities lost.
“Why did you leave Dad?”
The question came out unfiltered. But it had been on his mind. A lot. “Sorry.” He held up a hand. “Again, none of my business.”
“We’re your parents. If you were a child, we’d have to give you some reason. I was thinking this morning that we hadn’t granted you that same consideration. Which is why, when Ethel told me you were over here, I decided to drop by and let you know that whatever happens, you’ll always be our son and we love you.”
“Now, that sounds exactly like what a mom would say to a six-year-old.”
She laughed. Then wheezed. “Damn pollen,” she muttered, echoing his earlier thought. “But I apologize for talking to you as if you were a boy, even if you’ll always be my child. Long story short is that your father and I cut a bargain years ago, when I accepted his proposal. I’d make my life here in Washington if he promised that someday we’d take time to travel.”
Just like the Robinsons. What the hell was it with his parents’ generation? Had they all received some memo that after spending their lives creating suburbia it was now time to hit the road like a roaming band of boomer gypsies?
“Dad hates traveling.” They’d taken a trip to Disneyland when he was eight. The plan had been to stay in Southern California for a week, visiting other amusement parks and going to the beach. By the third day, as Seth had been riding the small waves on the new boogie board his parents had bought him at a Huntington Beach surf shop, Ben had gotten antsy and begun to worry about work that wasn’t getting done.
Declaring the vacation over, he’d called Seth out of the water, and they’d all piled into the car and gone back to their motel. They’d packed up and headed home to Washington in the dark. “He always says he doesn’t want to sleep in some bed total strangers have slept in,” Seth reminded her.
“I don’t share that aversion, but I’m willing to accept it’s a thing with him. Like me and spiders. So, the deal was that when he retired we’d buy a brand-new, never-been-slept-in-before motor home and drive around to all the national parks.”
“Sounds like fun.” Living at the edge of one of those parks, Seth thought that it sounded great. A bit of a cliché. But he wouldn’t mind doing it himself someday. Him and Bandit. Like Steinbeck’s Travels with Charley.
“Doesn’t it? When we were younger, I was thinking more along the lines of adventures to Paris, Rome and Barcelona. But life changes, and exploring my own country has grown more and more appealing.”
“What’s stopping you?”
“Have you happened to see a motor home in the driveway?”
“No.”
“He insists that he’s still working.”
“Only part-time.” Great. Now he was throwing his dad under the bus. Could this situation get any more complicated? “And while he’s great at his work, he’s not the only guy in the Pacific Northwest who can do plaster.”
“That’s exactly what I told him! I’ve also reminded him that Brian Murphy, over in Gig Harbor, filled in for him after his appendectomy put him in the hospital ten years ago.” Refusing to give in to the pain, his father had continued working after it had burst, finally causing him to pass out. Fortunately, he hadn’t been on a ladder at the time. “And it would be one thing if he was moping around the house, having retirement depression, like I’ve read about. But all near-retirement seems to have done is give him more time for those damn poker games and fishing.”
She folded her arms as a bit more color came into her cheeks. “Do you have any idea how it feels to come in second fiddle to a salmon? Or those ridiculous-looking gooeyducks?”
Seth scrubbed a hand down his face. “Have you told him that?”
“Of course. Several times. You know your father. He only hears what he wants to hear.”
Another statement he wasn’t touching. “Brianna Mannion’s back,” he said in an attempt to change the topic.
“So I hear. That must be nice for you.” The frustrated lines in her face eased. “There was a time, when you played together as children, I hoped she’d be my daughter-in-law. Until you fell head over heels for Zoe, who quickly grew to be the daughter I never had.”
“She always knew that. There were times that she said it was like having two moms.”
“That’s nice, knowing she felt that way. Heaven knows, mothers-in-law don’t exactly get the best press.”
“Not all mothers-in-law are you.”
Her laugh was quick and delighted and took some of the fatigue from her eyes. “If only your father had your silver tongue.”
Not wanting to get into comparisons with his father, Seth opted against pointing out that no one, ever, had described him that way. In that respect, he took more after his dad than his mother. Although there’d been a time when his thoughts had been a helluva lot more positive. It wasn’t as if he’d taken on his father’s negativity. More that he’d just gone numb. When you didn’t have anything to say, what was the point in trying to come up with any inane conversational filler?
“The reason I brought up Brianna is that she’s planning to restore Herons Landing,” he said.
“I heard that, as well. And it’s partly why I’m here.”
Okay. Having nothing to say to that, either, he waited, hoping she wasn’t going to suggest that he might want to do something about there still being a chance that she could be Brianna’s mother-in-law.
“I want—no, I need—you to do me a very big favor.”
“Sure.”
“When I say big, I mean seriously big. As in life-changing.” She took a deep breath. “I want you to fire your father.”
“What?” At first he thought she must be kidding, but her expression was as serious as a heart attack. “You’re not joking.”
“It’s not a joking matter. I’m fed up with living in limbo,” she said. “I thought, erroneously, that my moving out and serving those papers on him would get his attention. But apparently I was wrong.”
“It’s gotten his attention.” How the hell had he landed in the middle of all this damn marital drama? And more to the point, how did he get out? “He’s convinced you’re coming back.”
“Stubborn old goat,” she muttered. “Well, he may just discover that he’s wrong. My point, and I do have one, is that it’s bound to take months to complete that old house.”
“Several weeks,” he said. “Maybe months, depending on how long it takes Brianna to pick out the finishes.”
“She and her mother are in Seattle today, doing exactly that.”
Something he didn’t know.
“Well, then, if they find everything they need, we could be done in six weeks,” he said. “Now that this place is finished up, I can concentrate on Herons Landing. So, maybe eight weeks, allowing for inspection delays.”
“That’s six to eight more weeks of my life I’ll never get back,” she said. “I can’t continue to live this way.”
Opting not to mention that she hadn’t exactly seemed to be suffering over dinner at Leaf, Seth swiped a hand through his hair and wished he could beam himself to anywhere but here. “Don’t you have a woman friend to talk about this with?”
“Yes. She’s currently in Seattle shopping for toilets and bathtubs with her daughter. But Sarah agrees with me. That I’ve been patient long enough and if I leave it the way it is, Ben will just keep playing cards, fishing, letting the dishes pile up and the house go to ruin, all the time having convinced himself that I’m merely having a menopausal female snit.”
“The dishes aren’t piling up and the house won’t go to ruin because The Clean Team comes in every Friday.”
“Your father has hired a maid?”
He wasn’t surprised she was surprised. With the exception of a tackle box of fishing lures, Ben Harper never spent any money he didn’t absolutely have to. He could, in fact, make Scrooge look like a spendthrift. Seth had always thought it was because he’d carried the heavy weight of not being the Harper that had allowed the family business to go under. But the truth was that business was booming, as it had even during the recession, when people were all fixing up their old homes rather than buying new. It had been his dad who’d focused the company on strictly remodel and restoration work because he’d figured out that people were always either modernizing a house they were living in, or updating one they’d just bought. New construction was riskier and more dependent on the fluctuating marketplace.
“Dad didn’t hire them. I did.”
Her mouth drew into an uncharacteristically firm line as she folded her arms across the front of today’s flowing tunic. “And thus enabled him.”
“Geez, Mom.”
“I’m sorry. But he’s a grown man and should be able to take care of himself.”
Seth considered falling back on the “old dogs, new tricks” cliché, but kept that idea to himself because he couldn’t disagree with her point. “Would you rather the health department condemn the place?”
“No. I’d rather he realizes that he needs me for more than cooking, cleaning and keeping the damn books.”
She closed her eyes. Drew in a ragged breath as she put her hand to her heart as if to quiet it. Which was out of character because she’d always been the one to soothe everyone else. And not just in the family. Anytime anyone in the town needed something, she’d be there with her BFF, Sarah Mannion. The two of them had been best friends for longer than Seth had been born. They’d met that night at the Theater in the Firs, the same night she’d met his father. Their long friendship was undoubtedly another reason he and Bri had always been so close. Due to day care not being an industry business back then, like in larger cities, they’d both been dragged by their mothers to more civic events than he could count.
“I’m not going over to the house because I’ll get pulled back in,” she said, more to herself than to him, as if deciding out loud. “I never could resist the man when he turns on the charm.”
There were many descriptions that Seth could imagine being applied to his father. Charming had never been one of them.
Her lips quirked in a half smile. “I know. You don’t see it. That’s because you’re a male. But believe me, I had to fight my way through a crowd of local women, who were buzzing around him like honeybees around a lavender bush, to get to your father. He was considered quite a catch back in the day. And not just because he happened to own his own business,” she said, once again demonstrating the ability to read the thought that had just popped into his mind.
“I was used to Southern men whose never-ending compliments were as smooth as butter. A strong, silent, Western alpha male was as rare to me as a unicorn. Though,” she said as an afterthought, “I’d prefer you keep that information to yourself.”
“Your secret’s safe with me.”
“Thank you... I’ll text him.”
“Good luck with that. He never turns on his phone.”
She chewed on a nail, which brought his attention back to that wedding band. “Does he still play poker on Tuesday nights?”
“Yeah. But they moved the game to the Stewed Clam after they got tired of take-out pizza from Luca’s.”
“Ha! He always complained about my sandwich plates. Said they were too girly for poker.”
The sandwiches in question were typically created from croissants and green or red pepper tortillas, given cutesy names like Highroller Ham, Texas Hold ’em Beef and Turkey Roulette Rollups. She’d also made platters of poppers, dips and deviled eggs because she’d insisted that in the South, no social occasion was complete without that special plate with the indentations for deviled eggs she’d inherited from her grandmother. It had not escaped Seth’s notice that his father’s poker buddies didn’t seem to share his complaints. There’d never be anything but crumbs by the end of the night.
“You spoiled him.”
She shrugged. “What can I say? It’s in my blood and it’s hard to escape my upbringing. But I’m tired of playing mealymouthed Melanie. It’s time I embraced my inner Scarlett.”
Oh, Lord. “This could get ugly, couldn’t it?”
She tossed up her chin and looked as determined as when Hollywood’s most famous Southern belle had held up those turnips in Gone with the Wind and sworn to never be hungry again. “That depends on your father.” Then, softening, she reached up and framed his face between her palms, the way she had when he’d been six years old, and kissed his forehead. “I’m so proud of you, darling. You’ve created the perfect home for Kylee and Mai to begin their new life.”
“They’ll create the home,” Seth said. “I’m just fixing up their house.”
“True,” she agreed. “If only your father understood that concept, he’d realize that a motor home could be just as much of a home as the one he’s stubbornly refusing to leave. Even better. Travel is stimulating.”
It hadn’t been for Zoe, but then, his wife hadn’t traveled to Afghanistan on a tourism visa.
“I hope it works out for you,” he said.
“Oh, it will.” Her shadowed eyes flashed with a bit of her usual spirit. “One way or the other.”