Shore Lights (21 page)

They spent the rest of the phone call talking about Hannah. The changes in their beloved granddaughter's personality upset both of them deeply. To see a happy, lively child turn inward the way Hannah had after her father's marriage reminded them both of how their own daughter had grieved when Bill returned to Oregon after the divorce.

“We did the best we knew how, Rosie. It wasn't good enough, but maybe it never is.”

“We loved each other,” Rose said, choking back embarrassing tears. “We loved our baby. Why couldn't we make it work?”

“I don't know,” Bill said softly. “Damned if I've ever been able to figure it out.”

“Oh, God,” Rose said, wiping her eyes with a tea towel. “It's the damn holidays. They make me too sentimental.”

“I like you this way,” Bill said, “and I think our girl would, too. This is as good a time as any to open up your heart, Rosie. We never know when the chance will come 'round again.”

Which, of course, was Bill's way of getting to the real reason for the frequent phone calls.

“I feel just fine,” she said.

“I wasn't going to ask.”

“And I love you dearly for that, but we both know that's why you called.”

“When do you go in for the blood work?”

“Next week.”

“And the CT scan?”

“Bill, you asked me this on Saturday and on the Wednesday before and the Wednesday before that. If the appointment changes, I promise I'll tell you. The CT scan is the end of January and knock wood we're not expecting anything unusual.”

“I could fly in, Rosie.”

“Don't you dare! We'll see you on Christmas. That's quite enough.”

“Maddy and Hannah still don't know, do they?”

“Of course not. If there's one thing I can do, it's keep a secret.”

“I'd better push off,” Bill said. “I want to make it to K.C. by nightfall.”

“Don't overdo,” Rose warned him. “You're not as young as you used to be.”

“The day comes I can't get behind the wheel, I'll pull off to the side of the road and let the buzzards pick my bones.”

She laughed despite the gruesome image. “Just take care,” she said. “That's all I ask.”

“Same with you,” he said, his voice gruffly tender. “God bless.”

“God bless,” she whispered as she hung up the phone. God bless every stubborn bone in his stubborn body, every hair on his head, every beat of his loving heart.

 
HANNAH WAS VERY subdued all evening. She picked at her hamburger and only managed to eat a few pieces of bun, one forkful of beans, and absolutely none of her salad. Both Rose and Maddy tried to engage her in conversation, but the little girl's contribution was limited to a few shrugs of her tiny shoulders and a muttered “No” when asked if she was feeling any happier at school.

Maddy and her mother exchanged a glance across the table.

“Do I have something wonderful for dessert!” Rose exclaimed as they cleared the table. “In fact, I think it's someone's favorite.”

Maddy ruffled her daughter's hair and smiled down at her. “Hannah, do you think that maybe Grandma made brownies for you?”

Hannah's eyes remained focused on the midpoint of the kitchen table. “Dunno,” she muttered. Her eyelids drooped as if she were about to fall asleep in her chair.

“Brownies with pecans,” Rose said, placing the platter down in front of the little girl. “All gooey in the middle, just the way you like them.”

A year ago Hannah would have been bouncing up and down in her chair, begging to be allowed to grab a piece and smoosh it into her mouth. Now there she was today, acting as if fried grasshopper would be every bit as tasty.

Rose placed a slice on a small plate and handed it to Hannah. “I'll get you some milk.”

Maddy waited a moment, then prodded, “Say thank you, sweetheart.”

“Thank you.”

Rose beamed at her granddaughter, but the worry lines between her brows cut deeper than ever. She turned away to load the dishwasher.

Maddy pressed a kiss to her daughter's forehead, then placed the back of her hand against her cheek. Hannah squirmed away from Maddy's touch but not before Maddy was able to ascertain that the child didn't have a fever. Not that she had expected anything else. There was nothing physically wrong with her daughter. The only thing wrong with her was that she missed her father, and there was nothing on earth Maddy could do to change that.

“I'd give anything to see her old smile,” Rose said after Maddy put Hannah to bed for the night. “It hurts to see her looking so sad.”

Maddy's eyes welled with tears. “I know,” she said. “I thought a change of scene might help, but . . .” Her words trailed off. She had been that little girl once herself, many years ago, a little girl who missed her daddy so much she thought her heart would break. A little girl who blamed her mother for breaking up her perfect family.

“It takes time,” Rose said, placing a hand on Maddy's hand and giving a gentle squeeze. “There's nothing for it but time.”

Maddy nodded, then withdrew her hand. “I'm going to do a little more work on the Web site before I turn in. Do you mind?”

“No.” Rose took a step backward. “Of course not.”

“Leave the pots. I'll do them in the morning.”

“Go,” Rose said. “Work on your Web site.”

Maddy hesitated. All she had to do was take a step forward. Place her hand on Rose's or her arm about her mother's shoulders. Kiss her cheek. The slightest gesture could take them so very far.

But she waited too long and the moment for such gestures slipped away. Rose's eyes met hers and Maddy saw pain in them and resignation, but there was nothing she could do about either. A deep gnawing sadness burrowed deeper into her gut and spread outward. That feeling had been with her since she wasn't much older than Hannah, and it had never quite gone away.

She doubted it ever would.

 
“I CLOSED OUT the register,” Tommy said from the doorway. “If you want, boss, I'll make the night drop on my way to pick up the wife at her sister's house.”

“Great,” Aidan said, looking up from his laptop. “I appreciate it.”

“No sweat.” Tommy lingered, casting a curious eye in Aidan's direction. “Touring the
Starship Enterprise
again?”

“Wiseass,” Aidan said, shooting him a grin. “I'm e-mailing a scan of that newspaper clipping I showed you.”

“Since when do you know how to do all that fancy shit on the computer?”

“Kelly could do that fancy shit when she was ten years old. It's taken me awhile to catch up.”

“And since when do you got a scanner?”

“Olivia Wentworth has one,” he said, then braced himself for a barrage of smart cracks.

Tommy inscribed a womanly figure in the air. “Now, that is what I call a woman with a capital W.”

“Get in line,” Aidan said. “Every man on the town council has ordered new business cards from her.”

“That's not the business I'd be looking for from that dame.”

“I thought you were a one-woman guy, Tommy.”

“I am,” Tommy said, “but that doesn't mean I don't have eyes in my head. You can't tell me you haven't noticed she's got a great set of—”

“I noticed,” Aidan broke in. He'd taken great strides in sensitivity since Kelly reached puberty. Nothing like the sight of some old goat ogling your daughter to make you rethink the way you viewed the opposite sex. “She's a nice woman but not my type.”

“You gotta be kidding.”

Aidan let it slide with a noncommittal shrug. Tommy had lived vicariously through Aidan for a long time, right up until the accident, when Aidan's life did a 180.

Tommy shifted his weight, then cracked his knuckles.

“Something you want to say?” Aidan asked.

“Mel said he saw you looking pretty cozy this afternoon with Rosie DiFalco's kid, the one who moved away as soon as she was old enough to drive.”

“Oh, yeah?”

“Said you two were laughing together in front of Olivia's fancy paper store like you had a secret joke.”

“Sounds like old Mel has a lot of time on his hands.”

“Nah,” said Tommy, who never was one for irony. “His wife sent him out to pick up a bottle of red for some family dinner they were having tonight, and he saw you when he was pulling out of the parking lot.”

“Nothing's going on.”

He wasn't sure if that was relief on Tommy's face or disappointment. “You haven't been out with anyone since—”

“Back off, Kennedy. I don't need the advice.”

“Ya know, I was thinking. My niece Susan and her husband split up about a year ago. She's in real estate up in Paramus. Not that big a drive if you leave early on a Saturday. Maybe—”

The look he gave Tommy must have been a good one, because the older man stopped mid-sentence.

“Or maybe not.” Tommy grabbed his jacket from the coatrack near the door. “See you in the morning.”

He heard the door slam shut behind Tommy, then the sound of the locks tumbling into place. He thought about ducking out the back door and calling the old guy back in, maybe sharing a cup of joe together, something to smooth away the feeling that sharp edges seemed to be sticking out all around him, but Tommy's Ford was already crunching across the gravel parking lot.

Tomorrow, Aidan thought. He turned back to the laptop.

MAYBE HE WASN'T going to send her the scan after all. If you stopped and thought about it, why should he? They were going to see each other the next morning, and they would compare the newspaper clipping and the samovar in person. It wasn't like he had any other reason to e-mail her.

Wait. Where did that come from? How long had that e-mail from FireGuy been languishing in her in box anyway? And an attachment, too! He remembered. She could feel her smile tugging from one ear to the other as she clicked on the envelope icon.

 
Hmm. Maybe he was right. Priscilla might not be a great addition to Julie's Coffee Shop. She had sworn to herself that she wouldn't ask her mother to pick up the slack for her, but her aunt Lucy was on baking duty tomorrow morning, and Lucy would do anything if she thought it would help the situation between Maddy and Rose.

Oh, God. What was she going to wear? She was sick of jeans. It was too cold for a skirt. Maybe those stretchy black pants with her soft old leather boots and the charcoal-gray sweater, the soft one with the faintest hints of peach and cream. Maybe she would set the clock a few minutes earlier than usual. Not because she was going to do anything fancy—of course not! Still, it wouldn't hurt to make sure she had a chance to put the samovar into a tote bag or something before Hannah woke up and got all curious.

And if she could dig up her blow-dryer from the back of the closet, that wouldn't be a bad idea, either.

She was about to shut down the computer and head upstairs to look for the peach lipstick she hadn't worn since at least 1997 when she realized she hadn't opened the attachment yet. It was late and she had a million things to do and what difference did it make anyway when she'd see the original clipping in not that many hours from now, but she couldn't resist.

Double-click.

Wait a second while the machine chugged and clunked and then—

Oh, God.

She sank back down into her desk chair and leaned closer to the monitor.

Oh. My. God.

The samovar in the clipping was a dead ringer for the one in her mother's closet.

“LOOK AT YOU!” Lucy said when Maddy entered the kitchen the next morning. “Don't you look gorgeous!”

Maddy's glance darted quickly to Rose, who was busy snipping chives near the stove. “Thanks, Lucy.” She pressed a kiss to her aunt's cheek. “You're looking pretty spiffy yourself.”

“This old thing?” Lucy tossed her head, making her signature dangly earrings tinkle. Clothes were her passion, and while her figure might not fit haute couture, she always looked stylish and wonderful. “I'm going to have to ask Frankie to come over and build on a new closet. Now that I've discovered on-line-shopping, there's no stopping me.”

“There wasn't any stopping you when you used to drive all the way to Freehold,” Rose observed, her kitchen shears making soft little noises as she snipped. “I still think you divorced Joe because he took up too much closet space.”

“You may have a point there,” Lucy said, eyes twinkling with amusement. “In the long run I've found clothes give me a lot more pleasure and require a lot less upkeep than your average husband.”

Maddy poured herself a mug of strong coffee while the two sisters bantered between themselves. She was enjoying their lighthearted byplay, and she was grateful that it took some of the attention away from the fact that she wasn't wearing her usual early-morning jeans-and-sweatshirt combo that Rose abhorred.

“Something special on tap?” Rose asked as Maddy finished her coffee, then popped the mug into the industrial-strength dishwasher. “You really do look lovely.”