Shore Lights (25 page)

“At all.”

“You probably dated everyone in Paradise Point.”

“Damn close. It gets old pretty fast.”

She hoped the look she shot him reflected her deep skepticism. “I met Tom on the first day of my first job after I graduated.” She reached for her coffee and took a sip. “And that concludes the Dating History segment of my program.”

“Nobody since?”

“Nope.” She took another sip. “And not many before, either. I didn't inherit the mantrap genes that run rampant through the rest of my family.”

“That could be a good thing.”

“Are you being sarcastic?”

“No. I loved my wife,” he said. “If she'd lived, I'd be telling you a very different story.”

“I loved Tom.” How easy it was to say the words. How amazing that they didn't have the power to hurt her any longer. “I was a good partner and I think I would have been a good wife, even if the DiFalco women are better at getting married than they are at staying married.”

“Don't go grabbing for all the glory, Bainbridge. The O'Malleys could give you a run for your money in the dysfunctional family sweepstakes.”

She wanted to press for details, but Julie swept down on them again, waving a check.

“I almost forgot about you two.” She dropped it next to Aidan's plate. “You can pay Terry up front. I'm going on break.”

“Do you think that was a hint?” Maddy asked as Julie disappeared into the kitchen.

“Could be.”

Maddy reached for the samovar.

“Wait,” he said. “Can I take one more look at it?”

She pushed it toward him. He lifted it up, then flipped it over to inspect the base.

“Initials,” he said, peering closely at some writing scratched into the metal. “Can you tell what they are?”

Maddy took the samovar from him and looked. “K.R.?” She looked again. “Or maybe it's E.S.”

“You wouldn't happen to have a magnifying glass in that suitcase of yours, would you?”

“Everything but,” she said with a nod toward the seventy-five-pound tote bag she carried around.

She began to rewrap the samovar in tissue paper, carefully tucking it around the spout and handle.

“No chance I could convince you to sell it.”

She laughed. “Not a chance in the world.”

“Your kid's going to love it.”

“That's the plan.”

“What if she doesn't?”

“Can't happen.”

“You know kids. They love something Christmas morning, but by New Year's they've forgotten it existed.”

“I'll make a deal,” Maddy said. “If Hannah doesn't like it, you can have it for what I paid for it.”

“Add another fifty and it's a deal.”

“Nope. What I paid for it or nothing.”

“You drive a hard bargain,” he said, extending his right hand. “Shake on it?”

Big mistake.

Enormous mistake.

Beware human contact when you're feeling lonely and vulnerable and you've already shared more secrets than you knew you had. Beware the warmth of skin against skin when it's been so long you can't even remember being touched by a man. Beware the Christmas season when even the hardest of hearts cracks open just wide enough to let a miracle or two slip in.

But most of all beware a man who knows how to keep his own counsel. There was nothing more dangerous than a big gorgeous man who was straight, single, loved his kid, and who didn't kiss and tell.

A woman just might do anything with a man like that.

THERE WAS NOTHING a DiFalco liked better than juicy gossip about another DiFalco. Five minutes after Maddy and Aidan stepped through the door of Julie's for that cup of coffee, Rose's phone started ringing off the hook.

“You won't believe what Maddy's doing. I was on my way home from Mass and I saw her—” That was her sister Toni, the one who somehow didn't recognize her own daughter when she saw her tumbling out of the Rusty Schooner with a sailor on each arm.

“Am I always going to be the last to know?” Her sister Connie claimed her status as youngest of the sisters relegated her to the bottom of the food chain when it came to family news. “I don't like it.” Connie never liked much of anything if it didn't reflect back on herself and her own multi-married daughters. “Maddy should be worrying about Hannah, not playing footsie in public with Aidan O'Malley.”

“Footsie?” Rose hung up the receiver and turned to Lucy, who was kneading dough for homemade onion rye. “What century is this?”

“I think Connie needs therapy.” Lucy gave the elastic dough an extra-hard push with the heels of her hands. “Somebody should tell her to spend a little more time trying to straighten out Gina's and Denise's lives and a little less poking her nose into Maddy's.”

“Well said.” Rose pointed toward the wall phone. “I'll dial if you'll talk.”

“Do I look crazy?”

The sisters burst into laughter at the thought of confronting the slightly manic Connie.

“So what do you think is going on with Maddy and Aidan?” Lucy asked as she divided the ball of dough into two pieces, then covered each with a lightly floured tea towel.

“Nothing.” Rose soaped her hands at the sink, rinsed them, then soaped them again. “As far as I know, she was going to show him the samovar and that was that.”

They worked in silence for a few minutes.

“I've always liked Aidan O'Malley,” Lucy said as she began to mix corn-bread batter.

“He's certainly had his share of bad luck,” Rose said. She was topping and tailing string beans for her guests' farewell dinner.

“He's done a wonderful job with Kelly.”

“Did I tell you she's going to be helping us out around here?”

“You hired her!” Lucy sounded positively delighted. “I was hoping you would.”

“She'll be a godsend when we open back up in February.” They were growing more quickly than even Rose had anticipated. Kelly O'Malley would be helping out in the dining room and wherever else she might be needed.

“Such a lovely girl,” Lucy said. “And such beautiful manners.”

“There's no doubt Aidan did a wonderful job with her.”

“Oh, go ahead,” Lucy said with a chuckle. “You know you have one of those huge maternal sighs just dying to bust loose. It's just me. I won't tell.”

“You know me too well.” The sigh wasn't half as impressive as it might have been, but there was no denying the fact that she felt better with it out of her system. “I wish I'd done as well with Maddy.”

Lucy concentrated on her corn-bread batter.

“You're not going to tell me I did just fine?” Rose asked.

“Nope.” Lucy added a touch more corn meal to the mix. “You did the best you could at the time, but we both know it wasn't all that Maddy needed.”

“Spoken like a woman without children.”

“You asked.”

“I did, didn't I,” Rose said, yanking the top off a bean and tossing it into the growing pile. “Remind me not to do that again.”

Lucy poured the batter into a prepared pan, then wiped her hands on her apron. “And what about the time you went shopping with me for a dress for one of Gina's weddings? Remember what you said to me when I asked how I looked in that blue suit?” Lucy didn't wait for Rose to respond. “You said I looked like Aunt Frankie.”

“Aunt Frankie was a good-looking woman.”

“Aunt Frankie's butt was the size of a Chrysler.”

“Lucia.” Tears were alien to Rose, but suddenly she felt like crying. “I'm sorry if I hurt your feelings. I wanted you to look your most gorgeous for the wedding, and you seemed so intent upon that suit.”

“I know,” Lucy said. “I'm just pointing out that we both can be a bit blunt.”

“Point taken.”

Lucy slid the corn bread into the oven and set the timer. “So do you think something might develop between Maddy and Aidan?”

“Not likely,” Rose said. “When it comes to being unlucky in love, the O'Malleys are the only family in town that can hold a candle to us. I think it'll be a cup of coffee, a few comments about the samovar, then they'll go their separate ways.”

“Maybe,” Lucy said as she reached for a pile of string beans. “But then again maybe not.”

“SNOW!” MADDY EXCLAIMED as they stepped out of the fragrant warmth of Julie's coffee shop. “I thought the storm was expected tonight.”

“Welcome back to the Jersey Shore,” Aidan said. “If you don't like the weather now, wait ten minutes.”

“I hope we have a blizzard,” she said, tilting her face up so the icy flakes melted on her warm cheek.

“I hope you have four-wheel drive.”

“Men are so literal.”

He glanced around. “Where's your car?”

“Back at the Candlelight. I walk Hannah to the bus stop most days.”

“Why don't I drive you back?”

She shook her head. “That's okay. I love walking in the snow.”

“Then why don't I walk back with you?”

She blinked in surprise. “Because it's snowing,” she said. “And it's out of your way.”

“I like the snow.”

“So do I.”

He took the shopping bag from her, and they started toward the Candlelight. The sidewalk was glazed with a mix of snow and ice, and after a half block she wished she had accepted the ride. His gait was syncopated. He favored his right leg, and she walked a little slower than she normally would have in order to keep pace. She wished he had his cane with him. Not only were the sidewalks icy, they were also devilishly uneven. If she started to fall, she would be sure to fall away from him because the last thing on earth he needed was another broken bone.

And if he started to fall—oh, God, she didn't want to think about it. He outweighed her by maybe seventy pounds. The chances of being able to stop his fall were less than zero.

She reached for the shopping bag. “I'll carry it.”

He pulled away. “I promise I'm not going to take off with it.”

“There's no reason why you should lug my stuff around.”

“I asked you to bring it.”

“So?”

“Help me out here. I'm being polite.”

“I'm impressed. Now give me the bag.”
I don't want to be responsible for you ending up on crutches
.

She made a lunge for the bag and just as her fingers were about to close over the handle, her feet slid out from under her and she started to fall. Why was it that the most embarrassing events of her life always seemed to happen in slow motion? Her fifth birthday when she threw up on the Carvel cake. The senior prom when her strapless dress lost its will to live. Why did humiliation take so long? A piece of chocolate was gone in the blink of an eye, but falling? Good grief, it was taking forever. She was bent in the middle like a boomerang. Feet pointing toward the sky, arms flailing, butt answering the call of gravity, the whole thing taking longer than
The English Patient
—

“Gotcha!”

A pair of strong hands grabbed her by the jacket and caught her just before she hit the concrete. Her booted feet hit the ground hard and she felt shockwaves right up to her molars, but she didn't fall. Aidan O'Malley had seen to that.

“You okay?” His eyes were beautiful, a clear shade of blue rimmed with navy and framed by thick lashes. Kind eyes. Beyond their beauty, beyond the fences he'd erected around himself, there was nothing but kindness.

“Fine,” she said. “Humiliated, but fine.”

“You slipped. No big deal about that.”

“I was a jerk,” she said. “I should've taken no for an answer.”

“It's your bag,” he said. “I shouldn't have pulled the macho crap on you.”

“Okay,” she said, “you convinced me. You're a jerk, too.”

Concern turned to surprise and then slid right into that grin she was becoming way too fond of. “You want the bag?” he asked. It was on the ground next to his feet.

“Not on your life,” she said.

“I'll take that as a no.”

She kept her eyes fastened on the sidewalk, which was quickly vanishing beneath the onslaught. “If you don't mind, I'd like you to carry the bag.”

She could sense his smile, but she didn't look up to verify it.

“Hold on to my arm,” he said.

“No, thanks.” That would be all they needed. She'd slip and take them both down.

“Don't be so goddamn stubborn. Hold on to my arm or would you rather break a leg?”

“I'd rather break a leg,” she muttered.

His bark of laughter stopped her in her tracks.

“I'm not trying to be funny.”

“I know,” he said. “That's the beauty part.”

“Listen,” she said, growing exasperated, “I didn't want to spell it out for you, but you're not giving me any choice. You're still recovering from your injuries. You go to physical therapy a few times a week. I really don't want to be the one who puts you back in traction.”

 
NOBODY BUT NINA, his physical therapist, had ever spoken to him that way before, with the same mixture of blunt truthfulness and exasperation. Everyone else tiptoed around the truth, around his limp, his limitations, his scars, as if not speaking about them would make them go away.

Now here was a woman who saw him as he was and wasn't afraid to deal with it.

He wasn't sure if he liked it, hated it, or wanted to pull her into his arms and kiss her hard, right there on Main Street with the snow swirling around them and her shopping bag on the ground next to their feet.