Shore Lights (36 page)

For nine months Hannah had been a part of her, flesh of her flesh. Now the tiny baby who had depended upon Maddy for her every need had a secret inner life she could never penetrate. It thrilled and dismayed her at the same time. She wanted to nurture Hannah's individuality, but oh, how she longed for the days when she knew all the curves and shadows of her daughter's heart.

She returned to her room as the lights flickered on, dipped, then came back to life. She didn't waste a second and within minutes she was back on-line, picking up where she had left off.

 
Another power hit like the last one and the desktop would be toast. Aidan fumbled around for the flashlight and set it upright in a beer mug. It cast a wide arc of light across the ceiling beams of the stockroom-turned-office and spilled down the walls like pale malt. Too bad he couldn't come up with an easy fix for the computer.

He dug a worn pack of cards from his desk drawer and dealt out a hand of solitaire. He was about to top the five of spades with a four of hearts when the lights came on and he was back in business.

“HANNAH WANTS TEA,” Rose said when Maddy walked into the kitchen the next morning. “I didn't know she drank tea.”

“She doesn't,” Maddy said, casting a curious glance in the direction of her daughter. “Do you really want tea?”

Hannah nodded. “In a glass, please.”

Rose, Maddy, and Lucy exchanged looks.

“A glass?” Lucy said, then started to laugh. “Of course! You want iced tea, right, Hannah?”

“No,” said Hannah primly. “Hot tea in a glass with a lump of sugar.”

“Don't look at me,” Maddy said to her mother and aunt. “I have no idea where this is coming from.”

“Where did you learn about hot tea in a glass?” Rose asked as she slathered sweet butter on a freshly baked cranberry-pecan muffin.

Hannah looked puzzled for a second, then brightened. “I just know, that's all.”

“We could use one of those nice heavy glass beer mugs,” Lucy said. “That should be able to withstand the heat.”

“And a lot of milk, I would think.” Rose added the buttered muffin to the basket of other buttered muffins.

“Oh, why not?” Maddy pulled a pair of clean glass mugs from the top shelf of the cabinet over the fridge. “It's a glorious day out there. I think we should celebrate!”

Lemony winter sun bounced off the snowy yard and splashed through the wide windows, bathing the kitchen in crystal-clear light that took your breath away. The storm had washed the world clean and returned it all sparkling and new.

“Isn't she in a wonderful mood,” Lucy said as Maddy added a tea bag to each of the mugs.

“Indeed she is,” Rose said with a smile for Maddy.

She poured hot water carefully into each of the mugs. Hannah watched, enchanted, as the water began to turn darker shades of amber.

“It's a beautiful day,” Maddy said. “Who wouldn't be in a wonderful mood on a day like this?”

Rose started to laugh. “We're snowbound. The phones are out. The plows haven't been through yet. We might end up welcoming in the New Year with the Loewensteins and the Armaghs, and you look like you won the lottery.”

“It's been a long time since I saw a bona fide blizzard. Look!” she said, gesturing toward the window and the shimmering vista beyond. “Have you ever seen anything more glorious in your entire life?”

“Yes,” said Lucy. “A snowplow with my name on it.”

Teasing words flew about the kitchen, but they were gentle words meant to remind you that you were part of something bigger than yourself. A family. Had the words themselves suddenly lost their cutting edge, or was Maddy hearing them through new ears? She hadn't a clue. All she knew was that the words felt like hugs.

She added milk and sugar to Hannah's tea, stirred it, then tasted it to make sure it wasn't too hot for her. Assured that it was a safe temperature, she placed the mug down in front of her little girl.

“Well, there you go, Hannah,” she said, milking and sugaring her own mug of tea. “Hot tea in a glass, just like you ordered.”

Hannah wrapped her tiny hands around the glass and smiled up at Maddy.
“Spasibo,”
she said.

“She speaks Russian?” Lucy said. “I thought you said she was crazy about Aladdin.”

Maddy made a fierce face at Lucy. That was all she needed, for her aunt to ruin Hannah's Christmas surprise.

Rose waved away the comment. “Maddy had Russian neighbors back in Seattle. Children are sponges. Remember when Denise's youngest spent the night with Julia Gonzalez and her family? She came home sounding like Antonio Banderas.” She untied her apron and hung it on the hook behind the kitchen door, then picked up the basket of muffins. “Time to say good morning to our guests. Pray for the snowplows, ladies.”

Hannah was happily enjoying her glass of tea and a bowl of maple-drizzled oatmeal. Maddy popped two slices of homemade white into the toaster and gazed longingly at the jar of homemade raspberry jam on the table.

Lucy piled mountains of fluffy yellow scrambled eggs into the chafing dish. “So things are going well for you two,” she said with one of her patented Lucy smiles. “It does my heart good to see the change.”

The DiFalco women were nothing if not direct. No point pretending she didn't know what Lucy was talking about.

“We have a lot of history between us,” Maddy said carefully. “The last few days have been amazing but—”

“I know,” Lucy said. “But humor me. I think this could be a fresh start for both of you.”

Maddy walked over to where her aunt stood near the sink and pressed a kiss to her soft, smooth cheek. “You always did believe in miracles, Aunt Lucy. That's one of the reasons I love you so much.”

“I know what I know,” Lucy said with a toss of her head. “And I know that you and Rosie are more alike than either of you realizes.”

Maddy made a face. “I wouldn't go that far.”

“There! That's exactly what I mean. You both hide your feelings with a few funny words and a laugh, but that doesn't mean they aren't there.”

“Rose always told me I was too free with my emotions.”

“Anger definitely,” Lucy said, “but until Hannah came along, I don't think I ever really saw you open your heart.”

“Lucy!” Maddy stared at her aunt. “I thought I was the one who wore her heart on her sleeve.”

“Oh, that's what you wanted us all to think,” Lucy said. “But one look in your eyes told the real story. Your heart was hiding in plain sight.”

“Motherhood changes you.”

Lucy looked as if she had been about to say something, but thought better of it.

“What?” Maddy asked. “Go ahead. We've never held back with each other, Lucy.”

Lucy shook her head, her dangly earrings dancing in the sunlight.

“Rose
is
different these days,” Maddy said, “and I don't think it's a delayed response to motherhood.”

“You're right,” Lucy said. “She is different.”

Was it her imagination, or were Lucy's eyes wet with tears?

“I've never really understood why she left her old career the way she did and poured everything into the Candlelight. It seemed to come from nowhere.” It had all happened around the time when she was so deeply involved in pregnancy and childbirth and the upheaval in her relationship with Tom Lawlor that her mother's decision never really registered on Maddy the way it might have at another time. “Do you know why she did it?”

“You should ask her,” Lucy said, looking somewhat uncomfortable.

“I have,” Maddy said. “The most I get is some vague New Age-y kind of answer about changing lifestyles and following your bliss.”

Lucy started to laugh. “Your mother never said she followed her bliss.”

“No, but that's what she meant. It just doesn't sound much like the Rose I grew up with.”

“She isn't the Rose you grew up with. She's changed and so have you.”

“I want to know why.”

“It's not my place,” Lucy said. “This is between you and your mother.”

“Wonderful, Lucy. After all these years, you pick today to become diplomatic.”

“I had to start sometime,” Lucy said.

“Come on, Lucy, what is it? Did she have a bad hair day? Did one of her boyfriends break up with her? Did she just get sick and tired of the old nine-to-five routine and decide to hang up her realtor's license? Give me a hint, please, Lucy. Just a little hint.”

But for the first time in DiFalco history, Aunt Lucy's lips were sealed.

 
KELLY WAS WAITING in the front yard when Aidan arrived. Claire's street had been cleared, but the plows had managed to block every driveway with a mountain of snow that would take the homeowners hours to dig their way through.

Her Tercel was stuck in the driveway for the duration—he recognized it under the heavy blanket of snow—but there wasn't a blizzard on earth that could hold his daughter in the same house with her younger cousin for one minute longer.

“You took forever!” she said as she leaped into the truck, spraying snow everywhere. “Billy was driving me completely crazy with that stupid Game Boy you gave him.”

“Good morning to you, too,” he said, sounding like every father of every teenage daughter in the country.

“Oh, Daddy!” She leaned over and gave him a quick peck on the cheek. “Good morning.” She unwrapped the heavy green scarf that was looped around her neck and sighed. “You don't know how great quiet sounds.”

He grinned. “Gives you new respect for your aunt Claire, doesn't it?”

“How does she stand it?” Kelly said. “It's like living in the middle of a tornado.”

“It's called parenthood.”

She shot him a funny look, one he couldn't read. Then again, that might have been a trick of the light. “I wasn't like that.”

“Really?” He started to laugh. “You were a great kid, Kel, but you weren't quiet.”

They rode a few blocks in silence until he turned south on Main Street.

“Wrong way,” she said.

“I'm swinging by the Candlelight.” He kept his eyes on the road. “Thought we'd say hello to your new employer.”

She groaned. “I was going to tell you, Daddy.”