Читать книгу A Mother's Reflection - Elissa Ambrose - Страница 12

Left foot over right, right foot over left. With a series of quick, forward crossovers, Adam stroked across the rink to the bleachers. He brought his feet together, bent his knees and swiveled to an abrupt stop. “Well, well, it’s Ms. Hart-well,” he said teasingly, passing through the gate. “Here to watch me skate?”

Not only was he pompous, he was downright presumptuous. “I didn’t know you were here when I came. And I wouldn’t describe what you were doing out there as skating. More like war maneuvers.”

He sat down next to her and pulled off his gloves. “If you didn’t come to see the heroic hockey hotshot in action, what brings you to the arena?”

“We were supposed to meet, but you weren’t in your office. I’m just passing time, waiting for the storm to let up before I go back to the inn.”

He tapped himself on the forehead. “The meeting. We were going to talk about the costume budget. Sorry about that. I had a family emergency earlier, and the meeting slipped my mind.”

Just like that, he abandoned his flamboyant facade, and her annoyance dissolved. “Is everything all right?” she asked, concerned.

He shrugged. “Just another episode in the continuing saga of the Wessler household. We’ll get over it.”

A strand of hair had fallen down his forehead, and she resisted the urge to smooth it away. “You should wear a helmet.”

He smiled with faint amusement. “Do you wear a helmet when you skate?”

He didn’t fool her with that lofty grin; his shell was just a veneer. “No, but I don’t have pucks getting shot at me from left and right.” She motioned to his jersey. “You should wear long sleeves. What if you fell? You’d make mincemeat of your skin.”

“The ice wouldn’t dare meet my face, and in case you didn’t notice, I’ve been doing all the shooting in this one-sided war.”

One-sided war? A revealing choice of words for someone who was supposed to be so private. He might not be as open as a clam in a cookout, but he was definitely loosening up. This was going to be easier than she’d thought. A man’s confidence was easy to win when he wasn’t wearing his armor.

And win his confidence was what she aimed to do. She and Adam were going to become friends. Good friends. It wasn’t enough for her to become part of Megan’s life; she had to embed herself in his, as well. How else could she persuade him that sending Megan away was no solution? How else could she get him to see that Erika wasn’t the kind of role model Megan needed?

“If it’s one-sided, who are you fighting?” she prompted.

“Why don’t you tell me? You seem to be full of advice.”

Might as well dive right in, she thought. They weren’t bosom buddies yet, but this was as good a time as any. “You’re fighting yourself. And you’re in a deadlock.”

“Do tell. Go on.”

“I don’t think it was the incident at home that started this particular war. It’s part of the reason, but I have a feeling there’s a lot more going on.”

“And I have a feeling you’re going to tell me exactly what that is.”

Got that right, Rachel thought. He asked, didn’t he? “I think you’re undecided about Megan going away to school.”

“My daughter’s been blabbing again. What else did she say?”

“Please don’t be angry with her. She just needed someone to talk to. Can’t you tell she’s upset?”

“She can talk to whomever she pleases,” he answered tightly, “but for your information, I’m fully aware of how my daughter feels. And, I might add, I’m not undecided.”

Rachel’s heart sank. “So it’s definite? You’re sending her away?”

“I’m not sure I like the way you said that. I’m not sending her away, I’m furthering her education.” He stared out onto the ice. “Ah, hell, it’s not just her education I’m thinking of. I guess you’ve already figured that out, too. Megan has problems, like that mouth of hers. She’s defiant and rebellious, and I’m convinced she sneaks out of the house every chance she gets. But no matter how much I threaten her, she denies it, and she won’t tell me who she hangs out with. Frankly, the whole thing scares me.”

Rachel remembered the scene in his office. She’d thought that Megan was a little ill-mannered, but that it wasn’t serious. Nothing the guidance of a loving mother wouldn’t fix. So far she hadn’t seen anything to warrant what Adam had told her, but she knew how deceptive appearances could be.

She recalled her dreams, and a wave of anxiety swept through her. Two years ago a voice had begun to call out to her, soft and wistful, while she slept. With a certainty she couldn’t explain, Rachel knew that something had happened. Worried that her daughter was in some kind of trouble, she contacted the adoption agency, but her request for information was denied. The records were to remain sealed.

Then, two months ago the dreams changed. The voice in the night was no longer faint and distant, but insistent and compelling, demanding to be heard. Determined to find her daughter, Rachel had hired a private investigator. She’d learned that two years ago—when the dreams first started—Megan’s adoptive mother had been killed in a car crash. But the P.I. hadn’t mentioned another crisis. Why had the dreams changed? The question wasn’t something she could ask Adam. Not only would she rouse his suspicions, he would think she was crazy.

“You think sending her away will solve her problems,” she stated, trying to keep her voice steady. “Do you really think this is what she needs?”

“What she needs is a fresh start.”

A fresh start? It was Erika who wanted a fresh start—without his daughter. Rachel wanted to jump up and shake some sense into him. “Megan is feeling insecure. All girls her age go through it, but it’s worse for her, not having a mother. And now you’re asking her to leave her home, the only home she’s ever known. You grew up here—surely you can understand how difficult the thought of leaving must be. I know I couldn’t do it.”

“How did you know I grew up here?”

“Excuse me?”

“You heard me. How did you know?”

“The way Megan talked about Middlewood, I, uh, just figured that you were a born-and-bred native.”

He looked at her through narrowed eyes. “I’m mystified. You said, ‘I know I couldn’t do it.’ Didn’t you just move here from Hartford?”

If she continued to blurt things out, she’d blow her cover in no time. She had to be more careful, but it wouldn’t be easy. Adam had a way of looking at her that was sharp and knowing. Even if she never said a word, she was afraid his probing steel-blue eyes would uncover her secret.

“Leaving Hartford didn’t bother me. All I meant was that if I’d had a real home, I never could have left it.” Even when he looked at her through half-closed eyes, the way he was looking at her now, it was as if he was seeing right through her.

When he didn’t speak, she felt she had to offer more of an explanation. “My mother is a concert pianist,” she said cautiously. “She moved up quickly in the music world, and we moved around a lot. Even though I ended up in Hartford, I learned not to become attached to any one place.”

His eyes softened, surprising her. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to give you the third degree.”

She almost sighed aloud with relief. She was off the hot seat. “What about Megan?” she asked, glad to turn the conversation away from the past. “You must have other reasons for wanting to send her away to school.”

“You’ve met Erika, haven’t you? I don’t know what Megan told you, but Erika is more than just the head of the drama department, such as it is. She and I have been friends for a long time now, and we—” He shifted uneasily on the bench. “I didn’t mean to bore you. I don’t know why I’m telling you all this.”

Rachel knew exactly why. The poor guy didn’t have a chance. When it came to wounded animals, she was the local veterinarian. She’d always been a magnet for the wounded, and from the way Adam had been beating up the sideboards, she could tell he was as wounded as they got. “You’re not boring me. I like Megan, and I’d like to help.”

He hesitated before continuing. “Megan is a talented young actress. Erika believes she has a future on the stage. She thinks that the Manhattan School for the Arts will provide her with the tools she’ll need to succeed, and I think she might be right.”

Might be right? Maybe he was undecided after all, she thought with hope. “And on the other hand?”

“What other hand?”

“So far you’ve given me reasons why Megan should go to this school. What are the reasons for her staying?”

He leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. “There’s plenty of time for Megan to think about her future. If one day she wants to go to New York, I won’t stand in her way. But she’s still so young. In the meantime, what’s wrong with community theater? With me working here, we’ll get to spend time together. Although…”

“Although what?” Rachel asked when he didn’t continue.

“I’m not sure about the play, Annie. It’s no secret that Megan was adopted, and now that Cathy is…gone, what if she gets it in her head to go looking for her biological mother, like Annie?”

Rachel’s heart was thudding so loudly, she was sure Adam could hear. She didn’t want to discuss Megan’s adoption. “Annie is a wonderful play,” she said a little too loudly, as if to drown out the pounding in her chest. “Kids love it. The music is great, the scenery is imaginative, and it ends on such a happy note.”

“I’m not questioning its entertainment value, I’m worried about Megan opening up Pandora’s box. But it’s not just that. I’m also questioning the negative values the play projects. For one thing, Annie gets everything she wants while the rest of the world goes on starving.”

“It’s just a story,” Rachel said. “Escapism. Entertainment. Who wouldn’t want to be rich? And you forget that Annie finds love and acceptance. To me, this is emphasized much more than the material aspect. The play doesn’t project negative values at all! How can you possibly think that?”

“Whoa,” he said, holding out his hand as if to ward her off. “Take it easy. It’s not worth starting a war over. You said it yourself, it’s just a story. And you can ignore what I said about Pandora’s box. It was just a thought. A crazy, paranoid thought. Megan would never go searching for her natural mother. Cathy was the only mother she ever knew, and they were close. Closer than most mothers and daughters.”

“You’re right,” Rachel said in a small voice. “It’s just a story.” But it wasn’t just a story. It was her life.

An uncomfortable silence ensued. “It’s back to the ice,” he said after clearing his throat self-consciously. “Let’s meet in the morning to discuss costumes.”

She rose from the bench. “I should be going. The rain has probably let up by now.”

“Don’t bet on it. It’s not supposed to clear until later tonight. After I’m done here, I’ll give you a lift.”

“You don’t have to drive me. I can get a taxi.”

He laughed. “You’d have a better chance at winning the lottery than getting a taxi. Middlewood is a great town, but transportation isn’t one of its best features. School buses and a two-car taxi stand just about does it. And even if you’re lucky enough to get one of the cabs to come, it’ll take at least an hour, most likely two.” He ran his fingers across her hand. “Forget about walking. You’re like an icicle. Can’t have my new drama teacher getting pneumonia.”

As if on cue, she sneezed.

“Here, take this,” he said, untying the sleeves of his sweatshirt from around his waist. “If you’re going to stay and watch me mutilate the boards, you’ll need to cover up. I’ve been working up a sweat, but for you it must be like winter in here.”

“No, I couldn’t—”

“Don’t be stubborn,” he said, handing her the sweatshirt. “You must be freezing in that thin suit. And it’s a nice suit, by the way. I know I acted like a jerk back there in my office, the way I criticized your outfit, and I apologize. Actually, I’ve always liked that shade of green.”

“You didn’t criticize—”

“I don’t even like gray,” he said, interrupting her again, his eyes crinkling with gaiety. “I must have been on a mental vacation when I asked Farley to paint the walls that dingy tone.”

There was something gentle and contagious about his humor. He was thoughtful and considerate, and for Megan’s sake she was glad.

She pulled the shirt over her head, catching a whiff of the scent lingering in the material. It was a masculine scent, reminding her of oak and earth.

She warmed up immediately. It was as if the heat had radiated from his body, right through the fleece and into her blood. A delicious shudder moved down her spine.

It had nothing to do with his cocky, boyish smile. It had nothing to do with his strong, athletic body or the way he’d slammed those pucks against the wall like a man with a purpose. And it had nothing to do with the way she had tingled when he’d brushed his fingers across her hand. No, it had nothing to do with any of that.

As she watched Adam skate away, a voice popped into her head. At first she thought it was Megan’s, but then realized it was her own.

Puh-leeze!

“She won’t start,” Adam muttered, fiddling with the key in the ignition. “I think it’s the switch.”

“Why don’t you just buy a new car?” Megan piped up from the back seat. “What’s the use in having money if you don’t spend it?”

Over his shoulder Adam cast her a stony look. He wasn’t about to discuss his financial situation with his daughter, especially with Rachel sitting next to him in the car. “Ethel has a few miles left in her yet,” he said, although he doubted the truth in these words. If this relic didn’t have major surgery soon, it would probably disintegrate before his eyes.

He knew what Erika would have said to his reply. She would have accused him, once again, of not wanting to let go. Maybe she was right. The ’59 Chrysler DeSoto was more trouble than it was worth. It was always in the shop, and parts were hard to find, but it had been the last Christmas gift from his wife. It had been an extravagance, but Cathy had known how much he loved these old classics. They decided to trade in both their cars and buy a sport utility vehicle. Cathy would use the SUV and he would zip around in the DeSoto.

If it hadn’t been so tragic, it would have been ironic. She’d had second thoughts about giving him the DeSoto—it doesn’t look safe, she’d said. And yet it had been her car, a brand-new SUV that was supposed to absorb the shock of impact, that had folded like an accordion when the other driver had run the light.

“Did you ever hear of anything so ridiculous?” Megan said. “He actually named this old heap.”

“Ethel was my great-aunt,” Adam explained to Rachel. He turned the key again and this time Ethel purred. “My mother’s aunt. The story goes that she had a great—” He glanced at his daughter in the rearview mirror. “Let’s just say that this car was made to last.”

“Could’ve fooled me,” Megan quipped.

“In that case I’m grateful to both Ethel and her owner,” Rachel said. “The next time the forecast says rain, I’ll believe it. I appreciate the lift, Adam.”

“My pleasure,” he said and meant it, but for the life of him, he didn’t know why he felt that way. Rachel was one nosy woman. Tricky, too. Look how fast she’d managed to get him to reveal his feelings about Annie. He groaned inwardly. After the preachy things he’d said, she must think he was a moron.

“The inn isn’t far from here, but I would have drowned in this storm,” she said, looking out the window.

He shifted into gear and pulled out of the lot. “When do you plan on looking for an apartment?”

“I thought I’d scout around this weekend. As charming as it is, I can’t live at the inn indefinitely.”

“If you want charming, I know of an apartment you can sublet. The tenant is a friend of mine. He’s away on a one-year sabbatical in France, and the landlord is willing to sublet on a month-to-month basis. Why not take a look at it? Living there temporarily would give you time to get to know the different neighborhoods before making a commitment to any one place.”

“Is it furnished?”

“Yes. Is that a problem? Of course it’s a problem. You’ll want to have your own things with you.”

“No, actually I would prefer it furnished.” She opened her purse and took out a pad and pen. “What’s the landlord’s number? I’ll give him a call when I get back to the inn. I’d like to see the place tonight, if I can.”

Adam rattled off the number. He wanted to know what she was planning to do with her own furniture, but he kept silent. Unlike some people, he wasn’t nosy.

As if she could read his mind, she said, “Since I won’t be staying in the apartment permanently, it would be silly to move all my things twice, don’t you think? For now, I’ll just leave my things, uh, stored where they are.”

“Rachel, why don’t you come over for dinner?” Megan asked. “The apartment is practically around the corner. Dad could drive you over there after we eat.”

Adam caught a glimpse of Rachel’s face. She was looking at him expectantly. He didn’t want her to get the wrong idea, especially after the way he had confided in her at the arena. Sure, she was attractive, and he couldn’t help but notice the concern in her eyes when they had talked about Megan, or the way her cheeks had flushed when he’d complimented her suit, or the way she’d crossed and uncrossed her legs when something seemed to bother her. But his life had enough complications and he sure as hell didn’t need another one. “I’m sure Rachel already has plans.”

“Puh-leeze! What plans could she have? It’s not as if she knows anyone in this town. And Paula is making chicken potpies. Paula takes care of us,” Megan explained to Rachel. “I bet her food is a lot better than the food at the inn. Don’t eat there, Rachel. What if you get food poisoning? Who’ll replace you at the center?”

Rachel laughed. “Actually, I’ve heard that the food there is pretty good. But your father is right. I have plans. I already made reservations.”

Adam pulled into the circular driveway outside the inn, and Megan made one last stab. “Won’t you change your mind, Rachel? I want you to meet Cinnamon. She’s my very best friend in the world, even though she’s a messy eater.”

“Sorry, Megan. I’ll have to meet your friend another time.”

“Cinnamon is her dog,” Adam said. “I think our Grace Farrel has an ulterior motive. She probably wants your opinion about Cinnamon playing Sandy, the mutt that befriends Annie and follows her everywhere. I, for one, think it’s a terrible idea. Cinnamon may be sweet, but she’s as dumb as a box of rocks. Completely un-trainable. What if, during the performance, she gets it in her head to do her business?”

Megan looked mortified. “Cinny would never do that!”

“And isn’t Sandy supposed to be male?” Adam pressed on. “As in, ‘Here, boy!’”

“Dramatic license,” Megan said. “We can make our own rules.”

“You mean poetic license,” Rachel said, laughing, “but you have the right idea.”

“She’s not even the right color,” Adam persisted. “Shouldn’t she be bright orange?”

“That’s the comic strip,” Megan said. “It’s supposed to be wacky. This is a play. More like real life.”

Rachel glanced at Adam. “We wouldn’t have to change a thing.”

“You see, Dad? Rachel thinks that Cinny should be Sandy.”

The way those two connected, you’d think they’d known each other forever. Adam felt like a heel. He knew that Rachel had declined Megan’s invitation to dinner only because he hadn’t backed it up. An idea occurred to him. “Why don’t you stop by for coffee after you’ve seen the apartment? Paula makes a mean batch of brownies.” What was the harm in one cup of coffee? Coffee wasn’t dinner. Besides, he was doing it for Megan.

“Say you’ll come,” Megan said excitedly. “Please, Rachel? I could show you my scrapbook. It’s got clippings of every performance I’ve been in. My mother started it when I was four years old, and Dad’s been keeping it going.”

“I’d love to see your scrapbook,” Rachel said. “And I’d love to meet Cinnamon.”

Looking at Rachel’s bright smile, Adam began to doubt the wisdom of his invitation. What if she were entertaining ideas about him? He didn’t want to lead her on. He liked his life the way it was. After Cathy died, it had taken a while, but he’d finally managed to pull himself together. There were still times he found it hard to get up in the morning, to go about his day as if his heart hadn’t been ripped from his chest, but for the most part, he was fine. Content. He had Megan, he had his mother, he had his job. And then there was Erika.

Erika was a good sport. He knew how much she had sacrificed. When the council had offered him this position, she’d given up her administrator’s job at the musical theater in Ridgefield to work for him at the center. He also knew how difficult for her these past two years had been, helping out with his family. He owed her so much.

He waited until Rachel had disappeared into the inn before he drove off. The rain was coming down harder now, and even though he’d switched the wipers to max, the windshield remained foggy and he couldn’t see clearly.

Rachel followed the landlord up the two flights of stairs. “This house is over a hundred years old,” he said. “It was split into six apartments and remodeled about ten years ago by Logan Construction.”

“The firm that built the community center,” Rachel said.

The small landing featured an octagonal etched-glass window high in the wall. The landlord nodded toward one of two white doors. “Your neighbor is in Alaska for the summer, so it’ll be plenty quiet.” He opened the other door and reached inside to flick on a light switch, then stood back for Rachel to enter.

Simply furnished with a daybed, bureau, dinette set and bookcase, the apartment was tiny, but the exposed roof beams that soared overhead created an illusion of spaciousness. The ceiling, walls and wide wooden floorboards were painted creamy white, and light from the track fixtures spilled across the satiny surfaces. Rachel walked across the room toward a pair of French doors leading out to a small balcony.

“Lots of light during the day,” the landlord said. “Pretty garden in the yard.” He opened two doors near the entrance. “Closet and bathroom here, and over there—” he motioned across the counter “—the Pullman kitchen.”

Everything was small in scale, yet efficiently planned. A range and half-size fridge were set into the wall, tucked next to the cabinetry. The closet was fitted with wire baskets, racks and shelves. Rachel walked into the small blue-and-white-tiled bathroom, where there was even a claw-footed tub. A stacked washer and dryer were next to the sink.

She rejoined the landlord. “I’ll take it.”

On the short drive to Adam’s house she marveled at her luck. The apartment was welcoming and airy, and it was furnished. Although the rent was higher than she’d planned on, it was within her budget. But most important, even though the apartment was three miles from the community center, it was just a hop and a skip from Adam’s house. A hop and a skip from Megan.

Rachel was smiling as she rang the bell. She heard a dog barking inside the house, over the din of a TV. “Will someone turn off that idiot machine?” Adam shouted. “And someone get the door!”

“I’ll get the door!” Megan called back. “And you’d better be talking about the TV, not Cinny. She’s not an idiot!” She swung the door open and beamed at Rachel. Behind her, a chestnut-brown cocker spaniel was running back and forth, yapping noisily.

Adam came into the foyer. “Rachel, hi. Sorry about the mayhem. Come on in. How did you like the apartment?”

“It’s wonderful! In fact—”

“I’ll get my scrapbook,” Megan said, and ran down the hallway toward the narrow staircase, which in traditional Colonial style divided the house in two.

“Who turned off the TV? Did I tell anyone to turn off the TV?” A woman about Doreen’s age appeared in the foyer, wearing an old bathrobe and floppy slippers. “Where’s that old bat?” she grumbled. “I have a good mind to fire her. Paula!”

Adam took the woman’s hands in his. “Mom, this is Rachel Hartwell. She’s going to be teaching at the center. Rachel, this is my mother, Evelyn Wessler.”

Evelyn Wessler bore a strong resemblance to her son. Her eyes were the same piercing blue, her cheekbones high and angled. She carried herself with the same pride, but Rachel was convinced that this was more the result of environment than heredity. Megan held that same pride.

Another older woman was just a step behind Evelyn. Her eyes were gentle and understanding, her smile warm. “It’s time for your medication,” she said to Evelyn, “and then it’s off to bed.”

“Paula, this is Rachel Hartwell,” Adam said. “Rachel, Paula Hutchison. Paula helps take care of us.”

“You mean me, don’t you?” Evelyn corrected. “Paula helps take care of me. For some reason my son seems to think I need looking after. I tell you, it’s humiliating.”

“It’s difficult being a single parent,” Rachel said tactfully. “He’s lucky to have both you and Paula to help out.”

Evelyn peered at her closely. “Are you saying I can’t take care of Megan?”

“Not at all. I just know how much of a handful a girl Megan’s age can be. You’re still the one in charge, I can tell.”

“You got that right. Smart girl, this one. What’s her name, Adam?”

He frowned. “It’s Rachel, Mom. I already told you. Rachel Hartwell.”

“Well, it’s true I can always use the extra help,” Evelyn said. “Maybe it’s a good thing Paula lives here, even if she is a nuisance. For one thing, I need to replace the curtains. Did you ever see anything so ugly? Maybe we shouldn’t fire the old bat, after all. Who else is going to watch Megan while I’m fixing up the house? Who else is going to bathe her and feed her?”

“I told you, Mom, the curtains are fine. Now why don’t you let Paula help you upstairs? You have to take your pills.”

“I don’t need any pills, for pity’s sake. I’m not sick, I’m just old.”

Rachel felt a stitch in her heart. Evelyn Wessler wasn’t old. She appeared to be in her early sixties, around the same age as Doreen and Paula.

“It’s just a mild painkiller. You know you won’t be able to sleep without it.” Adam gently steered her toward the staircase. “Two months ago she fractured her wrist,” he explained to Rachel. “It hasn’t been the same since.”

Evelyn whirled around. “Don’t do that! Don’t talk about me as if I’m not here. You’ll have plenty of opportunity for that soon enough, after that hussy who’s been chasing after you sends me away. Oh, I know she can’t wait. She’s counting the days.”

“Now, Evelyn, you don’t mean that,” Paula said, taking her arm. “Come on, let’s get you ready for bed. Say good-night to the company.”

“Do you hear the way they talk to me? Like I’m a child. I can get into bed by myself, thank you very much.” She shrugged away Paula’s arm. “It was nice to see you again, Beth. Maybe next week we can have lunch.”

Beth. Rachel felt as if she’d been punched in the stomach. Her mother’s name was Beth. Had Evelyn known her? In her confusion, was she mistaking Rachel for Beth?

“Her name is Rachel, Mom.” Adam gave his mother a warm hug and waited for her to disappear with Paula up the staircase before he spoke again. “Sooner or later she’ll get it straight,” he said, smiling at Rachel apologetically. “Let’s have that coffee.”

In the kitchen he poured them each a cup, his hand shaking visibly. How long had Evelyn been like this? Rachel wondered. She wanted to reach out and cover his hand with hers, but she held back, afraid of embarrassing him with such a display of empathy. But it wasn’t her reticence that stopped her. Still disturbed by what Evelyn had called her, she felt her hands shaking as much as his.

“It’s been especially hard on Megan, watching her grandmother deteriorate,” he said. “The disease is taking its toll on everyone.”

Rachel had known about his mother’s condition from the P.I.’s report, but she wasn’t about to blurt out something she couldn’t otherwise have known. That was a mistake she didn’t want to repeat. “Are you talking about Alzheimer’s? Isn’t she too young?”

“Early-onset Alzheimer’s can manifest symptoms in the late forties and early fifties,” he explained grimly.

She looked at his sad, defeated face. Once again, she wanted to reach for him. From the way he had talked to his mother, from the way he had taken his mother’s hands and hugged her, she could see he was a kind man, a compassionate man.

Maybe I can tell him who I am, she thought. Maybe he’ll be receptive to my situation. Two years ago, when she’d tried to arrange a meeting through a mediator, she’d been told that the adoptive father—whose identity was not revealed—wanted nothing to do with her. Maybe he had changed. Maybe now he’d relent.

She decided she would tell him who she was, before the evening ended. So much for her plan to sway Adam and Megan over the course of the summer. Oh, she still wanted Erika out of the picture. The woman was causing Megan pain, and that was something Rachel wouldn’t stand for—that and boarding school.

Cinnamon skittered into the kitchen and began licking Rachel’s shoes. Megan was close behind, carrying a pink-gingham-covered album. “Cinny, stop that!” she reprimanded, dropping the album onto the table. “You’re blowing the audition!”

Rachel laughed and tickled the spaniel behind her ears. “She sure is friendly. I think she’d be adorable as Sandy.”