Читать книгу The Friends We Keep - Сьюзен Мэллери, Susan Mallery - Страница 9

Chapter Three

“Mommy, can Boomer and Jasmine get married?” Kennedy asked from her car seat on Friday afternoon.

“No, they can’t.”

“Because they don’t like each other?” Kenzie asked.

“They like each other fine,” Gabby said as she pulled up and joined the line of cars waiting to pick up teens from the twelve-to-fifteen-year-olds’ summer camp. It was, of course, on the other side of the park, with the same start time as the one the twins attended. She sometimes wondered what the city planners were thinking when they decided schedules, start and finishing times, not to mention which streets went temporarily one way in the morning and evening. She wanted to believe they were doing what they thought was best to keep traffic flowing. That no one was secretly watching the mess everything became, giggling as mothers with kids in two different age groups scrambled to essentially be in two places at once.

“They can’t get married because Boomer is a dog and Jasmine is a cat and we don’t have pet marriages.”

“But what if they love each other?” Kenzie’s voice was dreamy as she asked the question. At five, “loving each other” was the ending to nearly every fairy tale. Well, and “they lived happily ever after,” which was practically the same thing.

Gabby briefly thought that if she were a better mother she would find more self-actualized stories to read her daughters. Stories where women ran corporations or started businesses or became doctors rather than were princesses who got engaged because they were beautiful and vapid.

A problem for another day, she told herself, then groaned as she glanced at the clock on the dashboard of her SUV.

She was five minutes late because the twins had refused to buckle up when she’d collected them. Those stupid car seats, again. They loomed larger every day.

She inched forward, one in a long line of cars, and reminded herself that she only had to get through the next hour or so before she could relax. She would get the kids their dinner, then go upstairs into the master and take a long bath while Andrew—

“Sugar!”

It was as close to a swearword as she allowed herself these days. Because there was no bath in her near future. She’d forgotten she and Andrew had an event that night. Something work-related, maybe. Or maybe political. She couldn’t remember. Double sugar. Were her black pants back from the dry cleaner?

The car behind her honked. Gabby realized she’d let precious space open up between her and the car in front. She eased forward, trying to figure out what she was going to wear, all the while listening to Kenzie and Kennedy discuss what Jasmine would wear if she and Boomer could get married. It wasn’t the dress that stumped them so much as the wedding bouquet. How would a cat carry it down the aisle?

Gabby looked at the few kids still standing on the edge of the park and spotted Makayla. Her stepdaughter was tall with impossibly long legs. Her naturally blond hair hung halfway down her back. She wore a loose, flowy sleeveless shirt over shorts. She was pretty and still a little gangly, but in a couple of years she was going to have that easy beauty women everywhere envied.

Makayla looked a lot like her stunning mother. Around both of them, Gabby felt short and bottom-heavy, neither of which was Makayla’s fault.

Gabby pulled up to the curb and watched the teen approach. Her stomach tensed as she tried to judge her mood. It was Friday on a visitation weekend, which meant things could go either way.

“Hi,” Gabby said brightly as Makayla opened the passenger front door.

“Hi.” Makayla slid onto the seat and fastened the belt before turning toward the twins. “Hey, munchkins.”

“Makayla!” Both girls greeted her happily.

“We think Boomer and Jasmine should get married,” Kennedy added. “In a white dress.”

“Huh. I don’t think Boomer would look good in a white dress, do you?”

The twins laughed. Gabby smiled, imagining their basset hound draped in white tulle.

“Not Boomer,” Kenzie corrected. “Jasmine.”

“Oh, that’s different.”

The knot in Gabby’s stomach loosened. Makayla was okay. There wouldn’t be shouting or door slamming this week. No sullen silences. She would get herself ready to visit her mother and then she would be gone for forty-eight hours. Odds were Sunday night would be awful—it usually was—but that was for then.

The highs and lows that came with being a fifteen-year-old were amplified by Makayla’s relationship with her mother. It was erratic at best. Sometimes Candace wanted to be all in and other times she saw her daughter as little more than an inconvenience. Sadly, she didn’t mind sharing that factoid with Makayla.

Gabby tried to understand that the resulting fits of rage and depression weren’t about her. Makayla needed to blame someone and Gabby was a safe target. When things got tough, there was always chocolate, and the knowledge that whatever else was going on, Makayla loved her half sisters.

Gabby drove through Friday-afternoon traffic. The three blocks on Pacific Coast Highway took nearly fifteen minutes, but once they made it into their neighborhood, the number of cars lessened.

Gabby had grown up not five blocks from here. She and her siblings had gone to the same elementary school as Kenzie and Kennedy. She’d attended the same high school as Makayla. She knew where the kids liked to hang out, the exact amount of time it took to walk home and the quickest way to get from their house to the beach.

Sometimes she wondered what it would be like to have moved here from somewhere else. To discover Mischief Bay as an adult. For her there was only complete familiarity.

She pulled into their driveway. Makayla got out of the SUV, then opened the back door to help the twins. Gabby went to unlock the front door. She could already hear Boomer baying his greeting and scratching to get out. The only thing preventing him from going through the door was the metal plate Andrew had screwed into place.

As soon as she opened the door, Boomer raced past her to get to his girls. Because while Boomer loved his whole pack, Makayla and the twins were his girls. He followed them around, did his best to keep them in line and when they disobeyed his list of rules, he ratted on them.

Now he ran in circles, looping around all three kids, baying his pleasure at seeing them again, as if it had been weeks instead of a few hours. Gabby thought about pointing out that she’d been home much of the afternoon, but doubted that information would impress Boomer.

Makayla and the twins stopped to pet him before heading toward the house. Once they were moving, Boomer wiggled his way to the front and darted through the open door. The girls followed. Gabby made sure that Jasmine hadn’t bolted for freedom, then stepped into the foyer and pushed the door closed behind her.

It was nearly four. By her calculations she had less than two hours to get the twins settled in for the evening, dinner started, the pets fed and herself turned from frumpy mom to glamorous, charming wife to successful Andrew Schaefer. It was going to be a push.

She went directly to the kitchen and dropped her handbag on the built-in desk that was her catchall for crap. Next she looked at the calendar posted on the wall, the one with all their activities color coded by person. Makayla’s mom was picking her up at six, Gabby and Andrew were due to leave at six-fifteen and Cecelia, their go-to sitter, was due at five forty-five.

“Mommy, can I wear my purple hat to dinner tonight?” Kenzie asked as she ran into the kitchen. “Kennedy wants to wear her green one. I like my purple one better. It has feathers and lace.”

“Did you pick up my dark-wash jeans from the dry cleaner?” Makayla asked as she, too, entered the kitchen. “I’m going to need them for this weekend. Mom’s taking me to the movies and out to dinner and you know that means we’ll be going somewhere nice.”

“I did. They’re in your room.”

Which you would know if you’d bothered to go look. But she didn’t say that. Nor did she mention she thought it was ridiculous that a fifteen-year-old was allowed to send her jeans to the dry cleaner. Couldn’t she wash them with the rest of her clothes? But Makayla had deemed it critical and Andrew had agreed. Gabby felt that if she was going to have to die on some hill when it came to her stepdaughter, it wasn’t going to be the one about dry cleaning.

Makayla sat on one of the stools by the island. “Mom said she’s going to take me to her stylist and get my hair cut. Maybe I’ll get bangs. There’s enough time to grow them out before school starts. You know, if I don’t like them.”

As she spoke, she stretched her long arms out across the granite countertop. Her hands were laced together as she stretched. Kenzie watched closely and Gabby knew that in the morning, she would see the same pose at breakfast. Because there was nothing the twins liked more than to imitate their older sister.

“We might do some school shopping. She can get me in to see all the fall clothes that aren’t out yet. We went through the look books already and I chose some things.”

Candace was a buyer for an upscale department store and had access to a lot of things, including styles and brands not yet available for sale to the public. Gabby told herself it was nice that Makayla got to feel special with her mom. That was how it was supposed to be. Most of time she nearly believed herself, as well.

Makayla raised one shoulder dramatically. “It’s because I have an eye for trends.”

“You do.”

Makayla eyed Gabby’s baggy, knee-length shorts and oversize T-shirt, the blue one with a stain on the front and a small but growing hole near the hem.

“You want me to talk to Dad about giving you a make-over?”

“Thanks. Sweet, but no.”

She told herself that she didn’t have it so bad. Makayla was a pretty good kid. She had her moods, but most of those were either hormone or mother-induced. She loved her baby sisters and looked out for them.

What made things difficult was the nagging sense that Makayla wasn’t treated like a member of the family. Her place was more revered guest, with everyone circling around her illustrious orbit. Like the dry cleaning. Seriously? For jeans? Or that Makayla didn’t mind looking after the twins if Gabby needed her to. But only for an hour. Never for an afternoon or evening. And even the few minutes of watching was always a favor—never something Gabby could depend on. Giving Makayla orders wasn’t allowed.

Second-wife syndrome, Gabby told herself firmly. Every now and then she got a twinge from having to deal with Andrew’s past. The most he’d had to suffer through was an old boyfriend flirting with her at her ten-year high school reunion. And that was hardly the same thing.

“Mommy, I think Jasmine’s gonna throw up.”

Kennedy shouted the announcement from somewhere upstairs. Makayla and Kenzie took off running. Gabby paused long enough to grab a few paper towels. As she headed for the stairs she wondered if it was wrong to hope Boomer got there first and took care of things for her. The big guy could always been counted on to clean up messes.

By five o’clock, the household was in that delicate transition from chaos to calm. At least that was what Gabby told herself. Dinner was in the oven, Makayla was packing for her weekend and the twins were in their playroom, deciding on what to do that evening with Cecelia.

“Dress up,” Kennedy said firmly, a small green hat perched on her head. “And Legos.”

“Legos for sure,” Kenzie agreed. Her hat was all feathers and lace. They were both adorable. Stubborn, but adorable.

Gabby found evenings with the sitter went easier if everyone went in with the right expectations. To that end she always provided a plate of snacks for both her kids and the sitter. She also made sure that toys, books and movies were chosen in advance.

The toys were picked out and put on the small, five-year-old-sized table. Next to it were three books Cecelia would read to them at bedtime, along with several DVD choices. Jasmine, recovered from her fur-ball attack, strolled in. She walked over to Gabby and gave her delicate girlie meow—the one that indicated all was right in her feline world. Boomer followed, his nose pressed into the carpet as he searched for fallen crumbs and who knew what else.

The twins pulled their pets close. Gabby used the distraction to escape to her room. She still had to shower—because she hadn’t had time that morning—and do something with her hair.

For a while she’d been trying the blonde thing, but honestly, with three kids, it was too hard to get in for regular appointments. She was going to be starting back to work soon. If she didn’t have time now, she sure wouldn’t then. So she’d spent the past year or so easing the color toward her natural shade of sort-of-brown, sort-of-red. She was thinking of getting highlights to celebrate her return to the office, but only if her hairdresser promised her they wouldn’t need touching up more than once every six months.

She managed to get in the shower without being called or having to deal with a crisis. By the time she was out, the twins, Boomer and Jasmine had moved into the master bath where the four of them lay on the floor, watching her as she reached for her towel.

Kenzie and Kennedy each had one of Boomer’s ears in their tiny hands. They stroked his silky fur while leaning against him. Their dress-up hats were askew. Jasmine watched from the mat by the sink, as if in charge. Which was probably true. Jasmine did love to control situations.

“What are you going to wear, Mommy?” Kenzie asked. “You’ll be pretty.”

“Thank you. I’m not sure yet.”

“A dress,” Kennedy said firmly. “With high heels.”

Because the twins loved to wear high heels when they played dress up.

“And lipstick,” Kenzie added.

Gabby slipped on her underwear and bra, then walked into the big closet she shared with Andrew. While his side was organized according to the type of clothing, and then by color, hers was slightly more haphazard. A few things were piled on the floor, under the hanging racks. She wasn’t sure if they were there by design or if Jasmine had pulled them off, and this wasn’t the moment to find out.

Double racks and a built-in dresser should have helped with the organization but somehow that never happened. At least not for her. Andrew’s drawers were meticulously arranged. Socks sorted by color, exercise T-shirts separate from the T-shirts he wore under dress shirts. Why was that? She put away the laundry. So she was the one who maintained his organized ways while doing nothing to move herself beyond controlled chaos.

The whys weren’t important right now, she told herself as she dug through the single tall rack, searching for a reasonably clean, slightly dressy LBD. She found it in the back, next to a fuzzy pink robe she’d never liked.

The dress was long-sleeved, with a faux wrap bodice and knee-length skirt. She hadn’t worn it in a while but it looked clean enough. Except for pink fuzz from her robe, which would come off easily enough with masking-tape strips. The bigger issue was would it fit?

She knew she had a killer Spanx slip hanging somewhere, but before she suffered through the indignity of that she wanted to see if the dress was even a possibility. She undid the side zipper, then pulled it over her head.

The arms felt tight and the fabric bunched right above her boobs. She pulled and tugged and shimmied until it settled over her body. Even before she reached for the side zipper, she knew there was going to be problem.

The dress looked awful. It accentuated her round middle and the roll above her waistline. The fabric gapped a good four inches at the zipper and no amount of prayer was going to make it close. Not even the killer Spanx would be enough.

How much did she weigh? She hadn’t been on the scale in maybe a year. Sure, there were the extra few pounds since she’d had the girls, but this was unexpected. She hadn’t actually put on more weight, had she?

Even as she thought about the extra cookie she had after breakfast most days and the secret stash of Hershey’s Kisses in her nightstand, she told herself not to get off track. Andrew was due home any second. Cecelia would be arriving, Makayla was going to have a crisis before she headed to her mom’s and the twins could only be counted on to be quiet and entertain themselves in twenty-minute increments. That time was rapidly drawing to a close.

She pulled off the dress and flung it on the floor, then reached for her go-to black pants. They were stretched out at the waist and in need of replacing, but none of that mattered now. They fit.

She pulled them on, then searched for a top that was on the dressy end of professional. She found a black blazer that always worked, only there was a stain on the front. She jerked the hangers across the racks, trying to remember what she owned that wasn’t too small, too frayed or just plain ugly. Her throat tightened as panic set in. In her head she heard the frantic ticking of time going by too quickly melding with the horrifying realization that somewhere along the way, she’d gotten fat.

At the far end of the upper rack, she spotted a red sleeve. She pulled the shirt off the hanger and breathed a sigh of relief. Okay, the color wasn’t good, but the loose, silky shirt would fit her. The fabric was a little see-through and had an unfortunate gold weave running through it. She had no idea what had possessed her to buy it. Still, she was grateful to have something to wear.

She pulled on a plain black camisole, grabbed the red shirt and hurried back into the bathroom. The twins lay across Boomer. Jasmine was nowhere to be seen. Not a surprise—the feline had excellent self-preservation instincts. She seemed to sense exactly when there was going to be a crisis of some kind and extricated herself before it could happen.

Makeup, Gabby thought frantically as she plugged in her hot rollers. Curl her hair, makeup, dinner prep, Makayla, Cecelia, feed the pets, talk to the twins and out the door. It was possible, she told herself. Unlikely, but possible.

She draped the red shirt over the side of the tub. Kennedy wrinkled her nose.

“Mommy, you said you were wearing a dress.”

“No, you said that. I like pants.”

“You’re still pretty,” Kenzie said loyally.

“Thank you, sweetie.”

“Daddy likes you in a dress.” Kennedy’s expression turned stubborn. “And high heels.”

“I’m going to wear high heels.” High-ish, Gabby thought, already feeling her toes whimper in protest.

“Gabby, where are my white crop pants?” Makayla asked from the doorway to the bathroom. “I put them in the wash this morning.”

Gabby reached for her comb. After sectioning her hair, she put in a hot roller. “I don’t do whites on Fridays. I do them on Monday and Thursday.”

“But you knew I need them for this weekend.” Makayla’s expression turned annoyed and the volume of her voice increased. Danger. “You didn’t wash them on purpose.”

The twins looked at each other. Identical mouths formed perfect O’s as they waited to see what would happen next.

Every Friday Makayla was seeing her mother, Gabby thought grimly, there was a crisis, a fight, a something. And it was always her fault. Sugar, sugar, sugar.

Gabby faced her stepdaughter. Once again she was momentarily distracted by how pretty she was and how Makayla would spend much of her adulthood defined by her beauty. Oh, to be so cursed, Gabby thought ruefully.

“Makayla, you know I do laundry on a schedule. I’ve done it on a schedule since you came to live with us two years ago. I do the whites on Monday and Thursday. If you have a special request, I’m happy to try to help, but you didn’t tell me about the pants. I had no way of knowing they were in the laundry.”

Tears filled the teen’s eyes. “You could have looked.”

The unreasonable statement made her chest tighten. Deep breath. “And you could have told me. I can’t read your mind. Is there something else you can take with you?”

“No, the weekend is ruined!”

“Why is that?”

The question came from the bedroom. Gabby felt the tightness around her chest ease just a little. The twins scrambled to their feet and raced toward the speaker, as did Boomer.

Shrieks of “Daddy! Daddy!” competed with barks and Makayla complaining about her lack of white crop pants.

Gabby turned back to the mirror. The odds of her getting close to Andrew in the next ten minutes were close to zero. The girls and Makayla always claimed his attention when he got home. Boomer needed his moment with the master of the house. Even Jasmine would stroll in for a quick chin scratch.

Gabby finished rolling her hair, then quickly applied her makeup. She had a five-minute routine that got her through most situations. She wasn’t sure who the fund-raiser was for or the crowd they might face, so she took a little extra time with her eye shadow and liner.

Ten minutes later she pulled out the rollers and finger-combed her hair, then applied hair spray. Earrings followed. She slipped on low pumps and hurried out of the bedroom.

She walked toward Makayla’s room. The teen was folding pink pants.

“You doing okay?” she asked, careful to sound cheerful rather than cautious.

Makayla nodded without looking at her.

“Okay, then. Come get me if you need anything.”

Gabby hurried to the kitchen where she checked on dinner. She wasn’t sure where the twins were, but she could hear laughter and Andrew’s low voice from somewhere in the back of the house.

Boomer and Jasmine came into the kitchen. The calico wound around her legs in what Gabby assumed was supposed to be affection. Or at least a claim on her attention.

“I’m very clear on the time,” she told her pets. “You’re next.”

She put Boomer’s food in a bowl and set it in the mudroom, then got out Jasmine’s dinner. Wet food with water mixed in, to keep Jasmine’s urinary tract healthy. Gabby added a small bowl of kibble on the side and carried both to the laundry room, because there was no way dogs and cats could eat together. Not if the cat was going to get any food.

Jasmine jumped up on her table and meowed until Gabby set down the dishes.

The pets fed, Gabby returned to the kitchen and set the table for three, all the while glancing at the clock. She pulled out the plate of raw vegetables she’d cut up earlier. Because while the twins wouldn’t touch a cooked vegetable, they would eat them raw.

Right on time, the doorbell rang. Boomer announced their visitor, in case he was the only one who heard the bell. The twins came running, yelling Cecelia’s name. Gabby let in the teen and smiled gratefully.

“Hi,” she said with a sigh. “I hope you like lasagna.”

“Love it.”

Cecelia had a backpack slung over one shoulder. Gabby knew that once she got the twins settled, she would study. In addition to her part-time job at Supper’s in the Bag, Cecelia babysat and took classes in summer school. It was impressive.

Back in the kitchen for what felt like the forty-seventh time in the past ten minutes, Gabby explained about what had to be done for dinner. She went over the selected toys, books and movies for that evening and guessed as to when she and Andrew would be home.

“You have our cell numbers, right?” she asked.

“Programmed into my phone,” Cecelia told her. “Don’t worry. We’ll have a great time.”

“I know. I can’t help it.”

She glanced at the clock. “Candace is going to be here any second,” she said. “I need to check on Makayla.”

The twins, Boomer and Jasmine followed her down the hall to where Makayla stood with her suitcase. Her expression was tense, her body stiff. She looked more like she was heading to the dentist than to her mom’s for the weekend.

For a second Gabby felt sympathy. Makayla didn’t have it easy. Candace was an indifferent mother at best and she was often late. More than once, she’d phoned at the last minute to say she couldn’t possibly take her daughter for the weekend. Sometimes it was a legitimate reason—like being out of town on business. But more often there was no explanation offered.

“Is she here?” Makayla asked anxiously.

“Not yet. I wanted to make sure you had everything you needed.”

“Not the white crop pants.”

Gabby knew she’d walked into that one and tried not to react. Kenzie slipped past her and stared up at Makayla.

“Do you have to go?”

The tension immediately eased as Makayla dropped to her knees and held out her arms. Kennedy came running and both girls hugged her tight.

“I’ll be back before you know it,” Makayla promised.

“You could take us with you.” Kennedy poked her in the arm. “We’d be good. Promise.”

“I don’t think that’s a great idea,” Makayla said gently.

“Why not?” Kenzie asked.

“Because I would miss you too much!” Gabby said. “I’d be totally and completely sad without my girls here. It’s bad enough that Makayla’s gone. What would I do without my munchkins?”

The twins ran from their sister to her. She was pinned by thin arms hanging on so tight. She felt their love all the way to her heart. It filled it and made her world right.

In that moment she glanced at Makayla and saw fierce longing in the teen’s blue eyes. The raw emotion startled her. Before she could figure out what to say, it was gone.

“Makayla, your mom’s here.”

Andrew’s voice carried down the hall.

“Auntie Candace!” the twins screamed together as they turned and ran toward the living room. Makayla followed more slowly.

Gabby didn’t want to go at all, but knew that would be rude. Not that Candace would notice. Their brief exchanges were always awkward and overly polite. Conversation between two people who were sure they couldn’t possibly have anything in common. Ironic considering they had both fallen in love with the same man. Talk about sharing something intimate.

Gabby wasn’t sure what Candace thought of her, but she knew exactly what she thought of the other woman. Candace was tall, thin and beautiful. Worse, she was successful. She was the head buyer for designer shoes and handbags for an upscale department store.

She had fashion sense, a wardrobe to die for and absolutely no cellulite. Gabby was sure of it. She might be shorter than Candace, but next to her she always felt as if she were taking up too much room.

She took a deep breath and walked into the living room. Andrew stood by the door, Jasmine in his arms. Boomer bounced around, his ears and jowls flapping as he tried to get Candace to notice him. The twins were talking and twirling, while Makayla stood beside her mother. And Candace, well, she was busy being tall and thin and beautiful. Not to mention perfectly dressed in a pair of narrow cream-colored slacks and a tailored shirt in the same shade.

White, Gabby thought in amazement, wondering how long it would take her to get a white shirt stained. Eight seconds? Nine? There was also her jewelry—fashionably layered necklaces and several rings. Even though she’d most likely put on her makeup nearly twelve hours before, it was still...perfect.

As Gabby made her way into the room, Candace looked her up and down, then smiled that mean girl smile of hers.

“Gabby. How delightful. Are you going out?”

“Yes.”

“Your hair looks lovely. Well, you’ll want to get changed, so I won’t keep you. Makayla, darling, are you ready?”

“Mommy already changed,” Kenzie said helpfully. “She’s in her going-out shirt.”

Candace’s right eyebrow rose. At least as much as the Botox would let it. “Oh. Well. You look...very nice.”

Heat burned on Gabby’s cheeks, but she didn’t let a little thing like embarrassment slow her down. She herded the twins back to the kitchen and helped Cecelia get them ready for dinner. When she heard the front door close, she exhaled slowly. One crisis down for the evening. Four hundred and thirty-seven to go.

She walked back to the living room and saw Andrew putting Jasmine on the sofa.

“At last,” he said, turning toward her. “Hi. How are you?”

He kissed her before she could reply. While the kiss was light, the hug that accompanied it was not. Andrew gave good hugs, full-bodied embraces that lingered an extra second. When the world was spinning, he was her anchor.

“I’m okay.”

He touched her cheek. “I know what you’re thinking. How on earth did I marry such a bitch? I have no excuse. All I can say for myself is thank God I got it right the second time.”

He was good with words, too, she thought gratefully. And life. Andrew understood life. He was successful—the vice president of sales for a large aerospace firm. He traveled a lot, but not more than he had to. He made sure he was home for significant events and he never once made Gabby feel that his work was more important than hers.

Now she resisted the need to cling to him, to complain about Makayla and the white pants, to ask that he go beat up his ex for being mean to her. No, those were her issues and she would deal with them.

“My day was fine,” she told him. “What about yours?”

“Good. We hit our numbers for the quarter, so I’m golden.” He flashed her a grin. “Until Monday, then it all starts again.”

The familiar joke made her smile. Just looking at him made her smile, too. He was eight years older than her, but aging well. Dark hair and blue eyes. There was a touch of gray at his temples, which made him look even more appealing. It was the distinguished thing. Because Mother Nature clearly favored men.

“I don’t remember the name of the fund-raiser,” she whispered. “I’m sorry. I didn’t put it on the calendar. Just the date and time.”

He leaned in and kissed her again. “I didn’t tell you the name.” He pulled her close and lowered his head so he could whisper in her ear. “There is no fund-raiser, my sweet wife. I’ve rented a room at the Inn on the Pier. There’s a bottle of champagne chilling. I was hoping we could have our way with each other for a couple of hours, then order room service before coming back home.”

“I’d be willing to write a check to that cause,” she told him.

Andrew leaned back his head and laughed, then put his arm around her.

Tears burned. Happy tears, she told herself as she willed them away. The tears of a woman who had won the husband lottery.