A faded pink bathrobe hung from her shoulders and her threadbare slippers offered little protection against the broken glass.
“Watch your step,” Ginny cautioned as she focused on tending Lori’s cut.
Mom teetered and reached a knobby hand out for a chair. She stared at the mess as if Ginny were again three and had helped herself to a glass from the cupboard.
“What happened in here?” Mom’s voice slid through her throat, unanchored and sloppy.
Ginny prayed she didn’t intend to shore up with another secreted bottle. “It’s okay, Mom. Just a couple of broken dishes.” She hadn’t yet mustered the courage to confront Mom with the telltale signs she’d tumbled from the proverbial wagon after years of restraint. The small brown paper bags. Breath mints on her night table. Unsteadiness Ginny might otherwise have blamed on the cancer. She couldn’t have endured the inevitable denials.
The doctors tried to treat Mom’s cancer, but they had no remedy for heartache over a wasted life.
Mom glanced at the clock. “Don’t we have to be at the council meeting soon?”
“You don’t have to come. The approval process is just a formality.”
“Nonsense. Those crooks on the town council will dream up any excuse to deny us the group home we need. All they care about is lining their pockets.” She fluffed what little hair she had left. “But those clowns will have a harder time living with their consciences if they have to look a dying woman and her handicapped daughter in the eye.”
Ginny’s gaze darted to Lori. They never called Lori handicapped. She was special.
Lori hopped from her chair and clapped her hands. “Clowns?”
Mom smiled the special indulgent smile reserved for Lori. “That’s right, dear. Except these clowns don’t have painted faces. Now you go comb your hair while I get dressed.”
Oh great, that’s just what Ginny needed. Wasn’t it bad enough that the man she’d once loved had happened back into her life, as, uh, Duke? “Mom, do you really think you’re in any condition to go tonight?”
The spark in Mom’s eyes flickered out. “Why can’t you see I’m not that person anymore?”
Because you are. Swallowing the words, Ginny turned away.
Rick’s newest lie had dredged up all the old betrayals—his and Mom’s. Never mind that a small part of her hoped his heart had leaped to life when he saw her, the same way hers had.
Duke. Yeah, sure. His name might be Floyd for all she knew.
And who knew what kind of trouble he’d brought with him?
At the front of the town’s council chambers, Mayor Riley, his double chin tripling, leaned back in his padded leather chair and folded his hands in smug satisfaction.
Ginny sprang to her feet to reiterate a dozen reasons why he should reconsider his veto, but before she could utter a word, Rick’s voice rose from the back of the room.
“Mayor, if I may, I’d like to address the council. I’m the foreman on this project.”
“Your name?”
“Duke.” He flashed a warning glance in Ginny’s direction. “Duke Black.”
The mayor motioned him forward. Ginny slumped into her seat and prayed he didn’t make their situation worse.
“That man looks an awful lot like your Rick,” Mom whispered, her words remarkably clear given the way she’d slurred them earlier.
“He is Rick.”
“Why’s he calling himself Duke?”
“Good question, Mother. Why don’t you ask him?”
Lori’s face scrunched as she pointed at Rick. “That’s—”
Ginny clapped a hand over Lori’s mouth. Lori’s cheeks reddened the way they always did just before she threw a fit.
Thankfully, no one seemed to notice Mom maneuver Lori out the side door. Rick’s velvety tones enraptured the audience, and when the mayor called for a vote, the motion to approve the variance passed with only one opposed.
Rick veered toward Ginny wearing a heart-stopping grin, and she scarcely restrained a sudden urge to throw her arms around his neck. “Thank you,” she breathed.
“You can thank me by letting me stay on the project.” He gave her a sideways hug and heat rushed to her cheeks as she scrambled to recover her composure. He steered her toward the door. “Deal?”
“What?” She slipped from his grasp before the allure of his closeness brainwashed her into saying something stupid—like yes. He may have won this battle for them, but they’d survived fine without him up until now.
The instant Rick stepped through the council chambers’ main doors, Lori launched into his arms. “Rick,” she cried out, her voice echoing in the cavernous lobby.
Ginny glanced around the shadowy lobby, wondering why she cared if anyone overheard her sister’s declaration.
Maybe it was the way Rick hesitated and stiffened at her words, as if … nervous?
Ginny must’ve imagined Rick’s reaction to Lori’s greeting, because a second later he wrapped Lori in his arms. “Hey, kiddo.”
To think not so long ago his arms were the only place Ginny had wanted to be. Rick’s comfortable acceptance of her sister had been one of the qualities she had admired most about him. Unlike her other boyfriends, Rick had actually wanted to include Lori in some of their activities, or share a meal with her mom. But that had also made his leaving hurt all the more.
Mom eased Lori from his embrace. “Rick, dear. It’s wonderful to see you again. Looking so well. Why don’t you come back to the house with us so we can catch up?”
Rick shot Ginny a startled look. Fifteen months had ravaged Mom’s body. He probably scarcely recognized her.
His gaze softened and the ache in Ginny’s chest deepened. She’d been holding herself together since Mom’s diagnosis, but one glimpse at the compassion in Rick’s eyes and she could feel herself falling apart. She couldn’t let herself tumble back into the trap of letting him close enough to share her pain.
“Mom, I’m sure Duke has other things he needs to do.”
He grinned. “Not at all. I’m all yours.”
THREE
Caught between duty and fleeing as far from Rick as she could get, Ginny stayed in the car while Mom led the way to the front door of their bungalow under the protection of Rick’s umbrella. Mom had a way of being happily oblivious to the peeled paint on the windowsills, the split in the porch step and the grass long enough to feed a flock of sheep. But if Ginny followed them inside, she’d be all but laying out the welcome mat for Rick to retrample her heart.
“Coming?”
