to trouble. High school had been hell. He’d skipped class, hung out with horrible kids and discovered he liked to party. The summer he turned seventeen, he’d wrapped his car around a tree.
Angels had been with him, Pam thought, as she peeled her potatoes. The crash should have killed him, yet he’d walked away with nothing more than some bruises and a broken arm.
She and John hadn’t known what to do, so they’d erred on the side of tough love. They’d sent him to rehab for six weeks. Not one of those touchy-feely kinds with meetings where you shared and did crafts, but one with a boot-camp philosophy and lots of lectures from people in recovery. Brandon had quickly realized he was far from the biggest, baddest dog in the pack. He’d come home older, wiser and, most important, sober.
He’d completed his senior year with a 4.0 GPA and had made what had seemed like the impossible decision to be a doctor. But he’d stuck with it and was now in his second year of medical school.
“My son, the doctor,” Pam murmured.
They were all in a good place right now. She would be grateful and not borrow trouble. Although she did think that Jen and Kirk might not be ready for a puppy.
Pam sat next to John on one sofa while Jen and Kirk sat on the other. Her daughter, a pretty brunette, smiled broadly.
It didn’t seem like there was anything wrong. They both looked happy. Kirk was relaxed, which he probably wouldn’t be if he’d shot someone in the line of duty and was going to prison. Plus, they would have seen it on the news.
Pam glanced at the clock. It was barely two—probably too early to make herself a Cosmo. Although she would like to point out that it was already five in New York and probably tomorrow in Australia.
She reached for John’s hand. He gave her fingers a reassuring squeeze.
“All right, you two,” he said. “You’ve kept us in suspense long enough. What’s going on? Is it a puppy?”
They were moving, Pam thought, looking at their faces. Kirk had gotten promoted or something. No, that wouldn’t work. He was on the Mischief Bay police force. It wasn’t as if they were going to relocate him to San Francisco.
Jen glanced again at Kirk, then turned back to her parents. She drew in a breath and laughed.
“No puppy. We’re pregnant!”
Pam felt her mouth drop open.
“What?” John stood and crossed to them. “Pregnant? How far along? Did you plan this? Pregnant!” He pulled his daughter into his arms. “My baby’s going to be a mommy. That’s great, honey. We’re so happy for you.”
Pam felt the room shift a little. As if one side of the house had suddenly dropped a couple of feet. She managed to stand and felt her face moving, so guessed she’d smiled. Kirk walked up to her and she hugged him because it was the obvious thing to do.
Jen pregnant. There was going to be a baby. She loved babies. Adored them. She couldn’t be happier for her daughter and son-in-law. There was only one unbelievable catch.
She was going to be a grandmother.
* * *
The Farm Table was an upscale, organic, locally sourced restaurant. The kind of place completely at home in the beachy, LA-vibe quirkiness that was Mischief Bay. Everything in the restaurant was either sustainable or repurposed. The floors were bamboo, the tables and chairs rarely matched and the dishes were all old Lenox, Spode and Wedgwood patterns. But the odds of any one table getting two place settings that were the same were slim.
Eclectic didn’t begin to describe the decor. A combination of elegant, shabby chic and country, with a rabid interest in recycling to the point that the restaurant kept a pig and two goats to eat any food leftovers that couldn’t be given to a local organization that specialized in feeding the homeless. The food was extraordinary.
There was generally at least a three-week wait to get a reservation. Which meant getting a call from Adam inviting her to dinner was only half as shocking as hearing his suggestion as to where they would go. The man obviously had some pull, she thought as she stopped in front of the valet and handed over her keys.
She tucked her clutch under her arm, walked into the restaurant and glanced around. Adam was already there, standing in the foyer. He smiled when he saw her—a warm, welcoming smile that made her feel just a little bit giddy.
She was willing to admit she had been more than a little pleased to hear from him. She hadn’t thought she would. Now, as she moved toward him, she saw his gaze drop to take in what she was wearing. The sudden widening of his eyes added to her sense of anticipation.
She’d put a lot more thought into what she would wear on this date, as opposed to the last one. Despite the fact that it was late February, this was still Southern California and evening temperatures weren’t going to dip below fifty-eight. She’d been able to wear her favorite outfit and bring a pashmina as a wrap.
The dress was one of her rare clothing splurges. An Oscar de la Renta silk cloqué cocktail dress. The fabric—a textured silk—was simply tailored. A scooped-neck tank style, front and back, fitted to the waist, then flaring out. She’d left her red hair loose and wavy, and added diamond studs for her only jewelry. She’d left her legs bare, with only a hint of a shimmery lotion to add a glow, then finished off the outfit with a classic pair of black pumps.
Honestly, she’d been hoping for some kind of a reaction and Adam didn’t disappoint. He crossed to her and took both her hands in his.
“I know this is going to get old, but wow.”
She smiled. “Thank you. You’re looking very handsome yourself.”
Dress at The Farm Table was generally nice to fancy. Adam wore a suit and tie. Men had it easy, she thought. Give them some decent tailoring and they look great.
He excused himself and gave his name to the hostess, then returned to her side.
“It’ll just be a few minutes.”
“Thank you.” She stared into his dark eyes. “I was surprised to hear from you.”
His brows drew together. “Why?”
“I didn’t think our first date went very well.”
Genuine confusion tugged at his mouth. “Seriously? I thought it was good. We were getting to know each other. If you thought it went badly, why did you say yes to dinner?”
She touched his arm. “I meant I thought I wouldn’t hear from you because I got called back to work. I’m not saying it happens all the time, but when it does, I have to take care of the problem.”
There it was—her career out there. So far she liked Adam. He made her hope in a way she hadn’t for a long time. But she wasn’t going to pretend to be other than who she was for anyone and she wanted to make sure he got that.
He relaxed. “Oh, that. It’s okay. You have a job with demands. I do, too. Would you have a
