might have been annoyance. “That’s nonsense. I’m perfectly comfortable with the way things are. I know you’ve spent very little time around her, but Isabelle is an extraordinary four-year-old. She’s bright, funny and well-behaved. And, since Nathan and Caitlin will be raising her with their own children, should they have any, she will probably always see me as a grandmother. Why would I mind that?”
Deborah could think of a half dozen reasons why—starting with the fact that Isabelle was the product of an extramarital affair between her father, former gubernatorial candidate Stuart McCloud, and a young campaign worker only a couple of years older than Deborah. The affair had become public only months before the election, putting an end to Stuart’s campaign—and to his thirty-year marriage to Lenore, who had been both humiliated and devastated by the scandal. Still, Lenore had held her head high with characteristic dignity and poise.
A senior in an out-of-state college at the time, Deborah had never again spoken to her father after he left his family to marry his young mistress. Nathan-the-peacemaker had been the only one of the siblings to maintain a relationship with their father, though it had been a distant one since Stuart and Kimberly had moved to California to begin their new life together. Nathan was the only one who had visited Stuart there, where he had fallen hard for his little half sister.
When Stuart and Kimberly had died in a tourist accident in Mexico just over a year ago, Nathan had been named executor of the orphaned toddler’s inheritance. And when arrangements for her care in California had fallen through, Nathan had brought her into his home, had himself appointed her guardian and announced his intention to raise her himself. With his new wife’s help, of course.
Lenore hadn’t accepted that development easily. At first, she had felt hurt and betrayed by Nathan’s actions, refusing to have anything to do with the child. But when it had become apparent that Nathan’s choice had been made and that she would push him away permanently if she refused to acknowledge the child who was now such an important part of his life, she had gracefully relented. Announcing that she would fill the role of surrogate grandmother for the child, she had once again earned the sympathy and support of her neighbors, who practically considered the generous, tireless community volunteer a saint.
There were times when Deborah wondered if her mother carried this sainthood thing too far. She was certain she couldn’t have been so gracious in betrayal. In fact, she still harbored some resentment that Nathan had been willing to sacrifice his relationship with Lenore, Gideon and herself in favor of their father’s late-life child. Even understanding his rationale—that Isabelle needed him more than the others did—didn’t completely heal the wound. But then, she’d never claimed to be as noble as her mother, she reminded herself.
A real class act. Deborah could suddenly hear the echo of Dylan’s voice when he’d spoken of Lenore only hours earlier. And she frowned, because she had been trying hard to put that awkward little interlude out of her mind.
Because she could tell that Lenore was becoming increasingly defensive about her decision to include Isabelle in her life, Deborah decided to change the subject. She would not allow her father’s actions to cause another wedge between herself and her mother more than a year after his death. “I’m sure you know what’s best for you,” she murmured.
“What’s best for me and for my family,” Lenore concurred firmly. “And I won’t let anyone else’s opinion of my actions change my mind.”
Deborah wondered if someone else had recently criticized Lenore’s generosity toward her late ex-husband’s child. Were there some who thought the local paragon had been a bit too saintly this time? If so, their opinions obviously made no difference to Lenore. Deborah decided to keep her own opinions to herself from now on, at least where Isabelle was concerned.
“I’m so glad you’re staying a while this time.” Lenore’s smile was uncharacteristically misty for a moment, catching Deborah by surprise with the swift change of mood and subject. “It’s been so long since you were home for more than a long weekend.”
Thinking of her midnight run for the city limits, Deborah shifted guiltily in her seat. “It’s nice to be home,” she said, trying to infuse her voice with sincerity.
“Have you decided yet about your next job?”
Deborah shrugged. “I’m deliberating between offers in Atlanta and Dallas. I’ve enjoyed living in Tampa for the past couple of years, but it feels like time to move on.”
Lenore shook her head. “You’ve lived in three different states since you obtained your degree less than five years ago. When are you going to settle down?”
“Hey, I’m single, unattached and in demand. Might as well try new experiences while I can, right?”
“I suppose so.” Lenore looked doubtful. “But it does seem that you would want to start a family soon. You’ll be twenty-seven in just ten days, you know.”
“Yes, mother. I’m aware of my birth date and exactly how old I will be.”
Her indulgent tone made Lenore smile a bit sheepishly. “Sorry. I suppose I have weddings and grandchildren on my mind these days.”
“No wonder, with both Nathan and Gideon being married so recently. But you’ll just have to be satisfied with those two weddings for a while. I’m in no hurry to complicate my life anytime soon.”
“I hope my divorce from your father hasn’t soured you on the prospect of marriage. Not every marriage ends so painfully. And even though mine did, I have no regrets. Your father and I had many happy years together, and I was blessed with three wonderful children. That more than makes up for any heartaches I might have suffered along the way.”
Since her parents’ divorce had been messy, humiliating and entirely too public, Deborah didn’t know if she could ever reach the level of acceptance about it that Lenore had obtained. But then, she had never claimed to have her mother’s seemingly endless supply of patience, generosity, tolerance and forgiveness. Lenore wasn’t regarded as a saint in these parts without reason.
Because Deborah didn’t want to talk about those unhappy memories now, she abruptly changed the subject. “I’d like another cup of coffee. Do you want me to refill yours while I’m at it?”
“Just a half a cup, please—”
Before Deborah could even make it to the coffeemaker, the telephone rang. Both Deborah and Lenore looked at it in surprise. It seemed awfully early on this Saturday morning for anyone to be calling. Lenore moved to answer it.
Carrying both cups of coffee back to the table, Deborah opened the newspaper that had been sitting beside her plate and perused the headlines, making no effort to overhear her mother’s end of the conversation. She had just turned to the comics page and was smiling at Garfield’s shenanigans when Lenore rejoined her.
Deborah knew with one glance at her mother’s face that the call had been bad news.
Her smile vanished as she set her coffee cup down with a thump. “What is it? What’s wrong?”
For some reason, she had a terrible fear that something had happened to Gideon and Adrienne on their honeymoon. Irrational, of course, since Lenore looked sad, but entirely too calm for such a tragedy, but it was the first thought that popped into Deborah’s mind. After all, her father had died while on a belated honeymoon with his second wife, though she was annoyed with herself for remembering that fact at that particular moment.
Lenore
