for the summer.”
“Sara is fourteen. Of course she wants to get away, it’s part of the adolescent code.”
“Are you sure that’s all it is?”
The question was so un-Zoë, so very much like something her mother-in-law would say, that Lyddie had to laugh. “Did Ruth pay you to do this?”
“Oh, my God. You mean Ruth and I actually agree on something?”
“Not precisely, but...” Lyddie sighed and leaned back until she was flat on the ground, staring at the pink-tinged clouds floating through the darkening sky. “Look, you know why I’m here. I agree it gets a little, um, claustrophobic at times, but everyone is really very nice. Plus it’s the closest I can come to keeping Glenn alive for the kids.”
“And there’s no other way that could be done?”
“Not nearly as well.”
There was a moment of silence, during which Lyddie could easily visualize her sister perched on the edge of her bar stool, one finger twirling her hair while the other tapped against the phone—Zoë’s favorite thinking position.
“Is he married?”
“Excuse me?”
“The landlord. Is he married?”
“What the heck does that have to do with anything?”
“Because if he’s married, I can’t tell you to jump him.”
“Zoë!”
“Oh, come on, Lyd. You said he’s kind of James Dean–ish, right?”
Lyddie remembered the shorts, the sass, the smile. The man did have a basic animal appeal. Maybe it was just the shock of seeing someone who obviously didn’t care what anyone thought about him—a rare find, indeed, in Comeback Cove.
“I am not going to jump him.”
“You sure? It would go a hell of a long way toward improving your negotiating position.”
“Positive.”
“Then I guess you’ll have to start researching mortgages.”
The shudder that rippled through Lyddie had nothing to do with the damp ground or the cool breeze coming off the river. Of course she had to get a mortgage to buy the building. It was the only way. She hated the thought of taking on that much debt, but she would do it. Even if it meant working until after she was dead to pay it off.
Her kids had already lost their father. They weren’t going to lose one of their strongest links to him, too. Not while she had any say in the matter.
* * *
LATE THAT NIGHT, Lyddie stared at the computer, the only light in the darkened den, and tried not to get too depressed as she focused on the sample mortgage payments in front of her. Amazing, how simple squiggles on a screen could generate such worry.
It hadn’t been like this before, when she and Glenn had bought their house. That research had been accompanied by giggles, nervous excitement and a bottle of champagne.
This time, each figure she took in seemed more overwhelming than the one before it. It was almost enough to make her seriously consider Zoë’s suggestion that she improve her negotiating position by jumping her landlord.
Right. And then she would pull a Lady Godiva in the middle of Main Street.
She minimized the page and clicked on the next bank in the list she’d generated. Maybe this one would have better terms. And maybe she could forget about J.T. And maybe she could even stop Zoë’s other question from surfacing every time she printed out another loan application.
Do you really want to tie yourself so permanently to a town where they call you the Young Widow Brewster?
“Yes,” she muttered as she stabbed her pencil against the notepad. Concentrate. That’s what she had to do now. Focus on the store, on her future, on building a forever life in Comeback Cove. All those other thoughts would have to wait until—
“Lydia?”
Until she dealt with her mother-in-law.
“Do you have a minute to talk?”
Oh, no. Not that tone. Not the I’m-alone-and-lonely voice.
“A minute.” She turned away from the computer, not certain if she were getting into something better or worse. “What’s up, Ruth?”
“I know you’re planning to send Sara to your sister’s for the summer, but is that carved in stone?”
Lyddie was tired and frustrated, haunted by questions she couldn’t answer and worries she couldn’t share, and all she wanted was to check out a couple more banks and then go to bed. She longed to tell Ruth that whatever it was, it would keep until a better time. But in all honesty, between the coffee shop, Ruth’s job and three kids needing to be carted around town and/or talked around, that “better time” was about twelve years down the road.
It looked as if she were going to have to get it over with.
“Her plane ticket is bought and paid for. Zoë is counting on Sara to help with the boys after she has the baby. So yeah, it’s pretty well definite.”
“I see. It’s just that...” Ruth paused as she walked into the room and sat in the desk chair beside Lyddie’s. “I talked to my sister today. She suggested that I bring the girls along when I go to Florida next month. Ben will be at camp and I thought it would be a nice treat for them.”
Florida in July? Ew. Tish wouldn’t mind the heat, she thrived on it, but Sara had inherited Lyddie’s love of cooler weather. She would wilt in two hours. Besides which—
“Ruth, that’s a wonderful offer, but Sara has her heart set on Vancouver. Zoë has arranged for her to have weekly lessons from someone who plays clarinet in the Vancouver Symphony, and you know Sara and music.”
“Clarinet lessons? I know everyone is making a big deal over her winning that orchestra award in school, but does she think she’s a musical genius now?”
“Actually, I think that being a musical genius is what led to her getting the award.” Lyddie spoke a bit more sharply than she’d intended, but tough.
Ruth shook her head. “I didn’t mean to dismiss her ability. You know I’m as proud of her as you are. But are you going to let one factor dictate her future?”
“Sara’s future is Sara’s concern. She loves music. She wants to make a career out of it.”
“But that’s ridiculous. She has her father’s brain—she could easily do anything she sets her mind to do.”
“And her mind is set on music.” Lyddie raised her hand before Ruth could speak again. “Look, she’s fourteen years old. She could decide next week that she wants to be a politician, or an undertaker or even a physical therapist, like Glenn. But right now she’s
