Valentine's Day. Nicola Marsh

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a week, but it had become home very quickly. She was going to miss it.

      And the emotion she was going to feel when she left Jamie behind didn’t bear thinking of. Her heart dropped every time she did think of it. But she had to do what she had to do. And finally, it was time.

      She’d barely made it to the hallway when the elevator dinged. Tensing, she waited to see if Max was back. But it wasn’t Max. An older woman got off the elevator and started her way.

      Max’s mother. It had to be.

      Cari watched her for a moment. A tall, regal-looking woman, she seemed more European elite than Texas rancher. Where was the evidence of that wild young girl who had ridden bareback over the plains and hunted rattlesnakes with the boys?

      “Hello,” she said, her eyes friendly as she looked at Cari. “I’m looking for the suite that belongs to Max Angeli. Can you direct me?”

      “Of course,” she said. “Please come this way.” She escorted her to the door and rang the bell. “Someone will let you in any moment,” she said, and as the woman turned to face the door, she added, sotto voce, “I’m in love with your son.”

      “What is that, my dear?” she said, turning back to look at her curiously.

      Cari shook her head and smiled. “Nothing,” she said. “It was nice to meet you, Mrs. Angeli.”

      She walked away quickly, not waiting for a reply.

      * * *

      It was almost comforting to be back at work at the café—the same old routine, the same old people—she’d missed it all. It felt so nice and ordinary. There was that word again. That made her laugh, and then it made her tear up. Ordinary. That was exactly what she was.

      All the diamonds and the luxury rooms and the fancy foods—that was for some other person, not for her. She belonged here in ordinaryland.

      Mara was upset, of course. “Well, there’s still Randy,” she pointed out when Cari told her what had happened.

      “Oh, Mara, please! He’s head over heels in love with C.J. You should see him mooning after her.”

      “But if she goes off with Max—”

      “No. That won’t work. You see, the whole situation was never going to be Max and C.J. setting up housekeeping. She just wanted to be his wife for all the rights and privileges—and money—and wasn’t expecting to fulfill any of the responsibilities. She made it perfectly plain that was never in the cards. I’ll tell you, from what I’ve seen, I think she prefers Randy when you come right down to it. She can boss him around.”

      On the first day back at work, she kept looking at the entry doors, expecting to see Max come strolling through. But he didn’t come. And he didn’t come the next day, either. By the third day she had pretty much decided she must have dreamed the whole thing. Maybe there really wasn’t such a person as Max Angeli. Maybe Jamie was a manifestation of her grief. Who knew?

      She’d been so sure she would never love again. She’d been so sure that she was too wary to let another man steal her heart. But she’d thrown all that to the winds and fallen for Max. Now she was back to square one, but with a new crack down the center of her heart. Hopefully, she’d learned something. Why did lessons like this have to hurt so much?

      On the fourth day she was talking a cowboy into having a piece of lemon meringue pie when a lovely older woman entered the café. Cari didn’t recognize her at first, as she wouldn’t have expected to see her there in the café in a hundred years. But she knew right away she’d seen her before, and for just a second, she assumed it was a movie star or a TV performer. Then she realized it was Max’s mother.

      Max’s mother. Her first thought was something had happened, something bad. But that fear died quickly. The woman looked too calm, too sanguine.

      She came up and took a seat at the counter.

      “Hello,” she said as her gaze met Cari’s.

      “Mrs. Angeli,” Cari said a bit breathlessly, wiping her hands on her apron and hoping her hair wasn’t too wild.

      “You recognize me.” She smiled.

      “Of course. I’m…”

      “Cari Christensen. Yes, I know.” She reached out and shook Cari’s hand. “I just felt I should come in and say hello to you and thank you for all you did to help settle my grandson into his new life.”

      “It was my pleasure. How is he?”

      “Wonderful. Perfect. We couldn’t be happier.”

      “I’m so glad.” They smiled at each other.

      “I’m sure he’d like to see you again.”

      Cari’s smile faded. “I’d love to see him, too. But I don’t think it would be a good idea.”

      “I understand. Breaking away is so hard.”

      “Yes.”

      She ordered a piece of chocolate cake and a glass of milk. Cari wondered if that was what she used to order as a girl whenever she came into town. But the café was filling up, and Cari was too busy to talk any longer. When she looked up a bit later, Mrs. Angeli was gone.

      It was the next day that Max came in.

      “Hi,” he said, his gaze never leaving her face from the moment he entered the café.

      “Hi.”

      He stood before her, his eyes luminous. “I’ve missed you.”

      She could hardly breathe. “Me, too.”

      Reaching out, he cupped her cheek with his hand.

      “Max, don’t,” she whispered helplessly.

      He shrugged and drew his hand back.

      “Can I get you anything?” she asked.

      “Sure,” he said, sliding onto a seat at the counter. “How about a piece of apple pie?”

      “Coming right up.”

      It was good to have something to do with her hands. They were shaking. She put a piece of pie on a plate and carried it over to where he was sitting.

      “Thanks.”

      “You’re welcome.”

      She stood watching him as he ate, her heart beating in her throat. Why was he here? And why hadn’t he come looking for her sooner? But she knew the answer to that. He had other things on his mind. Like the ranch. Like C.J.

      “I hear my mother came in to see you,” he said suddenly, looking up.

      “Yes, she did.”

      He had a slight smile. “She liked you.”

      Cari’s smile was bigger.

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