Mary sighed. Actually, she had invited Imogene to the community dinner. Not because she’d wanted her around, but because she’d felt sorry for Imogene. The younger woman was a stranger in town, alone, with nowhere to go for the holiday. But the fact that it was held in a church had turned Imogene off.
Mary didn’t point that out, though. She knew from experience that arguing with her stepdaughter didn’t work. In that regard, Imogene hadn’t changed a whole lot from the hormonal, angry teenager she’d been when Mary had married her father.
Besides, Mary was tired. Yesterday had been a huge shopping day, of course—Black Friday happened in Pleasant Shores, just like it did in cities—and she’d been in the store for twelve hours. She’d done two story times for the kids, giving their parents a chance to shop in peace. It had all been fun, but exhausting.
A knock sounded at her door and when Mary looked out, she saw Erica Harrison and her big white goldendoodle, Ziggy. Just seeing the pair lifted Mary’s spirits, and she felt a smile cross her face. “I’m sorry, Imogene, but I have to go.”
“Why? We haven’t finished talking.” Imogene continued explaining why she needed money, now in particular, at least a little, because she was broke.
Mary listened for another minute, wondering where the five hundred dollars she’d given Imogene just before Thanksgiving had gone, while she beckoned Erica in. “No, really, my answer hasn’t changed and I have someone here at the house I need to talk with.”
“But—”
“Bye, Imogene,” she said gently. She ended the call, blew out a breath, and then hugged Erica and rubbed Ziggy’s ears. The dog was so big she didn’t even need to bend over to do it. “It’s great to see you two. What brings you to Sunset Lane?”
“I was walking by, trying to give this big boy some exercise, and I realized I haven’t seen Mr. James in quite a while. Wondered if you could watch Ziggy while I have a short visit with him? It’s hard to focus when I’m making sure Ziggy doesn’t knock the poor man over.”
“I would be honored. You know I love dogs.”
“Don’t tell him,” Erica whispered, holding her hands over Ziggy’s floppy ears, “but he’s having surgery tomorrow. It’s past time to neuter him.”
“Oh, dear. Extra treats today.” Mary went to the cookie jar that still held Baby’s treats and pulled out a handful. “These are tiny, but they’re gourmet.”
“He’ll love them. Thanks so much,” Erica said. She looked out Mary’s front door. “Oh, look, there are Kirk and Mr. James right now.”
Mary stepped backward into the kitchen. “I’m kind of hiding from Kirk. Don’t tell him I’m home.” It made her feel like a bad neighbor, but seriously, the man hadn’t stopped bothering her since he had taken a notion to ask her out.
“My lips are sealed. I’ll wait till they get inside before I go over there.”
They both watched out the window while Kirk helped Mr. James up the steps, pausing with him to rest, then saying something that made them break out in identical, loud laughs.
It was a good sound, a good sight. “I shouldn’t fault Kirk,” Mary said. “I should be nicer to him. He takes care of his father without a word of complaint.”
“Not many men can do that. How old is Mr. James, do you think?”
“At least ninety-three. He served in World War II. And he’s in great shape for his age, but he doesn’t drive anymore and he has trouble with stairs.”
A thought flashed through Mary’s mind: Who would take care of her if she were lucky enough to reach her nineties? She shook it away, though, as something to think about at a much later date.
“Okay, they’re inside. I’m going to head over, but I’ll be back in half an hour.”
“Take an hour. I love having Ziggy here.”
As soon as Erica left, Mary looked at her cell phone to see three messages from Imogene. Her stomach curdled.
The woman wouldn’t take no for an answer, and she was downright nasty about it. Mary sank onto the couch, and Ziggy leaned against her, panting.
The love of a dog. She remembered how Baby had always known when to jump into her lap, how comforting she had been. If only Baby were here now.
Her eyes ached with tears she was determined not to shed. Crying didn’t solve anything. And she needed to solve this problem. She needed to figure out what to do about Imogene, who seemed to be settling into town.
Her threats to reveal everything about Mary’s past were getting more pointed. She was endangering Mary’s place in this cozy home and warm community that Mary loved, the business she’d built from the ground up.
A nasty inner demon bit at her. Yes, Imogene was endangering her life here, only that life was fake. No one in Pleasant Shores knew what she was really like, what had happened.
Ziggy gave her hand a delicate lick. He looked at her with big, brown, nonjudgmental eyes, and she leaned down and wrapped her arms around him.
She did let a few tears fall then. Couldn’t help it, and she had a good sympathy companion in Ziggy, who just sighed and leaned harder against her. It was probably healthy to let out her sadness and worry in the safety of the big goldendoodle’s company. He would tell no tales.
Suddenly, an idea came to her, and she lifted her head, thinking, putting it all together.
That little blue cottage next door to the soon-to-be Victory Cottage, which Amber had discovered was a short-term rental. She’d been thinking of using it to expand the program in some way, but she hadn’t figured out how.
Now, she thought about how comforting Ziggy was, and how comforting Baby had been.
Maybe this was something else to spend more of her money on and help people, before Imogene found a way to take it all.
Erica knew all about therapy dog training from going through it with Ziggy. Come to think of it, so did Sunny, a teenager who lived on the waterfront, Bisky’s daughter.
Creating a therapy dog program to go with the program for crime victims couldn’t happen right away; that would be too much. But she could lay the groundwork, make the initial purchase.
Protect the money from Imogene.
And eventually, if everything fell into place, they would have a therapy dog program at Victory Cottage.
* * *
ON THE SUNDAY after Thanksgiving, Amber and Hannah stopped at the local general store to pick up a few things Hannah needed for college. Amber tried not to think about the fact that Hannah was leaving.
It’s all good. Hannah was doing well in school, making friends, gaining independence. She had terrific scholarships that were paying most of her tuition. True, the house would feel empty once Hannah had gone back. True, Amber would have fewer hugs and fewer laughs and no one to binge-watch reality TV with when she couldn’t sleep.
Don’t impose those feelings on Hannah.
So Amber focused on this moment, what she could do now. “It’s so much colder up in New York. I know we got you the basic clothes, but what about these thermal gloves? You’re going to be walking across campus a lot and I don’t want you to freeze.”
Hannah shrugged. “I don’t care.”
Amber tossed the gloves into her basket. “Hot chocolate mix, canned chili, ramen noodles. Stuff to keep you warm when you don’t feel like going all the way to the cafeteria.”
Around them, the store bustled. Parents tried to keep kids from touching the toys in the little toy section, and a couple of guys in work clothes seemed to be in a hot discussion of nails and screws and bolts. A white-haired woman carried a box of canning jars toward the checkout counter, struggling a little under the heavy load. Amber took a step toward her, but before she could offer to help, a store employee hurried over and took the box out of the woman’s hands.
Amber led Hannah over to the area that housed yarn and thread and buttons. “Do you ever use that little sewing kit we bought?”
&
nbsp; Hannah had followed her, but she didn’t answer. When Amber looked over she saw immediately that her daughter was trying to hold back tears. “What’s wrong, honey?”
Hannah made a squeaky little sound and her face twisted.
“What is it?” Amber put a hand on her daughter’s arm, her own heart hurting in response to Hannah’s emotion.
“I don’t want to go back,” Hannah choked out. “I want to live at home and go to community college.”
“What?” Amber had been so focused on managing her own feelings that she’d had no idea Hannah was ambivalent about going back. “Where is this coming from? You love school!”
“B-b-but I want to come back and live at home.” Hannah was openly crying now.
Amber put down the shopping basket. Warm gloves and hot chocolate mix would have to wait. “Come on, let’s go over to Goody’s and talk.”
Hannah didn’t protest, and Amber led her to the restaurant and directly to a table in the corner. Goody gave them a sour look, probably because they didn’t immediately order food, but Amber made a thumbs-up sign to her. “We’ll order in a minute,” she said, and Goody nodded without smiling.
Goody had been particularly grouchy for the past couple of weeks, which was strange. But for now, Amber couldn’t wonder about it. She needed to figure out what was going on with her daughter.
Amber pulled a couple of tissues from her purse and handed them to Hannah. As Hannah blew her nose, Amber tried to read her body language. Was this a serious issue, or was Hannah just having a clingy moment?
But Hannah’s upset was definitely lasting more than a moment. “Is there something wrong at college that you’re not telling me? Something with your friends, your studies? A boy?”
“It’s not that.” Hannah blew her nose again. “I just miss you. I miss Aunt Erica, and baby Hunter is going to grow up without even knowing me, and I’m afraid...” She broke off.
“What else?” Amber asked, though she had a feeling she knew.
“It’s just that...you’re sick. What if you need me and I’m not here?”
Amber’s heart ached. How she hated it that her daughter had to deal with her mother’s serious illness at such a young age, when she should be focused only on herself, her studies, her friends. “I’m doing really well now. I’m fine.” At times like this, she wished Hannah had a dad. Of course, Hannah did have a father, but Amber hadn’t heard from him in years and had no idea of where he was. Off the grid somewhere if he was even still alive. She’d liked the rebel type, back in the day.
And she wouldn’t change a single aspect of Hannah’s father’s personality, because she wouldn’t change a single aspect of her sensitive, smart, thoughtful daughter.
“I’m worried about you,” Hannah said. “People were talking in church about how skinny you are.”
Amber could have strangled whoever was insensitive enough to speculate about Amber’s health in front of her daughter. “Who was talking about that?”
“Well, Primrose was,” Hannah said. Primrose Miller was the church organist and a major gossip.
“Consider the source. You know I’m doing really well. And I have Erica here to help me if I need anything.”
“But she’s busy taking care of Hunter.” Hannah sniffed. “And he’s growing up without me, and you put off your trip, and I’m afraid you’re going to die!”
Amber’s stomach tensed, but then she processed her daughter’s words, her sudden, extreme emotion. “First of all, I’m not dying. Are you having your period?”
“I can’t believe you said that!” Hannah said indignantly. And then she let out a rueful sigh. “But yeah. I am.”
Amber stifled a smile. “Then why aren’t we eating chocolate? Let me go get us a couple of milkshakes while you blow your nose and wipe your tears.” She handed over the pack of tissues from her purse—did any mom ever stop carrying them?—and left Hannah wiping her eyes and checking her makeup on her phone.
Amber brought two large milkshakes back to the table and they both sat quietly drinking them for a few minutes as befitted their rich, creamy, deeply chocolaty glory.
Reluctantly, Amber pulled herself out of the pleasures of the milkshake to address Hannah’s one legitimate concern. “I did put off my travel, honey,” she said. “I talked with my doctor, and she thought it was safer for me to stay home where I can get the tests I need, when I need them. It’s just a precaution. I wish I didn’t have to be careful, but I do. It’s what’s going to keep me healthy.”
Hannah studied her face. “You’re not hiding something the doctors found?”
“Nope.” Although Amber hadn’t shared every detail, she felt she could say that much honestly.
Hannah sucked down more of her milkshake. “So tell me about Paul,” she said out of left field.
“What about him?” Amber tilted her head to one side, confused. “He lives in the Healing Heroes cottage with his son, Davey.”
“I know that.” Hannah looked at her with narrowed eyes. “I also know he likes you. And I think you like him, too. Are you guys seeing each other?”
Amber let the question hang in the air too long. Around them, more customers were coming into the shop, the late-Sunday-afternoon rush before the place closed. The smell of crab cakes frying joined the fudge and baked goods fragrances.
“Well?” Now Hannah looked more suspicious.
“Are you kidding? You know me. I don’t do in-depth relationships. I want to focus on—”
“You can’t use that excuse anymore—that you just want to focus on me. I’m away at college most of the time.”
And God willing, she’d go back to school tomorrow and this worried phase would be short and sweet. “True,” she said, “but you’re still my focus. Or maybe I just don’t do that kind of relationship regardless.”
“Mom. What kind of role model are you for me? What if I said I didn’t do serious relationships?”
“You should do long-term relationships, when you’re ready. You’re so lovable and beautiful and smart.” She reached out and squeezed Hannah’s hand. “Any boy would be lucky to even go out on a date with you, let alone have you for the long-term.”
“And are you saying you’re not lovable?”
The question startled Amber. “Well... No. Of course not.” But the reassuring words weren’t quite true. Amber had had plenty of relationships—too many—but men liked her for how she looked or how fun and carefree she was. And now, when she was a little more haggard and a little less carefree, she probably wasn’t going to have even those kinds of relationships.
Which was fine. Absolutely fine. She was growing beyond them. She liked her independence.
“Back to Paul. The way he looks at you, it’s not just for your gorgeous body.”
Amber frowned down at her skinny self, pictured the scars beneath her shirt. “Oh, right, so gorgeous.” Then she tilted her head to the side and looked at her daughter. “Wait, how does he look at me?”
Hannah snickered. “Like you’re a chocolate milkshake and he’s on his period,” she said. “I wish someone would look at me like that.”
That made Amber giggle. “Drink your milkshake,” she said. She opened her mouth to explain that she couldn’t get involved with Paul, or any man, due to the cancer threat, but she didn’t want to say that to Hannah, because she didn’t want Hannah to worry about her mom’s illness.
“When I next come home,” Hannah said, “I want you to be dating someone seriously. If not Paul, then somebody else.” She sucked up the last of her milkshake.
“Who’s the mom here?” It was a joke between them, because Hannah had a major responsible, maternal side and liked to take care of her mother.
Love for her beautiful daughter filled Amber’s heart. “You’re going back to school, okay? I don’t think you really want to go to the community college with hal
f the kids you went to high school with.” Hannah had inherited a little of Amber’s own sense of adventure, and she was considering study abroad, which the community college didn’t offer.
Hannah smiled. “I’ll go back if you promise to do what I say. Start dating again, and not just the big dumb ones.”
“Hannah!”
“Am I wrong?”
“Well...no. No, you’re not.” Amber had dated way too many guys whose biceps were bigger than their brains. Whereas Paul had plenty of both. “No promises, but I’ll think about it.”
CHAPTER EIGHT
“IT WAS GOOD of you to be willing to work over here,” Paul said to Amber Monday morning, across a dining room table full of papers and drawings. “I was surprised to find out Davey’s school is closed today. Stretching out the holiday weekend.”
He didn’t add that it was good to have her in his home, on a casual basis, sharing coffee and working together. He didn’t need to be thinking about how good that part felt.
“Mary seems to be in a big hurry on the project,” Amber said. “And I’m a mom. I get that sometimes schools and day cares aren’t open and you need to get creative.”
Her slightly husky voice played along his nerve endings. I’d like to get creative with you.
As soon as the thought entered his mind, he shooed it away. Totally inappropriate. It was just that she was so pretty, the sunlight from the window playing on her hair, her full lips curving into a smile.
What was that smile about, anyway? Was she reading his mind?
Heat rose up his neck. What was wrong with him, thinking that way about a working partner, someone with whom he could never let things get personal?
Davey came over and leaned against Paul’s leg. “Can we go outside?”
“Later on, buddy,” Paul said. “Let me put on another movie for you.” He didn’t feel great about using the screen as a babysitter, but sometimes it was the best you could do.
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