Charlotte smothered a snort. “That would have been fun to watch.”
“That’s what I said.” Patricia winked. “My overprotective mother-bear mode only seems to intensify with age.” She waved the observation aside. “You’re handling this evening with amazing grace and patience. We’re all so proud of you.”
“Thanks. That campground by the lake in Florida is my happy place,” Charlotte confessed. “I think about it when I’m stuck in the more challenging conversations.” Her current challenge was how to casually inquire if Mark was seeing anyone. She wanted a kiss—to get over him—but she wouldn’t ask if he was currently involved with someone.
Patricia beamed. “Those weeks with your family were some of my favorite summer vacations. We’re planning a big bash for the Fourth of July at the beach house. Everyone is coming. Why don’t you join us?”
“Oh.” Yes! Yes! Yes! Teenager Charlotte was doing back handsprings; adult Charlotte wasn’t so sure. As much as she loved the Rileys, more time around Mark could undermine her efforts to leave her crush in the dust. Especially if he agreed to her fantasy-ending kiss tonight. “I don’t know...”
“No entitled jerks with more money than taste, just the family, I promise,” she added, making Charlotte grin. “It’s an ocean view rather than the lake, but we have plenty of room and a decent stretch of the beach all to ourselves. And no one will hassle you about your inspiration and influences.”
It sounded like the most wonderful adult version of the best parts of her summer memories. “Are my parents going down?” A much safer question than inquiring about Mark’s love life.
“They will if I have my way about it,” Patricia replied with a conspiratorial grin. “There’s plenty of time between now and then. Even if you can’t make it for the holiday, you’re welcome anytime. We’re a relatively short road trip from here.”
“Thanks.” A tide of sincerity and gratitude washed over her.
They’d managed to find a small gap in the crowded gallery and Charlotte caught a whiff of fresh air coming in from the rear doors. Her body instantly relaxed.
“Go take a break,” Patricia urged. “You’ve earned it. I’ll tell Marisol you went upstairs to mingle.”
“You’re the best.” She gave the woman who’d been her second mother a quick hug and then dashed for the back room and outside.
The night air, salted with the nearby Atlantic Ocean, brushed away the odor mash-up of people and perfumes, wines and hors d’oeuvres. Closing her eyes, she breathed deeply, the tension flowing out of her shoulders.
Out here, no one asked her the same question in forty different ways. No one pressed her for an educated opinion on masters like Picasso or the potential of their first grader’s latest finger painting. The solitude was marvelous, restorative bliss.
Until she noticed she wasn’t alone.
Copyright © 2020 by Regan Black
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ISBN-13: 9781488064333
Operation Mountain Recovery
Copyright © 2020 by Janice Davis Smith
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, businesses, companies, events or locales is entirely coincidental.
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Operation Mountain Recovery Page 26