Karan could choose to hang on to how she felt about that night, hurt and criticized when she’d needed her mother. She could make this moment about herself, but it didn’t have to be. She could go on enjoying her day if she chose.
Her mother wasn’t going to change unless she perceived a need. But Karan certainly could.
“I hope you’re enjoying the day,” she said simply.
Her mother nodded. “The senator was quite a hit with all his campaigning about domestic violence. New Hope sounds like a good cause. I’m sure it will reap a good deal of support now.”
“He was very generous. Everyone is ecstatic.”
“I imagine so.” She fixed Karan with an assessing gaze. “You and Charles seem awfully close. I know he’s a director at New Hope but…is there anything you want to tell me?”
There was a large part of Karan that wanted to keep her shiny new excitement about Charles all to herself, not expose it to her mother’s potentially negative response.
But she reminded herself about personal accountability.
Only she could allow anyone to tarnish her mood.
So she decided to keep things simple and honest. “We’ve been talking, Mom, about putting the past behind us.”
Her mother didn’t reply for a moment. Then she said as simply, “Well, keep me posted. I always thought Charles could be a suitable husband. Maybe he simply needed some time to figure out what he wanted. And, Karan, thank you for calling to let me know you were all right the other night. I would have hated to find out about that situation on the ten o’clock news.”
“Of course, Mom.”
Today the fogs seemed to have receded, leaving the lighthouse smiling her beautiful smile. “I’ll head back now. You should bring Charles by our shelter so he can say hello.”
She kissed her mother’s cheek. “I’ll bring him by.”
CHARLES FOLDED HIS ARMS OVER his chest and faced Matthew across the desk. “I’d like to accept your offer to join the Catskill Center.”
Matthew sank into his cushy leather wing chair. “So you finally made a decision. You’re sure?”
“Not a doubt in my mind. In fact, I’m so sure that I drove to the city yesterday to thank the Mount Sinai board in person for their interest and offer my regrets.”
He nodded, looked content. “What made you decide?”
“Missy.”
“Missy?”
“One of my patients. The first-year elementary teacher.”
“I remember. What did Missy do to convince you?”
“As exciting as it would be to be a part of a world-class research team, I don’t want to lose contact with my patients. I like caring for them from start to finish. I want to specialize, but I don’t want to shift my focus off that personal level of care to put all my emphasis on research.”
“Got you. Now I’ve got a question for you. I’ve been seeing Karan around here for the past week. Does she have anything to do with your decision?”
Charles nodded. “We made the decision together, in fact. We’ve decided to work things out. We’re listing both our places and looking for something north, closer to Devil’s Path.”
“A commute?”
“Not really. Add another thirty minutes maybe.” Just enough to get them out of town. Close to Bluestone, but not too close.
“I see. I’m guessing Mount Sinai wasn’t happy.”
Charles shrugged. There would be another up-and-coming surgeon to take his place, one with a little more ambition than Charles had at the moment. He needed to have time for his marriage and maybe even a family one day. What was the point of having one if he wasn’t around to parent, to take family vacations to the beach, to visit the grandparents, to attend school functions, to fish?
“The point is that I’m happy, Matthew. I fully expect you to give me run of the place when Dr. Chalmers retires so I can work my magic and put St. Joseph’s on the map.”
“Now that I’m glad to hear.” Matthew reached over the desk, extended his hand. “Welcome aboard. You made a good decision about your career, and about Karan. She’s a sharp woman.”
Charles knew. He’d made good decisions about his career, about facing his issues, about reclaiming the woman he loved. All the right decisions for him. He knew it, deep inside where it counted.
“OMG, MOM! WAIT UNTIL YOU SEE it.” Brooke hopped out of the car, gathering her garment bag as if the contents were precious. Then she leaned in and asked as an obvious afterthought, “Aunt Karan, you don’t mind if I put it on to show Mom, do you?”
“Of course not,” Karan said. “You’ve got to model for us. Let’s go.” Pushing open the passenger door, she got out of Susanna’s car and dug her house keys from her purse.
It was a fall formal gown. Brooke had called in her favor when she discovered the fall formal would take place within a few weeks of the start of the semester. So she and Karan had taken the train into the city for a shopping excursion. Susanna picked them up at the train station.
Once inside, Brooke took off to change and Karan dropped her purchases on the couch, one of the few remaining pieces of furniture in the room. Most of her personal items had already been packed in preparation of the move.
“Thanks for the lift,” she told Susanna. “I’ll be so glad when I get my driving privileges back. Lugging all these bags around was not my idea of fun.”
“Not a problem,” Susanna said. “Thank you for taking her. She was so looking forward to shopping.”
“Me, too.”
She glanced around the living room. “Looks like you’re making progress around here. I still can’t believe you’re under contract already. It’s barely been a month since you listed.”
“You know what they say—location, location, location.”
“Any interest in Charles’s place yet?”
Karan sank onto the couch with a sigh and toed off her shoes. “Not yet, but then he’s not on a lake.”
“Lots of memories here. You’re ready to move on?”
“I am.” And she was. No regrets. Bittersweet didn’t fit her mood, not with so much excitement about the future. “You might take one more peek while you’re here to make sure you don’t want anything. Last chance to call dibs. Movers are coming Friday.”
“They’re taking the furniture?”
“I really wanted to drag all of it out to the mailbox and call Tom for a delivery. But I didn’t think New Hope Thrift Store would get the best prices.”
Susanna laughed. “I’m guessing not.”
Karan had called a friend instead, the owner of a furniture chain, and arranged for a private sale, the proceeds of which would defray costs for the gallery showing in Kingston that would feature work from a Manhattan-based photographer and the art of Project Return. They’d get three-for-one in that deal—raising funds for New Hope while gaining exposure for a talented new photographer and a not-for-profit organization that was helping in an unusual way.
All her furniture went except for the Bowflex training machine, which she’d never actually used. Marynia had long ago turned the thing into an expensive clothesline as the laundry room was part of the home gym.
That would get put out at the mailbox with a purple tag because she knew a truck-driving power lifter who could pick it up for a song.
She couldn’t resist.
“Okay, I’m coming,” Brooke called out. “Close your eyes.”
They exchanged a glance and did as directed.
“Ready? Now look!”
Brooke twirled in her cocktail-length dress, kicking up a heel to reveal the accompanying strappy sandals. The dress was lovely, but as far as Karan was concerned, the beaming smile was her goddaughter’s best accessory. She was so beautiful, so excited about life.
Karan took one look at Susanna’s misty expression and knew she was coming unglued, which likely had more to do with the reality of Brooke’s impending departure than the dress.
Motioning Brooke to twirl slowly again, Karan spo
ke into an imaginary microphone. “Today our gorgeous college freshman is modeling a signature cocktail dress with floral lace embroidery, a strapless sweetheart neckline and fit-and-flare silhouette. This divine creation was made in the good old U.S. of A. of the finest French silk, of course.”
“It’s lovely.” Susanna’s voice broke as she went to hug her daughter. “You’re lovely.”
Brooke beamed. Susanna blinked back tears.
Karan had accomplished a good day’s work. Of course, contentment only lasted until Susanna got past her tears, then she ran her fingers over the fabric.
“This is really lovely. Where did you shop?”
From behind Susanna’s back, Karan motioned Brooke to take off. Too late, Susanna spotted Karan’s bags and narrowed her gaze. “Tell me you didn’t buy this at Bergdorf Goodman?”
“It came off the rack, Mom.”
“Karan, you swore you wouldn’t go crazy.”
Brooke launched into a rational defense. “Aunt Karan said it was a very good price.”
“Aunt Karan’s yardstick is different than mine.”
Karan stretched, propping her feet on the coffee table and settling in to enjoy the show. “Lighten up, Suze. It was a steal. I promise.”
“How much?”
“Thirty-four ninety-five.”
Susanna blanched, looked like she might actually swoon. “Please tell me you mean $34.95.”
Karan exchanged a glance with Brooke. The price of the dress was worth the look on her mother’s face. No question. “It’s my goddaughter’s first fall formal in college. She has to make an impression so she gets to choose from all the right sororities. You know that. Just look at her. She’s gorgeous.”
Susanna collapsed onto the couch and fell forward, head between her legs as if she was staving off a faint.
“Never fear, Suze.” Karan patted her back. “We’ll get our money’s worth. Brooke’s promised to lend it to me for New Hope’s fashion show at Christmas.”
“And I’m wearing it for Aunt Karan’s wedding.” Brooke twirled again and announced, “She asked me to be a bridesmaid.”
That got Susanna’s attention. She sat up. “You did?”
Karan nodded. “And I’d like you to be my matron of honor.”
“Again?”
“Of course.” Karan nudged against Susanna, rested her head on her best friend’s shoulder. “Third time’s a charm.”
KARAN STOOD BESIDE HER LAWYER, hands clasped behind her back, expression stoic as they waited for Wannabe Jenny to review the documents before her. Both Charles and Susanna had insisted on accompanying her to court today, and though they sat behind her, silent, she could feel their presence, felt their love and support as she faced the bench.
Wannabe Jenny finally glanced up and met Karan’s gaze.
“Welcome back, Ms. Kowalski Steinberg-Reece,” she said in exactly the tone Karan had prepared herself for. “I see community service didn’t have any adverse effects.”
A compliment? Not likely.
“As I’m sure you guessed I’ve been reviewing your progress with interest. To be quite honest, I’m surprised at all you’ve accomplished.”
Was there a compliment in there?
“From what I hear, you’ve lent your skills to a good cause and been an asset to a worthy program. I’ve gotten more than a few glowing reports. Not to mention what I’ve read in the paper. Your alternative sentence appears to have been a good fit, and I commend your efforts.”
Definitely a compliment.
Karan inclined her head to acknowledge Wannabe Jenny and received the same gesture in return.
“I hope you’ve learned a lesson, Karan, because I don’t want to see you back in my courtroom again.”
“You won’t, Your Honor.”
Wannabe Jenny forced what might have been a smile. “Then good luck in your future. The State of New York recognizes you’ve fulfilled the terms of your sentence. Case dismissed.”
The gavel crashed.
Susanna exhaled a relieved sigh, and Charles brushed his fingers over the hands Karan still held clasped behind her back, a reassuring touch.
“Thank you for this opportunity, Your Honor,” Karan said. And meant it.
ISBN: 978-1-4592-0843-8
THE HUSBAND LESSON
Copyright © 2011 by Jeanie LeGendre
All rights reserved. Except for use in any review, the reproduction or utilization of this work in whole or in part in any form by any electronic, mechanical or other means, now known or hereafter invented, including xerography, photocopying and recording, or in any information storage or retrieval system, is forbidden without the written permission of the publisher, Harlequin Enterprises Limited, 225 Duncan Mill Road, Don Mills, Ontario, Canada M3B 3K9.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events or locales is entirely coincidental.
This edition published by arrangement with Harlequin Books S.A.
For questions and comments about the quality of this book please contact us at [email protected].
® and TM are trademarks of the publisher. Trademarks indicated with ® are registered in the United States Patent and Trademark Office, the Canadian Trade Marks Office and in other countries.
www.Harlequin.com
*Falling Inn Bed…
The Husband Lesson Page 24