The Bachelor

by Carly Phillips

  “I should have known you’d beat me here,” a familiar male voice said.

  “Eric.” Raina rose to greet her friend. Dr. Eric Fallon and Raina had grown up together on the same street in Yorkshire Falls. They’d been friends as married couples and remained friends now that their spouses had died, Eric’s wife long after Raina had lost John.

  “You’d better not have walked all this way or driven into town well past the speed limit. Indigestion or not, you can’t be too careful.” Wrinkles of concern furrowed his brows.

  Raina didn’t want him worrying about her, but she had another, more pressing issue to take care of first. She’d have to remind her dear friend of his medical ethics before he accidentally slipped and told one of her sons she’d suffered no more than glorified heartburn. “Chase dropped me off, and I take it you’ve either been through my file or heard about my hospital trip through the grapevine?”

  “You should have told me yourself when I called this morning.”

  “If every friend bothered you with health crises the minute you got back from vacation, you’d go running back to Mexico.”

  He sighed, drawing a hand through his salt-and-pepper hair. “You’re not just any friend. When are you going to understand that?” His dark eyes bore into hers.

  She patted his hand. “You’re a good man.”

  His tanned, weathered hand covered hers, his touch surprisingly warm and tender.

  Shaken, she changed the subject. “I suppose you heard Roman’s back in town?”

  Eric nodded. “Now tell me why I also heard your sons are tiptoeing around you like you might shatter at any moment. Why Roman’s taken a leave of absence from his job. And why when you’re not out about town, you’re home resting as per doctor’s orders. Because I know darn well Leslie didn’t say a thing about added rest. Added Maalox, maybe.”

  Raina glanced around to see if anyone would save her from a lecture, but no white knight was in sight, not even Samson, who’d moved behind them and was weeding the flower beds. “Eric, how old are the boys? Old enough to be married,” she said without waiting for him to answer. “Old enough to have children.”

  “So that’s what’s been bothering you. You want grandchildren?”

  She nodded, finding it difficult to speak, to acknowledge the truth without giving away the growing emptiness in both her life and her heart.

  “The boys will get married when they’re good and ready, Raina.”

  “What’s wrong with upping the time frame? Lord knows Rick needs to see that just because one woman hurt him doesn’t mean all will. And then there’s Roman—”

  “Forgive me, but I’m not understanding,” Eric interrupted her. “How does pretending to be sick relate to your desire to see the boys settled with families of their own?”

  She glanced upward. Heaven help her when dealing with obtuse men—it seemed she was surrounded by them. “My sons would never deny me my fondest wish, one that will complete their lives too. Not if they thought …” She wrinkled her nose and cringed, hesitating.

  “Your health was at risk?” At her barely perceptible nod, he rose from his seat. “Good God, woman, how could you do that to your children?”

  “I did it for my children. Sit down, you’re making a scene.” She jerked on his sleeve and he followed her command.

  “It’s wrong.”

  Raina ignored the twinge of guilt. Okay, it was more than a twinge, but if her plan worked, no one would get hurt and everyone would benefit. “You can’t tell them.”

  “Those boys love you. Give me one good reason why I shouldn’t.”

  “Your Hippocratic oath.” She folded her arms across her chest. “Do you need me to quote it for you? Because I can, you know. Verse for verse,” she added for good measure.

  “I don’t doubt it,” he said through clenched teeth.

  “Fifth century B.C. ‘I swear by Apollo, the Physician—’ ”

  “You win, Raina, but I don’t like it.”

  “I know you don’t.” Normally she enjoyed sparring with him, and when she’d committed the passage to memory she’d wanted to impress him with her knowledge, but the victory wasn’t at all sweet. “The boys don’t know what they’re missing in life. What’s so wrong with wanting to show them? You have two beautiful granddaughters of your own, both of whom live in Saratoga Springs, not twenty minutes from here. I’ll bet you can’t imagine life without them. I’m positive you’d be distraught if your daughters weren’t settled yet.”

  “I couldn’t tell you, since they’re both married, with children. But I doubt I’d be leading them blind. It’s your methods I disagree with, not your feelings. And there’s something else.”

  His thumb began a lazy glide over the top of her hand, and for the first time, Raina realized he was still holding on tight. She swallowed hard. “What’s that?”

  “You’ve been alone too long. Studies show that widowed women, women with workaholic husbands, and women without interests of their own are more likely to meddle in their children’s lives.”

  There were many things in life Raina hated. Being patronized was one of them. “I have outside interests. I jog every morning outside or on the treadmill in the basement.”

  He raised an eyebrow. “You’re still jogging with a weak heart?”

  She shrugged. “When I’m sure I won’t get caught, and it hasn’t been easy, believe me. Those boys have minds like a steel trap, and with three of them, they seem to be everywhere at once. The basement’s my only refuge, but that’s not the point. I also volunteer at the hospital,” she said, seeking to convince him she had outside, healthy interests.

  He frowned. “In the children’s ward. It’s a wonderful gift you give those kids, but as far as you’re concerned, it’s an extension of the same obsession. Meddling in your children’s lives isn’t healthy.”

  She squared her shoulders, but her heart beat painfully in her chest and a lump rose to her throat. “I’m not obsessed and I don’t meddle. I’m stretching the truth to get my sons to broaden their horizons. That’s all.”

  “Let’s say, on that subject, we agree to disagree. But on the subject of you, it’s time I spoke up, and not just as your doctor.”

  Raina wasn’t sure why, but her adrenaline picked up in a way she hadn’t experienced in years. Distinct butterflies took up residence in the pit of her stomach.

  “There are other studies I can quote, but did you know that an emotional and physical connection to another human being is an essential part of life?”

  “I’m connected,” she told him. “To my sons, my friends, to you … to everyone in this town.”

  “I’m not talking about friendships, Raina.”

  She met his gaze and for the first time found herself looking at him. Really looking at him, not just as her friend, but as a man. An attractive, attentive, eligible man.

  He’d aged well, the salt-and-pepper hair making him distinguished-looking, not old. His skin was tanned and weathered, in a rugged, handsome way that defied aging and wrinkles. And his body had maintained, if not the firmness of youth, then at least the outward appearance of a virile man.

  She wondered what he saw when he looked at her, and was surprised to discover she cared. This conversation had personal, sensual undertones she’d never heard before from Eric. She wondered if she was mistaken. She was too old to be thinking men looked at her with any kind of real interest. Not anymore. Not since John.

  But hadn’t she just appraised Eric in—dare she even think it—an intimate way? Flustered, she curled her hands into fists and he released his hold on her at last.

  “I have patients at two. I think it’s time to eat.”

  Raina gratefully nodded and dug into the picnic basket she’d picked up at Norman’s.

  “So tell me what other schemes you’ve got going on,” Eric said as he began to eat.

  “You heard about Bridge Night, didn’t you?” One night a month, Raina insisted the women shop at Charlotte’s Attic in
stead of playing bridge. Ladies’ night out, she called it.

  He laughed. “Of course I heard. You’ve made it your mission to help Charlotte succeed.” He gestured over the lawn, to Charlotte’s Attic across the street.

  Raina shrugged. “Why not? I always liked the girl.”

  “Mothering again,” Eric said between bites. Raina frowned at him and would have said more, but he softened his words with an admiring smile. “Come with me to the St. Patrick’s Day dance Friday night.”

  He’d never asked her out before. Never offered to accompany her anywhere unless they were in a group. Babysitting the widow, she called it, and nobody had ever disagreed. Eric’s wife had been gone three years now and he’d thrown himself into his work, so his invitation surprised her.

  “I’d like to go, but the boys will be there, and—”

  “They might think you’re healthy, heaven forbid?”

  Heat rose to her cheeks. “Something like that.”

  “I’ll have to prescribe a night out, then.”

  His eyes twinkled, and she had to admit she was tempted. Not just by his offer, but by him. “Who’s doing the babysitting this time?” She needed clarification. Was she going with him as his date, or was he just seeking to get an old friend out of the house?

  He met her gaze with a steady, assessing stare. “Nobody’s babysitting. We’re going on a date.”

  “I’d be delighted.” The butterflies picked up rhythm once more and this time Raina not only recognized the passionate sensation, but she welcomed the feeling with open arms.

  Three days after Roman had visited her shop, Charlotte still hadn’t been able to shake him from her thoughts. In her dreams, she knew better than to try. But during the day, when the shop bell chimed, her stomach fluttered at the possibility he might walk back in. If the phone rang, her pulse skipped, thinking she’d hear his deep voice on the other end.

  “Pathetic,” she muttered. She needed to stop thinking about Roman.

  She parallel parked at the curb across from her mother’s house. Visiting Annie was a weekly ritual. When Charlotte had moved back to town, she’d already been on her own too long to live with her mother, and besides, she hadn’t wanted to fall into the depression and frustration caused by living with Annie and her irrational hopes and dreams.

  But she refused to let her mother depress her today, for she was determined to keep her mood as bright as the day. The sun shone in the clear blue sky and spring fever had her floating. And she’d keep floating if she didn’t think about how tonight she’d be at the town hall dance, inhaling the smell of corned beef hash and listening to town gossip, instead of on a real date with Roman Chandler. A girl had to make smart choices and she’d made hers.

  Charlotte pushed the doorbell once more, not wanting to use her key and scare her mother or have her think Russell had returned. Annie had never changed her locks and never would. She lived in an eternal state of limbo.

  Finally the door to the old house swung open wide and her mother stood in her housecoat. “Charlotte!”

  “Morning, Mom.” She drew her mother into a huge hug before entering.

  The house smelled stuffy, as if the windows hadn’t been cracked open to enjoy the early spring weather, and her mother looked as if she planned to spend her one weekday off work inside. Again.

  “Don’t you have to be at the store?” Annie asked.

  Charlotte glanced at her watch. “I do, but Beth can open for me. As a matter of fact, Beth can handle things until later.” An inspired idea struck Charlotte. She’d wanted a day out, and now she had the perfect idea for them both. “Get dressed,” she told her mother. “We’re going to have a mother-daughter morning.” While she spoke, she prodded her mother up the stairs and into her bedroom. “I’ll bet Lu Anne can fit us in for hair and nails. We’ll buy outfits for tonight’s St. Patrick’s Day dance, and then we’ll go to Norman’s for lunch. My treat.”

  Her mother glanced around the darkened room. “Well, I wasn’t planning on going tonight, and as for leaving the house today …” She trailed off.

  “No excuses.” Charlotte snapped up the shades, letting light in. “We’re going to have fun and enjoy.” She folded her arms across her chest. “And I’m not taking no for an answer, so get dressed.”

  While Charlotte wondered what she’d have done if Roman stormed her fortresses this way, to her surprise, her mother blinked and complied, sans argument. Half an hour later, they sat in Lu Anne’s Locks, a salon owned by another mother-daughter team. Lu Anne handled the blue-haired ladies’ style and sets, while her daughter, Pam, took care of the funky teens and style-conscious younger women.

  After Lu Anne’s, they ended up in Norman’s for lunch, then tackled shopping. Charlotte couldn’t recall the last time she’d actually gotten her mother out of the house and was glad she’d made the time.

  She picked a few dresses for her mother off the rack and after Annie grudgingly tried them on, they agreed on one. “It looks gorgeous on you. With the new hairstyle and the makeup, this dress brings out the green in your eyes.”

  “I don’t see why tonight’s so important to you.”

  “Other than the fact that it’s an annual Little League fund-raiser? Because getting out of the house is important. Hey, you might even run into Dennis Sterling. I know for a fact he’s interested, Mom. He hangs around the library much more than even a veterinarian needs to.”

  Annie shrugged. “I don’t go out with other men. I’m married, Charlotte.”

  Charlotte sucked in a frustrated breath. “Mom, don’t you think it’s time to move on? Just a little? And even if you don’t agree, what would it hurt to test the waters? You might even enjoy it.” And when Russell deigned to show up again, which he always did, it would do the man good to see her mother was no longer sitting around waiting for him to make his grand entrance.

  “He loves me. He loves you too. If you gave him a chance …”

  “A chance to do what? Come home, say hello in one breath and good-bye in another?”

  Annie held the dresses close to her, as if the layers of material could protect her from Charlotte’s words. Charlotte winced. She didn’t need to see her mother’s retreat to know she’d been too harsh. As soon as the words had left her mouth, she regretted her harsh comment and tone. She placed a soothing hand on her mother’s arm, not knowing what else to say.

  Annie broke the silence first. “People have different ways of showing love, Charlotte.”

  And her father showed his lack of the emotion with every departure he made. “Mom, I don’t want to hurt you and I don’t want to argue.” How many times had she had some version of this conversation with her mother? She’d lost count.

  But each time she thought she’d gotten close to a breakthrough, her errant father would waltz into town once more. It was like the man had radar, Charlotte thought. He obviously didn’t want Annie, but he didn’t want her to get over him, either. As a result, her mother lived her life in limbo. By choice, Charlotte reminded herself. Which was why her own decisions had to be the clear-cut opposite of her mother’s.

  Annie held out the dress, acknowledging everything but her daughter’s words, giving Charlotte a chance to appraise her mother anew. The new hairstyle and color covered the gray and the makeover lit her features. She looked as if she’d lost ten years.

  “Why are you staring at me like that?”

  “You look … beautiful.” An adjective Charlotte rarely used to describe her mother, if only because Annie so rarely took pains with her appearance.

  But looking at her now, Charlotte recalled the wedding photo on her mother’s dresser. Russell and Annie hadn’t had a lavish wedding, but her mother had still been dressed in a traditional white gown—and with the glow of youth and love, her mother hadn’t just been beautiful. She’d been exquisite. And from the glow in her cheeks and light in her eyes, she’d been deliriously happy too. She could be happy again, Charlotte thought. If she chose to, which made the situat
ion that much more frustrating.

  Charlotte blamed her mother for her refusal to get help as much as she blamed her father for his disappearing act. But Annie was the more fragile of the two and Charlotte loved her mother. She touched Annie’s hair. “You’re really beautiful, Mom.”

  Annie waved away the compliment, but to Charlotte’s surprise, her mother reached out and touched her cheek in return. “You’re beautiful too, Charlotte. Inside and out.”

  It was rare for Annie to come out of her fog long enough to see the world around her. The compliment was so unlike her mother, a lump formed in Charlotte’s throat and she found herself at a temporary loss for words. “I look like you,” she said when she’d recovered.

  Annie merely smiled, and fingered the soft ruffles on the dress with obvious longing. Her mother was wavering.

  “Come to the dance, Mom.”

  “Tell you what. I’ll go to the dance if you’ll drop the discussion about your father.”

  Charlotte knew when to grab and run. A night out was progress. Who cared what Annie’s reasons were? “Okay.” She held up her hands in submission. “What do you say we pay for these things and head back to my store? We’ll pick out some undergarments, finish our ladies’ day out, and then I’ll take you home.”

  At the word home, her mother’s eyes lit up and Charlotte made a mental note to put a call in to Dr. Fallon. There had to be more driving Annie’s need for home, and maybe Dr. Fallon could talk to her mother.

  By the time they walked into the Attic, Charlotte was determined to show her mother another half an hour of fun outside of the house. And from the expression on Beth’s face when Charlotte ordered her to pull out their most skimpy, eclectic undergarments, her assistant was only too happy to oblige.