by Marie Force
Their parents exchanged subtle glances, looking—as always—for cues from each other.
“He’s almost done with school,” Will said, looking for the bright side.
“How long have you known about this?” Molly asked, zeroing in on Will.
He threw up his hands to ward her off. “Only since last night.”
“What do you plan to do?” Lincoln asked.
“Um, do?” Max said, glancing at Will for help.
“Are you going to marry her?” Molly asked.
All the color in Max’s face drained in a heartbeat. “I, um, no, that’s not the plan. At the moment.”
“What is the plan?” Lincoln asked.
“I’ll, ah, help her with money and the baby and anything she needs and do the right thing. That’s my plan.”
“Doing the right thing should also include the possibility of marriage,” Molly said.
“It doesn’t have to, Mom,” Will said. “People in this situation don’t automatically get married anymore.”
“I’m well aware that things have changed, William, but they should at least talk about it.”
“We’re nowhere near ready to have that conversation,” Max said.
“Yet you’re ready to have a baby,” Molly said, her lips tight with displeasure.
“Well, no, not really, but we are having a baby, and he or she will be well cared for. I’ll see to that.”
“Mom.” Will waited until she looked his way and then took her hand. “I’d rather hear that Max is going to be a dad than so many other things he could’ve said. I’d rather hear there’s a baby than a tumor or a drug addiction or a gambling addiction or a sex addiction.”
“Well,” Max said, grinning.
Will glared at him. He’d walked right into that with one example too many.
“Sorry,” Max said, covering his smile with his hand, “not funny.”
“Not funny at all,” Molly said.
“You do make a good point, Will.” Lincoln glanced at his wife. “There’re lots of things worse than a baby.”
“Of course there are,” Molly said, softening. “I just hope you have an idea of what’s about to happen to your carefree life.”
“I’ll take care of my child, Mom.”
“And your child’s mother. No matter what.”
“And my child’s mother. No matter what.”
“Well,” Molly said to her husband, “looks like our baby is going to make us grandparents for the first time.”
“Looks that way,” Lincoln said, sharing a smile with her.
“You’re not mad or disappointed or any other awful thing, are you?” Max asked.
Will wanted to tell him to quit while he was ahead, but Max hadn’t asked for his opinion.
“I assume this didn’t occur because of any lack of … responsibility on your part,” Lincoln said.
“No, sir. I did exactly what you’ve always told us to do. I swear to God.”
“Ninety-eight percent effective,” Will said.
“What he said,” Max said, pointing at Will.
“Then I’m not mad or disappointed or any other awful thing,” Lincoln said.
Max sagged with relief.
“I’m sorry you’re going to have so much responsibility at such a young age,” Lincoln continued, “but I have faith you can handle it.”
“How old were you when Hannah and Hunter were born?” Max asked their dad.
Lincoln tipped his head as he thought about that, absently running his fingers through Ringo’s silky coat. “Twenty-three.”
“A year older than I’ll be when my first kid comes along. You didn’t make a total mess of them, so there’s hope for me.”
Molly tittered with laughter that broke the tension. “He’s got you there, babe.”
Seeming pleased to have scored a point against his dad, Max stood. “I need to get back to Burlington.”
“Bring Chloe for dinner on Sunday,” Molly said.
“Oh, um, well, okay. I’ll see if she can make it.”
“And you’ll be here either way?” Molly asked.
Max bent to kiss her cheek. “Wouldn’t miss it.”
“Drive easy out there, son,” Lincoln said.
“I will.”
“Max.”
He turned back to see what his father wanted.
Lincoln held out a hand to him. “Congratulations, son. You’re going to be a fine father to that very lucky baby.”
Seeming stunned by the unexpected declaration, Max blinked back tears and shook his father’s hand. “Thanks, Dad. That means a lot to me.” He hightailed it out of there before he lost it completely.
“Well,” Molly said. “That was quite a surprise. I assume it was your idea for him to get over here and talk to us this morning.”
Will shrugged. “I might’ve nudged him in that direction.”
“I’m glad he went to you, and I’m glad you were there for him.”
“I’m always there for him. He knows that.”
“I love how close you all are, even as adults,” Lincoln said as he stood. “You may have your skirmishes, but at the end of the day you’re one hundred percent there for each other. I’m very proud of that.”
“We were brought up by great parents who constantly reminded us of who would always have our backs,” Will reminded them.
“I worried during the fight-like-cats-and-dogs years that none of you would speak to each other as adults,” Molly said.
“Ah, yes,” Lincoln said, smiling. “Those were good times.” He bent to kiss his wife. “Gotta run. Hunter and I have the auditors in this morning. Speaking of good times. Pray for my sanity.”
“Good luck,” Molly said.
“Let’s hope I won’t need it.” To Will, he said, “Any decisions on the website?”
“Not quite yet, but getting closer.”
“I’ll see you at the office.”
“I’ll be in a little late. I’m meeting with Cameron again this morning.”
Lincoln raised a brow. “Again?”
“We got together last night, too.” Will felt a flush of heat on his face that infuriated him. His parents would see right through that.
“At least you’re being thorough.”
Will couldn’t tell if his dad was being sarcastic or serious, and he wasn’t about to ask. “Trying to be.”
“See you in a bit.”
Lincoln left with the dogs a few minutes later, the door slamming behind him.
“Need me to shovel the front walk for you, Mom?” Will asked.
She propped her chin on her upturned hand and studied him with the sharp golden eyes that were the exact same color as his. “What gives with Cameron Murphy?”
“Why do you ask?”
“You blushed, William. You never blush.”
“Stop.” Needing something to do, Will got up and helped himself to coffee. If he was going to be grilled by his mother, he needed caffeine reinforcements.
“Are you blushing again?”
He was glad he was still facing away from her. “I am not blushing. I do not blush.”
“Okay,” she said with a laugh. “Whatever you say, tough guy.”
Mug in hand, he turned and leaned against the counter. “She’s nice.”
“Nice. Hmm, nice as in, ‘I like you like a sister’ or nice as is in ‘I want to take you to bed’?”
“Mom!” He couldn’t help but blush at that. Who wouldn’t?
“What? We’re both adults here, aren’t we?” She’d always been open and forthcoming with her children about subjects they’d rather not broach with her.
“I’ll never be adult enough to talk to you about that stuff.”
“Ah, so it’s option B. I want to take you to bed.”
“Mom …”
“William, honestly, if you like her, ask her out. Do something about it.”
“There’s no point,” he said, feeling more dejected than he had in a very long time. “
Her whole life is in New York, and mine is here. Who knows how long she’s even going to be here? And that’s a whole other thing—I’m supposed to be deciding whether the website is in the best interest of the store, but that decision is all mixed up in the fact that I like her.”
Molly stared at him, astounded.
“What? Why are you looking at me like that?”
“Because I’ve waited a very long time to see you this interested in a woman again.”
“I’m not that interested in her.”
“Yes, you are. Why are you denying it when it’s clear as the nose on your face to me?”
“Because.” Bringing the coffee with him, he returned to the table and sat, slumped in the seat. “Did you hear anything I said about where she lives and where I live and how different our lives are? She can’t go five minutes without checking her cell phone, and I don’t even own one. She talks about TV shows I’ve never seen and, and …”
“And you like her.”
“And I like her.”
“Will, honey, none of your so-called obstacles is insurmountable. When I met your dad, all he cared about was going to the next Beatles concert. He’d been accepted to grad school at Oxford and had a whole plan for his life that had nothing at all to do with a woman from Vermont who helped run her family’s country store. It certainly didn’t include ten kids or life in a barn. And look at how it all worked out for us. He seems happy, doesn’t he?”
“Happiest guy I know.”
“Life happens. Love happens. You gotta take some chances.”
“I did that once before.”
“Oh please,” Molly said with a dismissive wave of her hand. “She wasn’t good enough for you. I knew that the first time I met her. She had no substance to her.”
“Why didn’t you say something?” Will asked, shocked by the revelation.
“Would it have mattered?”
“No,” he conceded, “I don’t suppose it would have.” He glanced at her. “You know who Cameron’s dad is, right?”
“Sure, I do. I’ve met Patrick a couple of times at Dad’s Yale reunions. He seems like a nice guy, if a bit self-involved.”
“I suppose you’d have to be self-involved to be a self-made billionaire.”
“I suppose,” she said with a laugh.
“Cameron doesn’t speak all that highly of him. From what I gather, he was somewhat absent while she was being raised by nannies.”
“Aww,” Molly said with a sympathetic cluck of her tongue. “Poor kid.”
“Poor little rich kid.”
“Money doesn’t buy happiness, William. You’ve lived long enough to know that.”
“I’m all mixed up about the website and whether I’d be green-lighting it because we need it or because I want her to stay longer.”
“Hmm, that is a dilemma. Let me ask you this—do you think the site would be good for the store?”
“I didn’t at first, but after hearing Cameron’s presentation yesterday, I can see how it would be great for the store. The best part would be getting our story out there. About how Gramps’s parents started the store during the Depression and passed it on when they retired to him and Gram. Cameron is fascinated by the family with ten kids and how each of us contributes to the business in some way.”
“It is pretty cool, if I do say so myself.”
“I like the idea of people outside of Vermont knowing more about us and what we’re doing here. I’m hesitant about the new demands of selling online and managing that, but I guess we’d figure it out.”
“Sure you would. By now, it’s hardly rocket science. People have been doing it for decades, and surely Cameron could walk you through those challenges.”
“If I vote for the site, she’ll be here for a couple of weeks, and then back and forth a lot over the next year or so.”
“I imagine it’d be a pretty big job to accurately capture all things Stillman-Abbott.”
Will nodded as pinpricks of sensation made his skin feel hot and almost itchy. He hoped like hell he wasn’t blushing again.
His mother’s hand covered his on the table. “It sounds to me like you’ve given this project careful consideration from a business standpoint, and if you decide to go forward with it, you’d be doing it for the right reasons. If that decision also keeps Cameron in town long enough for you to get to know her better, I’d say that’s just an intriguing by-product of a well-thought-out business decision.”
Will smiled at her. “You’re really very clever, aren’t you?”
“Dude, I raised ten children and lived to tell. I had to be clever, devious, cunning and many other things I’ll never admit to under threat of torture.”
He laughed and leaned into her embrace. “You’re the best.”
She kissed his forehead and combed her fingers through his hair the way she used to when he was little. “Want to know something else?”
“Sure.”
“If the vote over the website required a tiebreaker, I was leaning toward voting in favor.”
“You were, really?”
“Yep. I like the idea of getting our story out there, too. It’s a great story.”
“What do you think Gramps will say?”
“Is there a possibility of a pretty girl interviewing him at some point?”
Will smiled at the question. “I believe a very pretty girl will want to spend some time with him.”
“Then he’ll be all for it. You know how he loves to talk about the good old days—and he’s always appreciated a pretty girl.”
“But will he approve of the technology behind it? We had to talk him into getting a TV after Gram died so he wouldn’t go nuts all by himself.”
“He knows the world is changing. He gets that you all live and work in a different time than he did. He’ll be in favor of anything that keeps the store thriving for the next generation of Abbotts.”
Will glanced at the clock on the wall and was startled to realize it was quarter to nine. Just as he had that thought, another occurred to him. “Mom, are you busy this morning?”
“Not really. Why?”
“How would you feel about doing me a huge favor?”
“For you, my love? Anything.” He spelled out his plan to her and watched the smile unfold across her pretty face. “You’re on.”
“Thanks, Mom. I think this’ll work perfectly. I’ve got to go. I’m meeting Cameron for breakfast at nine.”
“Bring her to dinner on Sunday. I met her years ago when she was just a little girl, so I’d like to see the young lady who had the altercation with poor Fred and has my boy’s head all turned around.”
“My head is not turned around.”
“If you say so. Bring her.”
“I’ll ask her.” He leaned in to kiss her. “Thanks.”
“Anytime, honey.” She caressed his cheek. “Any woman in this universe would be lucky to have William Abbott’s head turned in her direction.”
“And you’re not the slightest bit biased.”
“Not one bit.”
He smiled all the way into town, fortified by his conversation with his mom. He’d always known that he’d been so very, very lucky to be raised by her and his dad, and after spending time with Cameron and hearing about her childhood, he felt luckier than ever.
He pulled into the parking lot at the inn two minutes before nine. As he was heading up the front stairs, she came out, looking gorgeous in the coat he’d left for her.
Her gaze met his, and her smile lit up her face.
That smile hit him like a punch to the gut, and Will realized his mother was exactly right. His head was turned. It was turned hard—in Cameron Murphy’s direction.
CHAPTER 8
If women were flowers, I’d pick you.
—The gospel according to Elmer Stillman
“Morning,” Cameron said, feeling shy and undone by the intense way he looked at her.
He reached out to relieve her of the heavy computer bag.
What was wrong with her that a simple act of gallantry set her heart to racing? “I wasn’t sure if I was meeting you here or at the office.”
“I don’t think we talked about that.”
She came down the last stair to meet him on the sidewalk.
“Did you sleep okay?” he asked as they walked across the street to the diner.
“Pretty well until about four a.m. when the plow woke me up.” She gestured to the inn’s parking lot. “Right outside my window.”
“That might’ve been Hunter. He helps out with the plowing. I’ll let him know he kept you up.”
“Don’t give him another reason to be annoyed with me.”
Will gestured for her to head across the street. “He’s not annoyed with you. He’s annoyed with my dad and the way he sometimes goes about making things happen to suit his agenda.”
“He seems to have good intentions.”
“Oh, he does, but that’s not the point. We don’t like being railroaded.”
“I understand,” she said as a pervasive sense of defeat overtook her. “It’s not the right time for the site. You don’t have to let me down easy. I can take it.” Her stomach knotted when she thought of the payroll that had to be met next week and where they would get the money to stay in business.
“Who says I’m letting you down?”
Cameron looked over at him. “I’m confused.”
He held the door for her. “Let’s talk over breakfast.”
The buzz of conversation in the crowded diner died as they walked in together. Cameron felt the eyes of everyone in the place on her and she wanted to shout “Yes, I’m the one who hit poor Fred.” But she held her tongue and allowed Will to usher her into a corner booth. Grateful for the sunglasses that hid her bruised face, she took the side that put her back to the hometown crowd.
As soon as they were seated, the conversation resumed.
“That was uncomfortable,” she muttered.
“They don’t mean anything by it. They’re just curious.”
“About the girl who hit Fred.”
“And the girl who’s here from the big city. We don’t get a lot of excitement around here. New people are cause for excitement.” He shrugged and gave her that adorable grin that made her want to sigh every damned time. “What can I say?”