One Perfect Spring

by Irene Hannon

  David frowned. Debbie was trying to be cordial—but it was clearly an effort. Had he made a mistake bringing Maureen, after all? Should he have waited until he and Debbie had smoothed things out a bit more?

  Too late for second thoughts, though. They’d just have to make the best of it.

  As Maureen started to rise, he cupped a hand under her elbow, sending her a silent apology. But her eyes seemed to say, “I’m fine. Everything will be okay.”

  He hoped she was right.

  “Thank you for including me in the party, Debbie.” She smiled at his daughter, still the epitome of graciousness. “Your father mentioned that you have several gardens. I hope you can find a place for these.” Again she reached into the tote bag, this time withdrawing a small gift bag tied with a frilly ribbon. “Asiatic lily bulbs. The man at the nursery assured me they could not only be planted in the spring, but would survive the winter. I included the receipt in case you’d prefer to exchange them for some other kind of flower, though.”

  “Thank you.” Debbie hesitated, then took the bag. “You didn’t have to do this.”

  “It was my pleasure. I love flowers, but I’m afraid I was born with a brown thumb. If we have time later, I’d enjoy seeing your gardens.”

  “There isn’t much to see yet.”

  “Not true.” Shawn put his arm around her shoulders. “Your azaleas are spectacular.” He turned to Maureen. “She won’t tell you herself, but she’s a master gardener and the president of our neighborhood garden club.”

  “Shawn!” Soft color suffused Debbie’s cheeks.

  “That’s wonderful!” Genuine delight lit Maureen’s face. “I’ve always admired people who can make things grow.”

  “I learned most of what I know about gardening from my mother.”

  A beat of awkward silence ticked by.

  Just as David prepared to step in, a raucous alarm sounded in the back of the house.

  Debbie’s eyes widened. “Oh no! I forgot about the gravy!”

  As she dashed for the kitchen, Shawn shook his head. “I told her not to go overboard. Bobby would have been happy with hot dogs.”

  “Or pizza.” His grandson was still examining Maureen’s present. “But I like turkey and mashed potatoes too.” He cast a worried eye toward the kitchen. “Do you think Mom burned the gravy again, like on Thanksgiving?”

  “Could be, champ.”

  David leaned close to Maureen’s ear and lowered his voice. “My wife was a wonderful gardener, but cooking wasn’t her forte. Debbie takes after her in both respects.”

  Maureen looked past him, toward the kitchen. “Do you think she’d be offended if I offered to help?”

  “I don’t know, but I, for one, would be grateful. I’ve heard stories about your homemade lasagna, so I expect you know your way around a kitchen.”

  “You make lasagna? From scratch?” Shawn was practically drooling.

  “On occasion.”

  “I’ll tell you what . . . why don’t we all offer to help? The adults, that is.” He put his hands on the children’s shoulders. “Guys, it might be better if you go watch that video for a little while.”

  “Yeah.” Grace was still clutching her present. “Mom gets crabby every time the smoke alarm goes off. Come on, Bobby.” She took her brother’s hand and tugged him toward the family room.

  “Shall we?” Shawn gestured toward the back of the house.

  “I’m game if you are.” David deferred to Maureen. So far, she was batting a thousand in the prepared-for-any-contingency department.

  “Lead the way.”

  Instead, he linked arms with her as they followed Shawn to the kitchen.

  The alarm was silent now, and Debbie had opened a window, but the smell of smoke hung in the air. David muffled the cough tickling his throat. No sense adding fuel to the fire.

  His daughter gave them a frenzied look. “I’ve got it under control. Shawn, why don’t you give Dad and . . . his guest a drink in the living room?”

  “Actually, we all were going to offer to pitch in. Right, David?”

  “Right. Maureen likes to cook.”

  “I’d be grateful if you’d let me help, Debbie.” Maureen disengaged from his arm and moved a few steps closer to his daughter. “I hear a turkey dinner is in the offing, and since I have no family I’ve never had a reason to prepare a Thanksgiving-type meal. But I do love to cook, as David said, and I’d enjoy contributing in some way.”

  Debbie hesitated, then gestured to the stove. “I had a little trouble with the gravy. Do you do gravy?”

  “My mom taught me to make great gravy, just like your mom taught you about flowers.” She dumped her tote bag on a convenient chair and moved to the stove. “Let’s see what we have here.”

  As the two women conferred, Shawn inclined his head toward the breakfast nook. “Why don’t I fix us some drinks and we can observe from the sidelines?”

  “Good suggestion.”

  While Shawn got their beverages, David took a seat and tuned in to the conversation between the two women.

  “Yes, that strainer will work fine.” Maureen took the utensil his daughter offered. “Lumps are such a nuisance with gravy, aren’t they?”

  “Yes.” Debbie leaned closer to examine the roasting pan. “What about the burned part?”

  “I think we can work around that.” Maureen gestured to another pot on the stove, which looked about ready to boil over. “Why don’t you test the potatoes while I take care of this? They might be about ready.”

  Debbie turned her attention to the pot of spuds and grabbed it just in time to prevent a reenactment of the Mt. Vesuvius eruption.

  “Thank the Lord your friend showed up when she did or we’d be sending out for pizza.” Voice pitched low, Shawn settled into the chair beside him. “She’s been a nervous wreck about this whole party, wanting to impress you and your friend. I told her she was overextending.”

  David caught Maureen giving her watch a discreet glance as Debbie slid a pan of rolls into the oven. At least he didn’t have to worry about choking down burned bread.

  “She doesn’t have to pull out the stops for me, and I don’t think Maureen is all that difficult to please.”

  “I get that impression.” Shawn inspected the twosome at the stove. “I have to admit, Debbie wasn’t the only one concerned about this get-together. But I think my worry was misplaced. Your friend is very gracious and charming. I doubt it’ll take her long to win Debbie over.”

  “Let’s drink to that.”

  They clinked glasses—and much to David’s relief, Shawn’s words proved prophetic. By the time they all sat down to a superbly salvaged meal, Debbie was far less tense and chilly. Her reserve melted even more as Bobby and Grace opened Maureen’s thoughtful gifts—a LEGO set for the birthday boy and a sparkly necklace for his sister. Later, when she offered without any prompting to show Maureen her garden, David knew the evening was a success.

  He told Maureen that as he drove her home in the twilight.

  “I thought it went well too, but I’m glad to hear you say so. I enjoyed myself very much.”

  “Did you really?” He sent her a quick look in the fading light.

  “Yes. Bobby and Grace are darling, Shawn’s a fine man, and Debbie’s . . . I think she did great, given the background you shared with me.”

  “What did you two talk about in the garden?”

  “Flowers.”

  “Is that all?”

  She gave a soft laugh. “You want to know if she gave me the third degree about us.”

  “Guilty as charged.”

  “In a very subtle way. I was discreet. Just so you know, when she asked how we met, I simply said I’d had some dealings with McMillan Construction.”

  “True enough.”

  “As far as it went. I’m not ready to tell my story to any more people yet.”

  “I’m fine with that. I’m also fine with whatever you decide to share—or not share—in the future. N
ow I have a couple of questions for you. Where on earth did you come up with Rope Girl, and when do I get to try this great lasagna I’ve heard about?”

  She laughed again. “Knowing how inquisitive and outspoken children can be, I thought my hair might attract some attention. So I did my research. We professors are very good at research, you know. As for my lasagna—I’ll check my calendar and get back to you.”

  Not the definitive answer he’d hoped to hear.

  Flexing his fingers on the wheel, he swallowed. “That’s not an easy letdown, is it?”

  “No.”

  The queasiness in his stomach dissipated. “Good. I’ve been out of the dating game a long time, and I’ve forgotten a lot of the rules—but I’m beginning to remember that unsettling feeling I used to get when I was trying to read the signals from a girl I liked. Except back then, I’d have spent days in agony, wondering if she was getting ready to dump me. Having the guts to ask is one of the pluses of growing older, I guess.”

  “In that case, I have a question for you too. Are we dating?”

  “I hope so.” He pulled into her driveway, shut off the engine, and angled toward her. There was only a touch of light in the sky now, but he could see the smile on her face and the warmth in her green eyes. “Assuming the lady’s willing.”

  “Very.” She let out a soft sigh. “This has such an air of unreality about it.”

  “How so?”

  “I thought all this had passed me by. That the only romance I’d ever enjoy would be the vicarious kind, through my old Cary Grant movies.”

  He gave a rueful shake of his head. “I’m afraid I’m no Cary Grant.”

  “Don’t sell yourself short.”

  As he returned her steady gaze, pressure built in his throat. “No one’s ever compared me to Cary Grant.”

  “I guess it’s all in the eye of the beholder, but it seems obvious to me. Cary had an image of being smart, urbane, charming, considerate, sincere, and honorable. A true gentleman in every sense of the word. From everything I’ve seen so far, that image fits you.”

  Warmth filled his heart. Overflowed. “Thank you for that.” He reached over and gently stroked her face, the red spikes at her hairline tickling his fingers. “The kids were right. Your hair is soft.”

  “It’s also funny looking . . . and not very sexy or glamorous.”

  She dipped her head, but he slid his hand down to her chin and tipped it up again. “I think you’re beautiful—inside and out. And I’ll prove it.”

  Without waiting for a response, he leaned closer and claimed her lips in a tender, lingering kiss.

  When he at last drew back, her hands were resting on his arms and there was a shimmer in her green irises. “No one’s ever kissed me that way. Like I was precious and rare and special.”

  Even Hal.

  She didn’t say that—but she didn’t have to. The man had been a user, pure and simple. A smooth talker whose words were intended to manipulate. But this woman who’d come so unexpectedly into his life, putting new spring in his step and adding light to his days, deserved better.

  And as he said good night at her door a few minutes later with a final kiss, then drove home in the dark, he resolved to do his best to make up for all the years she’d spent date nights with Cary Grant.

  “Done.” Shawn flopped into his favorite easy chair in the family room and closed his eyes. “Sugar-high birthday boy is finally asleep. How much cake did he eat?”

  “Too much. So did Grace. Tag-teaming bedtime was an inspired idea.” Debbie yawned and scanned the floor from her prone position on the couch. Several scraps of wrapping paper and what looked like dried-up cake crumbs stared back at her. “I should run the vacuum.”

  “It can wait until tomorrow. Let’s not risk waking the kids.”

  “Good point.”

  “That was an easy sell.”

  “I was just looking for an excuse to put it off.” She maneuvered herself into a half-sitting position. “So how do you think it went?”

  Shawn opened one eye. “You first.”

  “The dinner was okay . . . thanks to Maureen.”

  “She seems adept in the kitchen.”

  “Yeah.” Debbie snagged a throw pillow and hugged it against her chest. “The kids had fun, and Bobby loved his presents.”

  “It was nice of Maureen to bring gifts for everyone.”

  “She liked my gardens too.”

  “Who wouldn’t?” Shawn opened his other eye. “So are you glad you told your dad he could invite her?”

  “I guess. I think he appreciated it, and I can’t fault her manners.”

  “I agree. She seems like a very nice person.”

  Suddenly restless, she rose and wandered over to the window. Night had fallen now. It was dark and silent and empty outside.

  A chill rippled through her.

  Nice as the day had turned out, something had been missing.

  Someone had been missing.

  All at once Shawn’s arms came around her, and he rested his chin on her head. “You’re thinking about your mom, aren’t you.”

  Her throat clogged. How had she ever managed to find a man who could tune into her feelings with such precision?

  “Yes.” She swallowed, blinking away the tears clinging to her lashes. “I know she’s been gone awhile now, and we’ve been through other holidays and family events without her, but today the loss felt fresh again.”

  “Because Maureen was here instead of her.”

  “I guess. You know, I wanted to resent her—especially after I caught Dad looking at her like some moonstruck kid, as if she were some kind of gift from heaven. But I couldn’t. She was too nice. And Dad seemed happier than he’s been since Mom died. Except now I feel guilty, like I’m being disloyal to Mom.”

  With gentle pressure, he turned her around until she was facing him, then looped his arms around her waist. “You want my opinion?”

  “Am I going to like it?”

  “Some of it.”

  She sighed and rested her hands on his shoulders. “Lay it on me.”

  “I think wanting to resent Maureen is normal. She’s getting attention from your dad you never got growing up. He’s making time for her that he didn’t make for you or your mom. She’s also filling a gap for him left by your mom’s death—a gap that’s still huge for you. Sound plausible?”

  “Yes. But there’s more, isn’t there?” Of course there was. Shawn was a lawyer. He knew how to structure an argument, and one of his techniques was to begin with the sympathetic stuff.

  “Not much.” He gentled his voice and stroked her hair. “Maureen is nice. Your dad does seem happier. Those are positives. He’s also trying very hard to reconnect with you, to make up for being an absentee father. Based on what you told me after his visit the other day, I think it’s clear he realizes his mistakes and understands his approach to providing for his family, while well intentioned, was misguided.”

  “His new insights don’t change the past.”

  “No . . . but yours can change the future, now that you know what motivated him—if you let them soften your heart. As for Maureen being a gift from heaven for your dad . . . that may be true. And if we welcome her into our family, she might be a gift to all of us. This could be a new beginning for everyone.”

  Debbie laid her cheek against Shawn’s chest. “Do you know how annoying it is being married to a guy who’s always so smart and insightful?”

  A chuckle rumbled against her ear. “I’ll remind you of that remark the next time I get us lost on a road trip.”

  “That wouldn’t happen if you’d stop and ask directions.”

  “And destroy the male stereotype? No way. I’ll leave that to a braver man than me.” He kissed the top of her head. “Feel any better?”

  “Some.”

  “Ready to call it a night?”

  “Yeah. I’ll check the doors and meet you in the bedroom.”

  With one final squeeze, he released h
er and started toward the hall, stooping to pick up a stray, sparkly bow en route. Turning, he tossed it to her with a grin. “Bling for my lady.”

  She made a face and threw it back. “I prefer the real thing.”

  He caught it one-handed, stuck it in an . . . interesting . . . place, and waggled his eyebrows. “That’ll be waiting for you in the bedroom.”

  As he disappeared down the hall, Debbie smiled. If she’d searched the world over, she couldn’t have found a better man. What a blessing it had been the day she’d slipped in an icy parking lot and found herself saved from a nasty spill by a pair of strong arms that were destined to hold her for always.

  Did Dad feel that way about Maureen? Did he count his meeting with her as a blessing too?

  And was Shawn right? Could Maureen be a gift to all of them?

  Questions bouncing through her brain, she verified all the doors were locked, flipped off the lights, and padded down the hall.

  Funny. She hadn’t expected to end the evening feeling receptive to her father’s new friend, no matter how nice she was. But maybe it was time to stop looking at everything through the lens of the past.

  Maybe it was time to follow Shawn’s advice and open her heart to a new beginning.

  16

  “Robin?” Keith stuck his head out of his office.

  She swiveled around in her desk chair. “What’s up?”

  “I need an uninterrupted hour. If any drop-ins wander by, can you head them off at the pass?”

  “You got it—though I doubt you need to worry this early on a Monday morning. No one’s caffeine has kicked in yet. Hot project?”

  “I need to make some headway on the little girl’s letter David sent my way after that article about the donation to the children’s hospital.”

  “Is that still on your desk?”

  “Not for much longer, I hope. So buy me some time if you see anyone lurking.”

  She gave him a mock salute.

  Once he closed the door and returned to his desk, Keith pulled out the contact information he’d dug up on the Net last night for his two leads.

  He started with the hospital. Finding a list of pediatricians with admitting privileges twenty-one years ago hadn’t seemed like an impossible task when he’d broached the idea to Maureen, but there were only twelve years’ worth of annual reports on the hospital’s website—and none of them contained a full list of physicians affiliated with the hospital.