Luck of the Draw (A Betting on Romance Novel Book 1)

by Cheri Allan

  Kate Mitchell never planned to be a 31 year-old widowed single mom, but when her soon-to-be-EX husband up and dies, her dreams of finishing college and starting over are thrown in the air like a game of ‘52 pick-up.’

  If only life had a refresh button…

  LUCK OF THE DRAW

  by CHERI ALLAN

  ~ Book One ~

  A Betting on Romance Novel

  COPYRIGHT

  Copyright © 2014 Cheri Allan

  ISBN: 978-0-9904815-0-8

  Editing by Orchard Edits

  Cover Image © Elena Elisseeva | Dreamstime.com

  Kindle Edition

  This book is protected under the copyright laws of the United States of America. Any reproduction or other unauthorized use of the material or artwork herein is prohibited. This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

  All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without the prior written permission of the author except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles or 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, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events or locales is entirely coincidental.

  DEDICATION

  For my husband,

  Who believed in me long before I believed in myself and gave me the gift of following my dreams. You are my every hero. Love you madly!

  ~ Your Cookie

  Table of Contents

  Title Page

  Copyright

  Dedication

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Chapter 28

  Chapter 29

  Chapter 30

  Chapter 31

  Chapter 32

  Chapter 33

  Chapter 34

  Chapter 35

  Chapter 36

  Chapter 37

  Chapter 38

  Chapter 39

  Chapter 40

  Chapter 41

  Chapter 42

  Chapter 43

  Chapter 44

  Chapter 45

  Chapter 46

  Chapter 47

  Chapter 48

  Epilogue

  Book Two Coming Fall 2014: Stacking the Deck

  Acknowledgements

  About the Author

  CHAPTER ONE

  ____________________

  IT RAINED THE NIGHT RANDY DIED—scattered spring storms that left shimmering puddles on the pavement under the streetlight outside the house. They swirled with surreal, iridescent color as Kate opened the door with one hand and clutched her robe closed at her throat with the other.

  There were two of them, their uniforms dark with rain, eyes dark with fatigue. They spoke with gently dispassionate voices as they delivered the news. Single car accident… Only occupant… They asked if she understood. Yes, she said. Yes. Was she alone? No. Would she like a drink of water? No. No, thank you. She didn’t want them in her home, didn’t want them searching for a clean cup in her kitchen, compassionately detached as they watched her and waited for her to fall apart.

  After they left, she stared at the wet boot-prints on the living room carpet and wondered what she should do or whom she should call. Her limbs felt strangely heavy as she wandered through the house to her room, too stunned to cry, looking around for traces of him, but, of course, she’d already packed away the pictures and mementos of their life together. All that remained of their ten-year marriage sat in a small bowl on her dresser.

  She picked up the ring, her breath held tight in her chest, and slid it back on her finger—as if, somehow, by putting it on, she might magically go back in time and make things turn out differently.

  But the miracle never happened, and then Liam woke up. She assured him everything was all right—even though it wasn’t—and curled up with him on his small bed, in the dark, trying not to hug him too tight.

  She didn’t sleep.

  She didn’t weep.

  She simply stared at the plain gold band on her finger as the pre-dawn hours slid into day.

  June 7

  Time. They talk about it flying, as if it were a child’s kite, but as I get ready for Liam’s third birthday party today, it occurs to me that for every year of his life, I’ve lived TEN. That’s not flying, that’s careening. Just sayin’.

  CHAPTER TWO

  ____________________

  Seven weeks later…

  “MY GOD, KATE—I THINK I’D die if I were you.”

  Kate Mitchell’s hand froze in mid-air, a mini wiener inches from her lips as she tried to think of an appropriate reply. Granted, wieners weren’t considered top-drawer fancy fare, but Liam loved them, and it was his day. She lowered her hand to her plate and forced a smile.

  It was stunning how tactless people could be when expressing their condolences. Here they were, surrounded by streamers and giddy children, and yet Betsy’s china-doll blue eyes blinked earnestly as if they were standing next to Randy’s casket instead of eating finger foods at a three year-old’s birthday party.

  Kate cleared her throat. “Yes, well, you know what they say about not being given more than you can handle.”

  “Still, you’re so brave. I mean, how will you get by? I heard Randy didn’t even have life insurance!” Betsy finished sotto voce, her china-blues blinking back compassionate tears.

  “Well, under the circumstances...”

  “I know,” Betsy touched Kate’s arm meaningfully. “I heard about the DUI.”

  She pronounced it ‘dee-wee’ as if it were some child’s game and not a misdemeanor crime. Kate fought the urge to stuff her mini wiener up Betsy’s pert, surgery-enhanced nose. She pasted what she hoped was a suitably neutral expression on her face. “Oh?”

  Lord, she hated this. Hated, especially, feeling like she still had to defend Randy even though he’d been days away from being her ex-husband, even though—ironically—he hadn’t actually been drinking the night he’d plowed his Lexus into a tree. No, it was enough he had the reputation of drinking and driving. It was enough he’d still, technically, been her husband.

  Betsy gave her hand another pat. “I understand,” she said.

  Kate stifled a bubble of hysterical laughter. How could Betsy possibly understand something she couldn’t understand herself? She couldn’t explain why Randy had run off the road that night any more than she could explain the wild mood swings that had plagued her the last few weeks, her gut turning over itself like she’d eaten bad chicken salad or something. Grief, the counselor
had told her. But, it didn’t feel like grief. It felt like fear.

  Kate glanced around for escape from Betsy’s glistening eyeballs and spied Nana—dear Nana!—in the corner with elderly Mrs. Pemborly who lived next door at the end of their southern Connecticut cul-de-sac. It was a quiet neighborhood, picturesque, with forsythia bushes and mature trees shading small, well-tended yards. Just the place to raise a family. Or at least, that’s what Nana had insisted nearly three years ago when she’d offered to rent the house to Kate and Randy after Poppy died. Nana had decided to move back to her hometown of Sugar Falls, New Hampshire. She’d said she didn’t have the heart to sell the house in Connecticut but didn’t want to rent to strangers, either.

  It hadn’t surprised Kate when Randy jumped at the chance to move out of the tiny second-floor apartment they’d rented since their wedding day. He’d always cursed the too-short shower and cramped kitchen. Made fun of the baby-blue walls.

  But Kate hadn’t hated it. Snippets of memories flooded her. The bouquets of wildflowers she used to put in mason jars on the window sills. Liam asleep in his bassinet in the corner of their bedroom. How Randy had carried her up the narrow stairs and made love to her on the living room floor when they’d first moved in.

  Lord, it all seemed a lifetime ago.

  Another mother smiled and reached across Kate for a celery stick, her hand hovering momentarily as if assessing it for calories. The woman finally picked it up and nibbled delicately, her white linen pantsuit looking impossibly fresh and sophisticated next to Kate’s khakis and plain blue tee. Kate stepped aside and nodded politely in case the woman gave into temptation and picked up a carrot.

  Liam waved from across the room and smiled, his forehead sweaty, his hair sticking up adorably on the side. Kate waved back, her heart squeezing in her chest as a swift surge of love flooded her.

  She watched the woman pick up another celery stick, and the surge of love turned to a wave of guilt. She should be taking better care of herself, for Liam’s sake if not for her own. She should be reaching for carrots instead of loading her body with salt and nitrates. Hadn’t she given Randy heck every time he’d brought mini wieners home? Of course, she’d never expected to like them. She’d never expected she’d be a thirty-one year-old widow, either, for that matter. Kate stabbed another mini wiener and stuffed it in her mouth, resenting the celery-eating mom’s self-restraint immensely.

  “So,” Celery Mom said. Kate couldn’t for the life of her remember the woman’s name, but she was pretty sure she’d come with the girl dressed entirely in Hanna Andersson who was currently jumping on the sofa. “Kate,” she continued, her face creased in delicate sympathy, “have you made any plans?”

  Plans? Kate looked around at the three year-olds running rampant in her living room and wondered how these people could be so incredibly insensitive. How was this any of their business? “I don’t know,” she murmured, grasping for something to say besides the impolite retort that came to mind. “My grandmother suggested I meet with her financial planner—”

  “Oh, honey, I don’t mean those kind of plans.” Celery Mom backed up a little. “I was just wondering if you had any plans, you know, for the summer. Vacation?”

  “Oh! No. No plans,” Kate said. “No plans whatsoever.” Without a plan. Planless…

  That wasn’t precisely true, of course. Kate had lots of plans. Plans to get her life back on track. Plans to finally finish her art history degree and get a real job. Plans to prove to her parents once and for all she hadn’t flushed her life down the toilet the day she married a smart-talking bad-boy from nowhere.

  Unfortunately, Randy’s accident had thrown all those plans up in the air like a messy game of 52 pick-up. Without alimony or child support and, just as importantly, another adult to watch Liam, she wasn’t sure how she would manage classes and tuition now. If she could convince Nancy to let her switch to a reduced schedule or even a four-day workweek, that’d save on daycare expenses. She might just be able to swing it.

  Lord knew she didn’t want to ask her parents for help. Her father took great pride in his self-made success and said hand-outs eroded character. Kate sighed—she could accept a little less character if it bought her some time. Maybe she should buy a Powerball ticket…

  “You should come to Sugar Falls!” Nana piped up from behind as if reading her thoughts. Kate jumped in surprise, nearly dropping her mini wiener off her toothpick. Good Lord. For a woman pushing seventy, Nana was surprisingly quick on her feet.

  “What? No. I couldn’t.” She’d love to, hadn’t been to New Hampshire since she, Nana and Poppy had gone together that summer after high school, but now was so not the time.

  “Nonsense,” Nana insisted. She did a lot of insisting. “It’d do you good to get away for a while. Fresh air. Swimming. Fishing…”

  “Fishing?” Liam exclaimed, bouncing over to join them. “I never fished! Can we go? Can we?”

  “Not for a while,” Kate hedged.

  “Why not?” Nana and Liam asked in unison.

  Kate gritted her teeth and tried to simultaneously smile at Celery Mom, shoo Liam away and give Nana the evil eye. “Please don’t get Liam’s hopes up,” she whispered in Nana’s ear. “I can’t afford a vacation.”

  Nana dug a carrot into the veggie dip, popped it into her mouth and crunched loudly. “Nonsense. You could stay at Ruth Pearson’s little house on the lake. She moved in with her kids last year after her knee surgeries. It’s just sitting empty. I’m sure she wouldn’t mind.” Nana touched Kate’s arm. “I’ll call her.”

  “No! No. Work is… busy. Besides, I don’t think any more upheaval would be good for Liam. He needs to be home.”

  “Home?” Nana sniffed, stuffing another dip-drenched carrot into her mouth. “I thought it was a memorial to Randy Mitchell what with all the pictures you’ve got lying around. He’s here more now than he was when he was alive.”

  Kate gaped in disbelief before finding her tongue again. “Excuse us,” she mumbled to Celery Mom. She grabbed Nana’s elbow and steered her away from the snack table. Oh. My. Lord! She didn’t have the strength for this conversation. Not on Liam’s birthday of all days. “We’ve been through this, Nana. The psychologist said it would help Liam process Randy’s... being gone.” Not that Randy’s death had had nearly the impact on Liam Kate had feared it might. She shouldn’t be surprised. Randy had always been too busy… or drunk… to spend quality bonding time with his son.

  “Anyway,” muttered Nana with single-minded determination, “I don’t see why you have to have a picture of him on the back of the toilet.”

  “It’s Liam’s favorite photo of his father. He likes to look at it when he’s taking a bath. Can we drop this now? Please?”

  Kate scanned the room. She should probably serve the cake at some point. Right after she gagged her meddling grandmother and stuffed her in a closet somewhere.

  Nana, God bless her, had been poking around the edges of Kate’s ‘situation’ ever since arriving from New Hampshire the day before. And when Nana got a hold of something, she was harder to shake loose than peanut butter from hair. Don’t ask how she knew.

  Hanna Andersson girl poured the last of the lemonade into her paper rocket-ship cup. Grateful for an excuse to escape, Kate grabbed the empty lemonade pitcher and pushed through the kitchen door. Unfortunately, Nana picked up a chip bowl and trailed behind.

  “No, I won’t drop it. The ladies and I are worried. What’s happened to you, Katie? You were so determined to move on, to start fresh —”

  “But he died first!” Kate cut in, pouring way too much pink lemonade powder into the empty pitcher. Oh, heck. Who cared? The kids were already plenty sugared up. Kate held the pitcher under the faucet with shaking hands. “He’s dead. That kind of changes things, you know? I know he wasn’t perfect, and—yes—we had our problems, but he was the only father Liam had. I have to respect that. For Liam’s sake.”

  Nana raised an eyebrow and tugged open a bag o
f chips. “At what cost to you?”

  Kate could feel the tears threaten as she searched the counter for her extra-long spoon. “Oh Lord, Nana, I can’t get into this with you, again. I’m fine. We’re fine. Tell the ladies they don’t need to worry.”

  “Pfft. Anyone can see you’re not taking care of yourself. You’re not eating right. You haven’t had a haircut in months...” Nana motioned vaguely toward Kate’s hair.

  Kate stuffed a hunk behind her ear. Sure, it was a little longer than the shoulder-length page-boy she’d worn it as for so long, but she was still deciding what to do with it.

  “Your problem is you’ve been so busy trying to preserve Randall’s memory and pretend everything’s okay you haven’t given yourself time to be angry.”

  “Angry?” Kate pushed her hair out of her face again and tried to concentrate on Nana’s words. She spied the spoon and began to stir the lemonade with more vigor than precisely necessary.

  “Yes, angry. Why, for six months after your grandfather died I paced this house hurling insults at him. I was so mad at him for leaving me.”

  “I know how much you loved Poppy, but I hardly see how that’s anything like—”

  “He was my rock, true, but I don’t think it matters. Love. Hate…” Nana waved the empty chip bag and crumbs sprinkled the floor. “They’re really not that far apart. The point is I’d built my life around that man. I couldn’t see how I could make it work without him. But, apparently, the Almighty could. ‘Cause here I am.” She flicked the bag toward Kate. “And here you are. So get angry and get on with your life. Take some time to figure out what you want to do.”

  “What I want to do,” Kate shook her head and put the spoon in the sink, choosing to ignore the neon pink dribbles that spattered the counter, “is get through this damn party without discussing this anymore.”

  Nana pursed her lips. “Well. There’s no need to swear. I get the hint. We’ll talk later.”

  Kate rolled her eyes. “Nana, I know you want to help, but I don’t—”