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“Are either of you hungry? We won’t be having dinner until seven-thirty or later, but I have cheese and crackers and fruit we could have now.”
“I know Calista’s hungry,” Amy said, praying that her daughter wouldn’t turn her nose up at the snack and start demanding a hamburger again.
“Let’s go back to the kitchen, then.”
The kitchen was exactly what Amy would have expected it to be: big, bright and cheerful—done in pale yellow with red accents—and dominated by a fireplace at one end and a big, round oak table in the center. Looking like a Currier & Ives print, the fireplace was flanked on one side by an oak rocking chair and on the other by a fat calico cat who eyed them as they entered the room.
“Kitty!” Calista shouted, immediately racing over to the feline.
“Calista, don’t touch the cat,” Amy said, rushing after her daughter. “Sometimes cats scratch.”
“It’s okay,” Lorna said. “Buttercup is an unusual cat. She actually likes little kids.”
And she did seem to, Amy saw, because when Calista reached out to pet the cat’s head, Buttercup actually leaned into the caress, and Amy heard her purr.
Calista laughed delightedly and sat down on the hearth next to the cat. Amy watched for a while, but quickly realized she didn’t need to worry.
“Can I help you?” she asked Lorna.
“Thanks, but there’s nothing much to do. Just have a seat.”
Within minutes the table was laden with the cheese and crackers, a bunch of red seedless grapes and a wedge of some kind of paté that looked wonderful.
“Milk for Calista?” she asked.
“Please.”
“I’ve even got a sip cup left from my nieces.”
“Great.”
It took some doing to get Calista away from Buttercup, but after promising her if she ate everything, she could play with the cat again, she came to the table. Once she was happily eating, the two friends finally had a chance to talk.
“Before we start filling in what’s happened since we last saw each other,” Lorna said, “I just wanted to give you a heads-up. Tonight there’s a dinner party being given at my family’s home to celebrate my grandmother’s ninetieth birthday, and you and Calista are invited to come, too.”
“Oh, no, we couldn’t,” Amy said. “You go on and don’t worry about us. We’ll just find something to eat in town somewhere.”
“There’s no way I’m letting you ‘find something to eat’ while I go off to a party.”
“It’s not like you invited us to come,” Amy pointed out. “We practically invited ourselves. I don’t want you changing your plans because of us.”
“Look, I’m not leaving you here alone. I called the house and told my grandmother about you, and she insisted I bring you along tonight. She said it would be the height of rudeness to leave a guest home alone while I went out to dinner.” Lorna grinned. “Believe me, when Grandmother Stella issues a command, a good Hathaway obeys.”
Amy had to admit she was curious about Lorna’s family, especially her grandmother, whom Lorna had mentioned more than once in that year they’d been roommates. But tonight was such a special occasion, and Amy and Calista were outsiders. It just didn’t seem right for them to be taking part in a family celebration.
“Now, we only have about an hour until we have to start getting ready. Grandmother’s a stickler for punctuality and tonight’s shindig starts at seven…so let’s quit wasting time arguing about whether you’re coming with me or not and let’s catch up.”
In the next twenty minutes Amy learned that Lorna had come back to Morgan Creek after getting her master’s degree and had worked in the family business ever since. She had been married, she said, but was now divorced, and had no children. This last had been relayed matter-of-factly, but Lorna couldn’t disguise the longing she obviously felt. It was there every time she looked at Calista, and Amy felt bad for her friend. Calista was the light of her life, the best thing that had ever happened to her—despite the fact she’d had to be married to Cole to get her—and Amy felt sorry for everyone who hadn’t experienced that same joy, especially when it was so obvious they wanted children.
“Now let’s hear everything about you,” Lorna said when she’d finished.
Amy looked over at Calista.
Lorna immediately nodded. “Calista, would you like to play with Buttercup in the backyard? She needs to get some exercise.”
Calista grinned. “Yeah!”
“We can sit on the back porch and watch her,” Lorna said to Amy.
Once they were settled outside—with Calista playing happily and out of earshot, Amy felt free to talk.
“Like you, I’m divorced. My ex lives in Shreveport. He’s an investment banker.” Neither was true. Cole was a high-powered lawyer turned politician and he lived in Mobile, but Amy knew from the women in the underground network that she couldn’t afford to take any chances or trust anyone, no matter who, and had rehearsed the story she would tell to everyone from now on.
“He never really wanted children,” she continued, “so he didn’t object when I decided to head for the West Coast where I understand teachers—even preschool teachers like me—make really good money.” This was partially true. Cole hadn’t wanted children. After all, how could he remain the center of Amy’s universe if he had to share her with a child? But he would have objected violently to Amy’s leaving Mobile with Calista if he’d known about it. Not because he cared about Calista, but because he knew Amy did.
The divorce had infuriated Cole. He’d fought Amy every step of the way. Where she’d gotten the strength to actually leave him and file for divorce, she’d never know, because Cole had beaten her down so much over the years, it had always been easier to just go along with whatever it was he wanted than to actually assert herself.
To retaliate and hurt her in the worst possible way, he had produced “witnesses” who swore under oath that they had seen Amy doing drugs and neglecting Calista. Because of Cole’s position and the friends who lied for him, he was given custody of Calista, and Amy was only allowed to see her twice a week under strict supervision.
“So you’re a teacher?” Lorna said. “I thought you were a journalism major.”
“I was, briefly. But during the summer between my freshman year and my sophomore year, I worked at a day-care center. I loved working with kids so much, I decided to switch to early childhood education. Up until I got married, I taught kindergarten.”
“Up until you got married?”
Amy nodded. “My ex didn’t want me to work.” Seeing the look on Lorna’s face, Amy added wryly, “How could I focus all my time and energy on him if I was working?”
Lorna made a face. “Oh. That kind of man.”
Amy shuddered. “You have no idea.”
“And yet he was okay with you moving and taking Calista with you?”
“He didn’t have a choice.”
Lorna nodded. “How long were you married?”
“Seven years. Seven long years. How about you?”
“Six years.”
“What happened? If you don’t mind my asking?”
“A twenty-year-old Dallas Cowboys cheerleader with big boobs.”
“Oh, Lorna, that stinks.”
Lorna shrugged. “The bloom was off the rose by then, anyway. I realized early on I’d made a bad mistake, but I hung on stubbornly, thinking I could make it work if I just tried hard enough. Thing is, it takes two, and Keith wasn’t trying. He was looking for greener pastures…or should I say someone more adoring than I was ever going to be.”
“Were you living here in Morgan Creek when this happened?”
“Uh-huh. And that may have been a big part of the problem. He hated working for my family, but more than that, he really hated that I had more say-so in the running of the company than he did. Keith has to be top dog and he wasn’t.” She shrugged. “I don’t know. Maybe if I’d loved him more, I would have tried harder to make him happy. It wasn’t all his fault.” For a moment she was silent. Then she smiled and lifted her glass of lemonade. “But that’s water under the bridge. Now here we are, two women who have learned some tough lessons but who are cutting their losses and moving on. To survival!”
Amy clinked her glass against Lorna’s. “To survival.”
Chapter Two
Bryce Hathaway wasn’t looking forward to the evening. Although his family had always made a big deal out of birthdays, especially those of his grandmother, Stella, the oldest living Hathaway, he knew tonight’s celebration would be a trial because Stella Morgan Hathaway had been on the warpath for the past week.
The reason was Bryce’s youngest sister, Claudia. Since earning her MBA, Claudia had worked in the family business, but it was apparent to everyone that, unlike Lorna, she hated it. With Bryce’s encouragement, Claudia had begun to investigate other job opportunities. This meant there was a high probability she would be leaving Morgan Creek since there were few other job prospects in this town for someone like Claudia outside of Hathaway Bakery. But the truth was, part of the reason Claudia disliked working for the family business was the fact it was in Morgan Creek, as Bryce well knew.
Bryce couldn’t blame his youngest sister for the way she felt. As she’d put it last week, what were her chances of finding a guy she might want to spend her life with if she stayed in what she called “this one-horse town”? Bryce knew the answer: slim to none.
Hence Grandmother Stella’s displeasure, which was now aimed not only at Claudia but at Bryce himself.
Bryce grimaced. On top of having to contend with his grandmother’s dark looks and heavy disapproval, there was also the immediate problem of a nanny for his daughters. The second one in less than six months had abruptly quit the previous Friday. Bryce guessed he understood why it was so hard for him to keep a nanny. Claudia wasn’t the only educated woman who didn’t want to be stuck in a small town like Morgan Creek. And even if these women didn’t mind the town, they did mind the six-days-a-week, live-in requirements of the job. Not even the generous salary and private suite of rooms seemed to make up for these negatives.
Plus there was Susan.
Bryce knew he should be angry with his younger daughter, but it was hard for him to stay mad at Susan, no matter how far she tested his patience, because she was so vibrant and full of life. In those dark months after Michelle’s death, Susan had been the only one who could make Bryce smile and forget his pain.
But the nannies employed since the death of his wife three years earlier weren’t as forgiving of Susan’s pranks and subtle forms of torture as he was. Even Stella’s sweetness couldn’t make up for her younger sister’s hijinks and sometimes aggravating behavior, as one recent nanny had told Bryce in exasperation.
“I’ve had all I can take,” the woman had said.
“Look, I’m sorry about the lizard—”
“Yes,” she’d said, “I’m sure you are, but I’m still leaving.”
The lizard in the jewelry box was only the latest in a series of calculated attempts to get the nanny to resign. Susan had made no bones about the fact she didn’t like Miss Reynolds, and no matter what kind of punishment he exacted, he also knew Susan would never change. Until he found a nanny she liked, she would continue to drive them away.
“Daddy, I’m ready.”
Bryce blinked, then smiled down at Stella. It always amused him that his grandmother’s namesake was totally unlike her in temperament, whereas Susan personified the phrase “chip off the old block.”
“And where is your sister?”
“She’ll be here in a minute. She’s fixing her hair.”
Stella’s own hair, a rich golden brown like Bryce’s, lay in perfect waves held neatly back from her face with a coral headband that matched her coral sundress. Around her neck was a strand of coral beads.
“You look very nice, honey.”
Stella ducked her head in shy pleasure. “Thank you.”
“I hope your sister has taken the trouble to look good for your grandmother, too.”
Before Stella could respond, Susan came racing down the stairs—hair flying, face flushed, eyes immediately zeroing in on Stella’s.
Bryce knew that look. Susan was up to something she knew he would disapprove of and was silently commanding her sister to keep her mouth shut. He also knew it would be futile to question either girl. Whatever it was Susan was planning, he’d just have to wait until it happened. Then he would deal with her.
He quickly inspected Susan, who—miracle of miracles—had chosen to wear a green flowered sundress just as pretty as Stella’s. Even her curlier hair—a shade lighter than Stella’s—looked good.
Bryce smiled his approval. “All right. Let’s gather up your grandmother’s presents and get going. You know how she feels about people not being on time.”
Susan made a face, then grinned at Stella.
Stella returned Susan’s smile.
Sometimes it pained Bryce to see how much Stella wanted to please—not just him, but everyone. He hoped she would outgrow this tendency and become more independent in her thinking. Otherwise he was afraid she was bound to have lots of problems in life, not to mention the very real possibility that she might decide she needed to please the wrong people. He knew he would have to keep close tabs on her, maybe even closer tabs than on Susan.
It was damned hard being a parent, and being a single parent was even worse, especially to daughters. Good thing he had three younger sisters. At least he had a better understanding of girls and the way their minds worked than a man who had never been around many females.
Even so, it was tough raising the girls on his own. He never knew if he was doing the right thing or not. Most of the time, he just muddled through each day and prayed for the best.
Thank God for Lorna, he thought as he and the girls walked across the park-like land that separated his home from the family mansion and gave at least an illusion of privacy. His favorite sister had no children of her own and, especially since her divorce and Michelle’s death, had lavished her motherly instincts and attention on his daughters. They, in turn, adored their aunt Lorna.
The lights of the big house, as Bryce and his siblings had always referred to the main residence within the family compound, were ablaze as he and the children approached.
“Daddy? Is Cameron going to be here tonight?”
“Yes, Susan, everyone’s going to be here.”
“Cool.”
Cameron was the daughter of Bryce’s sister Chloe and her husband Greg, who lived in Austin. Although Cameron was fourteen, six years older than Stella and seven years older than Susan, they both worshiped her. At the moment, she was their only Hathaway cousin, and the way things were going, Bryce was sorely afraid that situation wouldn’t change anytime soon. He knew Lorna had wanted children when she was married but had had some medical problems. Now, of course, she was no longer married. And Chloe didn’t seem inclined to have another, either. Claudia was their only hope.
By now they’d reached the wide, shallow steps leading to the massive oak double front door, which was flanked by flickering gas lamps. Although this was the house where Bryce had grown up, he never entered without either knocking or ringing the doorbell, a courtesy he expected to be returned when any member of his family visited him.
The door was promptly opened by Lucy, one of the maids. “Good evenin’, Mr. Bryce.” She gave him a big smile, then looked down at the girls. “And Miss Susan and Miss Stella. My, don’t you two girls look pretty?”
“Good evening, Lucy.” Bryce nudged the girls, who politely said their hellos and thank-yous.
“Everyone is in the drawing room,” Lucy announced.
Bryce mentally rolled his eyes. Calling the living room the drawing room was something his mother had initiated a few years back, after a trip to England. The affectation had always bothered him. The Hathaways made no pretense of being upper class. Like the Morgans, his grandmother’s family, the Hathaways had come from hardy pioneer stock—people who had worked hard for a living, doing mostly physical work.
Why his mother felt the need to pretend otherwise was a mystery to him. But it hadn’t seemed worth making an issue of, just as so many things were not worth causing more strife in the family than was already there. Bryce believed in picking his battles carefully. That way, his energy was channeled into areas that were important and not just irritations.
The girls raced ahead of him into the large rectangular room that took up the entire right front section of the house. An equally large dining room was across the hall, occupying the left front of the house.
As he entered the elegantly furnished room, he realized most of his family had already arrived. Lorna stood talking to a petite, dark-haired woman Bryce didn’t know, and there was Chloe, her husband Greg and their daughter Cameron, who had all driven down from Austin, and of course Claudia, who still lived at home, along with Bryce’s parents, Jonathan and Kathleen.
Before stopping to talk to anyone else, he headed straight for the far end of the room where his grandmother sat ensconced in a navy velvet Queen Anne chair. At ninety, Stella Morgan Hathaway was still a handsome woman with regal bearing. Her snowy, waist-length hair had been twisted and piled on top of her head, secured with diamond and ruby combs. Matching diamond and ruby earrings and bracelet glittered in her ears and on her right wrist. She wore a long, garnet satin evening dress and, to guard against the chill of the air-conditioning, a white cashmere shawl was draped around her shoulders.
As Bryce and the girls approached, she lifted her chin. Although she smiled, her blue eyes were cool as they met his.
Still mad at me, he thought. His answering smile was warm and loving, for he did love his imperious, stubborn grandmother. He’d always loved her. When he was a boy, she was the one he confided in, the one who counseled him and comforted him and encouraged him. His mother had been too preoccupied with the social activities she used as a substitute for a happy marriage, and his father had been too mired in his own insecurities and discontent to spend much time or effort on his son.
The girls hugged and kissed their great-grandmother, added their presents to the pile near her feet, then skipped off to join their cousin.
Bryce bent down and kissed his grandmother’s soft cheek. The scent of roses, a hallmark of her favorite perfume, clung to her skin. “Happy birthday, Grandmother.”
“It would be a lot happier if you would talk some sense into Claudia.”
“Gran, we’ve been all through this.”
Her lips tightened. “That doesn’t mean I’m satisfied with your decision.”
“I know, and I’m sorry about that.” Bryce almost added more, then decided not to. As he’d pointed out, everything had already been said. More than once. He wasn’t going to change his mind, and his grandmother would not change hers. “We’ll just have to agree to disagree.”
“I suppose you approve of that application she made to that school in Houston.”
“Yes, I do.” Claudia had applied to teach business classes at a community college there.
“Hmmph. Houston. Nothing but dirt and crime and traffic.”
“Gran, that’s not true. I’ve been to Houston lots of times, and I really like the city. There’s lots of energy there. And lots of young people. If a job comes through for Claudia, I think it’ll be good for her to move there.”
He could see how his grandmother was struggling not to lose her temper. This issue was one of the few times Bryce had ever crossed her, one of the few times anyone had ever crossed her, and he knew his opposition was hard for her to swallow.
Saying, “You’ve ruined my birthday,” she put her chin in the air and refused to utter another word.
Giving her a second kiss on the cheek, he murmured, “I’m sorry you feel that way, Gran. Try to remember that disagreeing with you doesn’t mean I don’t love you.” Turning away, he finally directed his attention to the other guests in the room.
“Bryce,” Lorna said. She had walked up behind him with the stranger he’d noticed earlier in tow. “I’d like you to meet an old friend. Amy, this is my brother, Bryce. Bryce, this is Amy—” Lorna broke off and gave her friend a quizzical smile. “I never asked you what your married name is. Or if you had gone back to using Summers again?”
“Not with Calista,” the woman said. “Our last name is Gordon.”
“Oh, of course. I took my maiden name back because there weren’t any children involved.”
Bryce took this exchange to mean the woman was divorced.
Turning her attention back to him, Lorna said, “Amy and I met at Florida State that year I was there. In fact, we were roommates. She and her little girl are staying with me for a few days.” She inclined her head. “That’s Calista over there, with Cameron and the girls.”
Bryce caught a glimpse of a cute, dark-haired girl in a pink-checked dress.
“It’s nice to meet you, Amy,” he said, wondering when they had arrived. Lorna hadn’t mentioned expecting company at work today.
“Thank you.” Amy smiled and put her hand out.
Bryce shook it. She had a firm grip for such a small woman. She also had a direct gaze and huge brown eyes that dominated her face. “I hope you won’t be bored here. There’s not much to do in Morgan Creek.”
“It’ll be fun just to catch up with Lorna.”
He liked her voice, too. It was low, with a musical quality and slight Southern drawl. “So you two were roommates?” Those eyes really were incredible. It wasn’t just their size. Their color—a rich, warm brown flecked with gold—was arresting, and setting them off were thick dark lashes.
“Yes. And I missed Lorna after she left.”
She smiled at Lorna, and Bryce saw that she had a small dimple at the right side of her mouth.
“Amy’s on her way to California,” Lorna explained. “She’s a kindergarten teacher and hopes to find a job and settle out there.”
“Whereabouts in California?”
Amy shrugged. “I don’t know for sure. I like small towns, and I was thinking maybe I’d go somewhere near the San Diego area.”
As Bryce was framing another question, a flurry at the entrance to the living room announced another arrival. Bryce saw that it was Jake Kenyon, their neighbor and a long-time family friend, accompanied by his daughter, Tara. Tara and Bryce had grown up together, and until Bryce had met and fallen in love with Michelle, Bryce knew that his family and most of the townspeople had assumed he and Tara would eventually marry.
Tara had married within six months of Bryce, and Bryce had always wondered if the marriage had been her answer to his. Whatever the reason, it hadn’t lasted long. Not even two years, and the union had produced no children.
During the years Bryce was married to Michelle, Tara had spent most of her time in Dallas, working as a runway model for several of the designers based in the city. She hadn’t needed to work—as Jake’s only child she had plenty of money and stood to inherit a fortune—but Bryce knew the attention she received from her modeling and the whirl of the Dallas social scene were the big draws. At one point, she’d been engaged to some bigshot Dallas power broker, but she’d broken the engagement. He’d never known the reason why.
Six months ago she’d returned to Morgan Creek and now spent her time helping her father with his many business interests. She’d also become heavily involved with the local rodeo committee, for Morgan Creek and the neighboring town of Bailey Springs joined together to sponsor the annual Morgan Bailey Livestock Show and Rodeo, one of the largest in Texas.
Bryce genuinely liked Tara, and sometimes he wondered if that affection and their long friendship and similar backgrounds might not be enough…for something more. The girls seemed to like her, too. And yet…after having the real thing with Michelle he wasn’t sure he could settle for less.
With this thought in mind, he watched as Tara and her father headed in his direction.