“I hope so, too,” Lark says. “Because I’m already planning a special treat for you and Nash at my wedding.”
“No, Lark,” I say. “That’s your day. And Mason’s day. We don’t want to intrude.”
“Oh, please.” Lark waves a hand in the air. “You won’t be intruding. The more love to celebrate, the better. And maybe Melody will have a special someone by then, too. At the very least, I can aim the bouquet in your direction, Mels.”
“No, thanks,” Melody says with a nervous laugh. “I think I should stay single for a while. Probably safer that way.”
Lark and I both turn away from the buffet table to shoot her pointed looks. “What does that mean?” I ask.
“Nothing. I just… I’m enjoying being alone,” she says, suddenly very intent upon arranging bread rolls in a basket just so. “I need time to myself to sort out some things. About myself.”
“Okay…” Lark arches an eyebrow my way, but I shrug.
Melody certainly seems happier than she did the other day. Maybe some solo time is what she needs right now.
Time to yourself can be valuable stuff, though personally, I’ve had enough alone time.
By Wednesday night I’m so lonesome for Nash that my chest feels bruised in the center. By Thursday, it’s all I can do to keep from calling his cell and hanging up, just to hear the sound of his voice.
Instead, I call my mother.
I’ve been listening to the latest family gossip for nearly an hour when Mom lets it slip that Nash swung by their place to see Daddy earlier.
“He did? What happened?” I jump up to pace the kitchen floor, making Felicity, who’s lingering over supper in her highchair, bleat in surprise.
“What did Daddy say?” I ask, shooting her a comforting smile. “What did Nash say?”
“I don’t know. Bob just said they came to an understanding.”
“An understanding!” I screech. “That could mean anything, Mom. That could mean they’ve come to an understanding that they will hate each other until the end of time. It could mean they’ve come to an understanding that—”
I’m interrupted by the sound of a doorbell.
I freeze.
I’m not expecting anyone, and who would show up at six-thirty at night except…
“Mom, I have to go,” I say, my heart pounding faster as I head for the door. “I think Nash is here. Call you soon.”
I hang up, dropping my cell on the entry table as I rush for the front door, throwing it open to find…Joy Geary on the front stoop.
My hope curdles faster than milk left out overnight.
“Oh, hi.” I lift an awkward hand in greeting. “Nash isn’t here right now, but I—”
“I know he’s not,” Joy cuts in. “He was at my house earlier. He asked me to stop by. Is this a good time?” She glances over my shoulder into the house.
“Um, sure. Of course.” I step back, motioning her in. “Felicity’s just finishing up her supper. Can I get you hot tea or something?”
“Yes, please,” Joy says in an almost pleasant voice. “Nash has some lemon tea I like.”
“Great.” I bustle into the kitchen to put the kettle on, while Joy settles herself into the chair next to Felicity’s. My girl greets our new arrival with a happy squeal and Joy smiles perhaps the first, truly joy-filled smile I’ve ever seen on the woman’s face.
Instantly, Nash’s mother becomes a hundred times more approachable.
“Nash has your smile,” I say, the words spilling out before I have a chance to second guess them.
Joy shifts her attention my way, her smile fading only the slightest bit. “He does. He also has my stubborn streak. That’s why I told him he had to go talk to your father, even though he didn’t want to. It’s not good enough just to get my head on straight,” she says, with a wink in Felicity’s direction that makes the baby giggle.
I pause, too shocked to say anything for a moment.
Was that a joke? Did Joy the joyless actually make a joke at her own expense?
“My daughter called me yesterday,” Joy continues, her gaze still fixed on Felicity, taking a piece of peach the baby offers to share with a graciousness that makes my heart feel lighter. “Apparently my son is a miserable wreck without you.”
And lighter still…
“I know that’s at least partly my fault, and I’m sorry,” Joy says. “Mamas always think they know best, but…sometimes we’re wrong. I’m sorry I said those things to you the other night.”
“It’s all right,” I murmur more than willing to forgive and forget.
“No, it isn’t,” she insists. “I was scared Nash was going to get hurt, but I was the one who ended up hurting him. I should have taken the time to watch the two of you together before I jumped to conclusions. If I had, I would have seen that he’s so deep in love nothing I can say will change his mind about it anyway.”