An Invincible Summer (Wyndham Beach #1)(34)

The knock at the door saved her from sharing other memories.

“That must be our driver.” Emma’s eyes shone with excitement as she picked up her bag and slung it over her shoulder. “Ready, girls?”

“Let’s do it.” Maggie went to the door and opened it. The same young woman who’d driven them from the airport stood in the hall.

“Lead on, Penelope.” Emma paused to lock the door behind them. “I’m so excited I can’t stand it.”

“You’ve seen Chris in concert before,” Liddy reminded her.

“Yes, but not with my two best friends.” Emma clutched their hands as they got into the elevator. “And I can’t wait to see my boy.”

“Her boy.” Liddy elbowed Maggie. “Her boy who will have thousands of women screaming his name in about ninety minutes. Tossing him condoms with their names on the wrappers.”

Penelope grinned without commenting and hit the button to send the elevator to the lobby.



Charlotte’s Spectrum Center arena was mobbed from the parking lot to the brightly lit concourse. Maggie, Liddy, and Emma were whisked away to a guarded back entrance to the building and ushered inside and down a hall.

“There are guards everywhere,” Liddy whispered.

“So no one can sneak in and harass the performers. Chris told me we’d need to show our passes about four times before we got to him.” Emma held up her pass to the tall, beefy, bearded guard at the dressing room door.

He reached behind him and opened the door, and Emma disappeared into the arms of her grinning son. Chris held her for a moment, then turned the grin to Maggie and Liddy, gesturing for them to follow him. The door closed behind them as Chris lifted his mother off her feet and swung her around.

“Put me down,” Emma protested, though not, Maggie thought, very convincingly.

“You look great, Mom.” He planted a loud kiss on her cheek, then turned to his visitors. “Mrs. Flynn! I’m so happy to see you.” He kissed Maggie, then leaned over to kiss Liddy as well. “Looking good, Mrs. Bryant.”

Chris looked to Maggie like the kid who’d gotten an air rifle for Christmas. He was beaming, one arm around his mother. With his other arm, he reached out and hugged Maggie.

“Mrs. Flynn, I was so sorry to hear about your husband. I wanted to come to the service, but—”

Maggie cut him off. “Your mom told me you were out of the country, Chris. We didn’t expect you. But the flowers were gorgeous. Just perfect. Dahlias were Art’s favorites. And thank you for the centerpiece yesterday. It was lovely.”

“You’re welcome. But I still would have liked to have been there.” Before Maggie could again reassure him, he added, “How’s Natalie? I haven’t seen her in . . . damn, years.”

“Nat’s fine. Teaching remedial English and creative writing at a community college. She hasn’t changed much,” Maggie said. “Same old Nat.”

“And Grace? How’s Grace?”

Maggie paused, wondering if she should tell the truth, then reminded herself that most of the time when people asked how you were, they were being polite and not really expecting much of anything beyond “okay.”

Maggie opted for simplicity. “Gracie’s well, thanks. I’ll let her know you were asking about her.”

“Mom said she has a daughter. Natalie, that is.”

“She does. Daisy is three, and the smartest, most beautiful child on the planet,” Maggie told him.

“I bet you’ve got pictures,” he said.

“Of course I have pictures.” Maggie laughed. “What kind of a grandmother would I be if I didn’t have pictures?”

He held out a hand, wiggled his fingers. “Hand ’em over.”

“You don’t need to . . . ,” Maggie began to protest, thinking how nice it was for him to ask, but asking was sufficient.

“Yeah, I do. I want to see what Nat’s kid looks like.” That grin again. Maggie remembered that grin getting him out of all sorts of scrapes when he was younger. She took her phone from her bag, scrolled till she found her photos of Daisy, then handed it over to Chris. “If you insist . . .”

He swiped the screen several times, his smile spreading with each swipe. “She looks like Nat.”

“She does. Hey, you don’t have to look at them all,” Maggie told him.

He looked at a few more, paused at one or two, then handed the phone back to Maggie.

“Nat looks good. Please tell her I said hi.” He gave Maggie a quick hug. “And give her that from me. Maybe we’ll all be in Wyndham Beach one of these days and we can get together.”

“She’d love that. Both the girls would.” Then remembering that this wasn’t just their childhood friend Chris but Chris Dean, lead singer of DEAN, she added, “They’re hoping to catch one of your shows, one of these days.” She picked at the front of her shirt. “And they were plotting behind my back, trying to figure out how to get this away from me. Thank you for the shirts, by the way.”

“You’re welcome, but tell Nat I’d love to see her anytime. She’s still in Philly?”

“Outside of the city, but yes, they both are.”

“I think we’re playing there in the spring. I’ll get in touch. And those shirts were designed and made just for you and Mom and Mrs. Bryant, but I’ll have a few more made up.”