An Invincible Summer (Wyndham Beach #1)(98)

“She thought I knew, Mom,” Grace said in Liddy’s defense.

“And now you do.” Maggie sipped her tea. “Is there something you wanted to say about that?”

“Nope.” Grace pretended to zip her mouth closed.

“Natalie?” Maggie turned to her.

“Just that I could totally see you together, and he’s still a hunk. Oh, and you could have just told us.”

“Yes, because telling you the rest of it went over so well.” Maggie shook her head. “Anything else you want to know?”

“Yes. Did you move back here to be with him?” Grace asked.

“No. Did I know he lived here? Sure, I did. Did I plan on seeing him? Only when it couldn’t be avoided.”

“You could have avoided seeing him just now,” Grace pointed out.

“When I moved here, things were different than they are now,” Maggie told her.

“Because of Joe.”

“Of course because of Joe, Gracie. He’s my son. And yes, he’s Brett’s son. And I can’t wait till you meet him. I promise you’ll like him. He’s your brother.”

“Half brother,” Grace reminded her.

“I’d like to think this is a family where there are no ‘halves,’” Maggie said softly.

“So we just accept this guy and welcome him with open arms just because—”

“Yes,” Maggie interrupted. “Just because.”

“I don’t know if I can do that. I’m not going to pretend I can if I don’t know.”

“Fair enough. Wait until you meet him,” Maggie said. “Please. Just reserve judgment until then.”

“He’s dying to meet you, Grace,” Natalie piped up. “He’s so impressed that you’re a lawyer. He said his son wants to be a lawyer. He’s twelve and he—”

“Hold on. You’ve met him, too?” Grace asked.

“No, but I can’t wait to. We’ve spoken on the phone a few times. He’s smart and he’s funny and he sounds like just the guy you’d want to have as a big brother.” Natalie draped an arm over her sister’s shoulder. “Please keep an open mind until we all get together on the Fourth of July.”

Grace turned to her mother. “By all, does that include Chief Crawford, too?”

“You can call him Brett, and yes, that includes him,” Maggie said.

“Seriously? Will we set up a firepit in the backyard and roast marshmallows and tell ghost stories around the fire?”

“Hmm. Actually, that’s not a bad idea.” Maggie pretended to think it over. “Thanks for suggesting it, Grace.”

Natalie’s phone pinged to alert her to an incoming message. Grinning, she grabbed it from the counter, swiped the screen, then laughed.

Grace slanted her a look, then turned back to Maggie. “Come on, Mom. This is all moving a little too fast for me.”

“I’m sorry you feel that way, sweetheart. But it’s been a long time coming for me. Forty years, to be exact. Try to keep an open mind and an open heart. For my sake.”

Natalie typed something into her phone, smiling broadly.

Grace nodded slowly. “Okay, I’ll try. I promise. If that’s what you want.”

“It’s what I need,” Maggie told her.

Another ping. Another burst of laughter.

“Natalie, what is so freaking funny?” Grace glared.

“FaceTiming.” Natalie held up her phone to show Grace the image.

“What am I looking at?” Grace leaned close, her eyes narrowed. “What—who is that?”

“It’s Mr. Potato Head,” Natalie whispered, pointing to Daisy, who was drawing a picture with an orange crayon.

“Mr. Potato Head?” Maggie grabbed the phone and stared.

Natalie nodded and held a finger in front of her lips.

“Are we supposed to guess who’s wearing it?” Grace whispered.

“Hold up.” Natalie giggled. “Daisy, someone wants to talk to you.”

Seconds later, a male voice came through the phone. “Is Daisy there? Miss Daisy Doodle Dandy?”

Daisy all but flew to the phone, jumping from her stool to her mother’s.

“I’m Daisy Flynn, not . . . who you said.” Daisy looked into the phone.

“Do you know who I am?” the man in the Mr. Potato Head suit asked.

“Uh-huh.” Daisy nodded. “You’re Chris.”

“No.” The man in the suit tried unsuccessfully to hide his laughter. “I’m Mr. Potato Head.”

Daisy pointed a finger at the screen. “No. You are Chris.”

The man removed the head portion of the costume.

“See.” Daisy looked up at her mother. “It’s Chris.”

Natalie suppressed a grin as her mother and sister both gaped.

“I guess I can’t fool you, Daisy,” he said. “I guess next time I’ll have to come up with a better costume if I want to trick you.”

Daisy nodded enthusiastically. “Next time be . . . a dragon.”

“A scary dragon?” he asked.

“Uh-huh. But no fire,” Daisy told him.

“Chris Dean in a Mr. Potato Head costume?” Grace shook her head. “Why?”