Rosewood Lane (Cedar Cove #2)(61)

Grace set aside the menu. “So you’re in perfect health? Ha! I don’t believe that for a moment.”

“Mother,” Maryellen said, doing her best to remain cordial. “Don’t. Please don’t.”

“Don’t what?” Grace demanded and then seemed to have a change of heart. “Let’s start again, shall we?”

“Please. Tell me what’s going on with you. Please, Mom, just this once don’t drill me with questions I don’t want to answer.” She bit her lip and prayed her mother was listening.

Grace stared at her, obviously unhappy about her daughter’s request. “All right,” she said slowly. “There’s plenty of other news for us to discuss.”

“Like what?” Maryellen asked gratefully.

“Well, for one thing,” Grace said, cradling her water glass in both hands. “I went out to dinner with Cliff Harding last Saturday night.”

Now, this was news Maryellen had been waiting to hear. “Cliff called you?” In her opinion, he’d been patient for far too long.

Her mother blushed and looked down at the menu. “Actually, I phoned him.” She said this as if she’d committed some terrible breach of etiquette.

“Mom, that’s great!”

“I’ve never called a man in my life.” Even now Grace sounded unsure that she’d done the right thing.

“What convinced you?”

“Olivia,” her mother said without hesitation. “And two glasses of wine. She persuaded me Cliff was going to lose interest—and oh, I’ve been so lonely and miserable.”

Maryellen raised one eyebrow. “Wine can certainly loosen one’s inhibitions.” She was in a position to know.

“Olivia and I were celebrating,” her mother went on to explain. “Seth and Justine are expecting. And did you know they bought a restaurant? It’s all so exciting for them.”

“Yes, I’d heard about The Captain’s Galley. I’m sure they’ll do well and I—”

A flustered teenage waitress came for their order.

Maryellen waited until the girl was out of earshot. “You didn’t mention anything about me, did you?”

“No,” Grace murmured. “But I was tempted.”

“No one can know, Mom.”

“But why—”

“I have my reasons.”

“I want to talk to you about this, Maryellen, but every time I try, you clam up and get defensive. I’m your mother. Do you think I don’t realize you’re avoiding me? I want to know why.”

That should be obvious. “I wish I’d never told you…I knew I’d regret it and I do.”

“It’s more than the pregnancy,” Grace whispered. “It’s what you said at lunch that day.”

“Mom, don’t.” The lump in her throat was growing thicker. “Please don’t. I can’t discuss that.”

“You said you’d been pregnant before. Fifteen years ago, you said. Was it before you were married or—”

Maryellen shook her head, refusing to discuss the most painful time in her life. “So what about your dinner date,” she said instead.

Her mother gazed at her, eyes dimmed with sadness. “Will you tell me one day?”

Not if Maryellen could find a way to avoid it. Her entire life had changed because of that pregnancy. The woman she was today, and would always be, was a result of having conceived Clint Jorstad’s baby. She might never have married him otherwise, never have taken a path she now knew had been so wrong. But as much as she wanted to lay the blame at her ex-husband’s feet, Maryellen was well aware of her own failings. It was easy to create excuses, to rationalize what she’d done. She’d been young and vulnerable and so incredibly naive.

“Will you tell me one day?” her mother repeated.

“Perhaps.” This pregnancy was a second chance—an opportunity she’d never expected. This time she’d follow the dictates of her heart.

“Have you told Kelly?” Her mother insisted on asking questions Maryellen didn’t want to answer.

“Not yet, but I will.”

“When?”

“Mom…I’ll tell Kelly when I’m ready to let other people know.” Maryellen loved her sister, but Kelly simply couldn’t keep a secret. The moment she learned the news, it would be all over town.

“Tell me about your dinner with Cliff,” Maryellen said again, eager to hear the details of her mother’s first official date after her divorce.

“We ate at a wonderful Italian place in Tacoma.”

“Away from prying eyes.” Maryellen nodded. “That was thoughtful. Did he kiss you?”

The warm color that invaded her mother’s cheeks was answer enough. “Yes.” She picked up her fork and examined it carefully.

“Mom, you’re blushing.”

“The only man who’s kissed me in the last thirty-seven years was your father. Until Saturday, of course.”

“How was it?” Maryellen knew it was wrong to enjoy seeing her mother this flustered. She resisted the urge to laugh outright, but she was genuinely delighted by the fact that Cliff had planned such a romantic evening, and by her mother’s innocent reaction to it.