Luck of the Draw (A Betting on Romance Novel Book 1)(9)
Claire tsk tsked. “Young people take marriage too much for granted these days.”
June downed the rest of her drink and resisted a third brownie. She had her waistline to consider, after all. “There was a time I would have agreed with you. But after seeing all my Katie did to make that marriage work, she needed to get him out of the house. If not for herself then for the sake of that precious little one.”
June shook her short silvered hair. “Oh for heaven’s sake, now you’ve got me talking out of turn. Ruth, it’s your turn. You won bragging rights. What do you want to talk about?”
June 13
Why is it that going on vacation with a toddler feels like preparing for a trip up Mt. Everest? Gone are the days when I could throw a few things in an overnight bag. I have to plan for food, water, wardrobe changes, entertainment, Acts of God and Calls of Nature. And that’s just for the ride there. Wish me luck tomorrow. Here’s hoping the Sherpas know where they’re going!
CHAPTER FOUR
KATE STEPPED OUT OF HER CAR AND took a deep breath, glad to be free of the hot, stuffy interior. She could think of plenty of things she’d rather do than drive five hours with a temperamental A/C and cranky toddler. Dental work came to mind. But her aging Corolla was all she could afford for the time being. Maybe ever.
She swiped a hand across her forehead and looked toward the cottage that would be their home for the summer.
Faded white clapboards, odd dormers and a slightly tilted front porch spoke of decades of renovations and occupants rather than any specific architectural vision. Grass and weeds speckled the gravel drive and fought with pink and purple lupine in neglected planting beds. A stand of white birch—all shimmering oval leaves and arching branches—cast dappled shade across the stone path. And reflecting it all were the glittering, dark waters of Sugar Falls’ Whisper Lake.
Despite the band of sweat that had her T-shirt clinging to her back, Kate felt the tension flowing out of her in undulating waves. Given how life had gone lately, she’d braced herself for sleeping in the car. This at least looked habitable.
She turned just as Liam scrambled into the front seat and out the driver’s door. “Whoa! What’s the hurry?”
“I wanna swim!”
“Me, too, but I need to unload. We’ll swim after I unpack and put away the groceries.” Kate pulled a heavy suitcase out of the car and set it on the drive. Two months. Two months reprieve from all the sympathetic looks and probing personal questions.
Oof. Two months to figure out a decent reply.
“Liam! For heaven’s sake—keep your clothes on. We are not swimming yet.”
“But—”
“No buts. Keep your pants on, young man.”
Liam squeezed his face into a mutinous frown, the expression so like his father’s it made Kate wonder why it didn’t make her cry. Shouldn’t she be crying more? No, it was anger she was supposed to be feeling. At least according to Nana.
But she didn’t feel mad either. She just felt... like she was waiting. To land. To take off. For the lottery commission to tell her she’d won. Maybe for life to stop feeling like it was a runaway train she couldn’t get off... Yes, that.
“Wanna swim now,” Liam said.
Kate stooped down and cupped her son’s cheeks. His father’s dark eyes flashed up at her. Like it or not, Randy Mitchell would always be a part of her life. Maybe they hadn’t worked out, but hadn’t they made a beautiful baby together?
Kate swallowed a sudden lump in her throat and stood up. “Do you want to see inside?”
“Yeah!” Liam ran toward the front door.
Kate hurried to keep up, stepping gingerly over a profusion of purple violas popping up through the flagstones, her suitcase banging against the worn porch steps. She grasped the doorknob. It felt warm in her palm like a friendly handshake. She turned it. Good Lord. It wasn’t even locked.
Liam rocketed past. “Are there toys?”
Kate hauled the suitcase over the threshold. “Only the ones we brought. You can explore while I get the other bags. But no touching.”
Liam disappeared down a hall.
Kate looked toward the living area. She wasn’t sure what she’d expected. More furniture, maybe? The nearly empty space featured bead-board walls, a fieldstone fireplace, a large braid rug… and a single, hideous, gold-painted rocking chair with tasseled seat cushion. On the other side of the room under a picture window stood a small dining table and mismatched barstools.
Kate stepped toward the view of the lake as it sparkled in the late afternoon sun.
Well, it wasn’t overly large. Or grand. Or awash with seating options. But it looked clean. And unlike her own parents’ home, it was blessedly free of fragile knick-knacks and collectibles a rambunctious toddler tended to endanger simply by breathing.
Reassured Liam wouldn’t immediately find anything to break, Kate swiveled around. She had a few more bags to bring in, groceries to unpack… Checking off her mental to-do list, she stepped over the threshold... and slammed gracelessly into the tall, lanky stranger on the porch.
Tall. Lanky. Yup, that was the sum total of what she discerned before the air whooshed out of her lungs and her face came into abrupt contact with a firm chest. Before she could react, she picked up the warm, faintly sweet scent of man. She inhaled—an involuntary action—and stepped back.