Maggie leaned forward and nodded slowly. “That’s lovely. Neil and I would like that very much.”
“Good.” Courtney flipped to another picture. “This will be the table runner for the head table.”
Her mother stared for a second, then her eyes widened before filling with tears. “How did you do that?” she asked softly.
“It was easy. I uploaded the pictures to the website, then arranged them. The company prints out the runner and ships it.”
The custom table runner was made up of a collage of photographs. Most of the photographs were of the sisters as they grew up. A few pictures showed Maggie with her daughters. Interspersed were pictures of Maggie and Neil on their various trips.
“Where did you get these?” her mother asked. “They’re wonderful.”
“Rachel had a lot of them on her computer. I borrowed a couple of photo albums the last time you had us over for dinner. I got the ones of you and Neil from him.”
“It’s lovely. Thank you. What a wonderful idea.”
Courtney was surprised by the praise. Pleased, of course, but surprised. This was good. They were making progress. And no swans would be forced to swim in chlorinated water.
“It sounds like we have everything under control,” Joyce said as she got to her feet. “Excellent. I need to go check on some arriving guests. They’re new and, to be honest, sounded a little shady on the phone.”
Courtney groaned. “Did you take reservations? We’ve talked about this. You need to stay off the phone.”
Joyce, while a lovely person, could be overly chatty with new guests. Most people simply wanted to know availability and price. Joyce wanted them to share their life story, and if they weren’t forthcoming with the information, they were labeled “shady.”
“It’s my hotel. I can do what I want.”
Courtney grinned. “That would be true.” She turned to Pearl and Sarge. “Be gentle with the new people. I’m sure they’re perfectly nice.”
“My dogs are excellent judges of character. Don’t try to influence them.”
“I’m trying to keep you from scaring the guests away.”
Joyce grinned. “Where else are they going to stay? The Anderson House has bees.”
“You’re impossible.”
“I know. It’s part of my charm.”
Joyce waved and walked toward the hotel. Courtney turned back to her mother and found Maggie studying her.
“What?”
“I’m glad you and Joyce get along so well and that she looks out for you.”
Courtney carefully pulled the cover over her tablet and braced herself. In some ways, Maggie was harder to deal with than Sienna. Her middle sister thought she was inept and borderline dull-normal. Her mother feared she was...broken.
“She’s a good friend and a great boss,” Courtney said lightly. “I’m lucky.”
Maggie pressed her lips together. “I know. I just wish you had a little more ambition. I worry about you. Is it that you think you can’t do better or you don’t want to?”
Breathe, Courtney told herself. Just breathe. There was no win here. She simply had to endure the conversation, then she could get back to her life.
“The fact that you’re helping out with my engagement party got me to thinking you might be interested in doing something more than being a maid.” Her mother reached into her handbag and pulled out a brochure. “I know you said you weren’t interested in being a dental assistant, but what about a massage therapist? You like people, you’re very nurturing and you’re physically strong.”
Courtney took the brochure and studied the first page. She honest to God didn’t know what to say. Joyce would point out this was her own fault. She was the one who let her family believe she was working as a maid at the hotel. Well, technically she was working as a maid, but only part-time as she continued her education. That was the part they didn’t know.
She supposed she could simply come clean—but she didn’t want to. She wanted to wait until she could slap down her diploma and watch them all stare in disbelief. That was a moment worth waiting for.
“Thanks, Mom,” she said with a smile. “I’ll think about it.”
“Really? That would be wonderful. I’d be happy to help pay for it. I think you’d do well.” Maggie hesitated. “There are so many wonderful opportunities out there. I hate to see you wasting your life.”
“I know and I appreciate it.”
Her mother nodded. “I love you, Courtney. I want the best for you.”
All the right words. All warm, affectionate sentiments. On her good days, Courtney could believe them. On her bad days, well, sometimes it was hard to let go of the past enough to forgive.
“Thanks, Mom. I love you, too.”
* * *
“A glove’s important, Mom.”
“I know it is.”
“I really need a new one.”
Rachel didn’t doubt that. Josh was basically a good kid. He didn’t whine, he didn’t ask for a lot. His passions were simple—anything sports-related and the occasional computer game. That was it. Christmas and birthday presents revolved around whatever sport most had his interest. As they had for the past three years, spring and summer meant baseball.
Los Lobos didn’t have a Little League team, but there was a county league. Josh insisted they sign him up the first hour they could, something she was happy to do. He was eleven—she figured she had all of two, maybe three years before he became a raging male hormone and then all bets were off.
“Dad said he would buy it for me but I had to check with you first.”
At least she was driving and had an excuse not to look at Josh. Because she couldn’t—not without him seeing the rage in her eyes. Damn Greg, she thought bitterly. Of course he could afford to buy his son a new glove. Greg had only himself to worry about.
Her ex-husband made a good living as a Los Lobos county firefighter. He also had excellent medical benefits—something she’d lost after the divorce. Even more annoying, his schedule was a ridiculous twenty-four hours on, twenty-four hours off for six days, followed by four days off. Which gave him plenty of time to play, and play he did. Add in the fact that he’d moved back home with his folks, so he basically had no living expenses, and the man was swimming in both cash and time.
Don’t think about it, she instructed herself. Dwelling on how good Greg had it only made her angrier. She had to remember that the man paid his child support on time. That was something. But as for the rest of it—she couldn’t help resenting how easy he had it.
Yes, she did well at the salon. She was able to support herself and her son. The child support covered the mortgage, and she paid for everything else. But it wasn’t as if there was a bunch of extra cash at the end of the month. She was doing her best to build up an emergency fund and keep current on household repairs. There wasn’t anything left over for things like baseball gloves.
When she was sure she could speak in a happy, excited tone, she said, “Go for it, Josh. You need a new glove. It’s great that your dad can afford to get it. Do you already know what you want, or do you need to do some research?”
“I know exactly what I need.” And he was off, describing the glove down to the kind of stitching.
Oh, to be that young and innocent, she thought with regret. To trust that everything was going to turn