“Yes, I’m studying several websites to learn how to save money using coupons.” Her excitement grew as she spoke. “Last week our grocery bill was only twenty-two dollars and ninety-one cents.”
“Please, share your secret!” The woman seated directly across the table joined the conversation, asking the bride’s sister multiple questions. Allie gave a silent thanks to her for providing the opportunity to exit the conversation.
She didn’t care how the woman saved so much money by couponing. Allie was too busy keeping her newly formed advertising agency afloat. Buying laundry detergent at a discount wouldn’t help her pay the rents on her small office in downtown Providence, Rhode Island, and her apartment.
She ate her salad quietly. They were in the smallest of the private dining rooms at a Newport restaurant. She hadn’t been to Newport in years, even though it was only about forty-five minutes from where she lived and worked.
The walls were a golden oak, and a stained-glass window on the wall at the end of the table muted the room’s lighting. The white linen tablecloth touched the floor. The table was set with fine ivory china and etched crystal, accented by pink napkins and matching roses in small vases. Of course the roses were pink. What other color would a traditional June bride choose?
Despite her soon-to-be sister-in-law’s penchant for everything girlie, including marriage and raising a family, Allie really did like her. Emily was personable and smart, and she made Scott very happy.
He was the youngest of her four siblings and the last to marry. Scott and her sister, Rachael, had been adopted from China, her older brothers from Russia, and Allie herself from the United States.
Allie looked around the table. She was surrounded by women like Emily. Women who were married or engaged to be married. Women who probably thought they needed their other half to complete them.
That would never be Allie. She’d thought like them at one time, but not anymore. Yes, she knew men had their uses, but even great sex wasn’t worth the trade-off. In Jimmy’s case, that trade-off had been the threat of prison.
Jimmy had promised everything would be fine. He’d told her there was no need for her to worry about getting the account. Said he had the client wrapped around his little finger. Now he was behind bars and Allie had almost ended up there, too.
“Allison, dear.” Her mother never shortened her name. Allie had been named after her mother’s Aunt Allison, who would never have answered to a shortened version of her name. “Would you please pass the water pitcher?”
She refilled her mother’s glass.
“It really is a shame you’ll be coming to the wedding alone.” Her mother’s disappointed tone was one Allie had heard regularly over the years, but she couldn’t give in.
She was definitely off men. No other half, no soul mate, no partner for life.
No ball and chain.
* * *
JACK FLETCHER READ the details on the wedding invitation again. He’d replied six weeks ago to say he’d be there with his girlfriend.
Brenda had been his ex-girlfriend for several weeks now, but he hadn’t yet let his cousin Emily know that he’d be coming alone to her wedding. It wasn’t as if he thought he’d get back together with Brenda. He’d merely forgotten. Work had been his priority.
The break-up had been a mutual decision. And in truth, theirs wasn’t what most people would call a real relationship. More like just having fun. But it turned out Brenda was anxious to have a domestic life in the suburbs with kids and a minivan—he wasn’t. End of story, as well as of their short-lived time together.
He focused on the invitation. The wedding was tomorrow. Too late to tell his cousin there would be one fewer guest at the reception. She’d probably already given the caterer a head count. And he knew better than to upset a bride right before her big day. As kids, he and Emily had been close, but they had grown apart somewhat as adults. It would be nice to see her again.
He could ask someone else to go with him, but most women would take an invitation to his family wedding as a precursor to a relationship. Or at least a second date.
He refilled his coffee cup and stepped out onto the front porch of his home, located in The Point neighborhood of Newport. He enjoyed the warm June breeze and the sight of fresh potted flowers on several porches and window boxes up and down his street. Forsythia had turned almost completely from yellow blooms to green leaves, and the hydrangeas were about to bloom.
He never thought he’d be happy in anything but a high-rise apartment in downtown Providence, close to where he worked at his grandfather’s advertising agency, but here he was. He’d bought the property a little over a year ago as an investment, expecting to fix it up and rent it out. Somewhere along the way, he’d begun spending nights at the house, away from work pressures. Before he could change his mind, he’d given up his Providence condo and moved to Newport.
“Hi, Jack.”
He hadn’t seen Charlotte Harrington sitting on her porch on the other side of the narrow street.
“Hey, Charlotte, what’s up?”
“Not much.” She gave him a sad smile, wiping what he assumed was a tear from her cheek. She’d lost her mother less than a year ago, not long before she moved in. She’d been raised an only child and had recently experienced her first Mother’s Day since her mom’s death. It had hit Charlotte hard.
Jack had met her when she bought her house. Charlotte was an artist, he’d discovered, and a somewhat successful one according to what he’d read on the internet.
“What are you working on?” Jack called out as he descended the side steps from his porch, crossed the street and ascended hers.
“A new project,” she said softly, closing her laptop and setting it on the floor next to her rocking chair. “I told you I’m adopted, right?”
At his nod, she continued. “I never had the urge to track down my biological parents, but lately I’ve been thinking that I should at least find out my medical history.”
Her adoptive mother had died of pancreatic cancer. He figured that must be an unrelenting motivator.
Jack nodded. “Any luck?”
She shrugged. “I just started this morning. ‘The first day of the rest of my life’ and all that.” Her mouth twitched ever so slightly, and she tucked her chin-length dark hair behind one ear.
“Sounds like a step in the right direction.”
“I guess so. Want to sit?” She pointed to the rocker that matched hers.
He pulled out his cell phone to check the time. “Sure, I have a few minutes before my conference call.”
“You’re working from home today?”
“Kind of. After the call, I’m going to visit my grandfather in Providence. He’s in the hospital.”
“Oh, no. Is it serious?”
“I’m not sure.” He sipped his coffee, placed it on the table between their rockers and sat down. “He was admitted with heart problems. That’s all I really know. I’m hoping to get more detailed information when I’m there in person.”
“This is the grandfather you work for?” She drank from her plastic tumbler. Even her careful movements screamed grief stricken.
He nodded. His granddad had started the advertising firm forty-five years ago, and Jack was expected to take over the reins one day.
“Tell me about this search,” he said. “How do people find their biological parents?”
Jack felt comfortable asking Charlotte these rather personal questions. The