“I met the coach,” Maggie went on. “Seems like a good guy, and—” There was a sharp knock. “The bellman’s here with my bag, Mom, so I better go. I’m meeting Jeff for dinner.”
Rosemary’s heart gave a loud thump. “Oh, dear, Maggie. Is that wise?”
Maggie’s snort sounded forced. “I’m a big girl. I can handle Jeff Wells just fine.”
Rosemary wasn’t so sure. She bit back all the warnings suddenly pressing on her tongue. “Just be careful, Maggie. Watch out for...the traffic.”
“I will. Gotta go. Love you.”
Before she could get out a goodbye, the phone went dead. She slipped it back into her purse. “She’s having dinner with Jeff.”
“The son of a bitch.”
Eli responded to the news exactly the way he always responded to Jeff’s name when Russ wasn’t around. She hoped his blood pressure didn’t shoot up. “If Maggie and Jeff can get along around Russ, that’s a good thing, right?”
Eli’s face flushed bright red. “The son of a bitch left my daughter and his son and moved as far away across the country as he could. There’s no forgetting that.”
She agreed but didn’t say so. Images of the ninety-five pounds Maggie withered to after the divorce still haunted Rosemary. There was no forgetting that, either.
They were in front of their house, but Rosemary pointed toward the end of the block. “It’s such a pretty night. Let’s keep walking. It’ll help us work off that chess pie we just ate.”
Eli grumbled an agreement and kept walking, charging up Baxter Hill like he had to put out a fire.
Maggie and Jeff were only going to be together for two days, Rosemary fretted silently. During that time, they had to move Russ into his dorm, go on tours, follow the team on a round of golf, have dinner with the other parents.
There wouldn’t be time for sparks to fly.
But they were having dinner tonight.
Rosemary tried to relax. Her daughter was now a savvy adult, finally over the man who had shattered her life. A successful businesswoman. A widow. But, despite the eighty-six-degree evening temperature, a shiver ran up Rosemary’s spine.
She fought off what she hoped wasn’t a premonition, quickening her step to keep up with Eli’s long stride.
* * *
JEFF HADN’T ANTICIPATED conversation would come so easily. But catching up on their parents’ health and Maggie’s genuine concern about his sister Chloe’s aggressive form of multiple sclerosis had taken them swiftly through cocktails. A lighter mood consisting of stories about Russ kept them laughing through appetizers and salad. So, by the time the entrées arrived, the food and alcohol had loosened their tongues and smoothed the edge of their tension, though it still lurked around their table, in the dark corner.
The food at Spiaggia was even better than he’d expected. He’d done his research online and made the reservations a couple of weeks ago, hoping he and Maggie might have some time alone to discuss a few things he wanted to get off his chest.
But this afternoon, her frazzled manner hadn’t been very encouraging. First, she’d turned him down at the café, and if he’d told her the truth—that he’d already made reservations for two tonight—he wasn’t sure she’d have agreed. But he’d played it smart and acted as if this was all spur-of-the-moment. An approach that apparently worked because here they were.
“You really do look amazing. Pictures I’ve seen haven’t done you justice.” He tilted the conversation toward the more personal side. “I know I said that earlier, but I mean it. And that dress is stunning.”
The sleeveless black sheath with the round neck was classy without being overdone. It played nicely against the dark roots of her hair and the blond highlights and showed just enough cleavage to be enticing. Her hair was tucked behind her ears and hefty diamond studs winked at him in the light of the candles on the table.
He wondered if they had been a present from Zeke, which sent a pang of guilt through him. He needed to address that issue. The sooner the better.
“Thanks.” She shrugged, her fork paused in midair. “I threw it in at the last minute. I’m always afraid of not packing something a little dressy. This one’s great because the knit doesn’t wrinkle.”
Not to mention how it fit those curves.
She took another bite of her gnocchi with wild boar ragù, and his eyes were drawn once again to the full, luscious lips that closed around the fork.
A jolt of stiffness in his groin had him shifting in his seat. He took a drink of wine to ease the discomfort. It didn’t help much, but, combined with the Crown Royal he’d had before dinner, he found the liquid courage he needed to make the apology he’d been wanting to deliver personally for a long time.
“Mags.” He set the glass down and something about his manner must have clued her in. She rested her fork on her plate. “I wanted to apologize for not being there—”
She adjusted her napkin in her lap. “It couldn’t be helped, Jeff. Russ understood. We all understood. A ruptured appendix? You could’ve died.”
“Well, yeah, missing his graduation totally sucked,” he agreed. The subject would always be a sore one for him. “But that’s not what I’m apologizing for. I want to tell you how sorry I am I didn’t come to Zeke’s funeral.”
“Oh...that.” Her voice went small, and she bypassed her wineglass to grab a sip of water.
“I talked myself out of it...thinking about the awkwardness of being there with all your family. But I should’ve been there for Russ.” He reached across the table and laid his hand on top of hers. “I was a coward, and I’m sorry.”
He felt her hand tremble before she eased it from under his and rested it in her lap. “It’s okay. Really. Having Russ come out and spend that next week with you was smart. It got him away from...from my grief for a little while. It was the best thing for him.”
“Zeke must’ve been a great guy,” he continued. “Russ was sure crazy about him.”
Her chin quivered, and he could see the glimmer of unshed tears in her eyes. “Yes, he was...crazy about him.” She drew a long breath, her breasts swelling, pushing tight against the neckline of her dress. “Russ seemed fond of Jennifer, too.” She pointedly dropped the subject of her deceased husband. “He thought she might be the one for you.”
Jennifer.
Just the thought of the woman caused Jeff’s teeth to clench.
“Hardly,” he answered.
Maggie raised an eyebrow in unspoken question, giving him the opportunity to go on or not. “Jennifer was the jealous type,” he answered, and took a sip of his wine to get rid of the bad taste talking about the woman left in his mouth.
Maggie gave him a cool look, her mouth drawing into a smirk. “I’ve found it’s usually the man who gives the woman a reason to be jealous.”
A flare of irritation burned in Jeff’s stomach. “Maybe.” He nodded and shot her a defiant glare. “Yeah, you’re absolutely right. It was my fault, but I don’t give a rat’s ass. She was jealous of Russ.”
Her face sobered. “Oh. Sorry.”
“She didn’t want our summers ‘taken up by him.’” He emphasized Jennifer’s phrasing by making quotation marks in the air with his fingers. “Or our Christmases. She decided a two-week visit every other year would be more than sufficient. Can you imagine?”
“No, I can’t.” Maggie finally took another bite of her food, though with