To Alaska, With Love. Lori Wilde

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      He thanked her and went on through the formal living room to the large book-lined room behind it, where a fire crackled in the ornate fireplace and the mantel was already done up in swags of green garland studded with shiny ornaments and twinkling lights.

      “Carter.” His mother rose from a silk-covered chair. She looked beautiful as always, in snug black slacks and a fitted green cashmere sweater, her chin-length blond hair combed back from the classic oval of her face.

      He kissed the smooth, pale cheek she offered. “Ma. How are you?”

      She fiddled with the diamond stud in her left ear. “Perfect. Thank you. How about a martini?”

      He looked at her patiently. “Got a beer?”

      She sighed. “Of course.” She had a longneck waiting in an ice bucket on the fancy mirrored drink cart, right next to the Bombay Sapphire and the Vya vermouth. She also had a chilled glass for him.

      “Just give me the bottle.”

      Another sigh. His mother had been born with nothing. Her own mother ran off when she was three weeks old and Willow grew up in a double-wide, just her and her father. Gene Mooney, deceased before Carter was born, had had trouble holding a job and drank too much. It probably wasn’t all that surprising that, over the years, Willow had developed a passion for elegance and gracious living. The way Willow saw it, if a man insisted on drinking beer, he should at least use a glass.

      Too bad. Carter took the beer, sat in the chair across from hers and watched as she skillfully whipped up her martini—stirred, not shaken.

      Willow took her seat again and raised her glass. “To happiness.”

      Happiness? His mother had never struck him as a person who put a lot of store in happiness. She’d wanted Frank Bravo and the good life he provided for her. And she’d fought tooth and nail to get both.

      But hey. She was getting older. Maybe she missed the happiness that had never seemed all that important to her while Carter was growing up.

      “Happiness it is.” He lifted his bottle in answer to her toast and resisted the urge to come right out and ask her why she’d summoned him here. It wouldn’t kill him to try a little friendly conversation. “So, what’s happening in Palm Springs?”

      “The usual. Shopping. Spa time. And the weather is lovely there now.”

      “Well. Have a great time.”

      “I will, darling.”

      Ho-kay. So much for cordial conversation. He took one more stab at it. “We’ll miss you at Clara’s.”

      She smiled her cool smile. “Somehow I doubt that.”

      Annoyance gnawed at him. His half siblings had made it more than clear that they wanted to forgive and forget. Her decades-long love triangle was seriously old news. “You’re wrong. We will miss you.” He took care to say it gently. “And I think you know that.”

      She sipped her drink. “I didn’t ask you here to talk about dinner at Clara’s.”

      “Well, all right. What’s going on?”

      Willow lounged back in the chair and crossed her legs. “Notice I made a toast to happiness?”

      “Yeah, Ma. I heard you.”

      “That’s because lately I’ve been thinking a lot about happiness, about what makes a man—or anyone, really—truly happy.” She paused. Just to be nice, Carter made an encouraging sound low in his throat. She said, “Take your brother.”

      “Which one?” He had two full brothers, both younger than he was—Garrett, thirty-three, and Quinn, thirty-one. And then there were also Sondra’s sons, Darius and James.

      “I’m talking about Quinn,” his mother said. A former martial arts star, Quinn had retired from fighting last year and brought his little daughter, Annabelle, home to Justice Creek. Now he owned a gym and fitness center on Marmot Drive. Just recently, he’d gotten together with gorgeous Chloe Winchester, who’d also grown up in town. “Now that Quinn’s married Chloe, he’s a truly happy man.”

      Carter wasn’t sure he liked where this was going. “Can’t argue with that,” he answered cautiously.

      “I want that for you, too, darling. I want you to find happiness.”

      Okay, now. He definitely didn’t like where this was going. “What are you up to, Ma? Just spit it the hell out.”

      “Love, darling. I want you to take a chance on love.”

      He really wished he hadn’t asked. “Oh, well, sure. I’ll get right on that.”

      “Don’t give me sarcasm. You’re thirty-four years old. When a man reaches your age and he’s never been married, the likelihood that he’ll find someone to be happy with is...” Another sigh. God. He hated her damn sighs. “It’s not looking good for you. You have to know that.”

      Carter sat very still in the silk wing chair and reminded himself not to say anything he would later regret. But she pissed him the hell off. She acted as if he didn’t want to get married. He did. Very much.

      But somehow the whole romance thing never worked out for him. And it wasn’t as if he hadn’t tried. He had. Repeatedly.

      There was just something about him, something wrong with him. Because he always attracted the drama queens.

      Things would begin well. Lots of fireworks in bed, yes, but otherwise the woman would seem like a reasonable person, someone he could talk to, someone easygoing and fun. Early on, his girlfriends reassured him that they wanted what he wanted, a solid partnership and a balanced life. He always explained up front that he expected an exclusive relationship and he planned someday to get married, but if they were after passionate declarations of undying love, they should find a different guy. The woman would say that was no problem; she completely understood.

      But every woman he’d ever dated had eventually told him she loved him. He never said it back. And his silence on the subject never worked for them. The downward spiral would start. There would be heated accusations, generally irrational behavior and a messy breakup at the end. He hated all that.

      Truthfully, deep down?

      Carter thought the whole love thing was pretty damn stupid. The way he saw it, falling in love was a good way to lose your mind.

      His mother said, “I know, darling. I understand. I wasn’t a good mother.”

      “Did I say that? I never said that.”

      “You don’t have to say it. It’s simply the truth. There were way too many big dramatic scenes. I loved your father to distraction and I wanted him to leave Sondra. Every time I kicked him out, I swore I would never take him back.”

      “But you always did.”

      “I loved him.” She said it softly, gently. As though it explained everything.

      Carter kept his mouth СКАЧАТЬ