Автор: Rebecca Winters
Издательство: HarperCollins
Жанр: Зарубежные любовные романы
isbn: 9781474085335
isbn:
Carol laid two heaping plates of spinach, strawberry and feta salad on the table. Sprinkles of roasted pecans and a raspberry vinaigrette finished off the tasty lunch. “So,” Carol said when she sat across from Emily, “when are you due?”
“When...what?” Heat rushed to Emily’s cheeks. “What are you talking about?”
“Honey, I may not be able to know how to save this place, but I know when a woman is expecting. The tea, the nausea, the saltines. Plus you just have that look about you.”
“What look?”
“That excited-slash-terrified look.” Carol grinned. “My sister had three kids, and she looked like that every time.”
Emily picked at the salad. “May 17.”
Carol’s face exploded in a smile, and she jerked out of the chair to gather Emily in a tight, warm hug. “I’m so happy for you, honey.”
“Thank you,” Emily said, and for the first time, the joy of what was coming began to infuse her. Sharing the news made it real, somehow, and that allowed her to imagine the future with the child she had always wanted.
A child Cole hadn’t wanted.
But that didn’t matter. She and Cole were over, even if he had yet to fully get the message. She was going to have this baby alone and be just fine. She’d wanted a baby almost from the day they got married. Cole had kept telling her they should wait. For what, she wasn’t even sure now. All she knew was that he found one excuse after another not to have a child.
Finally, Emily was building the family she’d dreamed of. Granted, a family without a father, but Emily had no doubt she’d more than make up for Cole’s absence.
“Cole must be over the moon about the baby,” Carol said.
Emily shook her head. “He doesn’t know. And I’m not telling him,” she added before Carol said anything. “We’ve been separated for some time now, and after I get back to New York, I think...no, I know, I’m going to file for divorce.”
“What? But then...why is he here?”
“Because Cole is the kind of man who never loses. Even when the battle isn’t his to win.” She shrugged, and cursed the tears that rushed to her eyes. “Our marriage has been over for a long time, but he won’t accept that.”
Carol’s hand covered Emily’s. “I don’t know about over, if you have that little gift growing inside you right now.”
“That night was a mistake.” Emily shook her head. “One I won’t repeat. My marriage is over, Carol. I’m just looking ahead to the future with just me and the baby.”
The doorbell sounded a happy little trill. “We can talk later,” Carol said. “Let me get the door. You stay, finish your salad. And don’t worry, I won’t say anything to Cole.”
Emily smiled up at her old friend. “Thank you.”
A minute later, Carol was back with a tall, trim, white-haired man beside her. “I’m not quite sure what all we need done around here,” she said as she walked into the room. “My home repair skills are pretty limited.”
“Seems to me like you need a little of everything.” The man’s gaze swept the kitchen, taking in the water stains on the ceiling, the dripping faucet, the worn countertops. “The house has good bones, though, and that’s what matters. You’ve got a great place here, miss.”
A shy smile curved across Carol’s face. “Oh, I’m far from a miss these days.”
The man gave her a grin that crinkled the corners of his pale blue eyes. “I disagree.”
Carol let out a little laugh. “Well, thank you, Martin.”
They were flirting, Emily realized. Something she had never seen Carol do before. Carol tore her gaze away from the man and waved toward Emily. “This is Emily, an old friend and one of the regular visitors to the Gingerbread Inn,” she said. “Emily, this is Martin Johnson. Cole hired him to do some work around here.”
Emily stood, shook Martin’s hand. Harper sat in the corner of the kitchen, her tail wagging, while she watched the exchange between the humans with curiosity in her brown eyes.
“I’m mainly a plumber, but I know how to do just about anything. That’s what comes from buying my own fixer-upper twenty years ago.” He grinned. “I’m still working on it two decades later. The carpenter’s always the one who doesn’t get time to build his own furniture.”
“I bet that drives your wife crazy,” Carol said.
“Would if I had one,” Martin said. “But my Sarah passed away, going on ten years now.”
“I’m so sorry,” Carol said. “Listen, we were just having lunch. Could I get you something to eat, and we can talk about the repairs? I’ve got leftover meat loaf in the fridge if you want a meat loaf sandwich.”
Martin’s grin widened. “I haven’t had one of those for years and years. But I hate to put you out. I’m sure you’re busy.”
Carol giggled. Actually giggled. “Oh, it’s no trouble at all. You sit, and I’ll fix the sandwich.”
Emily had finished her salad and rose to put her plate in the sink. “Nice to meet you, Martin,” she said to the handyman, then turned to Carol. “I’m going to go back to work for a little bit.”
“Okay,” Carol said. “Be sure to get out and enjoy this bright sunshine, too. It’s an absolutely gorgeous fall day.”
Emily glanced out the window. “You know, that sounds like a great idea. I think I’ll take a notebook and head down to the dock.”
“Sounds like a perfect way to spend an afternoon,” Carol said.
Martin and Carol started talking about the repairs needed at the inn. Their conversation flowed easily, with a little undercurrent of interest on both sides.
A few minutes later, Emily threw on a thick sweatshirt, then grabbed a notebook and a pen and headed outside. Cole’s rental car was nowhere to be seen. A part of her hoped he’d done what he always did—hired someone to do what needed to be done so he could go back to work. Whenever she had something on the honey-do list, Cole would pick up the phone and solve the problem. There were times when she wanted to yell at him that she didn’t want hired help. She wanted her husband to be the one to hang the pictures, move the sofa, trim the old maple tree in the backyard. Because that meant he would be home for more than a few minutes, and she’d feel like they were in this life together, not two trains running on parallel tracks that slowly diverged in opposite directions.
The lake’s water glistened under the bright sun, as if diamonds had been sprinkled across the smooth, lightly rippled surface. The same wooden bench she remembered sat at the end of the dock, weathered and gray. She sat down, drew her feet up to her chest and leaned against the armrest. The sun warmed her face and shoulders, and soon Emily was immersed in her ideas. She scribbled СКАЧАТЬ