His Best Friend's Wife Page 12

  But for now, Paul didn’t want to talk about his father. “Your dad looks good. And he and Libby seem to be hitting it off.”

  “I didn’t realize they knew each other so well.”

  From what Paul had seen, they intended to get to know one another even better. He wondered how Annie would feel about that.

  “Anyway,” she said, as though she’d read his thoughts and wanted to answer his question. “I think it’s great. My dad was born and raised here and he’s always had lots of friends but never anyone special, not since my mom. I hope Libby’s really okay with him being in a wheelchair and not just being nice.”

  “Oh, I’d say she’s more than okay with it.”

  Annie’s cheeks went a little pink, all but obliterating the faint dusting of freckles he’d always found so delectable.

  “Good. It’s weird to think of my dad dating, but it’s kind of adorable at the same time.”

  Paul wondered how Isaac would feel if his mother was dating someone, half hoping that Annie was still following his train of thought.

  She wasn’t. She was slicing into the cake Libby had brought with her and was transferring generous wedges onto dessert plates.

  “Look at this cake. No one in Riverton bakes a red velvet cake the way Mable Potter does. Except maybe her daughter. And this boiled frosting...” She swiped her finger along the back of the knife, closed her eyes as she tasted the white icing. “Mmm...so good.”

  Paul was sure his heart skipped a few beats before it sped up.

  “Try some.”

  He did, and agreed the frosting was delicious. It might have tasted better from the tip of her finger than his own. He wished the idea hadn’t entered his head, and then he really hoped she wasn’t reading his thoughts.

  “If the cake tastes half that good, I think I’m going to like it.”

  “You’ve never eaten red velvet cake?”

  He shook his head.

  “You’ll love it. Everyone does.”

  CJ returned from the dining room with a tray loaded with dishes and set them on the counter. “Is that Libby’s mom’s red velvet cake?” she asked.

  “It is, and Paul’s never had it before.”

  “Seriously?” CJ quickly transferred the dishes from the tray to the dishwasher. “I’ve been watching Dad and Libby. If the two of them hook up, we can have her mom’s cake more often.”

  “CJ!” Annie carefully set five dessert plates onto the newly emptied tray, then placed the remaining plates on another tray. “What a thing to say.”

  “What? I love cake. And I call it as I see it. There’s something going on with Dad and Libby. I think it’s cute.” CJ grinned. “In fact, I think we should all get to have our cake and eat it, too.”

  Paul wholeheartedly agreed.

  * * *

  AT THE END of the evening, Libby helped Annie clean up the kitchen. The rest of the group had drifted. Paul left first, saying he needed to check on his father. Libby felt badly for him, knowing firsthand how devastating an Alzheimer’s diagnosis was for everyone involved. She also gathered from what Paul had said the disease was more advanced with his father. Emily was feeling tired so Jack had driven her home, and Rose and Fred had left at the same time. CJ had taken Isaac upstairs to supervise his bedtime routine, and then she had gone out to the stable for a final check on her horses.

  Only Thomas had remained in the kitchen and Libby kept glancing over to where he sat at the kitchen table with a newspaper spread in front of him and a pair of reading glasses resting low on his nose. He was a fascinating man with diverse interests and carefully considered opinions on a wide range of subjects.

  Annie snapped the lid on Libby’s cake carrier and set it on the end of the island. “That cake was delicious. Please thank your mother for us,” she said. “And please let her know we’d love to have her come to Sunday dinner sometime.”

  “Thank you. That’s very thoughtful.”

  “Not at all. As you can see, we love having people join us.”

  “I’m not sure my mother could cope, unfortunately. She’s good in one-on-one situations, sometimes even with two or three people if she knows them well. But in a large group she tends to get confused and then she gets frustrated even though she doesn’t understand why she’s confused and frustrated.”

  “I’m sorry to hear that. Paul is going through a similar situation with his father.”

  “We’ve talked a bit about that.” Somehow, hearing about his circumstances made her feel a little less alone in hers. “We’re very lucky to have him as our doctor.”

  “I think the whole town is happy to have another Dr. Woodward in its midst.” Annie set a stack of plastic containers next to the cake carrier. “Here, I packaged up some leftovers for you take home. That way you won’t have to cook dinner after school tomorrow.”

  “Oh, you didn’t have to do that,” Libby said. “Although honestly, I’m grateful you did.” Tomorrow it would be a real treat to come home after a long day and not have to prepare a meal.

  She reached out and gave Annie a hug and was surprised when the young woman whispered in her ear. “Thank you for putting some sparkle back in my dad’s eye.”

  Libby stepped back, felt her face grow warm and gave Annie a long look. Was Thomas’s daughter giving her the stamp of approval?

  “Looks like you’re ready to go,” Thomas said, looking up from his paper. “I’ll see you out.”

  Annie answered her silent question with a wink. “Good night, Libby. I hope you’ll join us again soon.”

  “I will. Thank you.” Libby gathered up her things and followed Thomas out of the kitchen and through the house to the front door.

  He held her cake carrier and the containers of leftovers on his lap while she retrieved her coat from the closet and slipped into it. On the screened veranda, he swung his chair next to a wicker armchair and patted the seat cushion. “Sit for a bit before you go?”

  “I’d like that.” She set her things on a side table, realizing as she sat just how close he had positioned himself to her chair.

  The porch itself wasn’t lit, but a warm glow from the living room filtered through the lace curtains. The night air was crisp but not cold, and she realized that at some point after dessert, Thomas had put on a sweater, as though sitting out here had not been a spur-of-the-moment decision.

  “Warm enough?” he asked.

  “Yes, thanks.”

  “I’m glad you came tonight.”

  “Thank you again for inviting me. You have a wonderful family and I enjoyed getting to know them a little. Isaac is a very lucky little boy.”

  “Family is important,” he said.

  “It is.” For the umpteenth time, she wondered how she had allowed her own life to drift so far away from that all-important principle. His daughters were beautiful, inside and out, and their mutual love and respect for one another and for their father had literally lit up the dining room tonight. “Not having a family of my own is my biggest regret.”

  Thomas reached for her hand and held it between both of his. For a second or two, she closed her eyes as the warmth of his touch seeped into her skin. She opened them to find him leaning close.

  “Life is too short for regrets.” He moved his hands, big and strong and gentle, to the sides of her face and kissed her. Her own hands, fingers splayed, found the firmly muscled contours of his chest. A soul-deep heat like nothing she had ever experienced flared through her. These emotions were new and raw and real, exciting and comforting and satisfying. It was as though she had struggled her whole life to put together a jigsaw puzzle, only to realize, too late, that a piece was missing. Suddenly that one last, errant piece had been found and finally, easily slipped into place.

  “Oh, Thomas,” she breathed after the kiss ended.

&nb
sp; He stayed close, looking at her as he smoothed her hair. Even out here on the dimly lit veranda, she could see the intent in his eyes and again her only thought was...finally.

  “I’d like to see you again,” he said.

  “I’d like that, too.”

  “Tomorrow.”

  “I have school tomorrow.”

  “I know. If I pick you up at seven, does that give you enough time to have dinner with your mother, get her settled?”

  “You could have dinner with us.”

  He shook his head. “I have something else in mind.”

  Libby considered what he was saying. He wanted to pick her up, take her out, as though... “Is this a date?”

  “Sure, we can call it that.”

  “Are you going to tell me where you’re taking me?”

  “No.” But there was a promise in his smile that she found irresistible.

  “So, it’s a surprise?”

  “We can call it that, too.” He took her face in his hands and kissed her again, and there was a promise there, too.

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  THE MORNING OF Emily and Jack’s wedding dawned with a blue sky lavishly brushed with pink and orange, creating a dramatic backdrop for the fiery red and gold and orange leaves of the poplars and maples and birch trees scattered across the farm and along the riverbank. It was one of those mornings that tricked a person into believing winter was in the distant future.

  Annie stood on the back veranda with her hands wrapped around her favorite coffee mug, inhaling the scented steam between sips. The early morning air had an autumn crispness to it, but the afternoon forecast was for warm, late-summer sunshine. This was hands down her favorite time of day. It always started with a cup of coffee, sometimes two, which she savored while the rest of the house still slumbered. She used this time to plan her day, making mental to-do lists of all the things she intended to accomplish.

  Today, however, was different. She felt oddly out of sorts and couldn’t quite put her finger on why.

  Emily had planned everything down to the last detail, and then she had typed it all into her laptop and printed it. The master list was now on the fridge door, held there by a magnet that read, “I Do!” The magnet had been tucked into the bridal shower gift—a pair of his-and-hers coffee mugs—that Libby had given to Emily.

  Annie had committed Emily’s entire list to memory. The photographer would arrive at eight thirty to record every aspect of the day. Having photographs of the bride eating breakfast and the crew setting up the big outdoor tent and tables for the reception seemed excessive to Annie. Emily insisted on capturing every moment. She intended to blog about every one of them, and her huge readership no doubt expected it.

  At eleven o’clock the bride and her three sisters were having their hair done at the Clip ’n’ Curl in town. Back to the farm by twelve thirty for lunch. Annie had baked bread yesterday. This morning she would whip up an egg salad for sandwiches, and there was strudel for dessert.

  At one o’clock, forty white folding chairs would be assembled by the gazebo on the riverbank, each with a sweeping blue bow tied to the back. The rest of the afternoon would be taken up with makeup and manicures and “sister stuff,” as CJ called it. Their father had been tasked with keeping Isaac occupied and out of mischief, and keeping him clean after he was dressed in his tuxedo. At four o’clock, the wedding party would climb the steps of the gazebo to the exact spot where Jack had proposed to Emily, and the ceremony would begin.

  Throughout the planning and preparation, Annie had tried not to think about her own wedding day. This morning, though, she found it impossible to keep the memories at bay. Maybe that’s what had her feeling a little blue. They were happy memories and she wanted to keep them separate from the grief of losing her husband, her high-school sweetheart, her son’s father. Now, with the sun-lightened sky and the first sounds of morning spreading around her, she slowly opened her mind to their special day and let herself remember.

  She had wanted to get married here at the farm with just family and close friends gathered with them, but Eric had insisted on having their wedding in town—a ceremony at the church followed by formal photographs at Riverside Park and a reception for a hundred and fifty at the community center. Annie, who had always been a bit of a homebody, had found the day overwhelming. Eric, surrounded by both their families, friends, acquaintances and a few people he hadn’t met before that day, had been in his element. By the end of the evening, she was sure he had spoken with all of them, sweeping her along with him. That night she had been happy to hang on his arm, smile and thank their guests for sharing their special day. Looking back, she knew she had put his wants and wishes ahead of her own, and by doing that, she had set the tone for their marriage.

  It had been a good marriage, she reminded herself. She had thought she might have to dig in her heels about living at the farm but Eric had readily agreed. He had been hired as the physical education teacher and it made sense, he’d told her. She wouldn’t have to work—he had never viewed cooking and baking and laundry and housework as real work—and they could use his meager salary to buy a car and pay for winter trips to nearby ski resorts and summer boating excursions and waterskiing on Lake Pepin. Eric had loved athletics and the outdoors, and as usual, he had swept her along with him. Perhaps he’d been having too much fun to notice she’d been sipping hot chocolate and reading in the ski lodge or sequestered under a beach umbrella with a book. Or maybe he had assumed that’s how she wanted to spend her time.

  Annie gave herself a shake. This line of thinking was never productive, and it was downright dangerous on a day like this. Eric had been a good husband and a great dad. They had rarely argued and they’d never had what anyone would consider a real fight. Of course, CJ said Annie was too easygoing, but she’d proven herself to be stronger than anyone thought. Instead of simply being a stay-at-home wife and mother who also provided a home for her father and youngest sister, she had turned the house into a successful bed-and-breakfast.

  This summer had been the first time since opening the B&B that she had closed her doors to guests. After Eric’s death, Emily had found out she was having Jack’s baby and accepted his marriage proposal, so there had been a wedding to plan. Around that time, their half sister Rose had arrived on the scene, and Annie had helped her settle into Riverton. She had thought she might miss having guests around since they kept her busy. But she had enjoyed being able to devote all of her time to family. With the wedding day finally upon them and Rose settled into a steady job and a small apartment in town, Annie had already decided she would reopen for the holidays and spring break and summer vacation.

  She was in the process of considering her options in the form of a mental pros-and-cons list when a sound from the kitchen caught her attention. She turned, glanced through the French doors. Emily, dressed in the faded yellow flannel nightgown she kept at the farm for occasions when she spent the night, and the Cookie Monster slippers that Annie and CJ had given her for Christmas when she was fourteen, was moving through the kitchen, opening and closing cupboard doors.

  Annie experienced a wave of sisterly affection tinged with motherly devotion. Which was silly because she was only two years older than Emily. But ever since their mother had left them, she had always felt more than sibling responsibility.

  “Good morning,” she said, pushing through the doors and closing them behind her. “Sleep well?”

  Emily swung around, her mother-to-be glow exceptionally...glowy this morning. “Like a log. No, more like a baby.” She grinned.

  Annie crossed the room, set her mug on the island and drew her sister into a hug. “You look lovely this morning.”

  “I’m getting married. Me, little Emily Finnegan, is getting married! Can you believe it?”

  “Yes, I can believe it. And you haven’t been ‘little Emily F
innegan’ in years.” Annie put her hands on her sister’s shoulders, held her at arm’s length and looked at the beautiful woman she had become, slippers and nightgown notwithstanding.

  “But I’m marrying Jack Evans. Jack. Evans. We’re going to be husband and wife, I’m having his baby, and I’m not freaking out. Not even a little bit.”

  “You have no reason to freak out. Jack loves you.”

  Emily’s grin widened. “He does, doesn’t he?” She resumed her search of the kitchen cupboards.

  “What are you looking for?”

  “Decaf.”

  “Sit.” Annie led her to a stool at the kitchen island. “I’ll make some.”

  Emily sat. “How long have you been up?”

  “For a while.” If she was being honest, she would admit to not being able to sleep. She had been looking back on the past with regret, and looking ahead, somewhat selfishly, to how this day might unfold for her. “I stepped outside to enjoy the sunrise. We’re going to have a perfect day for the wedding.”

  “That’s good. I know it was risky, planning an outdoor wedding in September, but it’s what we wanted.”

  Annie poured water into the coffeemaker, dumped grounds into the basket, switched it on. It’s what we wanted. She envied them. Emily and Jack discussed everything, disagreed on a lot of things, and almost always found a compromise that worked for both of them.

  “Oh, and I can’t remember if I mentioned this or not, but Paul said he’d be here by eight thirty.”

  Annie swung around. “Paul? He’s coming here? But he’s the best man. He should be spending the day with Jack.”

  Emily shrugged. “Jack is going to shower, shave and put on his tux. Knowing him, he’ll probably spend the morning at the station. He and I aren’t supposed to see one another until the ceremony, so he certainly can’t be here setting up the chairs at the gazebo and the tables for the reception.”

  “I thought Fred was going to help.”

  “Oh, he is, but it’s a big job so I asked Paul if he would, too, and he said yes.”