Chances Are (15 page)

“I didn’t know you had a relationship with Kelly.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“I didn’t realize you spent so much time with Kelly that Claire would feel threatened.”

“I didn’t say she feels threatened. All I know is that ever since we got engaged, there’s been a definite icy wind blowing my way.”

“So you’d rather not work with her.”

“Given my choice, probably not. Besides, I don’t see how she can handle the baking and serve as hostess.”

“That had occurred to me, as well, but until we’re on our feet we might have to double up on things.”

“I don’t know,” Maddy said. “It all sounds kind of sketchy to me.”

“You’re not afraid of hard work. You never have been. It’s Claire, isn’t it.”

Maddy didn’t deny it. “She’s going to be family, but this just might be too much togetherness for both of us.”

“Do you want me to tell Olivia to ask someone else?”

She was tempted. Very tempted. But she was also her mother’s daughter, and the DiFalco business sense won out. “No,” she said at last. “I think Claire would bring in a lot of business.”

Claire’s life was woven into the tapestry of Paradise Point in a way Maddy’s would never be. The town had watched Claire grow up, marry, have babies, bury a husband. She was one of theirs, and they would support anything she set her mind to.

“The timing could be better,” Rose said. “Opening a new store and planning a wedding—that’s a lot on your plate.”

“Maybe we could have the reception at Cuppa,” Maddy suggested then grinned when her mother burst into laughter. “Think of the publicity. Every public television junkie in the contiguous forty-eight would know our name.”

Rose gave her shoulder a squeeze. “You’ll have to take it up with management.”

“Thank you for giving me this chance,” she said, her voice betraying far too much emotion for her liking. “I won’t let you down.”

“As if you could.”

Rose’s hand still rested on Maddy’s shoulder. She liked the feel of her mother’s hand, its warmth and its weight. A year ago she would have moved just beyond her mother’s reach, but tonight she moved a little bit closer.

“That gown was really terrible,” Rose said with a soft laugh. “What was that saleswoman thinking?”

“She was probably thinking of her commission,” Maddy said. “I wish we were closer to the same size. I would have loved to wear your wedding gown.”

“It’s yours if you really mean it.” How vulnerable her mother looked, how defenseless.

“I’m eight inches taller than you are. I’m not sure even Aunt Lucy and her magic sewing machine could find a fix for that.”

Even Rose had to admit she was right.

“If I can’t wear your gown, do you think maybe you and Aunt Lucy would—” She didn’t get to finish her sentence because her mother, her reserved and undemonstrative mother, threw her arms around her and hugged her like she would never let her go.

“You’ll be the most beautiful bride in the world,” Rose promised, her voice breaking with emotion. “We’ll make you a dress fit for a princess.”

A beautiful dress of creamy satin with pearls and crystals embroidered on the bodice and spangling the frothy skirt and fashioned to fit her the way she really was, not the way somebody else wanted her to be.

A train that swished and whispered behind her like a fawning courtier. Shoes that glittered like Cinderella’s glass slippers.

And maybe, just maybe, a tiny, discreet tiara.

“I don’t want anything extravagant,” Maddy said as her resolve began to crumble before her mother’s enthusiasm. “Just something simple and—”

“Leave it to us,” Rose said, eyes brimming over with happy tears. “We’ll make sure you have a wedding to remember.”

Suddenly she saw herself walking down the aisle, a glittering, twinkling vision in satin and crystal, her absolute gorgeousness blinding everyone who dared to look at her. Everyone but Aidan, who fell to his knees and thanked God for bringing this Jersey goddess into his life.

Ten bridesmaids, all of them DiFalcos or O’Malleys. Gina as matron of honor. Kelly and Claire and Billy Jr. would all play a part. Aidan’s friends from the firehouse would be groomsmen, tall and handsome in rented tuxes with creases so sharp you could cut your finger on them. Jack Bernstein as best man, his kind, dark eyes alight with happiness. And Hannah! Oh, Hannah would be the flower girl who—

She blinked her eyes, trying to force the ridiculous images from her head, but they refused to budge. Waves of emotion washed over her, love and regret, hope and happiness. She and her mother had missed so much. She hadn’t been there when Rose went through cancer surgery and its aftermath. Rose hadn’t been with her when she gave birth to Hannah. She hadn’t been there to hold Rose’s hand. Rose hadn’t been there to hear Hannah’s first cry. No amount of wishing, no degree of regret could change the mistakes of the past. But it didn’t have to stay that way.

Maybe Gina had the right idea after all. The marriage would belong to her and Aidan, but maybe weddings really did belong to your family. Maybe Rose needed to stage a fairy-tale wedding to show Maddy how much she loved her, and maybe Maddy needed to accept the gift for the same reasons.

“Crystals and pearls?” she asked.

Rose smiled the smile of a woman who knew she was on the verge of victory. “Thousands of them.”

“Thousands?”

“If that’s what you want.”

And suddenly it was. She wanted crystals and pearls and yards of satin and handmade lace and blue garters and boutonnieres and flower girls strewing rose petals in her path and a ring bearer and a train so long it needed its own zip code. She wanted her family all around her, even the ones she didn’t like, and she wanted Aidan’s family, too. She wanted all of their friends, all of their neighbors, everyone who liked them or loved them or simply wished them well to be there to share their happiness, to mark the day, the moment, as sacred and special, the day she and Aidan and Kelly and Hannah became a family.

“I have an inner bride!” Maddy said with an embarrassed laugh. “Who knew?”

“I did,” her mother said. “I knew it all the time.”

ON THE OTHER side of town, a nightly ritual was under way.

“Teeth brushed?” Claire asked as Billy Jr. dived under the covers.

“Yep.”

“Did you floss?”

“Yeah.”

“Pick the towels up off the bathroom floor?”

“Uh-huh.”

“Say your prayers?”

“I forgot.”

“Well, come on then. We’ll do it together.”

She sat next to him and took his hand as he closed his eyes and launched into the nightly litany of names.

“God bless Mom, Kathleen, Courtney, Willow, and Maire. God bless Grampa Mike and Uncle Aidan and Kelly. God bless . . .” He named every dog, cat, hamster, goldfish, and gerbil that had ever lived in or visited their house, and as he counted down the creatures, Claire felt the familiar tightening in her chest. “. . . and God bless Gramma Irene and God bless Daddy in heaven.”

He opened his eyes and gave her one of those smiles that never failed to turn her heart to melted sugar. God help them all, eight years old, and already he showed signs of exhibiting his late father’s considerable Irish charm. He was her baby, her last child, the one whose arrival had almost made her believe God actually had a plan in mind when he brought Billy O’Malley into her life all those years ago, a sweet consolation for a heart that had come close to breaking more times than she would ever try to count.

“Can I read some more Harry Potter?”

“It’s almost nine, Billy boy. Lights out.”

“Just five minutes, Ma, pleeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeease.”

One look from those huge dark blue eyes and she caved immediately. Her daughters claimed she spoiled her only son rotten, and she couldn’t deny it. She had been strict to the point of harshness with her four girls, trying desperately to bring order into her chaotic family life, and the results had been mixed at best. Billy had access to a part of her heart she had hidden away for safekeeping during his father’s lifetime, and sadly it had taken his death to release it.

“Five minutes,” she said with mock sternness, “then lights out.” She bent over and kissed him on his forehead, trying to ignore the way he quickly wiped it away with the back of his still-babyish hand. “Promise?”

“I promise.”

“You’re on the honor system, pal, so you’d better be good.”

He reached for the enormous Harry Potter on his nightstand and disappeared into life at Hogwarts.

She paused in the doorway. “Billy.”

He looked up, finger pressed to his place in the book. “Yeah, Ma?”

“I love you.”

“Maaa!” he protested. His face crinkled into comical lines. “Don’t say that where my friends could hear.”

“Cross my heart.”

He grinned at her, then looked back down at his book. For an instant she saw him a few years into the future, with the soft roundness of childhood only a memory. He was growing up so fast. Growing away from her the way he was supposed to. Still, her heart ached at the signs of distance swelling between them. Billy was her fifth child. You would think she’d be used to it by now, but the thought of seeing her youngest strike out on his own made her feel like crying, and he hadn’t even reached puberty yet. Her mother used to say that was why God made teenagers: so parents would be happy when their young finally left the nest. By the time he had his driver’s license, she would be counting the hours until he started college.

Maybe.

She sidestepped Fritzie, oldest of their four cats, who was sprawled full length in the middle of the hallway. The enormous Maine coon had the unfortunate habit of blocking hallways, doorways, and steps with her girth and refusing to move.

“If I didn’t know better, I’d swear you were looking to collect on the insurance.” She bent down and scratched the lazy feline behind the left ear and was rewarded with a halfhearted purr that could easily be mistaken for gastric distress. One day some unsuspecting human was going to trip over Fritzie’s bulk and end up in traction.

She was debating the wisdom of installing a night light in the back hall when she heard her father’s voice rumbling from the kitchen. When the man wasn’t playing cards with his friends, he was keeping the phone lines humming. Talk about golden years. Seventy-five years old, and he had a better social life than she did.

“Dad, I swear you’re worse than my girls ever were,” she said as she stepped into the kitchen. “We’re going to have to—” She stopped in the doorway. “Aidan!”

“Surprise.” Her brother-in-law raised his cup of coffee in salute. “The kid left his catcher’s mitt in the back of my truck yesterday. I was going to drop it off and run, but Mike and I started shooting the breeze and—”

“Too bad we had eggs for supper,” her father said. “No leftovers.”

“Aidan knows how to cook, Dad,” she said with an eye roll for Aidan. “He does most of the cooking at O’Malley’s.”

“Any meat loaf left from last night?” Her father shoved his chair back from the table and headed toward the fridge. “Nothing better than a meat loaf sandwich.”

Claire poured herself a cup of coffee and sat down opposite Aidan. “Don’t you have a bar to run?”

“Owen’s watching things. Kelly’s car wouldn’t start, so I drove over to the school to give her a jump.”

Claire looked up at the wall clock over the sink and frowned. “What was she doing at school at this hour?”

“Band practice.”

Claire opened her mouth, thought twice, then took a sip of coffee.

“What?” Aidan asked, frowning in her direction.

“Nothing.”

“You’ve got something to say, so say it.”

“I don’t have anything to say.”

“I know there’s meat loaf in here,” her father muttered at the fridge. “Where the hell did I see it?”

“You think I should’ve left her there to figure her own way out of the problem.”

“I didn’t say that.”

“So what are you saying?”

They had known each other too long and far too well to play games.

She put down her cup. “Since when does band practice run so late?”

“It didn’t,” he said. “It ended on time, but she sat there a half hour, trying to start the car before she called me.”

“See?” Claire wished she could punctuate her words with one of those wonderful cigarette gestures that had seen her through her twenties and thirties. “There’s my answer.”

“Yeah, well, now I want an answer.” For a basically nice guy, he could look pretty damn intimidating when he had a mind to. “Is there something I should know?”

“She’s seventeen, isn’t she?” Claire said with a sharp laugh. “Believe me, there’s plenty you should know.”

“Anything in particular?”

“Don’t ask me, Brother-in-Law. Ask her.”

“You should do what Lilly does.” Her father swung the refrigerator door closed. “She marks those little Tupperware things with peel-off labels so you know what you got in there.”

With that he wheeled and disappeared down the hall.

“Dad, watch out for Fr—”

“Jesus Mary and Joseph! Somebody hang a light over this cat, will you?”

The bathroom door slammed shut. She slumped over her coffee cup and wondered what it would be like to live a life without constant domestic chaos.

“Who’s Lilly?” Aidan asked, ignoring the fact that her bangs were in her coffee cup.

“Do I have to be in intensive care to get a little sympathy around here?” she muttered as she sat up straight. “Lilly Fairstein. Dad’s new girlfriend.”

“I thought he was seeing that widow over up in Tom’s River.”

“He caught her two-timing him with a retired butcher. He’s been seeing Lilly for almost a month. Apparently she’s South Jersey’s answer to Martha Stewart.” Lilly’s Helpful Hints, courtesy of Mike Meehan, were starting to drive her up the wall.