Нора Робертс - The Last Boyfriend

“Do you think she ever loved me?”

“Yes.” With no hesitation, Justine gave Avery’s hand a squeeze. “Yes, she loved you, and I think she loves you now. Just not enough.”

“Not enough might be worse than not at all,” Avery murmured.

“Maybe, but that’s not on you, honey. It’s nothing about you, and all about Traci. I want to think you know that, deep down. Maybe you haven’t gotten there yet. Meanwhile, you’re smart and lucky in your friends, and you can count on them. But sometimes a girl needs a mom. You have me.”

Avery went into her arms, held hard. “I knew. I always knew, but it helps hearing you say it. I don’t want you to worry about me.”

“Part of the job, but I don’t worry much when it comes to you.” She lifted Avery’s face, smiled. “Bright light. You’ve always found your way.”

After the guests, after the cleanup—and with Carolee handling the two party guests who’d booked rooms for the night—Avery talked Hope into coming to her apartment for a break.

“Feet up.” Avery plopped down, put hers on the coffee table. “Congratulations, co-hostess.”

“Back at you. Jesus, I’m exhausted.”

“Half of that’s adrenaline drain. You get hyped.”

“I do—but that was one kick-ass shower.”

“And onto one kick-ass wedding.” Self-satisfied Avery stretched her arms up, rolled her shoulders. “I’m going to make us some tea in a minute, then we can talk about Janice and what she was thinking when she put on those pants. They made her butt look like an enormous beefsteak.”

Laying her head back, Hope closed her eyes, chuckled. “God, they really did. On the other hand, Laurie looked so pretty, and so excited about her own wedding. It’s too bad they’d already booked the venue before we were finished with the inn.”

“You’re a glutton for punishment.”

“Maybe. Charlene did pull me aside. She and the other bookstore girls want to give Laurie a shower. And now they want to talk about having it at the inn. I need to talk to Justine, figure out a venue fee for an event like that.”

“I thought I was a workhorse.” She pushed herself up, kicking off her shoes on the way to the kitchen—then detoured at the knock on the door. “Please don’t be a problem downstairs, please don’t be a problem downstairs,” she muttered. “Owen.”

“Saw the light. I thought we could— Hi, Hope.”

“Hi. I was just leaving.”

“No, she wasn’t. She was about to have some well-deserved tea. Carolee’s in charge at the inn for a couple hours. You want some tea?” she asked him. “Or I’ve got some beer.”

“I’ll take the beer. We put in a long one, too. I can take it to go if you—”

“Jeez, sit.” She pushed him toward a chair. “All this politeness is making my teeth hurt. And my feet already do.”

“She’s always so welcoming.” But he bypassed the chair, sat on the couch. “I had some time last night and early this morning,” he told Hope, “for a little research.”

“As soon as the wedding’s done, I swear I’ll put in more time on that, help you out.”

“No problem. I couldn’t give it much today because we’re really pushing on Beck’s place.”

“How’s it coming?” Avery called out.

“We’re nearly there. A lot of painting, punch-out, details.”

“Sounds familiar,” Hope said with a smile.

“I’m working out the time line—”

“Also familiar,” Avery said from the kitchen.

“It’s going to be close, but we can just about knock it out by the wedding, get the final inspections. I was thinking we could load them in while they’re on their honeymoon. We couldn’t have everything in where they’re going to want it—you know, like hanging pictures or the fussy stuff—but we could get the furniture in there, stock the kitchen. That kind of thing.”

Avery came out with a tray and mugs of tea and a bottle of beer. She set it down, leaned over and kissed him. “That’s you. That’s you who’d think of that.”

“It’d be nice for them to get back and basically move right in.”

“It’s a great idea. I’ll help all I can,” Hope promised. “I do know where she plans to put a lot of things. We’ve talked about it.”

“Hope’s got a memory like an elephant.”

“But not an ass like an enormous tomato.”

Owen just lifted his brows when Avery snorted in her tea. “Girl joke,” she told him.

“Okay. Anyway, we’ll plan for it. How’d it all go today?”

“It was perfect.” Hope curled up her legs. “And we had one unexpected guest. I caught her scent off and on all through the party—and I really think she helped herself to some champagne, if that’s possible. I found an empty glass up in E&D, after I’d already done the check through and all the others had gone.”

“I invited her.” Avery sipped her tea. “I went up there before, and I don’t know, I just got the feeling she was down. Sad. I told her about the baby, and the shower. It seemed to cheer her up.”

“That’s you,” Owen murmured. “That’s you who’d think of that. I might have more on her. I’ve been looking into her family. She had two older brothers and a younger sister. One brother died in the war. The other came back, got married, had four kids, so I’ve got those threads if we need them. The sister married a couple years after the war. Five kids, but one died as a baby. From what I’ve found, the sister lived way into her nineties. They moved to Philadelphia a couple years after the marriage. That might be something for you to look into, Hope, as that’s where your family’s from.”

“Can do.”

“Do you know anything about Liberty House School?”

Surprise flooding her face, Hope looked up from her tea. “As a matter of fact I do. Why?”

“I haven’t pulled all the details yet, but I ended up going off on a tangent—you know how it happens—and I came on the Liberty House School for Girls—founded in 1878. It has the sister as one of the founders—and a big influence on providing education to girls at a time when it wasn’t a big thing. It’s coed now, but still a respected private school up there.”

“It is. I went there.”

“Seriously?” Surprised, Owen leaned forward, forearms on thighs. “Small world.”

“Yes.” Frowning, Hope set down her tea. “What was the sister’s name?”

“Ah, Catherine.”

“Her married name?”

“Darby. Catherine Darby. I read that the library in the school’s named for her.”

“It is, and it is a really, spookily small world. The Catherine Darby who helped found the Liberty House School for Girls in 1878 was my great-times-three-grandmother.”

“Holy shit.” Avery gaped. “And again, holy shit! Hope, if all this is right, you’re related to Lizzy. You’re her great-times-three-niece.”

“You’re sure about this, Hope?”

Hope merely glanced at Owen. “I went to Liberty House from kindergarten through middle school. Just like my mother and uncle did—and my maternal grandmother, like my brother did, like my sister did. It’s a family tradition. And before you ask, I don’t know much about the family history—not that far back. I imagined Catherine Darby as the old woman—old to a kid—in the painting in the library at school. I’ve never heard about her having a sister who died. I didn’t even know her maiden name.”

“Do you think anyone in your family would know more—the more personal stuff that might not show up in research?”

“Honestly, I don’t know, but I can find out. This is . . . so strange.” So strange she felt a tickle at the back of her throat. “I need to let it settle in. I can’t think straight on this yet. I’m going to go.”