Jo McNally - Nora's Guy Next Door

Nora winced, and Bree squeezed her shoulder.

“Stop. Control isn’t always a bad thing. You did what you had to do to raise Becky as a single mom, especially under the circumstances. But you can’t control everything, sweetie. When things don’t go according to your detailed plans, you...um...” Bree’s face scrunched in concentration. “You don’t always... You can’t...”

“I freak out.”

Bree laughed and snapped her fingers. “Yes! That’s it! You freak out.” Bree sat back and smiled. “But, honey, plans change all the time. Do you think I planned on falling in love with a Carolina farmer and leaving Hollywood for him? Of course not! Cole was the most unexpected thing to ever happen to me, but he’s also the best.”

Bree’s green eyes softened, then she winked. “For heaven’s sake, Nora, I know it wasn’t in your plans, but you’re going to have a little grandbaby! And you’re going to be the best grandma ever.” Bree nudged her shoulder. “Hey, how did your former mother-in-law take the news that she’s going to be a great-grandmother? That couldn’t have gone over well with the ice queen.”

Nora wiped her tears, but she couldn’t hold back a little smile. “It made for an interesting Christmas Eve dinner at Mother Bradford’s when Becky announced her pregnancy and engagement in one breath. Meredith’s eyebrows shot upward almost as much as her jaw dropped, which is pretty impressive considering how many Botox shots that forehead has seen.”

“I would have paid to see that!”

Nora had stood behind her daughter in Meredith Bradford’s lavish home on Christmas Eve, silently daring any of Becky’s relatives to utter a negative word. No one did, at least, not to her face. But Nora had burned at all the private looks going around the table during dinner.

Her late husband’s family would get loads of mileage out of this little scandal, even though it was peanuts compared to the antics of Paul and his two brothers. “Meredith was only annoyed because Becky’s news stole the thunder from the other big announcement of the night. Paul’s little brother, Geoff, is running for governor.”

Bree started to laugh again. “Seriously? Isn’t Geoff the one that cooked up that phony charity to fund Paul’s campaign? And wasn’t it his secretary that Paul was...” Her laughter faded.

“That my husband was sleeping with? She was one of many, yes.” Nora shook her head. Paul’s betrayals still stung, but the years since his death had dulled the pain. “But it was the older brother who got in trouble over the campaign funding. His political days are over. However, Meredith thinks Geoff’s hands are clean enough for him to take Paul’s place as the anointed candidate for governor.”

Bree shrugged. “At least you won’t have to be involved with the campaign.”

“No, but I’m worried about what kind of dirt the campaign might bring up.” There had been whispers about Paul’s philandering ways during his campaign, and even about his gambling, but people lost interest after his death.

“The Bradfords are not your problem anymore.” Bree stood and waved her hand dismissively, as if making a decree. “Let them drown in their own lies. It’s time for lunch. And wine. Definitely time for a glass of wine.”

“My daughter is still a Bradford.” Nora followed Bree toward the kitchen. “And she has no idea what kind of man her father really was, or the things his family did. I’d like to keep it that way.”

Bree opened the refrigerator and pulled out a bottle of chardonnay. “Maybe it’s time she learned the truth about her dad, warts and all. Isn’t it exhausting keeping his myth alive?”

Yes. Of course it was.

“No. She was only thirteen when he died. She worshipped him, the way every little girl should worship their daddy. I made a vow to myself that she would always know her father as the man she believed him to be—charming, successful and honorable.”

“As opposed to the truth of him being a lying, cheating SOB who gambled away her inheritance?”

Nora took the glass Bree handed her. “He was a lousy husband, but he wasn’t a bad father. Paul was the ultimate live-in-the-moment kind of guy, with never a thought to consequences. She was the daughter of a popular politician who people liked a lot. I don’t want to take that away.”

“Okay, well, here’s my next question. Becky’s not in Atlanta anymore, and you’ve done enough for the Bradfords. When do you start living for yourself, Nora? There’s nothing holding you here, right?”

Nora frowned. After spending all of her energy protecting Paul’s legacy and raising her daughter, if felt as if her entire life’s purpose had simply vanished the day Becky went to college, leaving her adrift. The truth was, she had no idea what to do next with her life.

Bree gave her a mischievous grin. “Hey, Amanda said that coffee shop in Gallant Lake is still for sale.”

“Oh, God, don’t remind me!” Nora shook her head and took a sip of wine. “She actually put a sales flyer for it in the Christmas card she sent me. That idea is a nonstarter.”

“Why? You keep saying how bored you are now that Becky’s gone. A coffee shop would keep you busy. You’d be close to Amanda and Blake and the kids. And it would give you an excuse to be in Gallant Lake near Becky.” Bree ticked off each point on her long fingers. “It’s a win-win-win!”

Nora thought about steely blue eyes and strong arms. “Asher Peyton’s furniture studio would be right next door. Remember him? The man who accused Becky and me of some evil plot to trap his son in marriage? No, thanks.”

“So you think it would be a bad idea to be neighbors with the guy who makes you blush from head to toe, like you’re doing again right now?” Bree leaned against the kitchen island and grinned. “Not all hot, grumpy neighbors are bad, you know. That’s how Cole and I started out.”

“Read. My. Lips.” Nora pointed to her face. “Not. Going. To. Happen.”

The doorbell rang before Bree could come back with a sarcastic response. Nora set her glass down and went to the door.

Her first thought when she opened it was that maybe she’d been wrong to say people couldn’t make things happen just by saying them. After all, Bree had just mentioned Paul’s affair with his brother’s assistant, and here she was—the woman he’d slept with.

Daphne Tomlin was one of several women Paul had cheated on Nora with, actually, and not the one he eventually fell in love with. But she was the one standing on Nora’s doorstep, all tall and beautiful with her long blond hair. Her clothes were tailored and expensive, and gold chains filled the opening at the top of her silk blouse. She’d matured well over the past five years, and Nora was suddenly self-conscious about her tired old sweater and brightly striped leggings. Knowing her shock must be plainly visible on her face, she took a deep breath to compose herself.

“Hello, Nora. I’m not sure you remember me, but...”

“Oh, I tend to remember all the women who slept with my late husband, Daphne. So whatever you’re selling, I’m not...” Nora took a step back and started to close the door, but Daphne put her foot out and stopped it.

“I’m not selling anything, Nora, but you might be.”

“What on earth are you talking about?”

“I’ve moved up the ladder in the political world over the past few years.” Nora wondered uncharitably how one climbed a ladder while lying on her back. “I’m the managing director for a conservative website. We have a major internet and social media presence, focusing on issues specific to Georgia.”

“How nice for you,” Nora said. “But I don’t care.”

“I want to give you a chance to be on the right side of the story we’re working on.”