C.J. Carmichael - Star-Crossed Parents

“Want some more stew?” She’d already had two helpings, just like him, so he wasn’t surprised when she shook her head. He stacked the dirty plates, then pushed them out of the way.

“I was eighteen,” Leigh repeated. “And, as you may have guessed, the pregnancy wasn’t planned.”

He’d hoped to bypass this. Should have known better. “Must have been difficult for you.”

“You have no idea.”

She was right. He didn’t. He and Susan hadn’t been much older than her when they’d had Josh, but they’d been in love and excited about starting a family. “What happened to the father?”

“Not in the picture. Never has been. My parents helped me in the beginning. They made it possible for me to go college. I’ll always be grateful to them for that.”

For that, but not much else, he surmised. “Is Taylor close to her grandparents?”

“Not really. We don’t see each other very often. They live in Boston. In the same neighborhood as my sister and her family.”

It sounded like there was a lot more than that to the story. But he sure as hell didn’t want to hear it. “Want some dessert? I’ve got ice cream.”

“No, thanks.” She glanced at her watch. Sighed. “What the heck. I’ll run it off tomorrow. What flavors do you have?”

“Maple pecan or chocolate. Are you a runner?” That would explain those great legs.

“Yes. Maple pecan, please. Do you run, too?”

Automatically he sucked in his stomach. He’d managed to pick up an extra pound or two every year since he’d quit ball. “I’ve been thinking of starting. We have a lot of great trails around here.”

He pulled the carton of maple pecan from the freezer and put some into two bowls. As he did this, Leigh rinsed their plates and stacked them into the dishwasher. Rather than returning to the table for their dessert, they both settled on stools at the counter.

He took his first taste of the ice cream. “Eating this stuff always makes me feel like a kid.”

She didn’t smile back. “Taylor is not going to make the same mistakes that I did. I won’t let her.”

Oh, boy.

“Let me tell you a little about my daughter. Taylor graduated from high school this year with a three-point-nine grade average. She’s going to work at a coffee shop for the summer, saving her money to go to Cornell in the fall. She’s already been accepted.”

“Good for her.”

Leigh nodded. “The next four years are going to be the best years of her life. I want her to experience everything—living on campus, the social life—as well as her studies.”

In other words, everything her mother hadn’t been able to experience when she’d been that age. “And when the four years are over?”

“An undergraduate degree is just a base these days. Taylor will probably go on to medical school. Or maybe do her masters in psychology.”

Did she have an idea how pompous she sounded? Sam couldn’t remember meeting anyone who alternately intrigued and annoyed him as much as this woman did.

“What about your son? What are your plans for him?”

She revealed a lot about herself with her questions. “Josh has his own plans. He started his business while he was still in high school. You saw the van out front.”

“But what about his long-term plans?”

He shrugged.

“A business degree would probably help him if he’s serious about running a small company.”

“Really? I hadn’t thought about that.”

Leigh opened her mouth, then closed it when she realized he was being sarcastic. The truth was, Sam had wanted Josh to go further with his education. His son knew that the financial resources were available if he ever chose that route. But so far he hadn’t.

Leigh pursed her mouth. She did that a lot. It was too bad that a woman with such sweet, kissable lips had such a disagreeable habit.

“I don’t care how successful his business is. A college degree would help. It would also provide a safety net for the future. In case his business ever does go sideways.”

Sam set down his spoon, even though his bowl was still full. He was no longer in the mood for ice cream. “Look. You may have your ideas about what my son should do with his life. It may surprise you to find out that I have a few of my own, too. But the bottom line is this—it’s Josh’s life. He’s the one who decides if he wants to go to college or not.”

“Well, of course he does. But a parent should have some influence in the matter. Though I suppose if he’s making all sorts of money at his business, college would be a hard sell.”

Sam wasn’t going to admit to Leigh that Josh was barely scraping by, that more than once he’d needed to bail out his son so he could cover his payables.

“Sometimes you have to let your kids make a mistake or two.”

“There are mistakes, and then there are mistakes. ” She stood and slung her purse back on her shoulder. “I guess we’ll have to agree to disagree on that point. Thank you very much for dinner, but I’d better get going now.”

“I guess I’ll see you tomorrow…?” He followed her down the hallway, then stepped past her to open the front door.

“Yes. I’ll be by first thing in the morning to pick up Taylor.”

“What if your daughter doesn’t want to go home with you?”

Leigh’s lips pursed again. “If she insists on staying the whole weekend, I suppose I will, too.”

She left then, and he watched her drive away before heading back to the kitchen. Miss Prim and Proper’s ice-cream bowl was as spotless as if a kitten had licked it clean.

A YARD LIGHT BURNED bright at the Washington Inn when Leigh drove up ten minutes after leaving Sam’s. She parked at the end of a line of six vehicles, grabbed the duffel she’d packed so quickly, then made her way over the stone pathway.

No one was at the front desk when she walked in, but within seconds a woman appeared.

“Hi, I’m Kate Wallace. Welcome to the Washington Inn.” Sam’s sister had even, pearl-like teeth. She looked around Leigh’s age, maybe a few years younger, and was dressed in yoga pants and a matching top. She eyed Leigh’s dress and heels with a hint of curiosity, but she didn’t offer a comment on the out-of-place outfit.

“Thanks. I’m Leigh Hartwell.”

“Yes. So my brother said.”

Leigh wondered if Sam had explained the whole scenario to her. Or told her what a terrible, controlling parent he thought she was. Probably not, because Kate’s smile seemed genuinely friendly.

Kate snagged a key from a drawer, then handed her a pamphlet, as well. “I’ve put you in the turret room. Sorry it’s so small, but it was the last room left.”

“I’m sure it will be fine.” She was desperate to get out of this outfit. Out of these shoes.

On the way, Kate showed her the breakfast room. “Coffee, tea and cookies are available from five o’clock on. Breakfast is served at seven-thirty or eight-thirty. Which would you prefer?”

“Seven-thirty.”

Kate smiled. “An early bird.”

“No. A runner. I figure if I eat early I’ll be able to go for a run around nine. Your brother said you have some nice trails in the area.”

“If you aren’t afraid of hills, we do. I’m not a runner myself, but many of our guests are. Stop at the desk in the morning and I’ll give you a map.”

Leigh thanked her, then followed the other woman up a set of creaky, wooden stairs. If she ran for an hour tomorrow, that would make up for skipping her run today and the bowl of ice cream. By the time she showered and drove back to the Wallace place, it would be around noon, which was perfect since Taylor wasn’t a morning person at the best of times.

Which these were not.

On the second story, Kate paused. “To the right is our New England suite. An elderly couple from Canada are staying there. And over here is the washroom you’ll be using.” She opened the door on the left to reveal a tiny bathroom with a shower stall, sink and commode. “Sorry it’s so small, but at least you don’t have to share.” She passed Leigh the key.