Beth Andrews - Feels Like Home

After another click on the phone, she heard her father’s deep, commanding voice. “Yvonne. Hello.”

“Hello, Daddy.” She picked up a pile of neatly folded underwear and carried it to the tall dresser next to the window. She could easily picture her father, the chairman of Delisle Enterprises, sitting behind his antique desk, the sun shining through the large window of his high-rise office. He’d be in one of his dark designer suits, the Windsor knot of his tie perfect, his light hair flecked with gray. “How are you?”

“I’d be better if I didn’t have to listen to your mother complain that she hasn’t heard from you in three days.”

Of course. Yvonne should’ve known that Elaine Winston Delisle’s next move would be to have her husband step in.

Yvonne put the underwear in the top drawer, then went back for more. “I’ll be sure to call her today.”

“See that you do. You know how she worries.”

Yes, her mother certainly did that. But he did his fair share, as well. An only child, Yvonne bore the brunt of those worries, the bulk of their love and the weight of their expectations.

And though she loved them, could she really be blamed for escaping to Charleston after her divorce? Oh, she’d tried returning to Savannah, tried to go back to playing the part of dutiful daughter, had even become engaged to the man they’d handpicked for her. Until she’d realized that what she needed even more than her parents’ approval was some freedom so she could finally just be herself.

“Now that I’ve delivered your mother’s message,” he continued, “how’s my favorite girl?”

Not even the warmth and concerned note in her father’s voice could shove Aidan’s words from her head.

Daddy’s little princess.

“I’m fine,” she said, more sharply than necessary. She pressed her lips together. When she spoke again, her tone was carefully modulated. “Everything’s fine, Daddy. Really.”

And damn Aidan for making her feel as if she should be ashamed of her upbringing.

“I still think taking that job at that winery is a mistake,” her father said.

“I appreciate your concern, I really do, but it’s too late for objections.” She dropped her bras onto the dresser. “I’m already here.” And since she could practically hear his disapproval humming over the phone line, she added, “Besides, Joelle asked me to take on this assignment.” Of course, Yvonne had been more than thrilled to accept when Joelle, the owner of World Class Weddings, had told her Diane had asked for her specifically. “And I signed a contract. You wouldn’t want me to break it, would you?”

“When I taught you the importance of keeping your word, I didn’t mean at the expense of your pride.”

She smiled. “I still have my pride. This is just business.” It wasn’t as if she was crawling back to Aidan, begging him to give her a second chance. She was there on her terms.

“I hope you’re right,” Richard groused. “But promise me you’ll be careful. And that this business will remain just business.”

“I promise.” An easy enough pledge to make, considering the way Aidan had looked at her earlier. The only personal feelings that man had for her were contempt and anger. A lump formed in her throat and she cleared it away. “Try not to worry.”

“Of course I worry. You’re my little girl.”

With a small eye roll, she set a white bra in the drawer, followed by a beige one. His “little girl” was a thirty-one-year-old divorcée with a thriving career and, she realized with a frown, an extensive collection of beige bras.

“I’m capable of taking care of myself,” she said as kindly as she could.

“I know that. You’re a Delisle, aren’t you? I just don’t want to see that bastard hurt you again.”

She’d been the one to walk away from her marriage, but her father insisted on blaming Aidan for their divorce. Her mother, on the other hand, believed Yvonne had been a fool to leave a handsome, successful, intelligent man who’d done his best to take care of her.

Yvonne had learned early on it was futile to argue with either of them.

Besides, she couldn’t honestly say either one was completely wrong.

“No one’s going to get hurt.” Least of all her. Not again. “I’m so sorry, Daddy, but I have a meeting to get to. I’ll call Mother later today, okay? Bye, now. Love you.”

She shut off her phone before he could respond.

Not exactly the mature, responsible or brave way of handling a difficult conversation, but an effective one nonetheless. For the time being, anyway.

And she wasn’t lying, exactly, about her meeting. She just hadn’t mentioned it wasn’t for another half hour, that’s all.

She lined up her bras in a neat row and shut the drawer. Someone knocked on the front door. Even as she stilled, her hand on the drawer handle, her pulse picked up. She wasn’t expecting anyone. Then again, why would she be? Only one person knew she was here already.

She leaped for her purse on the bed, digging through it as she hurried into the bathroom. She touched up her lipstick, rubbed her lips together in lieu of blotting with a tissue, then ran her fingers through her hair before rushing down the hall and into the foyer.

More knocks—these rapid and impatient sounding.

“Coming,” she called, slipping her right foot back into one of the black pumps she’d toed off after she’d brought the last of her luggage inside. With one hand on the wall for balance, she put on the left shoe. “Just a moment.”

She straightened and swept back her hair. Inhaled a calming breath and opened the door.

Only to find it wasn’t Aidan on the other side.

“Diane,” she said, refusing to believe the unsettled feeling in her stomach was disappointment. “Hello.”

Diane Sheppard held a recyclable grocery bag in each hand, her smile small and polite. Detached. The same smile Yvonne often used when faced with an acquaintance she didn’t know very well. One she didn’t particularly care to know better.

“I thought I’d drop by,” Diane was saying. “Save you the trouble of coming over to the house and…” She lifted the bags. “I wasn’t sure when you’d have a chance to get into town so I picked up some groceries.”

Yvonne’s mouth popped open. “Oh. That was very…”

The other woman stepped forward, leaving her no choice but to move out her way.

“Thoughtful,” she finished lamely as Diane entered the house and headed straight for the kitchen.

Yvonne glanced from Diane’s retreating back to the porch and back again.

What just happened?

“Are you getting settled in all right?” Diane called from the other room.

The other room where Yvonne had piled boxes and papers and folders and files on the kitchen table to get them out of the way. Horrified, she quickly shut the door and a moment later found Diane unloading groceries onto the counter.

“Uh…yeah.” Yvonne winced and cleared her throat as she tried to straighten up the mess on the table. “I mean, yes. Thank you so much for asking.”

Heat crawled up her neck. So much for her hope that after seven years she’d be more at ease around her daunting mother-in-law.

Ex. Ex-mother-in-law.

They had no ties. Not anymore. Had really had none even when they’d been related. Diane had always been pleasant to her, but their relationship had been merely…cordial. Their only common ground had been their mutual love for Aidan. Now, facing Diane, Yvonne had no idea what to do next. Offer her hand? Too formal. A hug? Oh, God, that was inconceivable.

“Good.” Diane handed her a small bunch of green bananas. “If you need anything, don’t hesitate to call,” she said, somehow making what from anyone else would be a request sound like an order.