All-American Girl (13 page)

“Here you ladies go. The Friday morning special.” Candice set down two huge plates of pancakes in front of Samantha and Jenny. Samantha took one sniff of the fluffy hotcakes and fought the urge to cry.
Blueberry.
Samantha always made Ava blueberry pancakes on Saturday mornings. Ava loved them, and would always get the cutest smears of blueberry juice across her rosy cheeks.

Samantha sighed heavily. “Thanks, Candice.”

“You okay?” Jenny asked when she looked up from her own steaming plate.

“Yeah, I was just thinking about Ava.”

Jenny took Samantha’s hand, and Samantha didn’t try to take it back.

Candice set the glass syrup bottle down in the middle of the table. “Who’s Ava?”

Samantha looked up through her lashes. Candice’s morning smile was enough to push the lump of grief down Samantha’s throat. She couldn’t hide forever. Dr. Wade had told Samantha it would be better to talk about certain aspects of her life.

“She was my daughter.”

Candice’s jaw dropped. She quickly slid into the seat next to Jenny. “You have a daughter?”

Samantha shook her head and rearranged things on the table, grouping items by size. “Not really. I didn’t give birth to her. She was my ex-husband’s daughter. I raised her, so she was like my own child. I loved her.” She moved the salt and pepper shakers around for the fourth time, stopped, then scrunched the napkin in her free hand. “No, I
do
love her.”

Candice’s concerned expression made Samantha’s chest tighten. She hadn’t had the chance to deal with the loss of contact with Ava. Well, she hadn’t wanted to. She’d kept it bottled up, hoping that the circumstances would somehow change and allow her to see Ava again. Samantha didn’t want to deal with that loss in the middle of a busy diner, but with her new best friend
and
old best friend both staring sympathetically at her, Samantha decided it was as good a time as any. The ache would never go away, but she believed Dr. Wade when she said it would be better to talk about it rather than hide it away.

“What happened?” Candice asked.

Samantha smoothed out the napkin between her hands. She took her time and tore the fragile paper into equal strips, laying them out side-by-side on the table as she told Candice all about Ryan, the fighting, his cheating, and the subsequent painful divorce. She told her all about her relationship with Ava and how it tore her in two when Ryan refused to let Samantha see her anymore. She didn’t know what got into her, but as the story started to flow from her lips, she just couldn’t stop. She went on about how men weren’t suited for her. How her marriages and relationships had failed, and how she knew she was part of them problem, but also how she knew men weren’t worth her time. Or how maybe she wasn’t worth theirs. She wasn’t worth anyone’s, apparently. When she was done, she glanced down at her napkin, which was now artfully torn into pieces.

“I didn’t even see it coming, not from Ryan. I thought he loved me,” Samantha concluded. “I was so oblivious to it all. Too caught up in my love for him—or Ava—I guess.” She blew out a loud breath. “Marriage is tough. I learned the hard way—twice. You can’t make someone love you, and you can’t make them stay if they don’t want to. You can change yourself and everything you are, like I always did, to please the one you love and hope for the best—but it doesn’t stop the inevitable. I gave Ryan my all, and he took it without sparing my feelings in the end. It was my fault for not seeing it and not understanding love, I guess.”

“Don’t start blaming yourself, Samantha,” Jenny said. “We’ve been over this. You didn’t do anything wrong. You loved Ryan with all your heart, and cherished Ava like she was the last thing on earth. You couldn’t have done anything else to stop it. It was all Ryan. He was slime and didn’t value who you are. He didn’t deserve you.”

Samantha shrugged lifelessly. “I guess.”

“No, Samantha,” Candice said. “Jenny’s right. I didn’t realize you’ve had such a hard year. My heart goes out to you.”

“And Ava…” Samantha allowed the tears in her eyes to flow down her cheeks. “I want so badly to see her. Hug her. Play with her.”

“Oh, I know, sweetie.” Jenny caressed the back of Samantha’s hand. “Don’t worry. Ryan will let you see Ava.”

“No, he won’t. He’s made that perfectly clear.” Samantha pushed her untouched plate of pancakes away. “He’s such a jerk, and one of the reasons I hate men.”

“One?” Candice asked.

Samantha’s face hardened. “Yes, there’s more than one.” She cast a glance in Jenny’s direction, remembering what she’d said about Lance. “Your brother had a hand in my lack of willingness to trust the opposite sex.” Samantha snapped her jaws shut.

To Samantha’s astonishment, Candice’s face didn’t waver from the serene expression. She didn’t even flinch. “That’s between you and him, and absolutely none of my business.”

Relief flooded Samantha, not only for Candice’s statement, but the ease with which the weight lifted from her chest. Maybe Dr. Wade had been right? Sure, it hurt to know she couldn’t see Ava like she wanted and to know she’d been tossed aside like yesterday’s trash, but it felt good to get those feelings off her chest.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to unload on you like that,” Samantha said, taking a new napkin from the holder on the table. She folded, unfolded, and refolded it. “I guess Dr. Wade was right.”

Candice’s brows knitted together. “Dr. Wade?”

“Oh, that’s my therapist.” Damn, she’d done it again, speaking before she could think. “It’s nothing—I’m not crazy or anything.”
Dig yourself a deeper hole, Samantha.

Jenny and Candice both laughed at the same time. “Of course you’re not crazy,” Jenny said. “We know that. But we also know people need to talk about things sometimes, and we promise what we share doesn’t leave this table. Agreed?”

Candice nodded. “Agreed.”

Samantha allowed herself a small smile. It did feel good to talk about stuff. She should have taken Dr. Wade’s advice earlier. Well, she always had been stubborn. “Thanks for breakfast, Candice. We’ve got to run and see Gram.”

“Okay. Stop by again soon, okay?”

“Sure.”

“It was good to meet you, Jenny,” Candice said as they rose from the table.

To Samantha’s surprise, Jenny and Candice hugged and gave each other knowing smirks. What was that all about?

As they walked out the door, Candice called out one more time, “Remember what I told you about my brother, Samantha. Things aren’t always what they seem.”

The pesky twisting in Samantha’s stomach returned as she waved and walked out. She didn’t need to be reminded how Lance made her feel. Her body reminded her every second of every day.

“The secret to happiness is freedom…
And the secret to freedom is courage.”
~Thucydides

“G
UESS
W
HAT
, G
RAM
?” Samantha walked into her grandmother’s recovery room with Jenny in tow. She ran over to give Gram a hug.

“What, dear?”

“The doctors said your rehabilitation is going better than expected.” She had to wipe a happy tear from her eye. “It may be only a week or so before you can come home.”

Gram’s face brightened. “I know. I spoke with the doctor this morning.”

“It was wonderful news to the start the day.” Samantha had had to keep from doing cartwheels down the hallway. “And the house will be ready for you when you arrive,” Samantha added, but Dorothy’s face saddened. “What’s wrong?”

“I didn’t want things to change because I’ve gotten—”

“Shh.” Samantha stroked her grandmother’s gray hair and sat next to her on the bed. “Nothing’s changed, Gram. In time, you’ll be just as strong as you were. You’ll see. The changes are needed so it’s easier for you.”

Gram smoothed out the sad expression. “Sorry, dear. I didn’t mean to sound impolite. Getting old takes some getting used to.”

Samantha almost laughed at the smirk on her grandmother’s face.

Gram’s attention turned to Jenny. “Who’s this?”

“Oh, I almost forgot. Sorry.” Samantha waved Jenny toward the bed. “This is a friend from New York. She’s visiting me for the weekend. Jenny, this is my wonderful grandmother, Dorothy.”

Gram nodded. “Nice to meet you. So tell me, how do you put up with my snarky granddaughter?”

“Gram!”

Jenny laughed hysterically.

Gram’s face twisted in amusement as she eyed Samantha. “Oh, dear. I know you’ve got some of my temper. You don’t hide it very well.”

Samantha’s face went hot. She should’ve known Gram would see right through her. “That bad, Gram?”

Jenny patted Gram’s hand. “Well, I’ll tell you—it’s not easy. You’ve got to have some tough skin to be around this one.” She shot a wry glance at Samantha. “But I love her.”

“She’s hard to love, isn’t she?”

“Yes,” Jenny replied.

“But she’s hard not to love as well,” Gram added with a smile.

Jenny nodded. Samantha noticed the knowing glance that passed between Jenny and Gram, similar to the one Jenny and Candice had shared. Was she totally missing something? Why did she feel like everyone around her knew something she didn’t, like she was on the outside of some private joke?

“Okay, okay, enough about me,” Samantha said. “Let’s talk more about you, Gram.”

“Your grandmother is adorable, Samantha,” Jenny said as they made their way back to the car. “She’s really happy about coming home, isn’t she?”

More relief settled in Samantha’s chest. “Yes. It’s been difficult for her. And because I wasn’t here…”

Jenny took hold of Samantha’s elbow. “You’re here now. That’s what matters. Remember that.”

“I know. It’s just hard. A lot has happened in the few short days I’ve been back here. I never thought I’d be dropping myself into the middle of a big hole of madness without the tools to get out.”

“You’ve got the tools. You just need to learn how to use them.”

Samantha stopped midstride. Jenny was right. How was it that everyone around her caught on quicker than she did? Samantha tilted her head and looked at Jenny. “Can I ask you a question?”

“Sure.”

“When we were at the diner, right before we left, you hugged Candice and gave her a
look.
And then, with Gram, you gave her the same
look.
What was it for?”

A smile curved the corners of Jenny’s mouth. “Oh, it was nothing. We just have a connection.”

Samantha crossed her arms. “A connection?”

Jenny fought not to laugh as they started walking again. “Yes. You see, we’ve all dealt with the good Samantha and the bad Samantha. We have similar experiences to share, and they don’t even need to be said out loud.”

Samantha’s skin crawled. Had she really been that difficult?

Yes.

She couldn’t blame her best friends and family members for sharing that connection. Her insides wrenched in sympathy for what she put everyone through. Was there any way to make it better?

“I know I haven’t been the greatest friend this past year, Jenny, but I wanted you to know how much I appreciate you and our friendship. You’ve really put up with a lot from me.” Samantha stopped and put her arm around Jenny. “Can you ever forgive me?”

“Oh, Samantha. I love you when you’re crazy or sane.”

“Really, I want you to know I couldn’t have made it without you. I couldn’t have ever asked for a better friend.”

“Stop before you make me cry,” Jenny said.

“Before
I
cry.”

“Okay, stop before we
both
cry.”

As they continued on to the antique shop, Samantha knew she had just overcome a huge hurdle regarding her tangled emotions: talking about how she felt. Another weight lifted from her chest and some pain was erased from her heart.

“Here we are.” Samantha opened the door to the antique shop and ushered Jenny inside. “Don’t mind the mess. I’ve been working on getting it cleaned up these past few days.”

“Mess? It’s sparkling clean in here. I can see my reflection in the floor.”

“It’s a work in progress, anyway.”

“Whatever you say, sweetie. Do you mind if I look around?”

Samantha set her purse on the counter and flipped on the upstairs lights. “Sure, have at it. Would you like an official tour?”

“Ha. No thanks. I’ll just take a quick peek. I’ve been looking for a chair to go with my retro coffee table.”

Jenny liked antiques, but preferred nineteen eighties chic to most things. “I don’t know if you’ll find anything; Gram likes things older than you, but go ahead. I’ll be in the office getting some stuff in order. Then how about we go grab some lunch?” Since she hadn’t touched a lick of her breakfast, her stomach was growling in protest.

“Sounds good.”

Jenny wandered up the wooden staircase and disappeared amongst the antiques. Samantha headed back to the office and dug through the recently reorganized filing cabinets to put some invoices away. She was still finding records of payments to Cole, which only irritated her.

Suddenly, the scent of sawdust and sweat made her pause.

Samantha lifted her head from the filing cabinet and saw Lance looming in the doorway. His steel-gray eyes held her gaze, making the temperature in the room shoot up at least ten degrees.

“Hey, Sam.”

“Umm.” Why weren’t the circuits firing in her brain? As he moved closer, his scent consumed her. Beads of perspiration formed on the back of her neck just from hearing him say her name. And not even her full name, but the nickname she hated, no less.

She rattled her head a time or two. “Yeah?”

One more long stride put him right in front of her, towering over her.

Her body had to be reacting this way because she was emotional; she’d had an epiphany with Jenny and Candice, and then had good news about Gram. She was also stressed out about her brother, and irritatingly aroused because of Lance, and then he walked in.
Yup—emotional.

“Are you okay?” he asked. “Your face is flushed.”

She brought her hand up to her hot cheek. “Yeah, I’m fine. Just going through some paperwork, that’s all.”

His dark eyes raked over her face before he backed up and propped a hip on the desk. “Is this a good time to go over your grandmother’s estimates?”

She shut the file cabinet and moved to the other side of the small office. It wasn’t far enough. The urge to walk over and ruffle his raven hair was almost too much to bear.
Good God.
Now she was losing it. She had been perfectly fine until—

“Sam?”

Samantha straightened a picture on the wall, trying desperately to get her thoughts and body under control. When she reached for the third picture frame, she knew she’d lost the battle.

“Sam?” Lance’s voice rumbled through the tight space, almost making her tremble. His hand caught her waist, and she twisted around to face him. “Did you hear me, Sam?”

His strong, masculine features came into complete focus.
Crap.
She should have known that talking about her feelings would bring out the ones she needed to keep buried. Once the flood gates opened, things she’d tried to hide came trickling out whether she wanted them to or not. She’d been deceiving herself when it came to Mr. Lance Cummings.

She cleared the sandpaper from her throat. “Yes?”

His inquisitive stare almost buckled her knees.
Why now?

“The estimates. Did you look over them?”

She clenched her hands stiffly at her sides, willing herself not to touch him. “Yes, I did.”

“And?”

“Oh, they’re fine. It’s all fine. Go ahead and keep doing whatever it is you’re doing with the house.”

He tilted his head and looked her over once more. She drew in a shallow breath, hoping his scent didn’t tip her right over the edge. She adjusted all three picture frames again.

“So, you’re not mad at me about this morning?” he asked.

She should be furious. She
was
furious. Hell, she should be mad at him for a million other things, too. But now that the trickling of her feelings for him had begun, she didn’t know how to stop it, and God help her, she needed all the strength she could muster to keep herself from making the biggest mistake on earth.

“Listen, it’s kind of been a weird day,” she said. That wasn’t so much a lie as it was a protective measure. “I’m not quite myself right now.”

“Have you had lunch?”

To keep from moving away from him and rearranging everything in the office, she twisted her fingers together and made herself stand two-by-four straight. “No, actually. As a matter of fact, I haven’t eaten today.”

He cracked a smile, and not the kind that made her want to smack it off his face. “No wonder you look so pale. Let’s go to the diner. I’ll buy you lunch. We can talk about it more there.”

“Oh, well—”

“Hey, you’ll never guess what I found—” Jenny bounded around the corner into the cramped space of the office, stopping abruptly by Lance’s large frame. “Oh, sorry. I didn’t see you there.” She maneuvered around him with a wicked grin on her face.

Samantha had to suppress a groan; she knew what Jenny was thinking. It bothered her more than she liked to admit.

“I found the perfect chair upstairs.”

Lance moved across the tiny space to allow Jenny to stand next to Samantha. The walls closed in, and Samantha found it hard to breathe. Of all the problems she had, she didn’t want to add claustrophobia to the list, but in the tight space, where the air was thick and the temperature was soaring, it was unavoidable.

“That’s great, Jenny,” Samantha said.

“I didn’t mean to interrupt you two,” Jenny admitted with a cheesy grin. “I thought you’d be alone.”

“Oh, Lance stopped by to talk about the estimates on Gram’s place.”

“We were just going to the diner to get some lunch,” Lance interrupted. “Would you like to join us?”

Jenny’s eyes lit up. “Of course.”

At that very moment, with the three of them packed like sardines in a tin can and Jenny getting all flutter-eyed with Lance, Samantha wanted to say a few choice words. But she didn’t. She held her breath for five long seconds, blew it out, and said, “All right then, let’s go.”

As they took their seats at the diner, Samantha knew she had accomplished a major feat back at the antique shop. She had actually controlled her unease and her temper. She hadn’t done that in over a year, and it felt wonderful. However, the reason she had to control her temper plagued her. She really didn’t want to tell Jenny about her past with Lance, and she
really
didn’t want to tell her friend to back off because those
feelings
had slithered back where they didn’t belong.

“Well, isn’t this a happy looking bunch?” Candice chimed as she brought over three menus.

“Hey, sis,” Lance replied. “What’s good today?”