Find My Way Home (Harmony Homecomings) (20 page)

Francesca placed the magazine she’d been reading on top of her gilded coffee table. She felt a twinge of guilt for Keith’s rash choice when it came to finding a partner. But she couldn’t sit by any longer and watch him muck up his life. She used the best weapon at her disposal to spur him into action—threatening for custody. Keith wore a cloak of grief, guilt, and pain so thick that he didn’t see how it dragged him and Maddie down. Francesca never considered herself a cruel person, especially with regard to anyone she loved, but the time had come for her to play the card she held close to her chest—the mother card.

Francesca smoothed the hem of her dark brown gabardine skirt. “I spoke with your mom earlier today.”

Keith sat forward, clearly alert. “Yeah?”

“She called to speak with Maddie. I’ll have Maddie call her back while we’re on the road.”

“That all she wanted?”

Francesca spotted the tightening in Keith’s broad shoulders. She remembered when his remoteness first appeared regarding his mother. Right around the time Angelina left him at boarding school and moved to Europe. “No. She also wanted to know about you. I told her all about young Gail, and how you’ve finally met someone nice. And how she’d make a good mother to Maddie. Of course, having never met the girl”—she shot Keith a piercing glare—“I’m only going on what you’ve told me. And I’m trying to ignore all the things Maddie has told me.”

Keith reached for the magazine on the table. “Yeah, Gail’s a real nice girl,” he said with no enthusiasm, as if he were speaking about getting his tires rotated. He showed more excitement when he talked about his next stock purchase than he did when he spoke of Gail.

“Well, your mother certainly approved. She thinks this is the best thing for you.” Keith gave Francesca an odd look. “You know she never liked your choices in women, and Adriana was no exception—”

“I don’t want to talk about Adriana,” he interrupted.

“I understand. This isn’t about Adriana or your past. This is about your life moving forward with Maddie.” Keith gave her a jerky nod. “But Angelina really likes the sound of Gail. She was practically overflowing with excitement. She said there’s nothing wrong with a simple, sweet girl who can bake cookies and loves to read children’s books.”

Keith tossed the magazine back on the table and rose from the love seat. “As if she’d know anything about that. What else did she say?” he asked, peering out the French doors to the freshly mowed lawn.

“Well, I’m not sure, but I think she might make arrangements to come to your wedding.”

Keith’s body jolted as he turned around. “You told her I was getting married already?” his voice sounded strangled. “Jesus. I haven’t even gotten past first base with this girl, and you’ve got my mother making wedding arrangements.”

On the inside, Francesca smiled and patted herself on the back, knowing that if Keith had any feelings for Gail whatsoever, wild bulls couldn’t hold him back. On the outside, she squared her shoulders and lifted her nose, giving the impression of great disappointment.

“Keith Morgan, I hope you are conducting yourself in a gentlemanly manner. From what you’ve told me, this young girl is not experienced in the ways of the”—Francesca fluttered her hand—“you know what I mean. I hope you don’t frighten her. You could very well be her…
first.
”

Color flooded Keith’s cheeks as he cringed. “What else did you tell Mommy dearest about my upcoming nuptials?” he smirked.

“I didn’t give her an exact date, but I did say you’d gotten rather serious and I wouldn’t be surprised if it happened in the next few weeks.”

Keith shoved his hands in his front pockets. “I’m guessing you left out the part where you’re holding a gun to my head.”

“Don’t you think you’re being a bit dramatic, dear? I merely gave you an incentive to get moving, because I’m concerned about Maddie, as is your mother. You may not believe this, but Angelina only wants the best for her granddaughter.”

Keith gave a humorless laugh. “Evident by all the times she’s actually seen Maddie and how often she stays in touch.”

“I’m not making excuses for my sister. I know she’s been less than an ideal grandmother, or mother for that matter.” Francesca glanced away from Keith’s stern expression. “All those years she chose to be…away after your father died, I always filled in.”

Keith gave a harsh laugh. “Away? Is that how we’re phrasing it these days? I prefer the term
abandon
. She abandoned her only child and she has never apologized for it. Never.”

Francesca had definitely struck a nerve, and Keith had every right to be angry. But she had hoped that as he matured into a grown man, he’d find a way to forgive his mother. And she prayed that once this act of tough love had ended, he’d find it in his heart to forgive her as well.

Angelina wanted to make peace with her son, but she was afraid and ashamed. Keith’s dad had been her life, and when he dropped dead of a heart attack in his prime, Angelina drowned herself in misery and mourning, leaving her young son bereft, without his dad and then without his mother. Much as Keith had done when Adriana died. Francesca knew that Keith had never made the comparison, because he hadn’t loved Adriana the way Angelina had loved Harrison Morgan. And Francesca didn’t think she needed to point it out to him…yet. But back in Miami, Keith had come dangerously close to repeating history by shutting down and leaving Maddie the same way.

“You have every right to be angry with your mother…and me.” Francesca held Keith’s attention. “Maybe I shouldn’t have always filled in where she left gaping holes. Angelina knew you had me and I’d always be here for you. I don’t know.” Francesca swallowed as she adjusted the silk Hermes scarf tied around her neck. “I probably enabled her poor behavior. For that, I’m terribly sorry.”

“I’m not. I’m glad you were always there for me. You were a great mother to me when she chose not to be around and I appreciated it.” Keith pushed his fingers through his hair, sighing. “I don’t want her input right now. She doesn’t know anything about me, or Maddie for that matter.”

“I understand.”

“No, I don’t think you do.” Keith took a deep breath. “I don’t want her planning my wedding or giving her opinion on something or someone she knows nothing about.” Keith began to pace across the antique Aubusson rug. “Whoever I choose to marry in the next few weeks whether it be Gail or Ber—uh, or that crazy lady with the leopard suit and green Jell-O, it’s going to be
my
decision. So do me a favor and keep my mother out of it.”

“As you wish, dear.” Francesca said, wearing a sober expression. On the inside, she’d donned her best pale blue Chanel suit with her gray South Sea pearls and stared down an aisle of a church with tears in her eyes. And the sight before her was a bride in an original Vera Wang wedding gown, a concoction of elegant beads, tulle, and lace worn by…her favorite person.

“I’m weak. And stupid. I’m a weak, stupid, desperate, small-town girl.” Bertie dropped the large roll of fabric she’d checked-in against her purchase order on the floor of her office. It was Friday afternoon. Three weeks had passed since she’d locked lips with Keith in the back office at the Dog. Three weeks of reliving the stupidest, most impulsive moment of her life. Three weeks of avoiding him, although that hadn’t been hard. Aunt Franny had informed Bertie that he had enrolled Maddie in a private school in Raleigh, which had kept him busy and away from the house.

Christ on a cracker. She’d officially lost it. She’d become one of those batty, silly, impetuous old ladies. The ones everyone talked about that lived in small towns but didn’t have the sense they were born with. The ones who collected scraps of lace and rubber bands. The ones who always washed and reused tin foil and had drawers and drawers full of those twisty-tie thingies and old packets of duck sauce from the 1980s. The wacky, aimless neighbor who wore weird hats and jogging suits with appliques. Yep. All Bertie needed were a few homeless cats or twenty and a talking parakeet on her shoulder.

“So you grabbed the guy and kissed him. Who wouldn’t?” Gary said as he used a box cutter to cut the plastic from another roll of fabric and inspected the contents. She and Gary had been working like dogs all week on the renovations. Bertie had only three weeks to finish and the pressure was building.

“I know. That’s the problem. Everyone wants to kiss the guy or, in Jo Ellen’s case,
do
him in the back of her pink pick-up. I’m his designer. I’m supposed to be working with him, not trying to find a way to work
under
him. I’m not supposed to be fantasizing about his muscular, tan arms and his rock-hard chest.” Or the way he freaked over his daughter and how he tried to be a good father. That part got Bertie every time.

Of course, Keith being gorgeous and totally edible didn’t hurt, but Bertie was more drawn to his human side. The side where he panicked and made rash decisions and then regretted it. The side where he didn’t believe in himself or his parenting skills. The tough, competitive, professional tennis player who had it all—including gobs of money—struggled with mundane things, like how much TV he should allow his daughter to watch or at what age should she be allowed to shave her legs. Bertie found his vulnerability and uncertainty to be way sexier than his thick hair and piercing dark eyes.

“You’re overanalyzing. He’s a great-looking guy and he seems to be hot to trot for you. And it’s not like he hasn’t had plenty of other opportunities. I heard Arlene came right out and propositioned him at the Daily Grind in front of the morning-coffee crowd.”

“Oh Lordy,” Bertie groaned.

“Miss Sue Percy told me that Arlene marched over wearing that leopard jumpsuit with the gold zipper pulled way down, showing too much cleavage. And she backed Keith into a corner and literally purred at him like a big jungle cat—if jungle cats wore lacy pink push-up bras and spiked heels.”

“Oh no.” Bertie pressed her hands into her face.

“And she said something like she was a hot cupcake looking for a stud muffin—”

“No! Stop. You can’t be serious.” Bertie snickered, picturing Arlene poured into that outfit.

Gary laughed too. “I couldn’t make this up if I tried. Apparently, Morgan lit out of there as if his ass were on fire and didn’t even pick up his coffee or his change.”

“That poor man. No wonder he wants out. Who can blame him? He thinks he’s living in the land of Looney Tunes.”

“Yeah, so maybe you should hook up with him to show him we’re not so bad. Think of it is as your civic duty—saving Harmony’s image.”

“Really? And you think by sleeping with him, it’ll change his views of Harmony? I’ve lived here my whole life. It will take more than a romp in my bed for anyone to change their take on Harmony.”

“Maybe. But it’s worth a try. Besides, you’ve got nothing to lose and maybe even something to gain…like some great sex. When was the last time that happened?” Gary gave Bertie his all-knowing look, which meant he knew the answer to his own question better than she did. “Loser married architect from Raleigh doesn’t count.”

“Well, if I’m not counting loser married guy, then I’d have to say…geez, I don’t even remember.”

Sad but true. Which had to explain her out-of-character behavior with Keith. She was no better than Jo Ellen or Arlene. She reached for her glass on the bookshelf and choked down some sweet iced tea. Harmony was turning her into a small-town old maid gone wild, ready for her own reality TV show. Only a few more weeks. She could last that long without becoming the town trollop. Right? Bertie chugged more tea, wishing it was laced with alcohol.

“Drinking all that tea and wishing it was spiked is not going to help your problem.” Gary smirked.

Bertie slammed the glass back down and sent Gary a lethal glare. Sometimes, she hated the fact that he could read her mind. “Have you gotten those orders signed and approved for the cabinet hardware?” Bertie tried for irritated-boss mode, hoping to instill some fear into Gary—not that it ever worked in the past, but she gave it a shot.

Gary stopped loading a plastic container and peered at Bertie. “They were delivered with a note attached—”

“I need them signed ASAP—”

“Look, Miss I-need-to-get-laid”—Gary jabbed a finger at Bertie’s face—“don’t get your thong all in a twist. The Prince hasn’t been around. So I left a folder of orders his Highness needs to sign with instructions for him to return them today at the latest…to you.” Gary checked his stainless steel watch. “It’s a little after three. He’ll be here.”

Great. She didn’t need Keith showing up with orders and that toe-tingling, sexy smile. “Here? You told him to come here?”

“This is your office, isn’t it?” Gary said with a touch of annoyance.

“Dammit. What are you now? Yenta, the famous gay matchmaker?” Bertie planted her fists on her hips. “In case you’ve been unaware, I’ve been doing an excellent job of avoiding him for weeks. And as you can see, it’s been working.” Bertie jerked her head. “Look at all this work we’ve gotten done. We are down to the wire. I…we don’t need any more distractions.” She reached for an overflowing folder on her desk and shoved it into Gary’s hands. “This needs to go to the workroom along with the fabric. And you’re going to be here when Mr. Perfect Prince shows up with those papers.”

Gary laughed as he filed the folder in the container for the workroom. “As much as I’d like to be here for the booty call…uh, I don’t think so. Unless you think Morgan would be interested in a threesome.”

Bertie threw a pillow form at his head. “Spare me.
That
ain’t never gonna happen. Not with me, anyway.”

Gary shrugged. “Okay, so a threesome is out. You can’t blame a girl for trying. But if I were you, and believe me in this situation I wish I was”—Gary waggled his eyebrows at Bertie—“I’d be jumping that gorgeous man’s fine form and getting the best lay of my life.”

“He’s a client. I can’t sleep with a client,” Bertie explained as if she were speaking to a four-year-old.

“He won’t be in another three weeks. But you’re not going to last that long.”

Bertie opened her mouth to blast Gary, but what he said next stopped her. “Because he’s not going to last that long. Morgan needs to blow off some steam. Preferably with you. Who knows? Maybe you’ll be the next Mrs. Keith Morgan.”

Bertie gripped the back of her desk chair. Gary didn’t understand; he seemed to think she and Keith were playing at some game. “No way. I’m not even on the short list, and I don’t want to be.” Gary flashed a dubious look. “You don’t understand. He has to marry or at least be engaged within the next three weeks or Francesca is going to take custody of Maddie.”

Gary pooh-poohed, “Francesca wouldn’t do that. She’s bluffing.”

Bertie shook her head. “I was there. I’ve never seen her so fierce. She means business. That’s why Keith is so stressed out. He goes to Raleigh
a
lot
. He must’ve met someone there.” Bertie shoved a box of small glass tiles with her foot toward Gary to add to his load. “Keith is simply my client. And you and I would be smart to remember that. I have a lot riding on this job. I can’t screw it up.”

“You mean you can’t screw Keith, in the biblical sense.”

“Yeah, in both senses. Besides, he has a ton of baggage.”

“Like what?”

“Like his wife’s death and the fact that he married only because he got her pregnant, and he never really loved her but feels guilty about it all the same.”

“Whoa. Where did you hear that? Don’t tell me you’re listening to Harmony gossip.”

“No. I brought dinner over to Aunt Franny’s the other night and for some reason she felt compelled to spill his life story.”

Gary gave Bertie a strange look. The one where he knew something but he wouldn’t reveal what it was. “Interesting. What else did she say?”

“You’re not going to start blabbing all over town, are you? I don’t think Aunt Franny or Keith would appreciate it.”

“Dang. Give me some credit, would you?” Gary gave her another funny look. “What else did Francesca tell you?”

“She said that Keith’s dad died when he was young and that his mother was never the same. She basically dumped Keith in a boarding school and then moved to Europe. He rarely saw her and still doesn’t, which is why Aunt Franny took such a special interest in him.”

“Ah, the plot thickens,” Gary said, using his dramatic voice.

“No drama and no plot,” Bertie said as she stapled fabric cuttings to a stack of purchase orders with unnecessary force. “In three weeks, we’ll be finished with this job and Keith will be bringing a new mom home to Maddie.” Bertie accidently stapled her thumb. “Ouch! Dammit all to hell.” She shoved her thumb in her mouth as tears sprang to her eyes.

“You okay?”

Bertie nodded still sucking her thumb. “Yep. Fine.” She examined her sore thumb and concluded there’d be no amputation. But something tugged at her heart on the inside. Every time she pictured cute Maddie, she imagined her laughing and singing and baking cookies with her new mom which happened
not
to be Bertie.
As
it
should
be, Bertha.
She barely knew the little girl. Therefore, she shouldn’t feel any connection to her. Right? Right.

“At the end of three weeks, I get to finally move on. End of story,” Bertie said with way more conviction than she felt. She glanced at Gary. “What?” She could’ve sworn he said, “You’re kidding yourself,” under his breath.

“You’re still moving? After you finish the renovation?”

Bertie detected a sharp edge to his tone. Maybe. No. Yes. She didn’t know. Bertie avoided the question. “The electrician needs the specs on the sconces for the living room. Have the sconces been delivered?”

“Along with the track lighting, the lanterns for the dining room, and all the bathroom lights.” Gary ticked off on his fingers. “Now, stop stalling and answer my question. Don’t you think I have the right to know?” Gary crossed his arms with a stern glare.

Bertie pushed a hunk of hair behind her ear and sat in front of her computer, pretending to read a spreadsheet. “I’m not sure,” she murmured. “About moving. I haven’t spoken with the firm in Atlanta recently. We’ve only exchanged a few emails, but they haven’t confirmed whether they could still use me or not. And what about DP? They’re going to start another house with my bonus money. I’d hate to leave in the middle of that.”

“Uh-huh. You know…it’s okay. You’re allowed to change your mind. I’m a selfish bastard. I don’t want to see you leave,” he said.

Bertie swiveled in her desk chair and faced him along with her internal battle. “It probably won’t be forever, but I really think DP needs me and after Keith’s…uh, after this renovation is over, I can devote more time to helping them. Besides, the Milners want to redo their master suite. She called yesterday and said she hated the color blue. She wants everything in lavender.”

Gary shot Bertie an incredulous look. “You have got to be joking. What do you mean she hates blue? She picked blue. She said blue was her favorite color because it matched her husband’s eyes. She signed off on every blue sample we showed her. Are you sure you heard correctly?” Gary plopped down on a mound of fabric samples piled up on the only other chair in the office.

“Yep. Apparently, she and Mr. Milner are having another world war and she said she never wanted to look at the color blue again. She wants everything in lavender and pink because she knows he’ll hate it and she hopes he moves to another room.”

Gary leaned back and groaned. “How come all we seem to attract are crackpot clients?”

“Who cares? The way I see it, the wackier the better. We get to write up another proposal on a master suite, and you and I have another job to do together. It doesn’t get much better than that.”

Bertie couldn’t keep her happy smile from spreading. She had reasons to stay in Harmony, and they were good reasons. Really good ones.

Gary stretched his legs out and clasped his hands behind his head. “You know, that’s the best news I’ve heard in a long time.”

“About the Milners?”

“No. About you staying in Harmony. Maybe you’ll make me an aunt one day.”

Bertie furrowed her brows. “Huh? How did we jump the track from me staying to you being an aunt?”

“Because I’ve seen Maddie Morgan in action. That ten-year-old could teach seminars on how to influence people to get what you want.” Gary grinned like a sleek panther toying with his prey.

Alarm prickled down her spine at what Gary implied. “What do you mean by that?”

“I can read her like I read
Esquire
magazine. That little girl wants a new mama and she wants her to be you.”

Bertie slumped in her chair. Sweet sassy molassy.

***

“What’d you think?’ Keith asked Gail as they stepped onto the sidewalk outside an old historic home converted into a restaurant and bar. He had brought Gail to downtown Raleigh for dinner and to hear a new jazz band.

“The food was great. The music will take some getting used to. I’m more of a current pop kinda girl.”