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  Michael tried to concentrate on his wife's words. He dug his hands in the soapy water as she rambled on about her lunch date with Debbie. He rinsed the pan and handed it to Sandy.

  ". . . and you should see Debbie's new van. It has all kinds of features for the handicapped. She plans on picking up Martin tomorrow and taking him for a drive." Sandy wiped the pan dry with the towel and set it on the counter.

  The uncomfortable visit with Martin replayed in his head. Martin's distrust of him had been palpable. He didn't believe for one minute Michael would return. That didn't say much for how he treated people. He'd prove Martin wrong. But paralyzed or not, Martin had been his best friend for thirty- five years. And Michael planned on visiting him again next week.

  "Honey, did you hear me?" Sandy took a step toward him, a frown creasing her forehead.

  Michael pulled the plug from the sink and watched the dirty dishwater disappear. "Did you say something?"

  "I told Debbie it will be like old times." Sandy turned and stacked the pots on the counter. "We could make a picnic lunch, meet them at New Brighton Beach, and hang out for a while. The weather's supposed to be gorgeous on Sunday."

  "Sandy, I told you my meeting with him didn't go well. He doesn't want to see me again." Michael threw his hands up in the air, water spraying the already dried pans.

  "Did he tell you that?"

  "No. He turned away from me when I told him I'd visit him again."

  "It'd been three years."

  Ouch. Michael wiped his hands on a towel. His wife was right.

  "You can't expect Martin to be like he was before. He's a different man." Sandy leaned against the granite counter, her arms folded across her chest. "Goodness knows Debbie's had to make adjustments." She approached Michael and rested her hands on his shoulders. "The more time you spend with Martin, the more comfortable you'll be. Please?"

  Michael didn't think it was possible. The secret Martin had been hanging on to would hopefully go to his grave. Debbie had been sworn to secrecy too. Martin had told Michael for years to come clean and ask his wife for forgiveness, but he didn't want to risk it. Not now with Julia's wedding around the corner—maybe not ever.

  Michael looked down at Sandy's chocolate-colored eyes. She was beautiful—inside and out. He didn't want her to suspect anything. He'd have to concede.

  "Okay, honey. Sunday. We'll have a picnic with the DeWitts."

  Sandy reached up and pecked him on the cheek. "Let's invite your mother and Claire too."

  "My mother? Really? Wait a minute. You didn't say anything about making this a family affair—"

  "I thought having them at the picnic would be a nice buffer, you know, in case there's a moment of awkward silence. Your mom usually keeps the conversation going."

  Thoughts of the past month swirled in his mind. He liked having his mother around. She was fun, caring, and always ready to share a good laugh. But there was the serious side of her too. She was stubborn, proud, and took the high road with relationships. She wanted Michael to take care of his past and was here to make sure he did.

  Michael clenched his fist, then slid it into his pocket. Did he want his mother involved? She might say something she would later regret. And Claire. Why should she have to know his mistakes from the past?

  "Honey? What do you say?" Sandy's brown eyes pleaded. A clear indication that she wanted his answer to be "yes."

  "Why not?" He said it more like a question than a definitive answer. As long as his wife was happy and unsuspecting. Michael would need to bend over backward to keep his mother busy. And Claire. Hopefully, she'd forgotten about the letter. Michael's stomach tightened into a hard knot. He was not only going to face his past head-on, but bring his mother and caregiver to watch his life unfold.

  "I told Debbie I'd go to church with her in the morning. She doesn't want to be alone her first time back." Sandy's face softened. "Thought you'd understand. Honey, the accident shook both yours and Debbie's faiths."

  The accident wasn't the only thing that had shaken his faith. Michael's insides twisted. The news he had shared with Martin before the accident had triggered his downward spiral away from God. Sure, he shot arrow prayers every now and then, but that was the extent of his relationship with the Almighty.

  Michael flopped down on the couch and grabbed the remote. "I'm not ready." He flipped channels until he found a college football game. He didn't care who was playing.

  Sandy came up behind him. "Think about it." She massaged his shoulders and neck. "We'll take one week at a time. Okay?"

  Making an appearance at church was as intimidating as looking Debbie in the eye. He felt as though everyone would see straight to his soul. And they wouldn't like what they saw. Darkness. A hole. A spot that he knew only God could fill.

  And yet, he couldn't go there. It had been years. He didn't feel worthy.

  But he couldn't make excuses any longer. He was tired. Tired of the mess he'd made.

  "Maybe next Sunday." He stared at the television as the football passed the goal line for a touchdown.

  Sandy swung around the couch and sidled up to him.

  Michael knew he had scored a few points himself.

  Claire hadn't thought about the letter in a couple of days. She had wedged it between the pages of her mom's journal and tucked the book in her dresser drawer. It had been nice to concentrate on her own life—taking care of Geraldine, and dreaming about her upcoming date with Blake. Life had taken on a nice rhythm.

  As she doled out the pills into the seven sections of Geraldine's pillbox, her cell phone jingled in her back jeans pocket. She quickly completed the row before she reached for the phone and answered it. "Hello?"

  "Claire, it's me, Samantha."

  "Samantha, it's so good to hear your voice! What's been happening with the most put-together woman I know?" She envied Samantha's life—her family, her college degree, and her ability to make it on her own. And she had a boyfriend to boot. Some women had all the luck. Claire needed someone in her life to inspire her to keep going. And Samantha was that person.

  "Oh, not so put together. The opposite, in fact." Samantha let out a breath. "Would you believe me if I told you my landlord is selling my house, I've been laid off from my job, and my boyfriend told me he's in love with someone else?"

  "NO!" Claire's voice lowered. "You can't be serious." She twisted the lid back on the medicine bottle.

  "Yes, it's true."

  Claire stared at the row of pill bottles. She would hold off finishing her task until her phone call ended. She didn't want to mess up when Geraldine was counting on her to keep track of her medications. "Don't keep me in suspense." She heard shuffling noises in the background.

  "My landlord put up a for sale sign yesterday. I discovered it when I came home after being laid off."

  "So, what are you going to do?"

  "Move. I'm packing right now. Mom and Dad want to help me out until I land another job and find a new place. Nice of them, huh?"

  "Speaking from experience, don't stay too long." One year with Haley was more than enough.

  "Oh, no. It's definitely only temporary."

  "Capitola is a beautiful place. You should move here." The idea popped out. "We'd have so much fun!"

  "Thanks, but I don't know if I'm ready for a drastic change. I want to stay here in case Jason changes his mind." Samantha's voice sounded desperate.

  "Jason, as in the guy who thinks he's in love with someone else?" Claire placed a hand on her hip. "Any man who dumps you for another woman is crazy. He's not worth the effort." She swatted the air as if she were shooing away a fly. "Forget about him and come to Capitola."

  "Two years of dating down the tubes. A promising career cut short. Life is the pits."

  "Samantha, you sound like Eeyore." Claire slouched down in her chair.

  "I guess I do seem pretty miserable . . . but I am."

  Claire would be miserable too if she dated Blake for two years and then he dumped her. She pan
icked. Should she cancel their date tonight before their relationship progressed any further? No. She couldn't do it. Geraldine was looking forward to a visit from Nancy and Vivian. And if she was honest with herself, she was looking forward to spending time with Blake.

  "Hello?"

  She realized Samantha was waiting. "Hey, look on the bright side."

  "And what could that be?"

  "Things could be worse." Your mom is still living.

  "How's it going for you in the love department? Any chance encounters with the handsome neighbor?" Samantha teased.

  "Since you mentioned it, yes." Claire took hold of the rose from the vase sitting in the middle of the table, brought the lovely flower close to her face, and inhaled the sweet fragrance. "We're going out tonight."

  Samantha's tone lifted. "What if he tries to kiss you?"

  "I don't want to think about kissing—yet."

  "Wise woman."

  Butterflies danced in Claire's stomach. She hoped they'd fly away by six o'clock. "I'm not ready for anything—you know—serious."

  Claire could hear the sincerity in Samantha's voice. "I can't wait to hear all about it. Have a good time, friend."

  "Thanks. You hang in there. And think about Capitola, okay?"

  "Will do."

  Claire clicked her phone shut, set it on the table, and continued counting Geraldine's pills. Samantha's words played over in her mind. "What if he tries to kiss you?" The thought sent a shiver down her spine and a smile to her lips. Would she let him this time?

  At 5:00 p.m., Nancy and Vivian appeared at the door with a red dress, a stack of DVDs, and a large pepperoni pizza.

  "Here you go." Nancy handed her the dress. "It's an Ann Taylor. Simple, yet elegant."

  "Thank you. I knew you were the right person to call. "Claire held the dress under her chin. "How do you think it'll look?"

  "Beautiful."

  Claire grinned. "Thanks again. I'll go hang it in my closet."

  After she hung up the dress, she remembered the two hundred dollars she received from Haley. Now was a good time to make her first payment to the two sisters. As she entered the kitchen, the smell of cheesy pizza wafted through the air. Her stomach growled. All of a sudden a relaxed girls' night in sounded more fun than a fancy night out.

  "Movie night with Geraldine." Nancy laid the Meg Ryan flicks on the coffee table. "Too bad you can't join us." She winked at Claire.

  "Of course, she'll be in the presence of a handsome man." Vivian pulled out paper plates and plastic forks. "I'd rather be in her shoes."

  Shoes that were too high and uncomfortable? Claire walked over to the pizza and took a whiff. "Do you have to torture me? This smells good." She handed Vivian two twenty-dollar bills. "For the paint," she whispered.

  Vivian tucked the money in her pocket.

  "Help yourself to a slice. But I wouldn't if I were you. Bella Roma has the best Italian food in town." Nancy looked around. "Where's Geraldine?"

  "In her room. She's folding laundry. I told her I'd do it, but she insisted on doing it herself." Claire shrugged.

  Nancy approached the kitchen and grabbed plates from the cabinet. "That's how she stays young—by keeping active."

  Claire slipped forty dollars into Nancy's hand. "For the valances," she spoke in a hushed tone.

  "Claire." Nancy's eyebrows were arched, her voice soft. "We can work this out later."

  The ends of Claire's lips turned up in a mischievous smile.

  "I'd let Nancy fold my clothes anytime." Vivian let out an unladylike snort. "I'm willing to fold Nancy's laundry, even Tom's boxers, so I figure we're even."

  Nancy placed both her hands on the back of Claire's shoulders and pushed her to the bathroom. "Take a bubble bath, pamper yourself. Don't worry. I'll check on Geraldine right now."

  A night off sounded better with each passing minute. "Thank you for coming. And for letting me borrow the dress." Claire tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. "I think I'll take that bubble bath now."

  "Oh, that reminds me. I brought you something." Nancy reached into her purse and pulled out two small bottles of bath oils. "One is rose and the other lavender. I couldn't decide which one you'd like better, so I brought both."

  "Nancy, you didn't have to do that." Claire glanced down at the expensive-looking bottles. "But thank you. I think rose is the right scent for tonight." She glanced at the single flower on the dining room table, gave Nancy a quick hug, then went into the bathroom and closed the door.

  Twenty minutes later, Claire wore her cozy blue bathrobe with a towel draped around her head. She felt like a new woman. Clean. Fresh. And ready to dress up.

  Nancy, Vivian, and Geraldine sat close together on the couch drinking soda, eating pizza, and watching Tom Hanks and Meg Ryan in You've Got Mail.

  "I love that movie." Claire clutched the top of her robe. "Are you sure you want me to leave, Geraldine?"

  "If you want, I'll go out with Blake." Geraldine smirked. "But I don't think I am what he's got in mind. I wouldn't look right in that adorable red dress, and those red heels would kill my feet."

  Geraldine was something else. She envied a woman who could act young even in her eighties. Claire laughed as she took the towel off her head. Her wet hair hung down in a tangled mess. "You three look quite comfortable sitting there."

  "I want to see how the dress fits." Nancy took a bite of pizza.

  "Shhhhh," Vivian scolded. "This is a good part."

  "I'll be out as fast as I can." Claire slipped into her bedroom. She blew her hair dry in sections, straightening each piece. Would Blake like the new look? He had only seen her hair wavy. She applied a thin layer of foundation, a few strokes of blush, a coat of mascara, and a few swipes of lip gloss, then slipped the dress on over her head and stepped into her red high heels. The only thing she needed was a jacket. She thumbed through the few choices in her closet. A black cardigan wouldn't do the borrowed dress justice, but she grabbed it from the hanger and put it on.

  The doorbell rang. Her stomach lurched. Blake was right on time. As usual.

  25

  Blake, come on in." Vivian grabbed him by the arm and pulled him into the house. "Don't you look handsome . . . and that cologne—" She leaned in, a smile tugging on her lips.

  "Vivian," Nancy called from the couch. "Leave the man alone. You're embarrassing him."

  Claire giggled from her bedroom doorway. Blake did look handsome in his polo shirt, pants, and sport coat. She could see him scan the room. He turned his head in her direction and caught her eye.

  It was time she made her entrance. She glided into the room in her red high heels.

  "Claire, don't you look like a princess." Geraldine fumbled with the remote and paused the movie as Tom Hanks and Meg Ryan moved in for the kiss. Was that planned?

  "Your hair is beautiful. And the dress fits you like a glove." Nancy walked over to her and gently laid a hand on her shoulder. "Don't worry about a thing. Geraldine will be well looked after," she whispered.

  A tingle rushed down her spine when she saw the grin on Blake's face as he watched her come toward him. Her mouth felt like a desert on a hot day. She attempted to swallow, but instead she croaked, "Blake, you're right on time."

  "I wouldn't be late for this night." Blake lifted his elbow and flashed her a smile. "Ready to go?"

  Ready? That was a loaded question. Ready to get out of the house from all the staring eyes? Yes. Ready to be alone with one of the most handsome men she had ever seen? Debatable. She didn't trust herself after their last encounter together.

  "Claire?" The look on Blake's face shifted to concern.

  Claire shook the bad feelings away and slipped her hand in the crook of his arm. "Ready."

  "You have your key?" Geraldine motioned.

  "Oh, Geraldine. Claire won't be late. She's going out to dinner." Nancy winked at Claire. "Besides, we'll wait for her to return before heading home."

  "For goodness' sake, they're not children." Vivian
reached behind Claire and Blake and guided them through the doorway. "Have a great time, you two. See you later." She shut the door behind them.

  "Well, that was awkward." Claire stepped carefully down the front steps holding tight to Blake's arm. "Sorry about that."

  "Nothing to worry about. Those women care about you." Blake placed his hand on top of hers.

  "I'd say the same for you." Claire chuckled. "Did you see the way Vivian ogled?"

  "I think it's time Vivian had her own date."

  "Got anyone in mind?"

  "No." Blake shook his head. "It would take a strong man to handle that woman. You look beautiful, by the way." Blake's steely blue eyes shone with admiration as he opened the passenger door to his truck.

  "Thank you. You're not so bad yourself." Claire sat down, then swung her legs inside. Blake shut her door, dashed around the truck, and hopped in the other side.

  "Oh no. My purse!" Claire blurted the minute Blake inserted the key into the ignition. "I'll be right back." She kicked off her heels, opened the car door, and ran back into the house barefoot.

  "Back so soon?" Vivian stood in the kitchen dishing up three hefty bowls of ice cream.

  "Remember, I don't want much," Geraldine called over her shoulder. "Claire, what are you doing? And where are your shoes?"

  "In Blake's truck." She took off toward her room. "I forgot my purse."

  "Don't leave that man for long," Vivian called from the kitchen. "The way he looks tonight, another woman may appear out of nowhere and join him . . . like me, for example."

  Claire snatched her purse from her bed and headed toward the front door. She caught Vivian licking the ice cream spoon as she peered out the window. "Thanks for the tip. See you later."

  She skipped down the steps and rejoined Blake in the truck. "A woman can't go anywhere without her purse."

  "I don't get it." The truck's engine roared to life. "What do you carry in there that's so important?" Blake chuckled.

  "Oh, I don't know." Claire clutched her purse to her chest." Personal things like lipstick, a hairbrush, a wallet—"

  "That's one thing you won't need tonight." Blake grinned at her with warm eyes. "I'm old-fashioned. When I take a woman out to dinner, I pay."