will always be a problem to solve when you are a father.”
“True,” Elizabeth said.
“What do you think, Sarah?” Marcos asked.
“I think I’ll be fine.”
“You do not answer the question.”
She glared at him. “Rick and I are seeing each other again, but it’s just a trial. I don’t know if we’re going to really get back together.”
“Of course you are,” Elizabeth said. “He’ll step up once he realizes how lucky he is. This is just a bump in the road. You two will be fine.”
Her mother’s assurances held a false note, as if she was trying to convince herself along with Sarah.
“
Mom
,” Sarah said warningly.
Marcos put his hand on Elizabeth’s. “I have learned from my daughter that she is to live her own life without my opinion. Perhaps it should be the same with Sarah. Besides,” he cocked his head at Sarah, “I do not think she is so sure of her young man as you are.” Turning back to Elizabeth, he said, “So you will come to France with me?”
With another worried glance at Sarah, Elizabeth said, “Maybe.”
“Good. It is decided. We will go to France, prune vines, and I will court you more so you will think of nothing but us, and Sarah can figure out her own life.”
Later, after Sarah helped her mother clear the table and they were in the kitchen cleaning up, she asked Elizabeth, “Do you think you and Marcos will get married?”
The pan her mother was drying landed on the counter with a clunk. “Don’t you think it’s a little early for that? Besides, I’ve already been married once. That’s enough for a lifetime.”
Sarah groaned. “You can be so old-fashioned, Mom. Except I don’t even want to know what you and Marcos are doing when I’m not around.”
Elizabeth picked up the pot, gave it a few more swipes, and put it in the cupboard. “I’ve got other things to think about. You, for instance. I’m worried about you.”
“What about Annie’s wedding? The one you so helpfully suggested she have at the inn?”
Elizabeth smiled. “I figured it would be good publicity.” Her smile turned into a frown. “Will you be able to be ready in time? I mean, with Rick’s help, it should be doable.”
Sarah rolled her eyes. “Mom, Rick’s going to come down every other weekend. I’m sure he’s going to want to cook.”
And boss Mandy around in the kitchen.
Ugh. Trouble is coming.
“I’m sure he’ll do more than that.”
“Sure, Mom. Are you finished with the dishes?”
“Yes.”
“Let’s join Marcos in the living room and he can tell us what it’s like in France this time of year.”
Marcos obligingly described the upcoming pre-Lent carnivals in Italy and France. Soon Sarah’s mood lightened and the evening echoed the nights she’d shared with her mother in Italy the previous summer.
In spite of the pleasant mood, Sarah didn’t sleep well Friday night. Saturday morning’s decaf coffee didn’t make a dent in her fatigue. She ambled around the house, moving things from one place to another, not really accomplishing anything.
Truth was, she was at a standstill until she could get some furniture. Maybe she should work on the website. She turned on the computer and began to surf other inns’ sites for ideas.
An hour later, Daisy’s bark and the crunch of gravel let her know Rick had arrived.
Her chest tightened, but she rose and went to greet him.
Rick grinned when she opened the door. “Here I am! Right on time!” His arms were full of bags with feathery carrot tops, large chard leaves, and a baguette sticking out.
She moved aside to let him in. Daisy stayed by her side, not giving Rick the warm exuberance the dog had bestowed on Hunter.
Rick strode toward the kitchen, whistling. By the time she got to the sunny room, he’d pushed her computer to the edge of the table and plunked the bags of food on the table.
“Where are you stowing your pots?”
She pointed, knowing what his reaction was going to be.
“This is it?” He
“True,” Elizabeth said.
“What do you think, Sarah?” Marcos asked.
“I think I’ll be fine.”
“You do not answer the question.”
She glared at him. “Rick and I are seeing each other again, but it’s just a trial. I don’t know if we’re going to really get back together.”
“Of course you are,” Elizabeth said. “He’ll step up once he realizes how lucky he is. This is just a bump in the road. You two will be fine.”
Her mother’s assurances held a false note, as if she was trying to convince herself along with Sarah.
“
Mom
,” Sarah said warningly.
Marcos put his hand on Elizabeth’s. “I have learned from my daughter that she is to live her own life without my opinion. Perhaps it should be the same with Sarah. Besides,” he cocked his head at Sarah, “I do not think she is so sure of her young man as you are.” Turning back to Elizabeth, he said, “So you will come to France with me?”
With another worried glance at Sarah, Elizabeth said, “Maybe.”
“Good. It is decided. We will go to France, prune vines, and I will court you more so you will think of nothing but us, and Sarah can figure out her own life.”
Later, after Sarah helped her mother clear the table and they were in the kitchen cleaning up, she asked Elizabeth, “Do you think you and Marcos will get married?”
The pan her mother was drying landed on the counter with a clunk. “Don’t you think it’s a little early for that? Besides, I’ve already been married once. That’s enough for a lifetime.”
Sarah groaned. “You can be so old-fashioned, Mom. Except I don’t even want to know what you and Marcos are doing when I’m not around.”
Elizabeth picked up the pot, gave it a few more swipes, and put it in the cupboard. “I’ve got other things to think about. You, for instance. I’m worried about you.”
“What about Annie’s wedding? The one you so helpfully suggested she have at the inn?”
Elizabeth smiled. “I figured it would be good publicity.” Her smile turned into a frown. “Will you be able to be ready in time? I mean, with Rick’s help, it should be doable.”
Sarah rolled her eyes. “Mom, Rick’s going to come down every other weekend. I’m sure he’s going to want to cook.”
And boss Mandy around in the kitchen.
Ugh. Trouble is coming.
“I’m sure he’ll do more than that.”
“Sure, Mom. Are you finished with the dishes?”
“Yes.”
“Let’s join Marcos in the living room and he can tell us what it’s like in France this time of year.”
Marcos obligingly described the upcoming pre-Lent carnivals in Italy and France. Soon Sarah’s mood lightened and the evening echoed the nights she’d shared with her mother in Italy the previous summer.
In spite of the pleasant mood, Sarah didn’t sleep well Friday night. Saturday morning’s decaf coffee didn’t make a dent in her fatigue. She ambled around the house, moving things from one place to another, not really accomplishing anything.
Truth was, she was at a standstill until she could get some furniture. Maybe she should work on the website. She turned on the computer and began to surf other inns’ sites for ideas.
An hour later, Daisy’s bark and the crunch of gravel let her know Rick had arrived.
Her chest tightened, but she rose and went to greet him.
Rick grinned when she opened the door. “Here I am! Right on time!” His arms were full of bags with feathery carrot tops, large chard leaves, and a baguette sticking out.
She moved aside to let him in. Daisy stayed by her side, not giving Rick the warm exuberance the dog had bestowed on Hunter.
Rick strode toward the kitchen, whistling. By the time she got to the sunny room, he’d pushed her computer to the edge of the table and plunked the bags of food on the table.
“Where are you stowing your pots?”
She pointed, knowing what his reaction was going to be.
“This is it?” He
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