The Manning Grooms by Debbie Macomber

surprisingly little food left over. Ryan and Ronnie had discovered her chocolate chip cookies, thanks to Jason, and the three dozen she’d brought had disappeared in no time. She’d set out the fresh fruit-and-cheese platter and that had disappeared, too. There were a couple of sandwiches still wrapped, but they’d keep for her and Carrie to eat the following day.
    “It’s about the ninth-grade dance,” Carrie said stiffly from behind her.
    Charlotte froze. This wasn’t a subject she wanted to discuss, not again. “I’ve said everything I’m going to say about it, Carrie. The subject is closed.”
    “I hope you realize you’re ruining my entire life,” Carrie announced theatrically.
    “Dropping you off at the dance and picking you up myself is a reasonable compromise, I think.”
    “Then you think wrong. I’d…rather walk to schoolnaked than have you drive me to the dance as if…as if there wasn’t a single boy in the entire class who wanted to be seen with me.”
    She sighed. “I’ll be happy to pick up Brad, too, if that’ll help.” That was more than she was really in favor of, but she supposed she could live with it.
    “Then everyone will think I asked Brad to the dance. I mean, I know girls do that, but it’s important to me that a certain girl find out that Brad asked me. How can you do this, Mom? Can’t you see how important this is?” Her eyes were imploring, a look designed to melt any mother’s heart.
    Charlotte steeled herself. “You’re too young, Carrie, and that’s the end of it.”
    “You don’t understand what you’re doing to me!” Carried wailed.
    “The subject is closed.”
    “Fine, ruin my life. See if I care.” She stalked out of the kitchen, arms swinging.
    With a heavy sigh, Charlotte watched her go. This argument was getting old. She’d been under the impression that her daughter had accepted her decision. But now it was apparent Carrie had only been regrouping, altering her tactics. Cool reason had evolved into implied guilt. Her fifteen-year-old made it sound as though Charlotte had done untold psychological damage by not letting her go on an actual date. Well, so be it, Charlotte decided. This issue was one she didn’t intend to back down on any more than she already had.
    Pulling out a kitchen chair, Charlotte sank tiredly into it, resting her face in her hands. She sighed again. She had trouble enough raising one child; she was insane to even contemplate having another.
    A baby.
    But she did want another child, so badly she ached with it. Holding Jeremy, Jamie and Rich’s little boy, had stirred to life a craving buried deep within her heart. She attempted to push the desire away, rebury it, anything but acknowledge it. She’d had to repress this desire several times over the years.
    A baby now was out of the question, she stubbornly reminded herself. She was too old; there were dangers for a woman on the other side of thirty-five. But age was the least of her concerns.
    Getting pregnant required a man. Even more problematic, it required making love.
    The sadness that weighed down Charlotte’s heart felt impossible to carry alone. Tears blurred her eyes. If ever there was a man she could love, it was Jason Manning. But the thought of falling in love again terrified her. Charlotte was afraid of love. Afraid of all the feelings and desires Jason had stirred to life. He was wonderful. His family was wonderful. But it was a painful kind of wonderful, taunting her with all that was never meant to be in her life.
    Charlotte had dealt with her share of problems. Finances. Isolation. Low self-esteem. Everything had been a struggle for her. She didn’t know how to react to wonderful.
    For the first time since her divorce, Charlotte felt the protective walls she’d erected around her heart being threatened. Those barriers were fortified by years of disappointment, years of resentment and pain. Now they seemed to be crumbling and all because of a man she’d never