Summer at Seaside Cove (46 page)

Her eyes glistened with unshed tears. “After you graduated from college and moved into your own apartment, I was truly happy for you, and so proud of the wonderful young woman you'd become. How well you transitioned into the role of managing Newman's. But a part of me felt . . . so lost. My little girl was all grown up and on her own. I wasn't needed as a mom anymore.”

Jamie's heart felt as if it slipped from its moorings. “I'll always need you, Mom.”

Her mom shook her head. “But not in the same way you did growing up—which is completely normal. I understand that there's a natural growing apart, that the mother-daughter relationship changes as we both grow older. My mind knows that, but even though I love being your friend, I still clung to the past because it just
hurts
when your child grows up and away from you. And it's not really something you can understand until it happens to you.

“But then, only six months after you moved out, your dad died. And not only was I not a mom any longer, I wasn't a wife—the two roles that had defined me for more than half my life.”

She let out a shaky breath. “What I'm trying to say, is I really appreciate how much you've helped me with everything. You always have—even as a kid—but especially after your dad died.” She gave a watery laugh and looked down at her midsection. “And here you are, once again helping me. Taking care of me. You came here to sort out your own problems, and I swooped in with mine. I shouldn't have”—a pair of tears streaked down her cheeks—“but I really needed my best friend.”

Jamie's breath hitched and she pulled her mother into a tight hug. And for the first time since her mom had shown up at Paradise Lost, Jamie was glad she'd done so. “Mom. I'm always here for you.”

“I know. And I'm always here for you, too. You're just better at stuff than I am.”

Jamie shook her head. “Not true. You're a great mom.”

“I'm glad you think so.”

“I
know
so.” She leaned back and shot her a teasing grin. “Look how great I turned out.”

“You did. I couldn't have asked for a more wonderful child.”

“And I totally hit the parent lottery.”

“Even though I don't know how to file a tax return?”

“Phooey. That's what accountants are for.”

“Even though I suck at trigonometry?”

“Yup. Mom—you were good at the important stuff. Hugs and kisses and listening and sitting with me when I was sick and being proud of me and always making me feel loved. Even when I was a pain in the ass.”

“You were never a pain in the ass.”

Jamie cocked a brow. “You've obviously blocked out the moody teenage years.”

Mom laughed. “Okay, maybe you were a pest one or two times.”

“More like one or two thousand times, but it's very sweet—and just like you—to love me anyway.”

“And just like you to love me even though I've been a drama-prone, demanding mess.”

“Hey—that's what best friends are for.”

“You're going to make me cry,” Mom said, wiping her eyes.

“Yeah—like
that's
hard to do,” Jamie teased with an exaggerated eye roll.

Her mom smiled, then sobered. “A few months ago, I was browsing a self-help book and came across this proverb: When the winds of change are blowing, some people are building shelters and the others are building windmills. Those words struck me like a bolt of lightning and I realized that ever since your dad died, I'd been building shelters—protecting myself against the changes his death wrought, refusing to accept that my life was different and would never be the same.”

“I know it's been difficult for you, Mom.”

“There are days when it still is, although my grief support group helped a lot.” Her eyes grew misty. “I not only lost your dad, but the life we'd planned to share. I thought we'd grow old together. Even though your dad was older, I never truly envisioned being here without him. The adjustment's been . . . God. Brutal. I told myself I never wanted to go through anything like that ever again—no more changes. No more heartbreak. If I just kept my head down, and kept moving forward, one step at a time, I'd survive. And that's what I was doing. And doing it well, I thought, although with a lot of help from you. And I could have done that forever— just plodded along in the little rut of non-change I'd carved out for myself.”

She pulled in a deep breath. “But then, right around the time I read that proverb, I met Alex. And suddenly I was laughing and feeling things I hadn't felt in a very long time. Things I never thought I'd feel again. I figured, ‘He's young, he's fun, why not flirt a little?' ”

“You decided to come out of your shelter and build a windmill.”

“Yes.”

“That was brave of you.”

Mom huffed out a laugh. “I didn't feel brave. I was scared to death.” Her gaze filled with both confusion and unmistakable pride. “As much as I hated that you left New York, I can't deny it was a very brave step to take.”

A humorless sound escaped Jamie. “Not really. It's not as if I left permanently. I just took vacation time I'd been due forever. I'll be going home soon.” Those words tied an uncomfortable knot in her stomach, one she refused to examine, at least not right now. “What you did by getting involved with Alex—I imagine that felt like jumping off a diving board without knowing if there was water in the pool.”

“Exactly. It was supposed to be fun and easy, and it was. I started to really care for him, which I hadn't planned on. And then when I found out I was pregnant—it all became so incredibly complicated, and the whole time I've been here I haven't been able to think clearly. But that talk we all had while cooking for the potluck dinner made the proverbial lightbulb go off over my head, and I finally realized what was bothering me.”

“And what was it?”

“I was paralyzed with the fear of forgetting your father, of his memory fading until I wouldn't be able to recall him any longer. But being in that kitchen, cooking with Tom's two daughters and his granddaughter, I realized that he lives on through the three of you. You, Heather, and Laurel all have something of him in you, and he'll never be lost to me because of that. After that, I recalled something you'd said—something that condensed all my worries, all my fears, all my scattered thoughts down into one simple sentence, and it struck me just as hard as the windmill proverb had.”

“What did I say?”

“That you didn't see why my decision was so difficult—that if I love Alex, then I should be with him, and if I don't, I should tell him so and let him go. When I thought about it that way, I realized I'd been agonizing over something that was really a no-brainer.” Tears filled her eyes. “I love him, Jamie. I want to be with him. And have our baby with him. He's told me all along that he loves me—even before he knew about the baby, he'd told me. The fact that he rearranged his life to come here, to stay with me all this time, and didn't dump my pesky ass has proven to me that, miraculously, he means it. I . . . I accepted his proposal last night. We're planning a November wedding. Something very small. I didn't want to announce it at breakfast—I wanted to tell you privately first.”

Jamie smiled and pulled her mom into her arms for a long hug. “I'm really happy for you, Mom. Both of you. And so proud of you. You figured out what you wanted all on your own. And you're going to be a fantastic mom. Again.”

“I certainly hope so.”

Jamie leaned back and teased, “And I'm going to have the hottest stepdad on the planet.”

Her mom laughed—erasing any worries Jamie may have had that she wasn't secure in her decision—then heaved a gushy sigh. “He really is great, Jamie.”

“And very lucky to have you.”

“That's what he says.”

“Good. And he better keep saying it, or I'm going to whack him upside his head. And I have the All-Clad pans to do it with.”

Her mom's gaze turned serious. “What about you? Even though I've been immersed in my own drama, it hasn't escaped my notice that you and Nick have become . . . close.”

Heat flooded Jamie's face. Darn it, she could actually feel the blotches creeping up her neck. “We're . . . enjoying each other's company.”

“I like him very much.”

Jamie smiled. “I like him very much, too.” And she meant it. So why did the words feel like a lie?
Maybe because you more than ‘like him very much,'
her pesky inner voice whispered.

“You're heading back to New York in just over two weeks' time,” her mom said. “What happens then?”

An unpleasant cramping sensation gripped Jamie. She gave what she hoped passed for a carefree laugh. “Then we won't be enjoying each other's company anymore.”

Saying the words out loud gave her a heart owie that continued to linger the entire time she and her mom walked back to Paradise Lost. But no matter how much the heart owie hurt, Jamie knew she'd just have to suck it up. Nick's life was here. He'd made it clear he'd never leave Seaside Cove. Her family, her job, her
everything
was in New York. And in little more than two weeks from now, their time together would be over.

When they arrived back at Paradise Lost, her mom went directly to Alex, and with their hands joined, they announced they were getting married. Congratulations and hugs were shared all around, then a flurry of activity commenced as Alex loaded Jamie's mother's car with their luggage, and Laurel and Heather's bags were moved downstairs to await the arrival of the taxi that would drive them to the airport for their flight to Italy.

“We would have driven you,” Jamie's mom said to Laurel, “but there's no way we could fit everyone and all the luggage as well into my car.”

“Definitely not my luggage,” Laurel agreed with a laugh. “A light packer I am not.”

Nick gave Jamie's hand a light squeeze. “I need to get something from Southern Comfort. Be right back.”

While he was gone, Jamie and Heather returned to the house and performed a quick check through each room to make sure none of their belongings were left behind. They'd just finished and were about to head back downstairs where the others were waiting when Nick entered the house holding a Piggly Wiggly bag.

“For you,” he said to Heather, handing her the bag.

“You're giving me groceries?” Heather asked with a giggle.

“No—I just don't have any wrapping paper.”

Still giggling, Heather looked in the bag. Then gasped. Her eyes widened and her gaze flew to Nick's. “No way,” she said, then pulled a black jacket bearing a formidable-looking tiger from the bag. “But . . . but this is your Princeton beer jacket,” she said, tracing the bright orange numbers that denoted the year Nick graduated. “I can't accept this.”

“Sure you can. Consider it a belated birthday present.”

“But what will you wear to your reunions?”

“Only alumni who are out of school four years or less wear them. After that the class designs something new. So if I decide to go to a reunion, I wouldn't wear my beer jacket anyway.” He shot her a conspiratorial wink. “When you tell your mom what it is, be sure to call it a senior jacket.”

“I will, I def will,” she said in a breathless voice. She dropped the Piggly Wiggly bag and shrugged into the jacket. It was way too big on her, but she quickly rolled back the sleeves, then held out her arms and asked in an awed voice, “What do you think?”

“I think it looks a lot better on you than it ever did on me,” Nick said with a laugh.

“OMG, Lindsey is just going to
die
when I text her!” She launched herself at Nick and gave him a quick hug, then, with her face resembling a ripe tomato, she stepped back. “Thanks, Nick. It's the coolest present ever. Seriously. I can't wait to show everyone.”

“You're welcome.”

She dashed from the house, and as the screen door banged shut behind her, her excited voice floated through the window, “OMG, Mom, wait 'til you see what Nick gave me!”

Jamie turned to Nick and her heart . . . God, how many owies could it take in one day? It was one thing for him to be nice to her, but quite another for him to make her niece look like she'd just been given the moon and stars. “That was really nice of you.”

He set his hands on her hips and urged her forward until their pelvises lightly bumped. “I'm a really nice guy.”

Yes, he was. And the idea of saying good-bye to him—

She ruthlessly cut off the thought and shoved it as far down as it would go into the Cross That Bridge When I Get There abyss. “So I've noticed. I don't think I've ever seen her so excited. Especially over something most teenagers wouldn't be caught dead wearing.”

“Speaking of stuff you wouldn't wear . . .” He slipped a single finger beneath the thin strap of her tank top, eliciting a delighted shiver from her. “I'm looking forward to you not wearing this top.” His other hand slid down to cup her bottom. “Or these shorts. And as soon as all these people leave—”

His words were cut off by the honking of a horn. “Sounds like they're ready to go.”

“Good. Because as much as I like them, I'm ready for them to be gone.”

Jamie couldn't help but laugh. “Me, too.”

They joined the others downstairs, and amid much hugging, laughing, and a few tears, Jamie's mom and Alex piled into the car, while Laurel, Heather, and their mountain of luggage squeezed into the taxi, then both vehicles drove away. Jamie and Nick waved until they'd turned the corner and vanished from view. The instant they did, Nick swung her up in his arms and walked purposefully toward the stairs.