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Annie studied her mother speculatively. Ever since her dad had left, her mom could be talked into a lot of things if Annie played her cards right. “What if the other parents said okay?” she coaxed. “Would you let us do it then?”
“Absolutely not,” her mother said, holding firm.
“Then forget it! I don’t want to spend the night with a bunch of girls. Like I said, it’s totally lame.”
Now it was her mother’s turn to give her an odd, curious look. “When you went to Sarah’s a couple of weeks ago, were there boys there that night?”
Oops! Annie thought. No one was supposed to find out about that. No parents, anyway. “Of course not,” she lied.
“I will find out if you’re not telling me the truth,” her mother warned.
Annie just rolled her eyes. Her mom was clueless. There were at least a dozen things she’d done that her mom would flip out about if she ever found out about them.
“Don’t give me that look,” her mother said. “I can make a few calls and your goose will be cooked.”
“Not likely,” Annie said. She couldn’t think of a single soul who’d blab. Just in case, though, she probably ought to get her mother off on another track. “Maybe having Sarah over would be okay. And Raylene,” she added. “But that’s it.”
“Friday night,” her mom suggested, looking pleased. “And if you decide to ask a few more girls, it would be okay.”
Perfect, Annie thought. Her mom never got home from the restaurant before midnight on Fridays and Saturdays. If the guys stopped by, she just had to get them out the door by eleven forty-five. And if she could convince Ty to be one of those guys, even if she got caught, maybe her mom would think of Ty as a chaperone or something. Even though Annie didn’t think of him that way, her mom always said she was lucky to have him as kind of a surrogate big brother. As if, Annie thought.
She gave her mother an impulsive hug, noting once again that she’d probably gained another five pounds just since she’d opened the spa with Maddie and Helen. It wasn’t a very good recommendation for the place, in Annie’s opinion.
“Mom, I thought you were going on a diet,” she said accusingly.
“I am on a diet, but at my age it’s harder to lose weight,” her mom said, immediately on the defensive, which was where Annie liked her to be.
“I thought that’s why you guys opened that gym, so you could exercise and kick your metabolism back into gear. I’ll bet you don’t even spend ten minutes a day on the treadmill there, do you?”
“I do when I can,” she responded, her expression tense.
“Well, if you don’t lose it, you’re going to get sick and die like Grandma,” Annie said. “And I will not go and live with Dad.” She said it matter-of-factly, but the truth was the possibility terrified her—not of getting to be with her dad, but of her mom dying.
“I don’t think you need to worry about that,” she answered. “I have no intention of dying anytime soon, and we don’t even know where your father is.”
“I know,” Annie blurted without thinking. “He’s working down in Beaufort and living in some dump.”
Her mom looked stunned. “How do you know that? He sends his support checks through his attorney.”
Seeing the dismay on her mother’s face, Annie immediately felt guilty for keeping her dad’s calls a secret. “He’s phoned once or twice,” she admitted, unwilling to say it had been that many times just in the past couple of weeks. It wasn’t like her mom had ever said she couldn’t talk to him, or even see him if she wanted to. But initially Annie had made such a big deal about not taking his calls or visiting him that she hadn’t wanted to admit it when she’d finally started talking to him. It would have felt as if she were betraying her mom.
“When?”
“While you’re at work. He calls me on my cell phone, mostly.”
“I see,” her mother said, looking suddenly weary.
Annie could tell she wanted to say more, but she just turned and left the room…probably to get something to eat, if Annie knew anything about her. That was exactly why Annie had kept the calls a secret.
“I swear to God, if I could have gotten my hands on Ronnie right that second, I would have strangled him on the spot,” Dana Sue declared to Maddie the next morning in the gym. “I know I’m being ridiculous, that Annie has a right to talk to her dad, but I know he talked her into keeping it a secret.”
“Are you sure about that?” Maddie asked. “Maybe Annie was afraid it would hurt you to know they were talking again.”
Dana Sue scowled. “So now my own daughter’s afraid to be honest with me? Isn’t that great. Just one more giant gap between us. And before you ask, no, I have not set my goals. I was too furious to sit down and think about it last night, and I came straight here first thing this morning. You might as well call Helen and tell her, because I’m not up to her bullying me about it.”
“You need to work off some of that anger,” Maddie said, her tone soothing. “Why don’t you tell me the rest while we walk on the treadmills?”
“I hate the damn treadmill!” Dana Sue snapped. “I’m getting a blueberry muffin. I’ll be out on the patio when you finish being noble.”
Maddie merely sighed. “I’ll come with you.”
After they were seated, Dana Sue picked the blueberries out of the muffin and ate them, managing to leave most of the muffin on the plate. “I know I have no business eating this stuff, so don’t even say it,” she muttered.
“Not saying a word,” Maddie responded mildly.
Dana Sue pushed the plate away. “It’s been two damn years,” she said heatedly. “How can the mere mention of that man still get me so worked up?”
“Do you want an honest answer or was that a rhetorical question?” Maddie asked.
“An honest answer, please.”
“You’re still in love with him.”
“Don’t be absurd!”
Maddie shrugged. “You asked for honesty. Try being honest with yourself. And to be brutally honest, I’d say your reaction last night was just plain jealousy.”
Dana Sue stared at her friend incredulously. “You think I was jealous that my daughter has been talking to Ronnie?”
“Weren’t you?”
She bit back her inclination to snap out a denial, then frowned at Maddie. “You know me too damn well.”
Maddie grinned. “Yes, I do.” She studied Dana Sue for a moment. “What are you going to do about it?”
“Nothing. Are you nuts? The man cheated on me. I wouldn’t let him back into my life if he crawled on his knees.”
“Yeah, right,” Maddie murmured, her skepticism plain.
“I have my pride,” Dana Sue added.
“In spades,” she concurred.
“Well, then, you know I mean what I say.”
“I know you want to mean it,” Maddie said. “But if Ronnie Sullivan walked through that door right now, looking all sexy and sassy the way he always did, I wouldn’t want to bet against him.”
Unfortunately, if she was being totally honest, neither would Dana Sue. Fortunately, she doubted she’d ever be put to that test. If Ronnie had even half a grain of sense left in that handsome head of his, he’d never set foot in Serenity again.
Of course, if he’d loved her the way he’d claimed to, he never would have cheated on her. And—this was the kicker she always came back to—he would have stayed and fought for her. Sure, she’d made it plain she didn’t want him here. She’d even had Helen lay down all sorts of ground rules about his having only limited contact with Annie, which the idiot had actually agreed to. He should have known she was reacting in the heat of the moment, making outrageous demands because she was hurt. He knew her better than anyone, even better than Maddie or Helen, which was saying something. He knew she blew sky-high when her temper kicked in, then simmered for a while, then cooled down. But he’d gone anyway. He hadn’t waited around to see if she’d give him a second chance. That had told her all she really needed to know. He’d wanted to go. That was the bottom line.
She’d never admit it to a living, breathing soul, but that was what had hurt more than anything—Ronnie hadn’t loved her enough to stay. And that was his most unforgivable sin of all.
4
Ronnie was sitting in some dive of a bar with Toby Keith in the background singing a song about a “Dear John” note. Every time the singer repeated in a low, sad tone, “She’s gone,” Ronnie thought of Dana Sue. She was gone, all right, and he still didn’t have the first clue about how to win her back. He’d spent two years pondering the problem and, beyond his decision to do something by Thanksgiving, he was no closer to an action plan now than he’d been on the day he’d left Serenity.
Funny that twenty-seven years ago, when his family had moved to Serenity, he’d seen exactly what he needed to do to win Dana Sue’s heart. Even at fourteen he’d noticed how the boys swarmed around her, drawn not only to her long legs and developing chest, but to her easy temperament and laughter. He’d also realized that the only way to stand out from the crowd would be to feign indifference. Sure enough, that had caught her attention. He hadn’t pursued Dana Sue. She’d come after him. He wondered if that technique would work again.
Probably not, he concluded sadly. He’d been gone two years, and as near as he could tell, she wasn’t pining for him. She certainly hadn’t chased after him.
As he continued pondering a strategy, a thirty something woman wearing tight jeans, a low-cut tank top and spike heels slid onto the stool next to him. Her black hair was long and straight and her lipstick was as red as her tank top. She was a stark contrast to Dana Sue’s leggy, wholesome appearance. Most men would have found her sexy, but to Ronnie she was simply trying too hard.
“Hey, sugar, you look like you could use some company,” she said in a low purr that should have set his pulse racing.
He met her gaze, took a long, slow sip of his beer and tried to work up some enthusiasm for whatever she was offering. But pretty as she was, she wasn’t the woman he wanted.
Still, he forced a smile out of sheer habit. “Buy you a drink?”
“Sure,” she said. “A light beer.”
He beckoned the bartender over and placed the order, then swirled his own beer around in the glass, wondering why not one of the women who’d come on to him since his divorce had held any appeal. Maybe what he should have been asking himself was why one woman had managed to sneak through his defenses back when he’d still been very much married. To his everlasting regret, he couldn’t even remember what she’d looked like, or any highlight of their conversation.
“You want to talk about it?” his companion inquired, taking a sip of her beer. “My name’s Linda, by the way. Folks say I’m a real good listener.” She leaned in closer. “Among other things.”
Ronnie gave her another speculative once-over, but the attraction just wasn’t there for him.
“Come on,” she prodded. “Every man has a story he’s just dying to tell.”
“Not me,” he insisted.
“Broken heart, then,” she concluded. “Men hate talking about being dumped.”
“The broken heart wasn’t mine,” he corrected, then thought about it. In the end, his heart had been just as shattered as Dana Sue’s, and he’d had a load of guilt to go along with it.
“What did you do?” Linda asked. “Sleep around on her?”
“Something like that,” he admitted.
“Then I imagine you’ll do it again. Men always do.”
“Is that so?”
“In my experience, anyway.”
Amused by her world-weary attempt at wisdom, he said, “Then you must have real bad taste in men.”
She laughed. “Says the guy I’ve been coming on to for the past five minutes.”
“Like I said, bad taste,” he agreed. “But your luck’s about to change, because I’m going to do you a favor and take off.” He put some bills on the bar, then met her disappointed gaze. “And just so you know, if I ever convince my ex-wife to take me back, she’ll have nothing to worry about. I learned my lesson. She’s the only one for me.”
“You gonna try to sell me some of that swamp land east of here next?”
“Nope. I’m just gonna wish you better luck with the next guy who comes along,” he said, and walked away.
“I wonder if this ex of yours knows she’s a lucky woman,” she called after him.
Ronnie chuckled at that. “I most seriously doubt it, unless she considers herself damn lucky that I’m gone.”
“Then she’s a fool,” his new friend said.
Ronnie shook his head. “No,” he said in an undertone not meant to be heard, “that was me.”
And sometime in the next couple of months, he was going to try to convince Dana Sue of that.
Back in his dingy room at the motel his boss had made a deal with for the out-of-town construction crew, Ronnie checked the time, figured Dana Sue would still be at the restaurant and called Annie on her cell phone. After the first few months of sounding either angry or distant or both, she’d finally let down her guard. They’d almost recaptured the closeness they’d once shared. He treasured these calls and he was pretty sure Annie did, too. He missed his daughter as much as he missed Dana Sue. The months when Annie had frozen him out had taken a real toll on him, but he’d kept calling.
“Dad!” she said eagerly, sounding like her old self. “How are you?”
“I’m good,” he lied, then listened to the loud background noise on Annie’s end of the line. “Where are you, baby? It sounds like you’re at a party.”
“Wait a sec. I’ll go in the other room so I can hear you,” she said.
It was suddenly quiet on the other end of the line. “Where are you?” Ronnie asked again.
“At home. I have a few friends over.”
Ronnie might not be in line for any parent-of-the-year awards, but that didn’t sound good. “Isn’t your mom at work?” he asked.
Annie hesitated for a long moment, then said, “Yes, but she said I could have a sleepover tonight. In fact, it was her idea.”
“That’s great,” he enthused, but a vague suspicion that Annie was bending the truth continued to nag at him. He finally put his finger on it and asked, “Didn’t I hear some male voices?”
“Must have been the music,” she said glibly. “How are you, Dad?”
“I’m fine, and don’t try to change the subject, young lady. I seriously doubt your mother would be happy that there are boys over when she’s not there.”
“Ty’s here,” she said excitedly. “You always liked him.”
“Of course I did, but not at home with my daughter and her friends when there’s no adult in the house,” Ronnie said. “Is he the only guy there?”
“No,” she admitted.
“Sweetie, you know that’s not a good idea. Does your mom know about the boys coming by?”
The long silence that greeted the question pretty much answered it. He let it go on, knowing that Annie was incapable of lying to him. She might avoid the truth, but she wouldn’t outright lie.
Eventually she asked, “Are you gonna call Mom and tell her?”
