“I guess it’s true that a grandbaby can move mountains.” Laurel smiled and rested her hand on his thigh. It was entirely distracting, that hand. Particularly when there wasn’t a thing he could do about it when they were surrounded by what seemed a hundred Fortune family members. He honestly couldn’t even say where they all were coming from. Their wedding guest list had somehow gotten completely out of control. Probably what they deserved, having left a lot of those details in the hands of Ashley, Megan and Nicole this past month.
The wedding itself was supposed to be a simple affair—to be held outside at the Fame and Fortune Ranch with a barbecue to follow as a reception. All Adam really cared about was having his family there. They had all come down from New York, even his brothers, Brady, Brian and Josh, and his sister, Arabella. And his dad seemed to be on good behavior for once.
Somehow, though, the affair was turning out to be a little larger than they’d anticipated. But Adam didn’t really care if the entire state of Texas showed up. He only cared that Laurel was finally going to be his wife.
He caught her hand as it drifted a little higher up his thigh. “Behave yourself,” he warned with a choked laugh.
She smiled angelically. “It’s so much more fun when I don’t.”
Heat was rising up his spine and he grabbed the cold beer sitting on the table in front of them. He’d perfected the IPA, finally. There’d even be enough for the wedding reception.
Along with the champagne, of course.
Nelson had arrived with a crate of Cristal. As if that were enough to make up for everything.
Laurel had just shrugged. Her father was her father. She’d invited him to their wedding, and he’d come.
It was enough.
“We can have fun tomorrow,” Adam promised.
Laurel’s eyes danced. They were having one night—their wedding night—on their own. Caroline and Gary would stay at the guest house to take care of Larkin. But then Adam and Laurel were picking up their son and taking him on their honeymoon with them.
Larkin was doing magnificently since his bone-marrow transplant two months ago, but it would be a long time before either one of them were ready to leave him for any length of time. Certainly not for the week that they’d be spending in Oregon.
Laurel wanted to paint the coastline.
Adam wanted to make love to his wife. And maybe to convince Ed Maxwell to share some of that porter of his with Provisions. At least until Adam’s brewery was truly up and running.
So far it was still a bunch of architectural drawings and dreams.
Laurel leaned against him and her glossy oak-barrel hair slid over his arm. “What’re you smiling about?”
He looked down into her aquamarine eyes. “Dreams.”
She lifted her eyebrows slightly.
“They do come true.” He slid his fingers through hers and lifted her hand to kiss it. “You and Larkin are all the proof I’ll ever need.”
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Coming to a Crossroads
by Marie Ferrarella
Prologue
The waitress carefully placed the two steaming cups of coffee on the table, setting one in front of each woman, then took a step back.
“Sure I can’t interest either one of you ladies in a sweet roll or a doughnut?” she asked, looking from one woman to the other. “They were just baked this morning, and I can personally testify that they’re absolutely heavenly.”
Cecilia Parnell knew her friend Ruth was eager to be alone with her so that she could tell her what was on her mind. Instinct told Cilia that this had nothing to do with the house-cleaning business she’d built from the ground up and now ran with the help of a small squadron of exceptionally competent workers.
“Perhaps later,” she told the waitress with a warm smile.
The waitress nodded. “I’ll check with you then,” she said and withdrew.
The moment she did, Ruth Bellamy sighed and leaned in over the small table. She had picked up a napkin even before the coffee had been brought to their table and she had begun working at it. She had quickly reduced the napkin into something resembling confetti.
When she spoke, Ruth’s voice quivered with emotion. “I’ve never thought of myself as one of those mothers.”
“One of those mothers?” Cilia questioned, waiting for her friend to elaborate, although she had a sneaking suspicion she knew what Ruth was trying to say and where this was all headed.
Ruth nodded, her fashionably styled silver-gray hair moving ever so slightly first against one cheek and then the other.
“The ones who interfere with their children’s lives. Not that Liz has been a child for a long time.” A bittersweet smile curved her lips as she recalled earlier times. “She wasn’t even one when she was a child.” Pride entered her voice. “She was the responsible one, always so serious, always so willing to shoulder responsibility—more than her share of responsibility,” Ruth qualified, looking both proud and embarrassed at the same time.
Ruth blinked back tears, the shredded napkin in her hands now utterly useless.
Without a word, Cilia took a silk handkerchief—a recent gift from her daughter—out of her purse and handed it to Ruth. The latter took it and dried her eyes, then pressed the handkerchief back into Cilia’s hand.
“I don’t know what I would
