An Invincible Summer (Wyndham Beach), Mariah Stewart [best classic novels TXT] 📗

house, turning on the security system before turning off the downstairs lights, then slowly climbed the steps to the second floor, her heart heavy. All night she’d tried to forget that tomorrow would be the anniversary of the worst day of her life. In its honor, she’d allow herself a good cry in the shower, which was a habit she’d developed while Art was alive. She’d turn the water on high to muffle her sobs, and if Art noticed the red blotches on her cheeks, she’d pass it off as the water having gotten too hot. Over the years, she’d become so accustomed to crying on her own that she’d long since stopped wishing for someone to hold her and to comfort her, someone who would understand. But that someone was the only other living soul who knew of her heartache, and when it had mattered, even he hadn’t understood. So she’d learned to weep alone and mourn in silence and tried not to wish that the day would ever be marked by anyone except herself.

The Flynns’ normally sedate Thanksgiving dinner turned out to be anything but. While Maggie had to accept the fact that her turkey would never be as golden brown and juicy as Art’s, her sweet potato casserole never quite as delicious as his, her cranberry sauce somehow not quite as sweet even though she followed his recipe to a T, the day had been a success. Grace drove to the airport to pick up Liddy and Emma, and they’d arrived at the house just as the florist delivered a gorgeous centerpiece in autumnal shades. When Maggie had read aloud the card—Wish I was there with you. See you soon. Love to all, Chris—Emma had sighed and said, “Ah, my boy.”

“Just imagine how much that card would be worth if Chris had signed it himself,” Grace noted. “You could auction it off.”

“And if you’d had the presence of mind to save all his dirty socks over the years instead of laundering them,” Maggie said, “you’d make a fortune.”

“Yes, well, if only I’d known.” Emma laughed. “I should have learned to read tea leaves like my mother.”

“I say we toast Chris for sending those flowers.” Not bothering to wait for a response, Grace opened a kitchen drawer and brought out the corkscrew. “Nat, grab some glasses.”

Nat passed around the glasses, and Grace filled them.

“To Chris,” Grace said. “With thanks for his thoughtfulness.”

“And may he be with us next year,” his mother added as she lifted her glass.

“Thank you, Chris. You’re a good boy,” Liddy said, at which everyone laughed and patted Emma on the back. “We know it’s because you raised him right, Em.”

“Thank you.” Emma took a sip of wine.

“Credit where it’s due,” Maggie added.

“So what shall we do between now and dinner?” Grace asked.

“Cards?” Natalie offered. “Or Monopoly?”

“Monopoly!”

Everyone agreed.

Maggie found the game box and brought it into the kitchen, setting it up on the table overlooking the yard. As the Monopoly money was distributed, they finished the bottle of wine they’d opened to toast Chris and opened a second between trips to the oven to check the turkey’s progress, then a third. They paused the game long enough to eat dinner on the beautifully appointed table, the traditional china and silver, the golden turkey on the white platter. After they’d tasted each of the pies—a pumpkin and a pecan—they cleared the table and loaded the dishwasher before playing three games of Candyland so Daisy could take part in the festivities. But once Daisy had been tucked into bed, the unfinished game of cutthroat Monopoly was resumed.

Shortly before eleven, after having cornered the market on the three orange properties and all four railroads, Grace was declared winner and real estate mogul.

“Wow. That was an impressive win,” Natalie conceded. “Congratulations, but I don’t remember you being so serious about Monopoly.”

“You played that game like your life depended on it,” Maggie said as she watched Grace count her winnings.

“Zach and I used to play a lot,” Grace told them as she held up her play money gleefully. “He was really into it in a big way. There are sites online where you can go to learn strategy and how to maximize your winnings.”

“Oh, really?” Natalie sat back against the cushioned banquette. “Do tell.”

“Yeah, they’re really informative. I had to make him stop looking stuff up because then he’d use that information to cheat when we played.”

“Did you just use what he learned to cheat just now?” Natalie narrowed her eyes.

“Maybe.” Grace grinned.

Natalie tossed her game piece—the Scottie dog—onto the board. “Cheater.”

“You’re just pissed because you don’t know the inside dirt,” Grace told her.

“The least you can do is share what you know, now that the game is over,” Emma said.

Grace began sorting the money in piles to return to the box. “Statistically, the most frequently landed-on spot is Illinois Avenue. So if you can put a house or two there—or better still, a hotel—you’ll be collecting a lot of rent. Also, orange is good. Always buy the orange places—Tennessee and New York Avenues and St. James Place.”

“Someone actually sat down and figured out the probability of landing on which spaces?” Emma asked.

Grace nodded. “And as we’ve just seen, the odds were in my favor.”

“Okay, that’s it for me tonight.” Liddy stood and stretched. “Early morning tomorrow. Fun game, ladies—cheating aside. And Maggie, thanks so much for making such a delicious dinner.”

“Not quite up to Art’s standards, but we all survived another of my attempts to re-create the perfection of my late husband’s turkey.” Maggie had risen when Liddy had.

“Mom, stop. It was fine,” Natalie told her.

“Sweetheart, Thanksgiving dinner is supposed to be more than just ‘fine.’ But it’s okay. I’m a work in progress where holiday meals are concerned.”

“Dad set impossibly high standards,” Grace reminded her. “That said, don’t put yourself down. You did a great job.”

“Thanks, Gracie.”

“Listen to your daughters.” Emma kissed first Maggie, then each of the girls good night. “This was the best Thanksgiving