a-soft-place-to-fall, Rakhibul hasan [novels to read in english .txt] 📗

and certainly not with a man I just met yesterday." "Maybe not, but one fine morning you're going to open your eyes and find out that,

like it or not, you're in love. Don't postpone the rest of your life just because you don't want to hurt Claudia."

Annie rested her forehead on the cool wooden countertop. "Can you tell me why life has to be so damn complicated?"

Sweeney threw back her head and laughed. "Honey, if I could tell you that, I'd rule the world."

#

Annie finished assembling the three bridesmaids' bouquets for the Sorensen-Machado wedding a little before three o'clock and began the bride's bouquet. Sweeney and Claudia were working on the altar flowers and Annie was pleased to see they were all right on schedule despite the holiday weekend and her move. Her part-timers had done a wonderful job manning the shop yesterday while she was settling into her new house. She owed Tracy and Joan a weekend off with pay for stepping into the breach.

She was grateful Sweeney was working with them today. Sweeney never met a silence she couldn't conquer with another story from her colorful life. If Claudia had hoped for the chance to grill Annie about her new neighbor, she never had the opportunity.

Eileen's daughter Jennifer and her friends burst through the front door a few minutes later, smelling of suntan lotion and high spirits.

"Hi, Aunt Annie, Grandma." She kissed them both then plucked a chocolate candy from the bowl Claudia kept at her right elbow. "Hey, Sweeney! Can we turn on the radio? Do you have any soda in the back? You don't think I look fat in this top, do you?"

"Fat?" Sweeney exclaimed as the girls disappeared into the back. "My left thigh is bigger than she is."

"She's beautiful," Annie said wistfully, "and she doesn't have the slightest idea." "Neither did you two when you were her age." Claudia twisted some wire ribbon around the stem of an unarmed alstromeria. "If I had a penny for every diet you girls

embarked on, I'd be a wealthy woman."

"I wouldn't want to be sixteen again," Sweeney said as she reached for a creamy white rose. "You think the world's spinning on your axis. I didn't realize I wasn't the center of the universe until I was thirty-three."

"I'd go back to sixteen," Claudia said wistfully. "All of that wonderful energy and enthusiasm." She paused for effect. "Not to mention knees that don't click when you walk up the stairs."

"And no cellulite," Annie said, trying not to think about how she must have looked when Sam found her asleep in the tub. "I can't remember my thighs without cellulite."

"Honey," said Sweeney, "I can't remember when my thighs didn't rub together like two sticks at a Boy Scout campfire."

Claudia snipped off a length of ivory satin ribbon with a pair of shears. "Dim lighting and a peignoir set have saved more marriages than separate bathrooms." She looked across the table at Annie and Sweeney who burst into laughter. "Go ahead and laugh," Claudia said, joining in, "but believe it or not, you won't be young forever. One day you'll be grateful for kind lighting and a floor-length robe."

Oh Claudia, thought Annie as she got up to find more babies breath. What would you say if I told you it was kind lighting and a floor-length robe that got me into this mess?

The girls finished the boutonnieres around five o'clock and left in a flurry of giggles and broken blossoms. Sweeney and Claudia completed the last of the centerpieces then stowed them in the huge refrigerator along with the bridesmaids' bouquets.

"Sorry to bail out on you, ladies, but I have myself a hot date tonight and I need a little time to change my sheets and shave my legs."

"Good Lord!" Claudia sounded appalled but there was no denying the twinkle in her eyes. "Is there a man in this town you haven't . . . dated?"

"Honey, I'm importing them from New Hampshire these days." Sweeney gathered up her huge tote bags and rummaged around for the keys to her old VW bus. "I'll be here at noon to help decorate the church."

"You don't have to do that," Annie said, meaning it. "You've helped me enough already."

"And you'll help me when the Autumn Art Fair rolls around," Sweeney said with another laugh. "You know I'm not shy."

Sweeney went out the front door as Amelia Wright and her sister Terri Cohen came in through the back, carting a huge box filled with their latest soft sculptures. They specialized in whimsical creatures like griffins and unicorns and delighted in setting them in unlikely spots around the shop. When they saw what Annie was up to, they quickly rolled up their sleeves and pitched right in.

"I still haven't closed the books for August," Claudia said, extending her fingers then shaking her hands in front of her. "Maybe I should see to that while Amy and Terri are here."

"Sounds fine," Annie said, aware of Claudia's troubles with arthritis. She felt vaguely guilty for not relieving the woman much sooner. But then what didn't she feel guilty about these days? She felt guilty for selling the old house, buying the new one, auctioning off her furniture, you name it and she was certain she'd felt guilty over it at one time or another over the last two years.

Claudia closed the books at six-thirty and came forward to collect her purse and sweater. "Eileen and the children are stopping by for breakfast tomorrow morning after church. You know you're welcome to join us before we set up for the wedding."

Annie stretched and managed to stifle an end- of-the-day yawn. "Thanks but I think I'd better tackle some of those boxes waiting to be unpacked. If I don't do it now, I'll still be staring at them come Christmas."

"I'd be happy to come over and lend a hand."

"I know you would," Annie said, feeling like a rat for thinking unpleasant thoughts about her mother-in-law, "but you do enough for me already. If I do a little each day, I'll be finished in no time."

Claudia slipped into her pale ivory sweater and tucked her purse under her arm. "You work too hard, Annie. You've looked so tired lately. I worry about you."

"I'm strong as an ox." She flexed a muscle. "At least Ceil seems to think I look like one."

"That woman's tongue could curdle cream. She told me about her cousin's eye-lift then gave me one of those knowing nods of hers."

Annie laughed. It was the first natural moment they'd shared all day. "Did she offer you the doctor's business card?"

"No," said Claudia with a shake of her head, "but that pudgy hand was dipping into her apron pocket for one as sure as I'm standing here." She cupped Annie's face and Annie saw a world of caring and love in her soft blue eyes. "You get some rest tonight, do you hear me? You've been pushing yourself way too hard."

Annie's eyes closed briefly against a rush of emotion that was as comforting as it was complicated. "I love you, Claude," she said softly. "Don't ever forget that."

Claudia patted her cheek briskly. "As if I could."

#

Claudia always stopped at Yankee Shopper on Saturday evening to do her marketing. Ceil rarely worked on Saturday and Claudia considered it a small victory for personal

privacy when she managed to purchase her pair of veal chops and Idaho potatoes without enduring the woman's shameless scrutiny.

Thomas in produce waved hello to her from across the aisle and she nodded back in greeting. Thomas had been one of Kevin's high school friends, a likable young man who hadn't quite managed to live up to potential. Not that Claudia was being judgmental. Far from it. It was just a terrible shame when a smart young man allowed himself to be content stacking tomatoes in a small town supermarket.

Thomas was nearing forty now and it was beginning to show in the lines around his dark brown eyes and the slight paunch billowing behind his Yankee Shopper apron. Kevin had been built on a grand scale, same as his father. She liked to think he would have retained his impressive proportions well into old age without running to fat.

She had bumped into Thomas's mother Audrey last week at the Breast Cancer Bridge Marathon at the hospital. Audrey was beside herself with grandmotherly pride as she spread a fistful of photos on the felt-covered table. "Thomas and Mary Ann just had number four," she said, beaming with delight over the little red-faced bundle in the photographs. "That makes six for me and one more on the way."

Claudia, who was no slouch in the grandmother sweepstakes, whipped out the thick packet of photos she kept always at the ready and treated the girls to a rundown of ages, weights, and accomplishments that would have sent her spinning into a coma if she'd been on the receiving end.

"Good Lord in heaven," Audrey exclaimed, same as she did every time. "They're certainly a fertile bunch!"

Eleven grandsons and granddaughters and two on the way. Claudia loved each and every one of them but not even the richness of her blessings was enough to make up for the fact that there would never be a baby for Kevin and Annie. When Kevin died, he took the future with him and the empty spot he'd left inside his mother's heart would never be filled. The sorrow she had known when her husband died had almost destroyed her but even that, terrible as it was, paled beside the towering grief she experienced when she buried her son. A mother shouldn't bury her son. It was against the laws of both nature and man. Some sorrows cut too deep for healing.

She and Annie had clung to each other during those early days, one supporting the other when their grief threatened to overcome them. How grateful Claudia had been that Kevin had been fortunate enough to marry a girl like Annie Lacy. Annie had loved him the way a wife should love a husband and Claudia had loved her all the more for that fact. Sometimes she had wondered if there were problems in the marriage but, if there were, Annie kept her own counsel and Claudia respected that. Husbands were imperfect creatures and it was a smart wife who learned how to work around the flaws.

Had she told Annie lately how dear she was, how the family would not be the same without her vibrant presence at its heart? She couldn't remember. The truth was she thought of Annie as one of her own, and that was the problem. To Claudia's mind, Annie was just like Eileen or Susan or any of her other children and she expected her to know that she was loved and valued.

But Annie wasn't blood. She had come to Claudia just before her sixteenth birthday, as scared and needy a young girl as Claudia had ever seen, and Claudia had done what any other mother in her circumstances would have done: she opened up her heart and home to the girl.

When did you stop trying to keep a child out of harm's way? Did the caring stop when your son turned twenty-one? Did it end when your daughter turned thirty? How did you steel your mother's heart against the dangers that waited for the ones you loved more than life itself? Oh, how young and lovely Annie had looked this afternoon when that man stepped into the flower shop. Her dark blue eyes twinkled, her skin grew luminous – she even walked with a graceful sway that Claudia had never noticed before. She wasn't so old that she had forgotten the way it all began and she wished with all her heart that she could protect Annie from the pain that was certain to follow.

How much safer it