Miss Takahashi shifted from foot to foot.
“I’d invite you in, but Diana is sick, and we’re heading to the doctor.” He shot her a look. “I’m very worried about her.”
“Oh dear, I hope it’s not serious.”
Diana sat up and rolled her eyes.
“I was hoping we could get that coffee date on the books?” She smiled, batting her eyes. “Remember?”
“I do. I apologize for not calling you back.” He nodded. “But right now is probably not the best time.” Honestly, this was a conversation he’d rather have without his daughter present. “May I call you later this afternoon?”
“I’m feeling better, Dad,” Diana singsonged, trying not to laugh. “Go ahead.” She smiled at him, up to no good.
“Oh.” Miss Takahashi’s smile grew. “How sweet of her.”
“That’s Diana. A real peach.” But he was smiling anyway.
“So, coffee. What would be good for you?” she asked.
What the hell. “I’m going to be honest with you, Miss Takahashi. You’re a lovely woman. But I can’t.” Because of Felicity. He swallowed. “I mean… I happen to…” To what? Care for? No. More. Dammit. “I am…in love with someone else. So, having coffee with you would be wrong for you and me and her.”
Miss Takahashi stared at him. “Oh. And this woman? Does she reciprocate?”
Did she? And, if she did, would her son accept it? He shook his head. “I don’t know. But if she doesn’t, I plan on doing everything I can to change her mind.”
“I appreciate the honesty, Graham.” She offered him the cake. “It’s refreshing.”
He took the cake. “Thank you again.”
“I wish you the best of luck, Dr. Murphy.” Her smile wasn’t nearly as bright but there no doubting her sincerity. “Take care.” She waved and headed back to her car.
He nodded and closed the door. “Here.”
Diana took the cake, staring at him. “That was the single coolest thing you’ve ever done, Dad.”
“I have a feeling I’m going to seriously regret it.”
“No. No way.” Diana shook her head. “She’ll tell Widow Rainey and Widow Rainey will tell everyone. Felicity will know, and Nick will realize he’s a tool, and everything will be okay.” She eyed the cake. “And we’ll go on vacation at the beach house, and it will be good. You’ll see.”
He watched his daughter carry the cake into the kitchen and hoped like hell she was right.
…
Charity was surrounded by the widows’ group. It was her mother’s month to host and, since the cabin was too small for them all to gather, they’d converged around the large wooden farm table in Felicity’s kitchen. They enjoyed her hospitality while gossiping and whispering and dropping the name of every bachelor in Pecan Valley in the hope either sister would react. Charity sipped cups of tea, ate too many slices of her sister’s lemon pound cake, and was content to be healthy—for her baby to be healthy.
Her late-night trip to the ER had been the single most terrifying event of her life. The very real possibility that something was wrong with her baby had been…devastating. In the time it had taken for the doctor to run her urinalysis and figure out it was an infection, she’d accepted that this baby was hers.
More than accepted. Wanted. She wanted this baby. Whoever was in her stomach, she couldn’t wait to meet them.
With a plate of lemon cake in hand, she marveled as Felicity smiled and nodded and occasionally added somethi
ng neutral like, “Really?” or “I hadn’t heard that,” or “My goodness.” So far, Filly had said “my goodness” five times more than the other two combined. Charity stroked Pecan, rubbing the giant golden feline behind the ear as she devoured her cake.
“Pace yourself,” Felicity whispered, handing her a dainty etched glass plate piled high with finger sandwiches and delicately sliced vegetables.
Charity wrinkled her nose at her sister and passed the plate. She was the only one sitting here who wasn’t a widow. Surely that earned her the right to a couple—or three—pieces of cake.
“Aunt Charity.” Nick peeked in and waved her over.