“I’ve heard most of this story before, of course,” Teresa said to Cameron. “But I’ve never really understood why you didn’t tell anyone you had amnesia. Was it because you were afraid?”
“In a way.” Cameron looked uncomfortable. “I wasn’t sure anyone would believe me, since true amnesia is such a rare phenomenon. I kept telling myself my memory would come back if I’d relax and not force it. But mostly I dreaded the attention I would receive if I told anyone the truth. I worried about being scanned and probed and prodded and questioned—treated like a medical oddity, written up in medical papers. I just couldn’t deal with that attention at the time.”
“So he prevaricated,” Marjorie said, phrasing his actions generously. “He took a job working for me at the diner to support himself while he attempted to regain his memories. He was a very good waiter,” she added a bit wistfully.
“He’s a better newspaper editor,” Serena responded firmly.
“Of course.” But Marjorie still seemed to regret losing her popular server.
Teresa’s gaze met Riley’s across the table, and he saw his amusement reflected for a moment in her expression. She looked away abruptly, leaving him missing that brief moment of unison.
“How long, exactly, did it take you to regain your memories?” Teresa asked Cameron, her cheeks a bit pinker than usual. Had she, too, been caught off guard by that momentary connection with Riley?
“Snatches of memories started coming back almost immediately,” he replied. “It took me three weeks to get up the nerve to admit the truth to Serena and Dan—”
“And by that time he and Serena had already fallen in love,” Marjorie interrupted with a sentimental sigh.
Again, Riley and Teresa glanced at each other in shared amusement. Again, it was Teresa who looked away first.
“After I confessed, everything fell into place rather quickly,” Cameron finished. “After seeing the photo of me that Dan circulated, my friend Shane came from Dallas with information about the story I’d been pursuing, and I went back with him for treatment. Within a month, I’d retrieved most of my memories. There are still gaps, and there probably always will be. But for the most part, I’ve completely recovered.”
Riley had heard the tale numerous times, of course. He would have been much more interested in hearing Teresa’s story. Did she have family? What, if any, careers had she pursued prior to waiting tables for Marjorie? How had she met her husband? Had he been a high school sweetheart? Teresa couldn’t have been more than twenty-one when she’d had her first child. Did she have family to turn to? Why did she seem so alone?
Why did his curiosity about her seem different from his usual detached, journalistic interest in other people?
“I can’t eat all my carrot sticks,” Maggie announced from her cross-legged position on the red-and-white checked tablecloth. “I’m full. Can I go unpack some more of my stuff?”
“Me, too,” Mark said. “I want to put my books in order.”
Riley had noted with approval that both siblings had bookcases for their rooms, along with several boxes of books, drawing pads and art supplies. He had always believed literacy was the key to academic achievement, and Teresa seemed to agree with that philosophy.
Given permission to go to their rooms, the children dashed upstairs, fully refueled by the break.
“I wish my batteries recharged that quickly,” Cameron murmured ruefully.
Serena chuckled. “Let’s just hope we have enough energy to keep up with our child. We’re starting quite a bit later in life than Terry did.”
There was a short, startled pause, and then Teresa asked tentatively, “Does this mean…?”
Serena smiled and nodded.
Riley glanced at Marjorie. “I thought you’d been in an exceptionally good mood today.”
Her face beaming, Marjorie patted her daughter’s arm. “It was all I could do not to let the news slip, but I knew Serena wanted to make the announcement in her own time.”
“Oh, my gosh! You’ve been carrying boxes and furniture and stuff all day.” Teresa looked reproachfully at her friend. “If I’d had any idea that you—”
Serena’s expression turned a bit rueful. “Obviously you haven’t noticed that Cameron’s been watching me like a hawk all morning. The stuff he’s been handing me to carry has been ridiculously lightweight.”
Riley hadn’t noticed, either. Since he usually prided himself on his observational skills, it bothered him that he’d allowed himself to be so distracted by Teresa. Considering that he was her landlord now, and that she was a single mother, he knew it was definitely best if their relationship remained casually friendly. He’d toned down the flirting and given up any ideas of a brief, passionate fling. But there were certain parts of him that hadn’t yet gotten the message that she was unavailable.
Even now, as he watched her tuck back a strand of golden hair that had escaped her low ponytail, he felt his fingers twitch with the urge to feel her hair for himself. When she reached for her cola, he couldn’t help noticing how nicely her red knit shirt moved with her, delineating her feminine curves.
A princess in denim and sneakers, he thought fancifully. And once again he’d let his absorption with her distract him from everything else going on around him. While he’d been watching Teresa, the others had been discussing Serena and Cameron’s news.
Realizing that he needed to make some contribution to the conversation, he lifted his soda can in a mock toast. “To Serena and Cameron,” he said when the others fell silent. “May they be blessed with the wisdom, the patience and the courage they’ll need for the next eighteen years or so.”
Marjorie laughed softly. “As if all the problems of parenthood end when they turn eighteen.”