“I love them!” She took the earrings out of the box and holding them to her ears rushed to one of the antique mirrors on the wall to study how they looked. The trios of delicate and exotic red balls swayed from a glittery triangle of silver. “They’re wonderful. God, I have something from Aruba. I can’t believe it.”
She dashed back to give a chuckling Roz a hug. “They’re just beautiful. Thank you, thank you. I can hardly wait to wear them.”
“You can give them a test drive tonight if you want. Stella, Logan, and the boys will be over. David tells me we’re having a welcome-home dinner.”
“Oh, but you’ll be tired.”
“Tired? What am I, eighty? I just got back from vacation.”
“Honeymoon,” Hayley corrected with a smirk. “Bet you didn’t get a lot of rest either.”
“We slept in every morning, you smart-ass.”
“In that case, we’ll party. Lily and I’ll go upstairs and get ourselves all clean and pretty.”
“I’ll give you a hand up with all these things.”
“Thanks. Roz?” Everything inside her had settled down to a glow. “I’m really glad you’re home.”
IT WAS SO much fun to put on her new earrings, to dress Lily in one of her pretty new outfits, to fuss a little over both herself and her daughter. She shook her head just for the pleasure of feeling the way her hair fell and her earrings swung.
There now, she thought, not feeling dull and blah anymore. Since she was feeling celebratory, she capped it off with new shoes. The thin-heeled strappy black sandals were impractical and unnecessary. Which made them perfect.
“And they were on sale,” she told Lily. “Gotta say, they’ve got to be more fun than Prozac or whatever.”
It felt great to wear a dress—a short dress—and sexy shoes. A new haircut. Red lipstick.
She gave a turn for the mirror and struck a pose. Maybe she had a skinny build, but there was nothing much she could do about that. Still, she wore clothes pretty well, if she did say so. Kind of like a clothes hanger. Add new hair, new earrings, new shoes, and you had something.
“Ladies and gentlemen, I do believe I’m back.”
DOWNSTAIRS, HARPER WAS sprawled in a chair, sipping a beer and watching the way Mitch touched his mother—her hair, her arm—while they related some of the highlights of their trip for Logan and Stella and the boys.
He’d heard some of it already when he’d buzzed home for an hour that afternoon. He wasn’t really listening. He was just watching, and thinking it was good, it was time his mother had someone so obviously besotted with her.
He was happy for her—and relieved. No matter how well his mother could take care of herself, and God knew she could do just that, it was a comfort to know she had a smart, able man at her side.
After what had happened last spring, if Mitch hadn’t moved in, he’d have done so himself. And that might’ve been a little sticky with Hayley living there.
It was more . . . comfortable, he decided, for everybody, if he continued to live in the carriage house. It might not have been much distance geographically, but psychologically it did the job.
“I told him he was crazy,” Roz continued, gesturing with her wine in one hand, patting the other on Mitch’s thigh. “Windsurfing? Why in God’s name would we want to teeter around on a little hunk of wood with a sail attached? But he just had to try it.”
“I tried it once.” Stella sat, her curling mass of red hair spilling over her shoulders. “Spring break in college. It was fun once I got the hang of it.”
“So I hear.” Mitch’s mutter had Roz grinning.
“He’d get up on the thing, and in two seconds, splash. Get up, and wait, I think he’s got it. Splash.”
“I had a defective board,” Mitch claimed, and poked Roz in the ribs.
“Of course you did.” Roz rolled her eyes. “One thing you can say about our Mitchell is he’s game. I don’t know how many times he hauled himself out of the drink and back on that board.”
“Six hundred and fifty-two.”
“How about you?” Logan, big and built and rugged beside Stella, gestured toward Roz with his beer.
“Oh, well, I don’t like to brag,” Roz said and examined her fingernails.