trying to weasel her way back in, using Anna. Christine had listened to her gut and also to Miriam, who believed Gloria was truly sorry for what she’d done and sent a brief, impersonal thank-you note. When January arrived, so did more books. Nate kept quiet this time, but his scowl said more than any words could. She didn’t tell Uncle Harry, but apparently Nate had, because he’d called with a long list of reasons not to trust her mother, beginning and ending with Natalie Servetti.
She hadn’t forgotten how her mother orchestrated a set-up that almost destroyed their marriage. But she’d moved past that; she and Nate were solid and happy. Gloria couldn’t touch them now, and while Christine accepted a random book here and there for Anna, she did not plan to let Gloria back into her life. The absence of books in February and March made Christine think her mother’s goodwill and kindness toward her granddaughter had dried up. But now it was April and another package had arrived.
“Maybe Gloria forgot to pay her Book Club bill and they refused to send more books.”
“Nate. Please.”
“Just saying, you never know the truth or the motives of that woman.”
She carried the package into the living room and sat on the couch, working a finger under the tape. “The other books came in a box, and there were more of them.”
“ Money could be tight. One too many salon visits and poof, the fortune’s gone.”
Obviously, her husband had not forgiven Gloria for her plot against him. It’s not that Christine had quite let go of the hurt or sadness that her own mother had plotted against her, but years of living with Gloria Blacksworth had taught her that some things and some people didn’t change and it was easier and much healthier to move on. That didn’t mean you let them hurt you again; it just meant you didn’t waste energy on an impossible cause. She lifted the tape and opened the envelope, wishing for a second that things could have been different with her mother.
“Whatever ’s in here is for Anna. Thinking of it that way makes everything much easier.”
Nate’s voice turned cold, his words harsh. “I’m not that generous with my forgiveness.”
That was certainly true. Nate Desantro protected what was his. Period. “ Well.” She stared at the green cover of the slim book. It was Shel Silverstein’s The Giving Tree . How interesting that her mother would send a book about the circle of life where child becomes caretaker to parent. Was there a hidden message here, a code between the pages?
She eased open the cover and there on the whiteness of the page, she found her answer, though it was not an answer at all. Gloria’s scrawl read, To Christine, my darling and most beloved daughter. Love, Mother.
Chapter 7
Will Carrick was not the kind of man a person said no to. He’d done two tours of duty in the marines, been awarded a Medal of Honor, and come back to Magdalena to protect the town as police chief until he retired three years ago. He knew the ins and outs of everyone’s backstory, on both sides of the law, and pretty much got along with all of them, using reason and common sense and sometimes a night in jail.
He stood in Ramona Casherdon’s living room, arms crossed over his chest, telling—not asking—Cash to get his butt out of the chair and come for a ride.
“I’m really not in the mood right now, Will.” Once he set foot out of the house, half of Magdalena would pounce on him with questions, well-wishes, and enough food to feed six families. He couldn’t handle that right now. And he sure as hell couldn’t run the risk of seeing Tess again. It hadn’t even been twenty-four hours since she’d sat in this very room, and he needed time to get his head straight.
“In the mood?” Will’s long, lean body towered over Cash. He might be a civilian now but he still had that battle aura about him. “Would you like a tampon , too?”
“Go to hell.”
“You plan on rotting in
She hadn’t forgotten how her mother orchestrated a set-up that almost destroyed their marriage. But she’d moved past that; she and Nate were solid and happy. Gloria couldn’t touch them now, and while Christine accepted a random book here and there for Anna, she did not plan to let Gloria back into her life. The absence of books in February and March made Christine think her mother’s goodwill and kindness toward her granddaughter had dried up. But now it was April and another package had arrived.
“Maybe Gloria forgot to pay her Book Club bill and they refused to send more books.”
“Nate. Please.”
“Just saying, you never know the truth or the motives of that woman.”
She carried the package into the living room and sat on the couch, working a finger under the tape. “The other books came in a box, and there were more of them.”
“ Money could be tight. One too many salon visits and poof, the fortune’s gone.”
Obviously, her husband had not forgiven Gloria for her plot against him. It’s not that Christine had quite let go of the hurt or sadness that her own mother had plotted against her, but years of living with Gloria Blacksworth had taught her that some things and some people didn’t change and it was easier and much healthier to move on. That didn’t mean you let them hurt you again; it just meant you didn’t waste energy on an impossible cause. She lifted the tape and opened the envelope, wishing for a second that things could have been different with her mother.
“Whatever ’s in here is for Anna. Thinking of it that way makes everything much easier.”
Nate’s voice turned cold, his words harsh. “I’m not that generous with my forgiveness.”
That was certainly true. Nate Desantro protected what was his. Period. “ Well.” She stared at the green cover of the slim book. It was Shel Silverstein’s The Giving Tree . How interesting that her mother would send a book about the circle of life where child becomes caretaker to parent. Was there a hidden message here, a code between the pages?
She eased open the cover and there on the whiteness of the page, she found her answer, though it was not an answer at all. Gloria’s scrawl read, To Christine, my darling and most beloved daughter. Love, Mother.
Chapter 7
Will Carrick was not the kind of man a person said no to. He’d done two tours of duty in the marines, been awarded a Medal of Honor, and come back to Magdalena to protect the town as police chief until he retired three years ago. He knew the ins and outs of everyone’s backstory, on both sides of the law, and pretty much got along with all of them, using reason and common sense and sometimes a night in jail.
He stood in Ramona Casherdon’s living room, arms crossed over his chest, telling—not asking—Cash to get his butt out of the chair and come for a ride.
“I’m really not in the mood right now, Will.” Once he set foot out of the house, half of Magdalena would pounce on him with questions, well-wishes, and enough food to feed six families. He couldn’t handle that right now. And he sure as hell couldn’t run the risk of seeing Tess again. It hadn’t even been twenty-four hours since she’d sat in this very room, and he needed time to get his head straight.
“In the mood?” Will’s long, lean body towered over Cash. He might be a civilian now but he still had that battle aura about him. “Would you like a tampon , too?”
“Go to hell.”
“You plan on rotting in
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