You and the kids should live with me, Charlie.
The offers appreciated, Rose, truly. Im just not sure. The kids and I are finally starting to I hesitated to explain how we were only recently adjusting to the family of three wed become, because I didnt want to make her sound excluded.
She played her trump card. I dont think you and I were ever as close as Tom would have liked. I believe this decision would help him rest easier, dont you?
Yes, it would have made him very happy.
Well be like Stella and Louise, Rose said, sounding eager.
Who?
Some movie. She frowned. Werent there two women who, I dont know, bonded?
Thelma. You meant Thelma and Louise. And that movie ended in joint suicide.
Oh. Youre sure?
They drove into the Grand Canyon. Whistling, I made a diving motion with my hand.
What a silly way to end a film. Okay, then. Not like them! Some other pair that would make a good roommate analogy.
Felix and Oscar came to mind. Hard to believe Rose and I would be any odder a couple.
Tanya Michaels
enjoys writing about love, whether its the romantic kind or the occasionally exasperated affection we feel for family members. Tanya made her debut with a 2003 romantic comedy, and her books have been nominated for awards such as Romantic Times Reviewers Choice, Romance Writers of Americas RITA® Award, the National Readers Choice and the Maggie Award of Excellence. Shes lucky enough to have a hero of a husband, as well as family and friends who love her despite numerous quirks. Visit www.tanyamichaels.com to learn more about Tanya and her upcoming books.
Dating the Mrs. Smiths
Tanya Michaels
www.millsandboon.co.uk
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Dear Reader,
You know the expression that you can choose your friends, but not your family? Well, its also true that you can choose your husband, but you cant choose his family, which are generally part of the package deal. But what if that husband was gone, and his familyspecifically his disapproving motherwas all you had left?
These were the thoughts that led to the idea for Dating the Mrs. Smiths, a story in which widow Charlotte Charlie Smith and her two young children end up relocating to Boston and moving in with her mother-in-law, Rose, a woman with a good heart buried underneath all her strong opinions. Deep, deep underneath.
Im very excited about my first book for NEXT, and hope you enjoy it! If you do, please drop me a note at t.michaels@earthlink.net. You can also visit my Web site at www.tanyamichaels.com for giveaways, book excerpts and all my latest news.
Wishing you happy reading and wonderful in-laws.
Tanya
Thank you, Jen and Pam,
for helping me figure out my NEXT step.
And special thanks to my parents-in-law,
Harvey and Sandra, for your support and
encouragement of my writing. Im very thankful
that you raised such a wonderful son and that
my kids have such loving grandparents.
CONTENTS
CHAPTER 1
CHAPTER 2
CHAPTER 3
CHAPTER 4
CHAPTER 5
CHAPTER 6
CHAPTER 7
CHAPTER 8
CHAPTER 9
CHAPTER 10
CHAPTER 11
CHAPTER 12
CHAPTER 13
CHAPTER 14
CHAPTER 1
This isnt a time to panic, Martin assured me from behind his desk. Only a time of change.
Considering some of the changes Id experienced in my thirty-nine years, I didnt find the qualification particularly comforting.
Think of it as two roads diverging, my boss continued with a paternal smile, creating new paths for you, Charlotte.
Yeah. Well, I wanted to take the road most likely to pay my mortgage. After the months Id struggled to recreate some sense of security for myself and my two children, Martin Kimbles informing me that the warehouse and office were being closed felt like a mortal blow. And he wanted me to dismiss it as just a flesh wound?
Despite his soothing tone, I noticed hypocritical traces of subdued panic behind Martins wire-rimmed glasses. I didnt think he was worried about his mortgage, though. I think he feared having a hysterical woman on his hands. Or an angry woman who might staple his striped tie to his desk blotter.
Instead, what he had was a mostly numb woman. I would have thought I was no longer naive enough to expect life to be fair, but I couldnt help my instinctive reaction, the denial welling up inside me, the inner protest that this really was unfair. Almost laughably so, if you had a sick sense of humor.
The kids and I were just starting to regain our footing, thanks in large part to Kazka Medical Supply taking me back. Id worked here part-time for over a year before leaving to have Ben, never guessing Id soon return, begging for a full forty hours a week. Forty hours that were about to be yanked out from under me.
You have some choices, Martin added, nervously repeating the same phrase hed used to open this Ides of March conversation. Okay, technically this was autumnand I wasnt a Roman emperor about to be assassinatedbut the sense of doom and betrayal seemed appropriate. Plus theres no great Shakespearean reference for the Ides of September.
Nodding to reassure my district manager I hadnt gone catatonic, I mulled over the options. All two of them.
Stay in Miami and hope like crazy that I found another job before the southeastern distribution center closed in October, or put in for a transfer and hope like crazy it was approved. Martin had said he was more than willing to recommend me for the latter and that he thought my chances were quite good. Of course, a transfer would mean uprooting Ben and Sara, and praying Kazkas northern locations continued to do well and werent shut down soon after I moved. Thirteen-month-old Ben would probably adjust all right. If he felt anxious in a new place, I could just put him in his playpen, where the world view was four navy mesh walls no matter what zip code we called home. But Sara
A first grader whose biggest worries should have been subtraction and whether or not shed like the sandwich in her sack lunch, shed already been through so much in the last two years. After four years of being home with an attentive mommy all day, Sara had started pre-K, followed by kindergartenthe year Sara had learned she would no longer be an only child. At first wed thought her frequent but vague complaints about not feeling well were cries for attention, but she had indeed been experiencing periodic viral throat infections throughout my pregnancy. Then, less than eight weeks after the baby and I had been discharged from the hospital, Tom had checked in. Sara and Bens father, my late husband, had been scheduled for a routine and low-risk surgery.
Doctors had assured us that serious complications from angioplasty were quite rare. If we were going to experience a freak overturn of the odds, why couldnt it have been winning the Florida Lotto?
Sara was finally coping with her dads death, and a month into the new school year, shed yet to be out sickher life was improving. What would a child psychologist say about my now removing her from a class she enjoyed and taking her away from the only state shed ever lived in, destroying her barely recovered sense of stability? I had a quick, flash-forward image of my daughter as a black-clad, green-haired teenager with her pierced lip curled back in a sneer as she explained to a sympathetic talk-show host, I never had a chance. My mother completely screwed me up when I was young.
Oh dear.
I saved the good news for last, Martin said coaxingly.
I glanced up from the hands Id been unconsciously wringing in the lap of my outdated broomstick skirt. Theres good news?
You havent asked where we would transfer you. He beamed at me as if the relocation, hardly a done deal even if I wanted it, would take me to paradise on earth.
Hershey, Pennsylvania? I hear the streets there are paved with chocolate. Or at least named for it.
Chicago is the first option, he said. But the more likely location for someone with your sales and marketing experience isBoston.
The one in Massachusetts? No, genius, the one in Nevada. My question was really just a rhetorical reflexId forgotten we even had a location there. In my defense, Id had a few other things on my mind.
Martin was nodding. Home of the Red Sox, famous clam chowder and, if Im not mistaken, some family members of yours?
My mother-in-law. Rose Fiorello Smith.
Technically several of Toms relatives lived around Boston, but it was Rose who loomed large in my mind. Her visits to Florida had been rare during our marriage, but as last fall became winter, shed made an unprecedented three trips here: to meet Ben, to bury her son, and to celebrate Christmas with us, that awful first holiday season without Tom. A closer mother- and daughter-in-law duo probably would have been a comfort to each other. But love for Tom was one of the few things Rose and I had in common; with him gone, the awkward strain between us was more pronounced.
Rose is the childrens only living grandparent, I told Martin, reminding myself of why it was important to try to make more time to call or visit her. Even if it was a subconscious relief to let months go by without talking.
And shes in the Boston area? Wonderful! Martins shoulders sagged in visible relief. Obviously the possibility of my being near family made him feel less guilty about this afternoons bad news. You see? Where one door closes
Thank goodness he trailed off. If hed added another opens, or some quaint remark about windows, I probably would have stapled his tie to his desk blotter.
It wasnt that I necessarily disagreed with the unspoken sentiment, but Id heard my share of well-meaning platitudes since Toms surgery had gone wrong, leaving me a widow with two young children. People desperately wanted to say something to make the situation more bearable. Time heals all wounds; everything happens for a reason; loved ones live on in our hearts. Youre not alone had been the worst. I knew intentions were good, but when I woke up at four in the morning, reaching for a man whod shared my bed for twenty years and was now in the ground, it sure as hell felt like I was alone.
Inhaling deeply, I forced myself back to the present. Do I have to give you an answer today? I hoped not. My thoughts were too jumbled to form a rational decision, and I was suddenly so tired that just asking the question took effort. Truthfully, I was a little alarmed by the oppressive, fog-like fatigue rolling ina disturbingly familiar sensation.
Last year, the combined lack of sleep, postpartum mood swings and overwhelming grief had banished me to a hazy depression I hadnt fully escaped until spring. I thanked the Lord every day for my friend Dianne Linney. Sara adored Aunt Di, and Dianne, a single young woman with no children of her own, had helped with my daughter during those long, bleak months Id felt trapped in a dark hole. Dianne had also fielded more than a couple pediatricians visits on days when I absolutely couldnt miss work.
I wouldnt dream of pushing you for a decision, Martin said. Ill break the news to the salespeople tomorrow, when I have them all in the office for our meetingId appreciate your discretion in the meantimeand the official company-wide memo wont go out until next Monday. So take a few days to give the matter some thought, no reason to rush.
No reason except the office being closed in a matter of weeks and my inordinate fondness for being able to buy groceries. But sarcasm was never the answer. If it were, I could make a killing on Jeopardy.
I stood, smiling to show there were no hard feelings, and returned to the office that had been mine since my return and advancement to full-time status. Inside the building, we could only pick up one radio station with consistent clarity, so I listened to a lot of Spanish rock music at my desk. Its sassy beat sounded muffled now, distorted, and the rest of my day passed like a recording playing at the wrong speed.
By the time I pulled into the driveway of my one-story stucco house that evening, I had managed to shrug off the tentacles of encroaching depressionmostly by making internal, inappropriate jokes. But I still hadnt adjusted to the fact that my current job situation, our financial lifeline, was disappearing.
I exited the car, trying to ignore the warm humidity that plastered my clothes to my skin, and waved to our retired neighbor, Mrs. Winslow, who was out mulching her flower beds. Mrs. Winslow watched the kids for me on Fridays, but one day a week with young children was enough for her. I was fortunate that Dianne, aforementioned gift from heaven, could stay with Ben and pick up Sara from school on Monday through Thursdays, allowing them to play with their own toys and be in the security of a familiar environment. There were several good day cares in the area, but God knows how I would have afforded one of them.
And Tom, who had been raised by a doting and devoted mother, had always maintained that day cares were too impersonal for his children. If I was no longer the stay-at-home mom wed planned for me to be, at least the children were with someone who loved them unconditionally. I insisted on paying Dianne a nominal fee, which she added to what she made as a performer in a ritzy Vegas-style Miami hotel on the weekends, but we both knew she was saving me a bundle. Sometimes it seemed comical that my best friend was a gorgeous twenty-four-year-old who shook her booty for a living, when I myself was a newly widowed almost-forty-year-old from the burbs, but Id hit it off instantly with the younger woman when a co-worker of Toms had brought her to the company picnic. Shed become the sister Id never had.
If not for Diannes generosity and the last few dollars of the life insurance settlement, I might have had to sell my body on street corners to make ends meetnot that I expected a high profit margin on the bod of a woman whos nursed two babies. Unless there was a trendy stretch-mark fetish I didnt know about.
The wind chimes hanging in the alcove at my front door greeted me with tinkling metallic cheer. Even nicer were the voices I heard as I turned the knob.