Kitabı oku: «An Imperfect Match / Next Comes Love», sayfa 6

CHAPTER ELEVEN

“ANNABELLE? Did you hear me, dear?”

Annabelle started, embarrassed to have been caught daydreaming during a committee meeting by none other than Dean’s mother, Mary. She adjusted Honey on her lap in an attempt to look as though the baby had needed her attention. Shameful to use her own daughter that way, she thought ruefully and pressed a quick kiss on Honey’s head.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t catch that,” she admitted, feeling her cheeks heat. She couldn’t very well tell Dean’s mother that the reason she wasn’t paying attention was because she was replaying that day’s activities in her head. Repeatedly. Well, mostly only a few select moments. But they were really good moments.

“Would you like us to bring the lemonade canisters to Dean’s office or to your house?”

“The office would be fine,” she murmured.

“They’re heavy once you fill them,” Mary said, then looked to Dean. “You can help her, right, son?”

Dean caught Annabelle’s gaze and she felt the power of his stare all the way down to her toes. Before she knew it, a smile was curving her lips and all but announcing to the room that something was going on between them.

“No need,” Annabelle said quickly, dropping the smile in favor of something more businesslike. “I’m sure I can manage on my own. I’m stronger than I look.”

A wave of light laughter filled the room but all Annabelle could see was Dean as he told his mother that he’d help in any way the committee might need him.

He was an incredible kisser. Sweet, yet firm; gentle yet demanding. He’d possessed her mouth with nothing less than mastery and Annabelle had had to fight to keep her expression carefully schooled lest it drift into something akin to blissfully dreamy.

“You look like you have something juicy to share,” Dana whispered out of the corner of her mouth. “Tell now? Or later?”

“What are you talking about?” Annabelle said, trying to bluff, but Dana wasn’t buying. She tried harder to throw her best friend off the scent. “I’m just happy to be involved. Feels good, you know?”

Dana nodded but a shrewd light shone from her eyes. “Mmm-hmm” was all she said, but Annabelle breathed a secret sigh of relief that Dana didn’t seem inclined to press just yet. The operative word being yet. That was okay. By the time Dana got around to squeezing something out of Annabelle, whatever was going on between her and Dean would likely be over. Annabelle wasn’t a fool. Well, at the moment she was certainly acting like one, mooning over her boss, but in the long run, she knew where things really stood. This was a fling. Plain and simple. Ordinarily, Annabelle wasn’t one to play that game, but there was something about Dean that robbed her of the ability to think straight. Especially when he hit her with those smoldering glances that all but screamed he was thinking of one thing.

And that should piss her off. She hated being objectified. But coming from Dean it didn’t feel like something cheap and tawdry, though a part of her was petrified that it was exactly that, but she was too googly-eyed to notice it for what it truly was. Ugh. She rubbed her temple as her own dizzying logic sent a stabbing pain straight to her brain.

Somehow the meeting ended and she managed to make all the appropriate head bobs and agreements though she couldn’t for the life of her recall what had been the topic of discussion. Something about refreshments? Cucumber sandwiches? Who eats those? Sounded dreadful. Hope she’d heard that wrong.

They filed out of the community hall, which was really a glorified barn that had been retrofitted for the town’s purpose of a meeting center, and Annabelle said her goodbyes to everyone, hoisting Honey higher on her hip as she awaited Dean. She hated being dependent on him, but they’d arrived together, and he had the car seat in the truck. It didn’t seem right to arrive and leave together. She didn’t want people to talk.

“Maybe Dana could give us a ride home,” Annabelle suggested, hating the nervous quality of her voice. When he looked at her oddly, she explained with a fair amount of awkwardness. “Well, you know, I don’t want you to think that I expect you to drive us around all the time. Dana and Sammy would surely take us home if I asked. And, I don’t want people to think…” She blushed. “You know. In the absence of facts, people make up stories.”

Instead of answering, Dean gently took Honey from her arms and said, “Are you hungry, monkey? I am. Let’s get something to eat. All that talk of cucumber and aram sandwiches has made me hungry for some real food.” He turned to Annabelle with a twitching grin. “You coming? Or would you rather stand out here in the dark discussing the merits of the Emmett’s Mill gossip grapevine? Which, I might add, started talking the moment Sammy hired you. Since there’s nothing we can do about it, let’s eat.”

Smart. And utterly frustrating because he was right.

“I’m uncomfortable with everyone knowing my business,” she said quietly when she caught up to him. “I’d rather whatever is happening between us—if anything—is kept between you and me. People might not look at me very kindly if they thought I was trying to move in on Emmett’s Mill’s favorite widower.”

“No one would think that.”

“Yes, they would. I know how people think about strangers in small towns. Guilty until proven innocent and I don’t want anyone to judge me or Honey.”

He shot her a quick look that was incredibly protective and warmed her heart in a silly way. “No one is going to say a word about either of you. I wouldn’t allow it.”

Dean buckled Honey into her seat and Annabelle climbed into the truck, struck by how comfortable this moment was. They felt like a family. Shaking off that ridiculous—and dangerous—thought, she strapped on her seat belt and exhaled a short breath. “Well, thanks, but you can just take us home. I’ll just throw in a pot pie for me and Honey to share.”

“How about you let me take you and Honey to dinner?”

Annabelle balked. “Out? In public? That’s just begging for tongues to wag at my expense. No thanks. Are you ready to answer questions about…this?” Not that she knew what this was herself.

His mouth compressed into a tight line and she had her answer, though it poked her in a vulnerable spot. She straightened. “See? Home is best.”

“Right.” He sighed and put the truck in gear.

DEAN COULD smell whatever fragrance Annabelle always wore, whether it was simply her shampoo or perfume, and it made him want to bury his nose in the waves that fell down her back in an inviting tumble. He’d gone and screwed things up royally, but he couldn’t say he regretted it. No, he could admit it hadn’t been smart, but he couldn’t say he wouldn’t want to do it again if given the chance. Annabelle was under his skin in the worst way and he hungered to know more.

But she was right. He wasn’t ready to answer questions. Not even his own.

Honey was already asleep by the time they reached Annabelle’s house. Frowning because Honey hadn’t eaten before she conked out, he wondered if they should wake her. He followed Annabelle inside, casting a wary eye around at the premises, then went straight to Honey’s crib to put her down.

“Shouldn’t she eat first?” he asked softly, moving aside so Annabelle could put the baby into her pajamas. He watched as she maneuvered Honey deftly into a sleeper without waking her. Beth had been able to do that, too. He’d always managed to wake Brandon every time he tried to do the same. He smiled. Must be a woman thing. Annabelle gestured for them to leave the room.

“I fed her before the meeting because I knew it might get late,” she answered with a smile that was far too fleeting for his liking.

“Something’s bothering you.”

She avoided his stare and moved past him into the kitchen. “I’m just a little hungry. Do you want something? I have some pot pies that are pretty good for microwave food.”

He shook his head, catching her hand and gently pulling her to him. He ought to leave. Stop complicating an already messed-up situation, but he wasn’t going to. The breath hitched in her chest and the subtle movement created a cascading response in his body. He swallowed, feeling as if he was standing at the deep end of the pool and he’d suddenly forgotten how to swim. “I can’t think straight when you’re around,” he said softly, dipping to inhale the sweet skin at her neck. “Why is that?”

She shivered and angled her head, glancing at him through thick lashes. “I don’t know but it seems to be contagious,” she said, her voice husky and warm.

He chuckled, loving the fact that even though they were both practically burning up, she still managed to hold on to her sharp wit. He could barely handle a coherent sentence at this point.

“We should stop.”

He heard the regret in her voice. “You’re right,” he said, swallowing around the feel of his heartbeat banging in his throat. God, he felt like a damn kid again. “One kiss and we’ll call it a night,” he suggested and she nodded eagerly.

“One kiss. One kiss isn’t going to hurt anything.”

“One kiss…”

But Dean should’ve known that one kiss would never be enough. It didn’t sate his appetite the way it should have; it increased it tenfold.

Slanting his mouth over hers as his arms wrapped around her body, he drew her flush against him until the ripe fullness of her breasts pressed against his chest, igniting the skin.

Her tongue slid along his, playing and teasing as much as tasting and devouring, and he spiraled in a heady dance of desire that made his eyes cross. She sucked his bottom lip between pearly white teeth, hinting at the way she liked to play, and the blood flow immediately stopped elsewhere in his body to reroute south. Feeling himself straining against the unforgiving fabric of his jeans, he grabbed her behind and hoisted her into his arms, loathe to break contact even as he took them out of the room and straight to her bedroom. Of all the crazy things he’d ever done in his life, this ranked in the top three, but he’d lost any chance of listening to reason. He wanted—no, needed her—the way a man on the edge had to have someone to talk him down before he jumped.

They fell to the small bed, sending pillows bouncing to the floor and he climbed her body until he was back at her mouth. Her lips, swollen and red from his attention, were sexy as hell, beckoning as she twisted and gasped in his hold to better feel him against her. The spaghetti straps on her sunshine-yellow top were little match for him as he easily divested her of the flimsy fabric, tossing it over her head to join the discarded pillows. A peach lacy bra with scalloped edges flirted with her creamy skin and he groaned at the beauty of the sight before him. Damn near perfection. Cupping both breasts, reveling in their full weight, he gently squeezed and nearly lost it when she arched and moaned, gripping his shoulders and digging her nails in with a breathy demand for more.

“Annabelle, you’re amazing,” he murmured, running the tip of his tongue along the shallow valley of her breasts, while he sent one hand sliding down her belly to the tops of her Capri pants. Her legs scissored languorously and she sighed with pleasure as he made short work of the buttons so he could work his fingers beneath the matching peach froth caressing her hips and hiding from view what he ached to see. He worked the pants down slowly, and she helped him by kicking them free until they fell to the floor. Gazing down at her body, her skin heated and flushed, he drank in the sight. As the moment cooled between them, Dean watched as uncertainty clouded her gaze. She tried shifting, but Dean held her still, going down to lightly kiss the faint spidery lines marking her belly, where Honey had grown safe and healthy in her womb. She trembled as his lips grazed the soft skin. “You have nothing to be ashamed of,” he said, meaning every word. She was stunning and deserved no less than to believe it in her heart. “You’re perfect.”

She closed her eyes, but not before he caught the shine that betrayed her tender feelings. “Dean…”

Returning to her mouth, he gently explored her lips, needing to banish whatever had made her question, until she became pliant and yielding at his touch. Taking a brief moment to pull a condom from his wallet, he spent the next hour showing Annabelle in the most reverent way possible how much he enjoyed making love to a woman.

And judging by the scratches she left on his back, she appreciated his efforts.

CHAPTER TWELVE

BRANDON HEARD his father’s truck pull into the driveway and he didn’t need to see the time on his digital clock to know it was late.

His stomach churned as angry tears stung his eyes. His dad never went out late without telling him where he was going to be. He was a stickler for those kinds of things. So that led Brandon to believe that his dad hadn’t wanted him to know where he was. And there was only one place Brandon wanted his dad to steer clear of.

The woman had finally wormed her way into his dad’s pants. Brandon had known it would only be a matter of time. He wasn’t stupid. His dad was probably lonely and Annabelle was hot. Half his friends were already panting after her, gazing in her direction as if she were a Greek goddess or some such shit, making up excuses to go with him when he had to go to the office. But Brandon saw through her game. She needed a man to take care of her. She already had a kid with some other loser, and now she was eyeing his dad like the top prize at a carnival booth.

It wasn’t fair. Wasn’t it enough that they’d lost Mom? She’d been the love of Dad’s life—he was sure of it. He couldn’t understand why Dad was forgetting that fact. Annabelle didn’t hold a candle to Mom, he thought. Mom had been the kind of woman people could trust, the one everyone turned to when they needed help. A PTA mom, a woman who brought brownies for his class to share on his birthday. Annabelle was the kind of woman who was more likely to seduce the teacher than volunteer for lunch duty.

Jessie’s voice broke into his angry thoughts as the echo of their earlier conversation came to mind.

“What’s gotten into you?” she’d asked, irritation warring with concern in her hazel eyes. “You’re going all mental over your dad’s new office manager. I think she’s nice.”

“That’s because you can’t see her for what she truly is,” he’d retorted in annoyance.

“Which is?” She crossed her arms and glared.

“A gold digger.”

Jessie snorted and scoffed at the idea and his ears burned, but he didn’t back down. “Oh, c’mon. You don’t seriously think that, do you?”

He answered with a testy stare.

She shook her head. “You’re way off base. Maybe you need to stop freaking out about stupid things and deal with your issues. You’re creeping me out with all the ugly crap you’ve been saying about Annabelle.”

“Can’t help what’s true.”

She pinned him with a short look. “Yeah? Well, if you keep it up, you’ll be spouting off to someone else because I don’t want to hear it anymore.”

And then she’d left. Brandon didn’t blame her for leaving the way she did. He didn’t much like himself the way he was feeling but he couldn’t stop. It was as if Annabelle had burrowed under his skin like a parasite and was eating away at his ability to be a nice person. A flash of shame followed at the knowledge that his mom would have been very disappointed with him.

He countered by saying that if his mom knew how this woman had designs on his dad she’d want Brandon to protect the family however possible.

Which is exactly what he planned to do.

ANNABELLE couldn’t seem to catch her breath. She suspected it had something to do with the fact that each time Dean came into the building her heart rate tripled and the urge to lick him like a giant piece of man-candy nearly overwhelmed her.

He glanced her way and her mouth curved.

This could be a problem. She allowed her smile to fade and busied herself with work. A fling was transient, fleeting and brief. Annabelle tried to focus but Dean was in her peripheral vision and her attention wandered.

When he looked up from his PDA, their gazes locked. A slow grin spread across his lips and she knew their thoughts mirrored each other’s. She dropped her stare first. They couldn’t keep doing this all day. For one thing, they wouldn’t get any work done and for another, it was incredibly suspect. People were bound to notice.

“Have dinner with me tonight.”

She started at his sudden proposition. “No.”

“Why not?”

“You know why. We already covered that.”

“At my house.”

“Your house?”

He chuckled as if he’d surprised himself with the suggestion but immediately warmed to it. “Yeah. Let me cook you and Honey dinner. Brandon is staying at a friend’s tonight and it’d be nice.”

Tempting. Wildly tempting. Which is why she must decline but she wavered. “What’s on the menu?”

“I can only do one thing well.”

She blushed as her imagination provided a range of possibilities. Clearing her throat, she said, “Which is?”

“Barbecue.”

“Barbecue? Chicken? Fish? Steak?”

“Anything that tastes good charbroiled,” he answered. “Interested?”

Lord help me, yes. “Mildly.”

Dean pocketed his PDA and grabbed his keys. “See you at five. Bring your appetite,” he added with a wink.

Her breath hitched in her chest as she stared after him, trying not to gawk so hard that his jeans caught fire.

A woman could get used to a man like that. It was a full moment before her good sense returned and a regretful sigh followed. It seemed she had inherited her mother’s deplorable compass when it came to steering clear of trouble after all. Only she hadn’t gravitated toward a loser—quite the opposite. But it spelled trouble for Annabelle just the same.

So, what are you going to do about it? She worried her bottom lip and glanced toward Honey, who was playing with a set of toy keys Dean had picked up for her at the hardware store.

End it?

Yeah, how about trying that with a little conviction next time.

BY THE TIME Dean returned to the office he was humming. He entered the building with a smile and went straight to Honey, picking up the toddler as if it were perfectly natural to do so at the end of a long day, and fought the urge to kiss Annabelle. Instead, he grabbed Honey’s diaper bag and gestured for the door. “Shall we?”

“Are you sure this is a good idea?” she asked, hesitating as she followed. “I mean, this is going a bit fast. I don’t want you to think that I expect anything from you just because…”

He glanced back at her, drank in the sight of her standing there backlit by the sun, her hair a fiery halo around her head, and his heart stuttered a beat. He transferred Honey to his other side and pulled Annabelle to him. She gasped, making an adorably feminine sound, and looked up at him with wide brown eyes. He lowered his head to hers and took her mouth firmly, leaving no doubt as to how he felt about her statement. “You worry too much,” he said against her mouth. “It’s just dinner, right?”

“One dinner, one kiss…I think we know how these things end up,” she said wryly, though the corners of her mouth turned up playfully. She pushed away from him. “Fine. Dinner it is, but don’t get used to this. I’m not your girlfriend.”

“What are you then?”

Her mouth quirked as if she didn’t quite know what to call herself and in the absence of knowing, simply shouldered the diaper bag and moved past Dean with a mumble under her breath that sounded a lot like, “office manager with benefits,” and he felt laughter rumble in his chest. He liked her—more than he should—and he knew the consequences would likely make his heartburn feel like a mild flicker.

ANNABELLE, wineglass in hand, studied the pictures on the wall while Dean made all sorts of racket in the kitchen that didn’t sound promising.

“You sure you know what you’re doing in there?” she asked, pausing to glance at a photo of Brandon as a little boy. Judging by the missing tooth, he was probably around seven. Cute. Although, that wasn’t surprising. Despite his crappy attitude toward her, he was a good-looking kid. He favored Beth, it seemed, with his facial features, but he’d got Dean’s wide shoulders. Honey giggled as Dean’s cat wound his way around her small body, twitching his ringed tail next to her face until she sneezed.

“Bless you, Honey-pie,” she murmured, then sighed. Honey looked like Thad, down to her blue eyes and flaxen hair, but somehow a feminine version of Thad had turned out quite lovely. She walked to Honey and picked her up. “Let’s see what culinary treat Dean is subjecting us to. Let’s hope it’s edible.”

Annabelle needn’t have worried, she realized, for, as she rounded the corner to the dining room, Dean had laid a cozy setting for three, though he had wisely left the candles that graced the oak table unlit. A steaming pot of green beans and another of garlic mashed potatoes sat beside a plate of roasted boneless chicken and Annabelle’s mouth watered. “I’d say you can barbecue for me anytime,” she said, taking a seat with Honey, wondering if she’d ever smelled anything so good. “If I ate like this every night I’d be fatter than a deer tick,” she admitted with a rueful smile.

“I’m not one to complain about a little meat on a woman’s bones,” Dean said with a grin that made her feel naked. “Women are supposed to be soft and full of curves. You’re just about perfect in that area,” he added, and she blushed.

Dean disappeared, saying he’d be right back. Annabelle was grateful for the short reprieve so that she could get her head back on straight. How was a woman supposed to stay focused when the guy said things designed to make her melt? Dean returned with a beautiful wooden high chair and she lost whatever resistance she was trying to wage against falling for him.

“This was Brandon’s.” He plucked Honey from her lap before Annabelle could offer a weak protest, and slipped her into the old chair as easily as if he were accustomed to doing so every night. “Still works. Beth’s father made this chair for Brandon before he was born. It’s an heirloom we figured we could give to Brandon when he had kids but it’s just gathering dust for now.”

“Are you sure Brandon won’t mind?”

“Well, until I give it to him for his family, technically, it’s mine. I’d say he has no say in the matter,” he said firmly, signifying an end to that particular conversation, but Annabelle was a little uncomfortable. She had enough issues with the teenager; she didn’t need to compound them.

“Dean…”

“Annabelle,” he said softly, stopping her from continuing. “Let’s just enjoy dinner.”

She nodded. He was right. Brandon wasn’t here tonight, and it wasn’t likely she’d make a habit of coming over for meals, so she’d just enjoy dinner, as Dean said. She smiled. “Pass the potatoes, please. Honey likes the kind that come out of a box, but I think she’ll love these.”

“Potatoes should never come out of a box,” Dean said. “My mom would die before she put something out of a box on her table.”

“Well, not everyone was raised with the Bradys,” Annabelle said, placing a dollop of potatoes on her own plate. “My mom did the best that she could with what she had. And sometimes all we had came from a box.”

“I’m sorry,” Dean said. “I didn’t mean to be offensive.”

She shrugged. “No harm, no foul. But not everyone grew up like you did.”

“Tell me about what it was like to grow up in your home,” he said, and she immediately regretted her candid comments.

She waved away his request. “It’s nothing worth talking about.” True to a point. Her childhood was something right out of a Lifetime TV movie of the week. But who wanted to share that? Certainly not her. “Why do you ask?”

“Just curious, I guess. Can’t help but wonder by your comment how different our lives were. When we first met, you mentioned that your dad left when you were seven. Did your mom remarry?”

Her throat tightened and her smile felt strained. “Ah, no. She didn’t remarry.” The succession of loser boyfriends had been worse than one deadbeat dad in Annabelle’s opinion.

“So it was just you and your mom? You said you have a brother…”

“Robbie. Well, I heard he prefers to be called Rob now but it’s hard for me to see him as anything other than my little brother…especially when he’s asking me for money.”

“What does he do for a living?”

“Nothing that I can tell. He stays with friends. I guess he’s more like our dad in that he’s a bit of a wanderer, too. He never really stays in one place long. I didn’t even know where to find him to let him know our mom had died, so he missed the funeral.”

“He’ll come to regret that as he gets older.”

“Yeah, well, by the time Robbie starts to realize stuff like that, I’m sure our mom’s funeral will be just one of many regrets for him. Robbie hasn’t made very good choices, unfortunately.”

“How old is he?”

“Just turned twenty. He’s still a kid. All he cares about is where to find the next good time. Honestly, I’m amazed he isn’t in prison yet.”

“Is that where your dad is?” Dean ventured carefully and Annabelle surprised him with a laugh.

“I have no idea where my dad is. He could be dead for all I know. And I don’t really care. He abandoned us and didn’t look backward once. He broke my mom’s heart and I don’t think she ever really recovered, you know?” He nodded and she continued with a short sigh. “There’s nothing glamorous about being a single mom and sometimes it’s harder than you thought it was going to be. A person bringing in a paycheck can make another person more tolerant of his…shortcomings.”

“I take it your mom let a few bad apples into the house in order to make the bills.”

Annabelle considered how to answer. She’d already shared too much. “One or two.”

“Did any of them hurt you?”

She placed her fork down with an accidental clatter that made her stomach muscles clench. With forced gaiety, she said, “Dean, this is starting to feel more like the Inquisition than a pleasant dinner. How about lightening up with the third degree, okay?”

He leaned back in his chair, his expression thoughtful. “I’m sorry. When you grow up in a small town you tend to know a lot about the people around you simply because of circumstance. I just want to know more about you. I apologize for making you uncomfortable.”

“It’s fine. I understand. I’m just not the kind of girl who’s into sharing all that much. The past is the past and it wasn’t that great so I prefer to leave it there.”

“So, if I can’t ask about your childhood, what topics are fair game?”

“Well, that would depend…What else do you want to know?”

“How’d you meet Honey’s father?”

She winced privately, but figured this was safe enough territory. “He was the busboy at the restaurant I worked at,” she answered, hating how clichéd that sounded. “My mom had just died and Thad was a shoulder to cry on. He was nice and I was vulnerable. I know…classic. But, I didn’t expect to get pregnant, and when I did, I panicked at the thought of being a single mom. I’d avoided that situation for so long, I was mortified how easily I’d slipped.”

“Is Nichols your married name?”

“No. We didn’t actually get married. We were going to but I kept dragging my feet. I think subconsciously I must’ve known that it wasn’t going to work out. And now I’m so glad we didn’t tie the knot. If we were married still, Thad would no doubt want alimony.”

“It’s hard for me to understand how a father could walk away from his child. Brandon is the best thing ever to happen to Beth and me. He was a blessing from the moment he came into our lives.”

Annabelle smiled at Honey, feeling much the same. “Yeah, I know. But Thad’s just not that way and really, I’m glad. Makes things simpler on my end.”

“Did you love him?”

“Why do you ask?”

He shrugged. “It just seems you aren’t all that broke up about ditching the father of your baby. Makes me wonder if you ever loved him.”

“Maybe I just deal with things differently than you.”

“Is that an answer?”

“As much a one as you’re going to get on the subject. I told you the past is the past. I prefer not to dwell.”

“Fair enough. It’s none of my business.”

She smiled. “You’re right. It’s not.”

“Since I’m already setting a precedent for asking questions that aren’t any of my business, how about one more?”

He smiled in spite of his brashness and Annabelle replied with a low chuckle. “You can ask but there’s no guarantee I’ll answer. Go for it.”

“All right. How’d you lose your mom?”

Annabelle’s spirit dimmed as she remained quiet, always surprised by how that question still hurt. Sadie Nichols hadn’t been the best provider, but she’d been full of heart and Annabelle had always felt loved by her mom. She just wished her mom had had a bit more sense when it came to men.

“I sense the odds of your answering slowly dwindling. Hard question?”

“Uh, sort of. Losing my mom was difficult.”

“I can only imagine. Were you close?”

“Yeah,” she answered softly, remembering how she, Robbie and her mom used to curl up on the sofa together before the accident and watch old movies. “When she died…I was really lost for a while.”

“My mom is the glue that holds our family together. Without her, we would’ve been a bunch of unruly boys without enough sense between the three of us to fill a cereal bowl. Moms just have that special something. I’m sorry you lost yours so young.”

“I have some good memories.” Annabelle smiled. “Once my mom took us to Knott’s Berry Farm with the money she got from her tax return. Some people might say she should’ve spent the money on things like bills and new clothes for us, but that weekend was the brightest spot in our childhood, and I’m not sorry we went without new jeans and shirts that year.”