James stared him down. Four hours with the kid, and he was starting to catch on.

“Okay, that was a joke,” Taymal said. “Yeah, my mom wants me to have a positive male influence. And that’s you, dude. Pretty sad, if you ask me.”

“Great.”

“I’d rather not have to see your skinny white legs again, though. Next time, maybe we can do something else?”

James smiled. “Sure. You like baseball? We could go see the Sox, maybe?”

“Man, are you kidding? Take me to Yankee Stadium, hook us up in a hotel for the night, that fancy-ass Waldorf Astoria, get us some box seats. We’ll be all set.”

“Maybe we can go down for one game. No hotel, and no box seats, though. I don’t make that much.”

“Too bad. My cousin Louis? His Big Brother took him to the seventh game of the World Series, dude.”

“I will never take you to the World Series. You still want me?”

“‘You still want me?’ Man, you sound like a girl. Later, dude. Call my mother, set something up.”

“Okay.” The kid heaved himself out of the car and sauntered inside.

So, given how it’d begun, the afternoon had been a smashing success, in a horrible sort of way. He could see Taymal growing on him. He could see—maybe someday—overcoming his fear of swimming.

The condo was quiet, as it always was. He should look into selling it, even with the real estate market in the toilet, because his new job wasn’t paying what his old job did, and while he’d paid Beckham Institute in advance for the next four years, that time would be over before he knew it.

Maybe he’d be promoted by then; as it was, he was working entry-level pay and hours, and grateful for it. The firm handled mostly corporate law, a little pro bono on the side. It was nice to work with people again. Actually, it was Stella, his old secretary, who’d gotten him the interview through a lawyer she taught in her jujitsu class. It was a decent firm; one of the senior partners seemed to like him. So four years, sure, he might be on partner track. Could even be married in four years. You never knew.

He went over to the fridge, took out a beer and stared at the photo on the door.

It was a picture of Parker and Nicky, sitting on the dock, taken from behind. The sun shone on Parker’s hair. Her arm was around her boy, her face turned slightly toward him. They’d been fishing, and when a miracle happened and Nicky actually caught something, they’d both yelled for James to come down and unhook the fish. Which he’d been happy to do.

It had been nice to be needed.

Well. Taymal might think he was an idiot, but he was needed there. And he’d been calling home more regularly, talking to his mom. He’d even called Pete and talked to his niece, Morgan, who’d answered the phone. She sounded like a sweet kid.

Funny that three months ago, James hadn’t wanted much more than he had. Now that he’d had more, though, it was harder to be content.

He touched the edge of the picture, then turned.

There was a FedEx envelope on his table with a sticky note on it: “Signed for this today. Barb from 3G.” He’d have to remember to thank her.

The package was from Goldman Sachs. That was odd; maybe he’d been put on their mailing list since almost taking the job. He opened it up to find a note on corporate letterhead, as well as a sealed envelope addressed to him, care of Goldman. No return address. A note said,

This came for you. Took me a while to find your address. Delia Summers, Assistant Director, External Correspondence Department, Goldman Sachs.

No wonder the country’s financial system was in danger. The mail room had become the External Correspondence Department.

James opened the package. Inside was the manuscript for Mickey the Fire Engine.

The last copy, Parker had told him. The refrigerator cycled on, the only sound in the quiet kitchen. James turned the page. The last copy of the book she loved.

Indeed, as Taymal would say.

CHAPTER THIRTY-EIGHT

PARKER WAS AT BLOSSOM on a Tuesday morning, lugging buckets of fresh flowers into the cooler, when an unexpected visitor walked through the door. “Mom!” she said, setting down the gerbera daisies with a slosh.

“Hello, sweetheart,” Althea said.

“What are you doing here! Again without calling! What a nice surprise!” She hugged her mom, who looked strange…wait, it was that she looked normal, actually. The Botox had worn off, and Althea’s face had lost that tight, shiny look.

“I know, I know, I should’ve called. I wanted to surprise you again.” Her mother looked around the shop. “This is very pretty, Parker. Oh, you have a dog. I forgot.”

“This is Beauty. Beauty, come say hi.” The dog declined to leave her little bed, but she granted Althea a small tail wag. “So, Mom. What are you—”

“I left Maury.”

Parker blinked. “Oh. Wow.”

Althea sighed. “Do you have any coffee? A nonfat vanilla soy latte would really soothe my soul about now.”

“I have plain old coffee. How would that be?”

The story was, Althea said, that she got tired of walking on eggshells, trying to please a curmudgeonly old man who was, she suspected, going to dump her anyway. “One day, darling, I said, ‘Althea, what are you thinking? You deserve better. You’re more than someone’s wife.’”

Parker nodded, a little stunned. Her mother had never gone more than eight months without a husband, had been first married at age twenty-one to Harry. Being a wife was her entire career. “That’s huge, Mom.”

“I know. But the truth is, I’m not sure what I’m supposed to do. So I figured the first thing would be to visit my grandchild.” She paused. “I didn’t call because I was afraid you’d say no.”

“Mom! I wouldn’t say no! I’m really proud of you. Of course you can stay with us. The new place is small, but we have a guest room. It’ll be great!”

Althea smiled. She had lovely crow’s feet, Parker noticed. “I was sort of counting on that.” Her eyes filled with tears. “I couldn’t keep it up, Parker. It’s exhausting, trying to be the person someone wants you to be and completely losing the person you once were.” She blew her nose. “I promise I won’t stay forever. It’s just been so long for me, I don’t even know where to start.”

“Here. Here’s where you start.” She leaned over and kissed her mom’s cheek. “Nicky will be so happy when he sees you.”

“You think so?”

“Absolutely. We’ll surprise him when he gets off the bus. He comes here after school.”

Parker spent the rest of the day showing her mother around the shop, letting her watch as she filled orders, talking about Nicky and the adjustments to their new lifestyle. They got lunch from the deli down the street and ate it in the little sitting area in the shop.

“So you’re happy?” Althea asked a trifle suspiciously.

Parker took a bite of her sandwich and thought about the question as she chewed. “I am. I love doing flowers, and even though I thought I’d hate it, I like that Nicky’s in school. Though I did cry a lot the first couple of weeks.”

Her mom smiled. “What about—what was his name?”

“Collier?”

“Oh, did you date him?” Althea asked excitedly.

“No. He’s a nice guy, but kind of a dope.”

“Yes. Well, actually, I meant the other one. The one who was living with you.”

“James.”

“Yes. Did that ever…?” Her mother raised her eyebrows. So odd to see her with normal facial movement.

“We parted ways,” Parker said. She was quiet for a moment. She’d spent the past week berating herself for sending the manuscript. It had seemed cute; in the face of his nonresponse, it now seemed really stupid. She should’ve been more direct. Just written him a note, or called him and said, “Look, I’m sorry, I miss you, please give me another chance.”

“Don’t be sad, sweetheart,” Althea said, patting her hand. “We’re two single women. We can do facials and have movie nights, and I can make your favorite dinner.”

“Do you even know what that is, Mom?” Parker asked, smiling.

“No. But you can tell me, and I’ll give it a whirl.”

* * *

NICKY WAS INDEED EXCITED to have Faraway Mimi up close. He wanted to show off the new house, especially the fort he’d made in his room, so Parker switched his booster seat to Althea’s rental car and let him go home with her. Her mom beeped the horn and turned at the corner.

Parker watched them go, a little bemused. Aside from a few summers here and there, she hadn’t lived with her mom since she was thirteen years old. The cynical side of her wanted to take a bet on how long it would take Althea to find another husband. The better part of her was proud. Althea had never left a husband willingly. Well. Except for Harry.

Althea had put up with a lot from her husbands over the years, proving the old saying that if you married for money, you earned every cent. But she’d married Harry Welles before he’d become a big deal; she’d loved him once, and when he cheated on her and traumatized their only child, Althea walked away. Her mother had protected her, as best as she’d known how, and that…that was worth a lot.

Parker sat down at her desk, smiling at Nicky’s kindergarten photo. He’d worn a bow tie, at his own insistence, “so Colette will see me as husband material,” he’d announced the night before when they’d all been eating at Mirabelli’s, and Ethan had laughed so hard he’d cried. Her son looked cheesy and adorable in the photo, all his baby teeth still present and accounted for.

This was what her life was now—a business to run, bills to pay, a son to raise. A new home, her friends, sweet little Beauty curled at her feet and now her mom staying with her for a while, trying on some independence for size.

A nice life. A full life.

She did some bookkeeping for the next hour, the quiet of the fragrant little shop as soothing as a cup of cocoa. She had to order more roses; the wholesaler was short on them this week. She’d work late on Friday for a Saturday wedding, but the thought gave her a tingle of excitement. Maggie Beaumont—well, Maggie Malone now—had emailed her pictures of the arrangements so Parker could put them on Blossom’s website, and the bride had loved the look.

Maybe, if she could swing it, she and Nicky could go up to Gideon’s Cove for a week this summer. See Vin and the rest of the people she’d met. Eat at Joe’s, see how the babies had grown.

The phone rang, and Parker glanced at the clock. Five minutes till closing. She could let the machine get it; if it was an order, she wouldn’t have time to fill it until tomorrow. Then again, she’d be a fool to turn away business.

“Blossom, can I help you?”

“Hi,” said the female voice on the other end. “I need to place an order for my boss? It’s his twenty-fifth wedding anniversary.”

“I’m just about to close. Are these for today?”

“Afraid so.”

Parker paused. “Well, for twenty-five years, I guess I can stay open a little longer. What’s he looking for?”

“He said something gorgeous. And expensive.”

Oh, goody. Hopefully, he’d remember that she stayed open for him on his special day and use her again. She took out her pen “And the card?”

“Yeah, let me read that—he wrote it out for me. Ready?”

“Yep.”

“‘I’ve loved you since the first moment I saw you, and I haven’t stopped since. Thank you for our beautiful children, thank you for our life together, and thank you for being my wife. Hope we can fool around later.’”