A Mother's Reflection. Elissa Ambrose
with the key in the ignition. “I think it’s the switch.”
“Why don’t you just buy a new car?” Megan piped up from the back seat. “What’s the use in having money if you don’t spend it?”
Over his shoulder Adam cast her a stony look. He wasn’t about to discuss his financial situation with his daughter, especially with Rachel sitting next to him in the car. “Ethel has a few miles left in her yet,” he said, although he doubted the truth in these words. If this relic didn’t have major surgery soon, it would probably disintegrate before his eyes.
He knew what Erika would have said to his reply. She would have accused him, once again, of not wanting to let go. Maybe she was right. The ’59 Chrysler DeSoto was more trouble than it was worth. It was always in the shop, and parts were hard to find, but it had been the last Christmas gift from his wife. It had been an extravagance, but Cathy had known how much he loved these old classics. They decided to trade in both their cars and buy a sport utility vehicle. Cathy would use the SUV and he would zip around in the DeSoto.
If it hadn’t been so tragic, it would have been ironic. She’d had second thoughts about giving him the DeSoto—it doesn’t look safe, she’d said. And yet it had been her car, a brand-new SUV that was supposed to absorb the shock of impact, that had folded like an accordion when the other driver had run the light.
“Did you ever hear of anything so ridiculous?” Megan said. “He actually named this old heap.”
“Ethel was my great-aunt,” Adam explained to Rachel. He turned the key again and this time Ethel purred. “My mother’s aunt. The story goes that she had a great—” He glanced at his daughter in the rearview mirror. “Let’s just say that this car was made to last.”
“Could’ve fooled me,” Megan quipped.
“In that case I’m grateful to both Ethel and her owner,” Rachel said. “The next time the forecast says rain, I’ll believe it. I appreciate the lift, Adam.”
“My pleasure,” he said and meant it, but for the life of him, he didn’t know why he felt that way. Rachel was one nosy woman. Tricky, too. Look how fast she’d managed to get him to reveal his feelings about Annie. He groaned inwardly. After the preachy things he’d said, she must think he was a moron.
“The inn isn’t far from here, but I would have drowned in this storm,” she said, looking out the window.
He shifted into gear and pulled out of the lot. “When do you plan on looking for an apartment?”
“I thought I’d scout around this weekend. As charming as it is, I can’t live at the inn indefinitely.”
“If you want charming, I know of an apartment you can sublet. The tenant is a friend of mine. He’s away on a one-year sabbatical in France, and the landlord is willing to sublet on a month-to-month basis. Why not take a look at it? Living there temporarily would give you time to get to know the different neighborhoods before making a commitment to any one place.”
“Is it furnished?”
“Yes. Is that a problem? Of course it’s a problem. You’ll want to have your own things with you.”
“No, actually I would prefer it furnished.” She opened her purse and took out a pad and pen. “What’s the landlord’s number? I’ll give him a call when I get back to the inn. I’d like to see the place tonight, if I can.”
Adam rattled off the number. He wanted to know what she was planning to do with her own furniture, but he kept silent. Unlike some people, he wasn’t nosy.
As if she could read his mind, she said, “Since I won’t be staying in the apartment permanently, it would be silly to move all my things twice, don’t you think? For now, I’ll just leave my things, uh, stored where they are.”
“Rachel, why don’t you come over for dinner?” Megan asked. “The apartment is practically around the corner. Dad could drive you over there after we eat.”
Adam caught a glimpse of Rachel’s face. She was looking at him expectantly. He didn’t want her to get the wrong idea, especially after the way he had confided in her at the arena. Sure, she was attractive, and he couldn’t help but notice the concern in her eyes when they had talked about Megan, or the way her cheeks had flushed when he’d complimented her suit, or the way she’d crossed and uncrossed her legs when something seemed to bother her. But his life had enough complications and he sure as hell didn’t need another one. “I’m sure Rachel already has plans.”
“Puh-leeze! What plans could she have? It’s not as if she knows anyone in this town. And Paula is making chicken potpies. Paula takes care of us,” Megan explained to Rachel. “I bet her food is a lot better than the food at the inn. Don’t eat there, Rachel. What if you get food poisoning? Who’ll replace you at the center?”
Rachel laughed. “Actually, I’ve heard that the food there is pretty good. But your father is right. I have plans. I already made reservations.”
Adam pulled into the circular driveway outside the inn, and Megan made one last stab. “Won’t you change your mind, Rachel? I want you to meet Cinnamon. She’s my very best friend in the world, even though she’s a messy eater.”
“Sorry, Megan. I’ll have to meet your friend another time.”
“Cinnamon is her dog,” Adam said. “I think our Grace Farrel has an ulterior motive. She probably wants your opinion about Cinnamon playing Sandy, the mutt that befriends Annie and follows her everywhere. I, for one, think it’s a terrible idea. Cinnamon may be sweet, but she’s as dumb as a box of rocks. Completely un-trainable. What if, during the performance, she gets it in her head to do her business?”
Megan looked mortified. “Cinny would never do that!”
“And isn’t Sandy supposed to be male?” Adam pressed on. “As in, ‘Here, boy!’”
“Dramatic license,” Megan said. “We can make our own rules.”
“You mean poetic license,” Rachel said, laughing, “but you have the right idea.”
“She’s not even the right color,” Adam persisted. “Shouldn’t she be bright orange?”
“That’s the comic strip,” Megan said. “It’s supposed to be wacky. This is a play. More like real life.”
Rachel glanced at Adam. “We wouldn’t have to change a thing.”
“You see, Dad? Rachel thinks that Cinny should be Sandy.”
The way those two connected, you’d think they’d known each other forever. Adam felt like a heel. He knew that Rachel had declined Megan’s invitation to dinner only because he hadn’t backed it up. An idea occurred to him. “Why don’t you stop by for coffee after you’ve seen the apartment? Paula makes a mean batch of brownies.” What was the harm in one cup of coffee? Coffee wasn’t dinner. Besides, he was doing it for Megan.
“Say you’ll come,” Megan said excitedly. “Please, Rachel? I could show you my scrapbook. It’s got clippings of every performance I’ve been in. My mother started it when I was four years old, and Dad’s been keeping it going.”
“I’d love to see your scrapbook,” Rachel said. “And I’d love to meet Cinnamon.”
Looking at Rachel’s bright smile, Adam began to doubt the wisdom of his invitation. What if she were entertaining ideas about him? He didn’t want to lead her on. He liked his life the way it was. After Cathy died, it had taken a while, but he’d finally managed to pull himself together. There were still times he found it hard to get up in the morning, to go about his day as if his heart hadn’t been ripped from his chest, but for the most part, he was fine. Content. He had Megan, he had his mother, he had his job. And then there was Erika.
Erika was a good sport. He knew how much she had sacrificed. When the council had offered him this position, she’d given up