Page 40 of It's a Widow Thing

She swept her tongue around the ice cream. “It doesn’t show. You always seem like you have it together.”

Michael could’ve given her a laundry list of the many, many times he hadnothad it together. But he was in the business of keeping her close and if he was really lucky, making her fall in love with him. This was not the time to bring up his shortcomings, but he did want to be honest about it. “I promise to fall apart at some point. But you can feed me waffles and I’ll be just fine.”

She smiled wide. It was a grin that made him feel like she was the sun itself, shining down on him. “I really do feel better. Thank you. I guess sugar and fresh air was all I needed.”

“Sometimes you just need a change of scenery.”

She nodded, studying his face. “Speaking of change of scenery, I’ve been thinking about next weekend. The Hamptons. With your parents.”

“Oh yeah?” he croaked. “What do you think?”

“I think I’d like to go.”

“Really?” He didn’t want to sound so surprised, but he’d assumed that at this point, she wasn’t up for it.

She gently smacked his arm with the back of her hand. “Yes. Really. It only makes sense. You’re my boyfriend, after all.”

Her boyfriend. He’d never been so freaking grateful for a label in all of his life. He leaned over and gave her a soft kiss. The sweetness of ice cream, waffles, and Sabrina made him dizzy. He wondered for a moment if there were any astronauts orbiting the earth right now and if so, could they see his smile from space? Definitely. “That makes me so happy.”

CHAPTERSIXTEEN

East Hampton waslike something out of a made-for-TV movie. Late Saturday morning, Michael was driving his car—a black BMW SUV he kept in storage and apparently refused to drive in the city—down the charming main street of the village, which hosted a wide array of cafes, restaurants, and shopping. The narrow cobbled sidewalks were busy with small groups of people bundled up in sweaters and coats who strolled under the fading foliage of trees that had to be several hundred years old. “It’s so cute. I don’t know what I expected, but I didn’t think it would be so adorable.”

“Were you thinking it was all going to be parties with rock stars and socialites? Not everything out here is like that. Lots of it is just small-town life.”

Despite the quaintness, the place did manage to quietly scream that you had to have money to belong. The cars were all gleaming and expensive. The scarves worn by passersby were Burberry and the handbags on women’s arms were Chanel and Louis Vuitton. And the residential stretches before and after the main drag were stately and grand. “This doesn’t look like any small town I’ve seen. The houses are so huge.”

“The scary thing is that this isn’t even the swanky part.”

Sabrina could only imagine. She’d never been out here, but she had friends who had. “I bet you’ve been to the swanky part.”

He glanced at her quickly then focused on the road again. “A few times. It’s not particularly fun. The food is never as good as you want it to be. And everyone’s just there to be seen.”

They rode past private gate after private gate. Estate after estate. And all Sabrina could think about was permanence and legacy, two things with which she had little experience. “This is a little like landing on another planet.”

He reached over and squeezed her hand. “I don’t know what you were expecting, but I’m just going to tell you now that despite what any of this looks like, my family is just as dysfunctional as everyone else’s. My parents have done well for themselves, but they are not the richest of the rich by any means. Our house doesn’t even have beach access.”

“Oh. Okay.” She gazed out the window, telling herself not to be so damn nervous. Most people would be excited to meet Michael’s family. And it wasn’t like she hadn’t spent tons of time with wealthy people. Hell, Nora Van Cleeve had money to burn. And Orla wasn’t doing bad for herself, either.

He placed his hand on her leg and she turned back to him. “Look. The house belonged to my great-grandparents. It was built in the 1920s and it’s been added on to a few times over the years. It’s nice. It’s comfortable. I think you’ll love it, which is part of why I wanted you to see it.”

She realized then that this wasn’t about money. It was about sharing. Michael continued to give of himself, and she hadn’t reciprocated in the same way. She was still afraid to let him get too close. Every time something happened and she let down her guard, he had no problem wrapping himself a little tighter around her heart. That was a good thing. She knew it was. She just needed to work harder at setting aside the reflex to put up a wall to protect herself. “Thank you for bringing me here. It’s really nice that you wanted to share it with me.”

“You’re welcome.” He slowed down the car and turned right from the main road. “This is us.” Gravel rumbled under the tires as they started down the drive, which had tall privacy hedges on both sides. Ahead, she could see a sliver of the house, with graying cedar shake siding and crisp white trim. As the landscaping became less obtrusive, the vista opened up and the home came into full view. A black slate roof topped a sprawling structure with three stories, dozens of windows, and hydrangea bushes skirting the foundation.

A tall black double-door stood at the center, with an arched transom window above. Before Michael could come close to parking the car, a woman burst through it and rushed down the wide sweep of steps. She was a trim petite woman, with short dark curls, reading glasses, and a smile you could see from miles away. With an apron wrapped around her waist, Lydia Wright looked more like a host on the Food Network than one of the most formidable women in Washington. “Michael!” she shrieked when he stopped the car and opened the door.

“She’s always like this. Let me know if it gets to be too much and I’ll tell her to chill out,” he muttered as he cupped his hand over Sabrina’s. “Ready?”

“As ready as I’ll ever be.” She reached for the door handle as he climbed out of the car.

By the time Sabrina was around to the other side of the car, Michael and his mom were caught up in an enthusiastic embrace. “Mom, hi. It’s good to see you,” he said.

“I’m so happy my handsome son is here.” She stood back and reached up to squeeze his face with both hands. “So, Daniel and Erika couldn’t come after all. Erika wasn’t up for the time in the car. That baby is really doing a number on her body.”

“Oh. Okay.” Michael sounded disappointed. “I hope we’re here in time for lunch.”

“Of course you are. I wouldn’t dream of eating without you.” Lydia turned and set her sights on Sabrina, opening her arms wide, but hanging back for a moment, and it felt like she might be conducting her appraisal of Sabrina. “You are just as beautiful as Michael said you were. We are so happy to have you here.” She enveloped Sabrina in a hug that smelled like Chanel No. 5 and was punctuated with a squeeze. It reminded her of the way Orla or Nora often greeted her.