Page 41 of It's a Widow Thing

“Thank you so much for the invitation. It’s very kind of you, Mrs. Wright.”

Michael’s mother wagged her finger. “No, you don’t. I’m Lydia and nothing else.” She reached for Michael’s hand while holding on to Sabrina’s elbow. “You two really do make a gorgeous couple.”

“Easy, Mom,” Michael said. “Let us get inside before you start picking out wedding invitations.”

“All I’m speaking is the truth. Now get the suitcases while I walk Sabrina inside.”

Michael arched both eyebrows as if to remind Sabrina that he had warned her. Funnily enough, Sabrina only cared about two things—she felt welcome, and she wasn’t freaking out.

Lydia led Sabrina into the foyer, which had wide-plank wood floors and a light and airy feeling with off-white walls, topped off with a wrought-iron chandelier overhead. To one side was a formal living room. On the other, a dining room. Everything was decorated in shades of white and cream. It was beach chic, in the most tasteful way possible.

“I’m sorry if I seem especially excited,” Lydia said. “But when your son is forty-five and it’s the first time he brings a woman to the beach house, it’s cause for celebration.”

The first time?“Oh, sure. Of course.”

Michael trudged inside with the bags.

“Michael, I put you two upstairs in the Delphinium room.”

Michael shook his head. “You’re going to have to give me more than that. I can’t keep the flower names straight.”

“The blue and white one, dear. End of the hall. It’s not that difficult.” Lydia pursed her lips and shook her head at Sabrina. “I tried to raise my sons to be worldly, but I don’t think they were paying attention when I made them help me in the garden.”

“Just one of my many shortcomings.” Michael started up the stairs.

“I’m sure they kept you on your toes.” Sabrina smiled and followed him.

“Still do,” Lydia called after them. “We’ll see you two lovebirds in a bit. Don’t hurry down on my account.”

Sabrina trailed Michael down the hall, along a gorgeous carpet runner of greens and blues, past professional portraits of Brian and Daniel with their respective families, all dressed in matching color schemes while running in the surf on a pristine beach or seeking shade beneath a centuries-old tree on an impeccable lawn. Scattered between were odd images of Michael—graduation day with his parents, a family cookout with his brothers and the headshot used whenever his firm was featured in theWall St. Journal. It was a tale of Michael’s bachelorhood woven through the rest of his family’s history, illustrated in photographs.

When they reached the guest room, he plunked down his bag and stretched his neck. “Where do you want your suitcase?”

“Anywhere is fine. Next to yours, I suppose.” Sabrina wandered to the window and the view overlooking the sunny backyard—with a covered swimming pool littered with fall leaves, tennis courts, and the most sprawling lawn she’d seen in some time, with a gazebo at its farthest reaches.This is the vacation house. It’s not even their regular house.“Is that your dad?” She pointed to a tall older man who looked exactly like Michael and his brothers. The genes in this family were strong. He was out on the patio with a young girl who had a head of stunning dark braids.

Michael joined her, placing his hand on her back. “Yep. That’s my dad. And my niece, Zoe. Brian’s daughter. She’s the best. She’s my favorite member of the family.”

“You shouldn’t have favorites, Michael.”

“And you haven’t met Zoe.” He drew in a deep breath and rubbed her shoulder, looking out over the property. “It’s beautiful here, isn’t it? I have to say I love it.”

“How could you not? It’s stunning. Very peaceful.” She turned to him and smiled, relishing this chance to see a different side of him. Whatever she’d thought when she first met Michael, he wasn’t a completely open book. She’d believed for a while now that there were secrets locked up in that handsome head of his. “Is the house you grew up in as nice as this?”

“The Connecticut house is a bit more modest, but it’s still pretty big.” He picked at his fingernails. “I think my mom just enjoys having one more house to take care of. She likes staying busy.”

“Busy? She’s a freaking Senator.”

“Did you notice how thin she is? She sleeps like three hours a night.”

Sabrina took her chance to survey the furnishings—an imposing carved-wood four-poster bed and a fluffy sky-blue quilt topped with a mountain of pillows. Like everything she’d seen of the rest of the house, the room was warm and welcoming. “I’m a little surprised your mom put us in the same room. Older generations can be pretty conservative when it comes to that.”

Michael flopped down on the bed, making a mess of the pillows and crossing his legs at the ankle. He patted the vacant spot next to him. “Honestly?” he whispered. “I wouldn’t have put it past her to leave champagne and chocolate-covered strawberries up here. You heard her and the thing about not hurrying down on her account.”

She laughed quietly and stretched out next to him, scooting closer until their bodies were side-by-side, no empty space between them. Even through layers like jeans and sweaters, she could soak up his body heat. It made her crave his skin against hers. “So you’ve never brought a woman here before?” Sabrina narrowed her gaze.

“Oh, God. Did she tell you that?”

“Yep.” She nodded eagerly. “I don’t get why not. You could have impressed a lot of women with these digs.”