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“Okay, let’s switch again,” the bandleader said, and reluctantly J.D. released her.
“You go ahead and dance,” she said, slipping away from him and breaking off the magic that she felt existed between them, “but I’m going to have a talk with my son.” She couldn’t be swayed by the seduction of the night, nor let her mind wander into the dangerous territory of thinking J.D. was anything but her brother-in-law.
But he wasn’t about to be left behind. He caught up with her as she rounded the house and wended her way through the parked cars toward the barn. Four boys sat on the top rail of the fence, and the smell of cigarette smoke burned in the air.
Stephen was at one end of the group, and he watched her approach with openly suspicious eyes.
“We need to go home and talk,” she said without making any small talk or allowing her son time for introductions.
“Why?”
She motioned toward the other boys. “You want to go into it here? In front of your friends?”
In the paddock a horse snorted loudly, then plodded away. The boy sitting next to Stephen on the rail, a kid Tiffany didn’t recognize, slid farther along the fence, putting some distance between his body and Stephen’s, as if in so doing he would avoid some of the fallout from her wrath.
Stephen wasn’t going to be cowed in front of his friends. His eyebrows drew together, and he glared at his mother as if she were the problem. “I came here because I wanted to,” he said boldly. “You wouldn’t bring me.”
“So you lied.”
“You’re the one who always says family’s so important”
Stephen’s eyes flashed with challenge, and in that slice of a second, Tiffany witnessed the man he would become.
“You’re changing the subject”
“John Cawthorne’s my grandpa.”
“He’s a stranger.”
“And he’ll always be one if we don’t get to know him.”
Where did all this logic come from? And why did he care about a grandfather who for years had pretended he didn’t exist? Fuming, she tried to understand her son, who, until the past year, had tried to please her. Now, it seemed, he drew strength from, even enjoyed, defying her.
“It’s time to go home, Stephen. Whatever it is you wanted to accomplish by breaking the rules, it’s over. Come on.”
He hesitated, and Tiffany nearly stepped forward, grabbed him by his rebellious thirteen-year-old arm and yanked him off the fence, but just as she found the inner strength not to give in to the impulse, J.D.’s fingers tightened over her wrist, restraining her from further humiliating her son in front of his newfound friends.
Grudgingly Stephen hopped to the ground and started striding toward the lane where the Jeep was parked.
“Tiffany!” Katie, holding her skirt in one hand, was waving frantically as she weaved in and out of the haphazardly parked cars. “You’re not leaving already, are you?”
“I think it’s time.”
“But we never even got to talk—Oh, hi,” she said to Stephen. “I’m Josh’s mom, but you know that, don’t you?” She turned her thousand-watt smile on J.D. “Don’t tell me, you’re Philip’s brother.”
“J.D. Santini.” He extended his hand, and Katie shook it in both of hers.
“Glad to meet you. But, please, don’t leave yet. The party’s just beginning. I’m just thrilled that you decided to show up. I know it means a lot to John and to my mom. They have this wild notion that we can all become one of those big blended-patchwork kind of families.”
Tiffany hazarded a glance at her son. Was that what he wanted? A large family, complete with aunts, uncles, cousins and grandparents? How could she blame him? Hadn’t she, at his age, longed for the very same thing? “Maybe, in time, it’ll all work out,” she offered and didn’t add, But I wouldn’t hold my breath.
“Sure.” Katie seemed convinced. “It won’t be easy, but, hey—” She shrugged. “Why wouldn’t it work? We’re all adults—well, most of us,” she added, winking at Stephen. “I’m looking for Josh right now. I don’t suppose you’ve seen him?”
“He was, uh, playing in the hayloft with some of the younger kids,” Stephen said, obviously uncomfortable, as if he’d broken some code of honor by telling a parent where to find her son.
Katie rolled her eyes. “He’s probably ruined his new slacks and jacket. I just bought them for this deal, and I was hoping that he wouldn’t grow out of the blazer before he wore it again—say, for Bliss’s wedding—but now it’s probably ruined. Oh, well, such is the life of a single mother.”
Tiffany thawed a little. Katie’s warmth and enthusiasm were downright infectious. Besides, she and Katie had so much in common. Not only were they John Cawthorne’s illegitimate daughters, but they were both struggling as single parents and working women.
