Read Online A Gift for All Seasons by Karen Templeton - Free Book Online
Authors: Karen Templeton
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suppose.”
“So you’ll go back to Richmond for the holiday?”
“Maybe. Haven’t decided yet.”
“You’re welcome to hang with me. Or I’m sure Mel—”
“Thanks. But I probably will spend it with my folks.”
Actually, she had no intention of going to Richmond—which she’d already told her mother, who’d then said they were having dinner with friends anyway. Just as well, being as April had realized that since this would be the first holiday without Clayton and his mother, she simply wanted some space to absorb that. And heaven knew she didn’t want to spend it with Mel, since for one thing even though April adored Ryder—whom Mel had loved from the time she was a little girl, and who was the main reason she’d returned to St. Mary’s after swearing six ways to Sunday she never would—all that bliss was hard to take in a confined space. And for another Ryder’s parents and Mel were still working out their own issues with each other, fallout from yet more of her grandmother’s madness. Best to stay well away from that for a while—
“So. What’s going on between you and Patrick?”
“What? Nothing—”
“No, if nothing was going on, he wouldn’t have kept asking me questions the past couple days that he should’ve been asking you. Honestly, I leave town for one day, and it all goes to pot.”
April frowned at her. “Excuse me?”
Her cousin pushed out a why-me? sigh. “You’re single, he’s single. You’re young and adorable. He’s young and sexy as hell. No chatter than I can tell that he’s seeing anyone, no evidence that his injuries affected his testosterone level—”
“Blythe, jeez—”
“And I’m guessing you haven’t been secretly getting it on with anybody, either, since Clayton’s death.”
Heat seared April’s cheeks. “You don’t have to be so...matter-of-fact about it.”
“About what? That your husband is dead? And you’re not? That you’re only twenty-freaking-six years old, your husband has been gone for, what? Nearly a year? And you’re still wearing your wedding rings even though—even though,” she said when April opened her mouth, “you’re looking at your landscaper like you’ve been on Atkins for a year and he’s a Krispy Kreme donut. So, yeah. I’m matter-of-fact. Because somebody has to be, and apparently that’s not you.”
April gawked at her. “This from the woman who thinks, and I quote, that ‘romance is a load of horse pucky’?”
Blythe snickered. “That’s not exactly quoting me. And that applied to me. Not the rest of the world.”
“Isn’t that being a trifle hypocritical?”
“Ask me if I care.”
Gravel crunched as she steered the car into the restaurant lot. Not a huge crowd, this time of year. During the summer, though, hour-long waits for tables at the seafood joint that always smelled of French fries, hush puppies and heaven were not uncommon. They spotted Mel’s car, parked close to the wide plank leading to the pylon-supported building.
A chill traipsed up April’s spine. “Oh, Lord—you’ve been discussing this with Mel, haven’t you?”
“Hellz, yeah.”
“So is this lunch? Or an intervention?”
Blythe cut the engine, grabbed her purse and grinned at April, all smokey-eyed devil woman. “Who says it can’t be both?”
April groaned.
“You interested in Patrick or not?”
“Whether I am or not has nothing to do with—”
“Just answer the question.”
So here it was. Moment of truth and all that. Even if it was little more than a formality, since if she hadn’t been interested she wouldn’t be obsessing like she was.
Blythe tapped the steering wheel. “Clock’s ticking, sweetie.”
“How about...intrigued?”
“Close enough,” Blythe said, then patted April’s knee. “Oh, c’mon...it’ll be fun.”
“For you, ” April muttered. Blythe chuckled.
Except the thing was, maybe she did need an intervention. Or at least a sounding board. Or two. Something her
“So you’ll go back to Richmond for the holiday?”
“Maybe. Haven’t decided yet.”
“You’re welcome to hang with me. Or I’m sure Mel—”
“Thanks. But I probably will spend it with my folks.”
Actually, she had no intention of going to Richmond—which she’d already told her mother, who’d then said they were having dinner with friends anyway. Just as well, being as April had realized that since this would be the first holiday without Clayton and his mother, she simply wanted some space to absorb that. And heaven knew she didn’t want to spend it with Mel, since for one thing even though April adored Ryder—whom Mel had loved from the time she was a little girl, and who was the main reason she’d returned to St. Mary’s after swearing six ways to Sunday she never would—all that bliss was hard to take in a confined space. And for another Ryder’s parents and Mel were still working out their own issues with each other, fallout from yet more of her grandmother’s madness. Best to stay well away from that for a while—
“So. What’s going on between you and Patrick?”
“What? Nothing—”
“No, if nothing was going on, he wouldn’t have kept asking me questions the past couple days that he should’ve been asking you. Honestly, I leave town for one day, and it all goes to pot.”
April frowned at her. “Excuse me?”
Her cousin pushed out a why-me? sigh. “You’re single, he’s single. You’re young and adorable. He’s young and sexy as hell. No chatter than I can tell that he’s seeing anyone, no evidence that his injuries affected his testosterone level—”
“Blythe, jeez—”
“And I’m guessing you haven’t been secretly getting it on with anybody, either, since Clayton’s death.”
Heat seared April’s cheeks. “You don’t have to be so...matter-of-fact about it.”
“About what? That your husband is dead? And you’re not? That you’re only twenty-freaking-six years old, your husband has been gone for, what? Nearly a year? And you’re still wearing your wedding rings even though—even though,” she said when April opened her mouth, “you’re looking at your landscaper like you’ve been on Atkins for a year and he’s a Krispy Kreme donut. So, yeah. I’m matter-of-fact. Because somebody has to be, and apparently that’s not you.”
April gawked at her. “This from the woman who thinks, and I quote, that ‘romance is a load of horse pucky’?”
Blythe snickered. “That’s not exactly quoting me. And that applied to me. Not the rest of the world.”
“Isn’t that being a trifle hypocritical?”
“Ask me if I care.”
Gravel crunched as she steered the car into the restaurant lot. Not a huge crowd, this time of year. During the summer, though, hour-long waits for tables at the seafood joint that always smelled of French fries, hush puppies and heaven were not uncommon. They spotted Mel’s car, parked close to the wide plank leading to the pylon-supported building.
A chill traipsed up April’s spine. “Oh, Lord—you’ve been discussing this with Mel, haven’t you?”
“Hellz, yeah.”
“So is this lunch? Or an intervention?”
Blythe cut the engine, grabbed her purse and grinned at April, all smokey-eyed devil woman. “Who says it can’t be both?”
April groaned.
“You interested in Patrick or not?”
“Whether I am or not has nothing to do with—”
“Just answer the question.”
So here it was. Moment of truth and all that. Even if it was little more than a formality, since if she hadn’t been interested she wouldn’t be obsessing like she was.
Blythe tapped the steering wheel. “Clock’s ticking, sweetie.”
“How about...intrigued?”
“Close enough,” Blythe said, then patted April’s knee. “Oh, c’mon...it’ll be fun.”
“For you, ” April muttered. Blythe chuckled.
Except the thing was, maybe she did need an intervention. Or at least a sounding board. Or two. Something her
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