has such a demanding job. He obviously wanted a
wife who was willing to stay home and have children, since Deidre’s done just
that.” Her mother sniffed again, her phone equivalent of a condescending look.
“I don’t know why you insisted on working, since you certainly didn’t need the
money. I’m sure you won’t make that mistake again.”
Marrying someone who not only cheats with a
twenty-three-year-old massage therapist but also gets her pregnant? “I
certainly won’t, Mother.”
“Good. You know, if you wait too long to start dating again,
you’ll be too old to be attractive to any man worth having. I’d hate to see you
turn out to be a childless spinster like my sister.”
Catherine’s hand tightened around her cell phone. “Aunt
Jessica had a wonderful life.”
“She was a disappointment to our family in so many ways.”
“She was a bestselling author and in a committed
relationship with another bestselling author.”
“She wrote trashy romance novels, for heaven’s sake,” her
mother said. “And you know how I felt about Max Windsor. The only good thing is
that they never married.” She sighed loudly. “But I won’t speak ill of the
dead. Jessica was my sister, and I loved her.”
Catherine chewed her lip to keep from responding. Defending
Aunt Jessica to her mother was as big a waste of time as defending Max.
“You know, if you don’t show up, people will assume you’re
still heartbroken over Neil, since he and Deidre will almost certainly be
there,” her mother continued. “Self-pity is not an attractive characteristic.”
“I hope you’ll spread the word that work, not self-pity,
kept me from attending,” Catherine said. “Now I need to go. Give my best to
Dad.”
“I’ll do that. Please change your attitude about dating. A
Barrington does not give up because of one failure.”
“I know, Mother.” Rule Number 23. The one right before Rule
24, no self-pity. “Thanks for calling. I love you.”
She did love her mother. Although sometimes she didn’t like
her much. Probably because her mother seemed to consider her as big a
disappointment as Jessica had been.
Catherine tossed her phone onto the unmade bed and headed
for the shower.
# # #
“I told you I’d survive, Lexie,” Ben said, walking into the
dining room where she was savoring a cup of French roast. He dropped a kiss on
the top of her head.
Other than feeling a flick against her hair, Lexie’s body
didn’t react to the kiss, thank God. She’d been right—exhaustion had been
responsible for last night’s more heated response.
“Is Dylan still asleep?” Cecilia asked.
“Yep.” Ben slathered a bagel with cream cheese and carried
it and his coffee to the table. “He didn’t even flinch when I went in to get my
stuff. Much as I hate to agree with Jeremy about anything, I think alcohol
played a major role in last night’s dream.” He sat down in the high-backed
chair beside Lexie.
“I’m not so sure,” Cecilia said, fiddling with the tennis
bracelet circling her wrist. “Dylan’s right about those noises we heard when we
were younger, tapping on the walls and strange footsteps and loud groans,
things like that. We thought it was Grandfather, but he always denied it and
insisted he’d bought some ghosts to haunt Nevermore. If anyone could arrange
for a few ghosts, it would have been Grandfather.”
“Provided you believe in ghosts, which I don’t,” Ben said.
“I heard the same kinds of things, especially when I was living here. I figured
Grandfather was behind it no matter what he said.”
“Did anything ever happen when Grandfather was traveling?”
Cecilia asked.
“Sometimes. I assumed he’d rigged it to go off while he was
gone,” Ben said. “Or that I was imagining things.”
“I believe Dylan saw your grandfather’s ghost,” Lexie said.
“You believe in ghosts?” Ben looked at her incredulously, an
understandable reaction to her outrageous statement.
She didn’t,
wife who was willing to stay home and have children, since Deidre’s done just
that.” Her mother sniffed again, her phone equivalent of a condescending look.
“I don’t know why you insisted on working, since you certainly didn’t need the
money. I’m sure you won’t make that mistake again.”
Marrying someone who not only cheats with a
twenty-three-year-old massage therapist but also gets her pregnant? “I
certainly won’t, Mother.”
“Good. You know, if you wait too long to start dating again,
you’ll be too old to be attractive to any man worth having. I’d hate to see you
turn out to be a childless spinster like my sister.”
Catherine’s hand tightened around her cell phone. “Aunt
Jessica had a wonderful life.”
“She was a disappointment to our family in so many ways.”
“She was a bestselling author and in a committed
relationship with another bestselling author.”
“She wrote trashy romance novels, for heaven’s sake,” her
mother said. “And you know how I felt about Max Windsor. The only good thing is
that they never married.” She sighed loudly. “But I won’t speak ill of the
dead. Jessica was my sister, and I loved her.”
Catherine chewed her lip to keep from responding. Defending
Aunt Jessica to her mother was as big a waste of time as defending Max.
“You know, if you don’t show up, people will assume you’re
still heartbroken over Neil, since he and Deidre will almost certainly be
there,” her mother continued. “Self-pity is not an attractive characteristic.”
“I hope you’ll spread the word that work, not self-pity,
kept me from attending,” Catherine said. “Now I need to go. Give my best to
Dad.”
“I’ll do that. Please change your attitude about dating. A
Barrington does not give up because of one failure.”
“I know, Mother.” Rule Number 23. The one right before Rule
24, no self-pity. “Thanks for calling. I love you.”
She did love her mother. Although sometimes she didn’t like
her much. Probably because her mother seemed to consider her as big a
disappointment as Jessica had been.
Catherine tossed her phone onto the unmade bed and headed
for the shower.
# # #
“I told you I’d survive, Lexie,” Ben said, walking into the
dining room where she was savoring a cup of French roast. He dropped a kiss on
the top of her head.
Other than feeling a flick against her hair, Lexie’s body
didn’t react to the kiss, thank God. She’d been right—exhaustion had been
responsible for last night’s more heated response.
“Is Dylan still asleep?” Cecilia asked.
“Yep.” Ben slathered a bagel with cream cheese and carried
it and his coffee to the table. “He didn’t even flinch when I went in to get my
stuff. Much as I hate to agree with Jeremy about anything, I think alcohol
played a major role in last night’s dream.” He sat down in the high-backed
chair beside Lexie.
“I’m not so sure,” Cecilia said, fiddling with the tennis
bracelet circling her wrist. “Dylan’s right about those noises we heard when we
were younger, tapping on the walls and strange footsteps and loud groans,
things like that. We thought it was Grandfather, but he always denied it and
insisted he’d bought some ghosts to haunt Nevermore. If anyone could arrange
for a few ghosts, it would have been Grandfather.”
“Provided you believe in ghosts, which I don’t,” Ben said.
“I heard the same kinds of things, especially when I was living here. I figured
Grandfather was behind it no matter what he said.”
“Did anything ever happen when Grandfather was traveling?”
Cecilia asked.
“Sometimes. I assumed he’d rigged it to go off while he was
gone,” Ben said. “Or that I was imagining things.”
“I believe Dylan saw your grandfather’s ghost,” Lexie said.
“You believe in ghosts?” Ben looked at her incredulously, an
understandable reaction to her outrageous statement.
She didn’t,
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