Read Online It's a Wonderful Wife by Janet Chapman - Free Book Online Page B

of the down comforter and carefully folded it over her, then snagged a pillow and went back to the living area. But eyeing the couch and deciding he was too tired to take the plastic off the mattress, he turned to the recliner. He kicked off his shoes and was just about to sit down when he caught sight of movement in the parking lot and stepped to the window in time to see a semi-deflated balloon skimming along the ground. He scanned the ceiling, looking for the sole survivor, but headed for the door with a curse when he realized it had gone missing. He quietly went outside and hurried around to the rear of the camper, then sprinted toward the trees when he saw the balloon tugging against a bush in the soft breeze—muttering another curse when one of his socked feet landed on a small rock and made him limp the last few strides.
    He untangled the balloon and straightened, only to still in surprise. “Son of a bitch,” he whispered at the sight of Cadi’s engagement ring tied to the end of the ribbon. “Son of a bitch,” he repeated, closing his fist around the ring.
    He had half a mind to cut his losses and fire Stanley Kerr.
    But that would mean he’d also be firing Cadi. And although he’d only seen the small version of it on the island model, he didn’t want to hire another architect—he wanted
that
home. Jesse coiled the ribbon around each hand and pulled until it snapped, finished popping the balloon and stuffed it in his pocket, then opened his fist to stare down at the ring. To hell with waiting two weeks, or even four days; tomorrow he was sending Miss Glace a large bouquet of flowers, because he was counting today as their first date.

FIVE
    Sitting on a bench tucked between a rack of spring pansies and a pallet of charcoal briquettes outside the grocery store, Cadi adjusted the brim of her hat as she watched the parade of fishing boats idling past the breakwater toward the rising sun, and tried to decide when she’d become such a people-pleaser. Long before her mother had died, certainly. Probably even before she’d let her father talk her into building his models. Heck, if she really wanted to pin it down, she would say everything had changed right about the time she’d reached the age of reasoning at around seven or eight years old.
    But the foundation had likely been laid in kindergarten, when she’d made the shocking discovery that her parents were old. None of the other kids’ parents had had gray hair; only their
grandparents
. And all her friends had had exciting moms and dads who picked them up from school on motorcycles, took them tenting in Acadia National Park and hiking up Cadillac Mountain, and even went swimming with them in the numbingly cold ocean.
    She had also climbed Cadillac, but in the backseat of a sensible sedan after spending the night in a charming bed-and-breakfast in Bar Harbor. Her parents had taken her to Sand Beach in Acadia at least twice every summer, but had only allowed her to go in the water up to her knees while they’d hovered at the edge of the waves, and then only after slathering her from forehead to feet with sunscreen. They’d always insisted she wear a wide-brimmed hat, had always packed up within an hour—because everyone knew the sand magnified the sun’s strength—and had always taken her to Jordan Pond House for afternoon tea and popovers on the lawn as consolation.
    God, she was
still
wearing hats.
    Cadi remembered being in the first grade and angrily asking why she couldn’t go dig clams with her friends one Saturday. “You’re our miracle baby,” her mother had said by way of explanation, “and we’d worry about something happening and us not being there to help you.”
    â€œThen you come clamming, too, so if I get stuck in the mud, you can pull me out.”
    Her mom had laughed then. “Oh, honey, I’m afraid
you
would be pulling
me
out. My knees