Read Online This Thing Called Love by Miranda Liasson - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Miranda Liasson
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carrier and walking over to hug the older woman. “What show?” She hadn’t come here to watch TV, or be exposed to larger-than-life Brad. She needed to talk, to be the recipient of some of the wraparound comfort Effie had always supplied in times of distress. A little selfish maybe, but these were desperate times.
Effie sat down carefully and patted the couch cushion next to her. She wore a bright pink cardigan and spotless white tennis shoes, and smelled of old-fashioned drugstore fragrance . . . like Emeraude or Chantilly. Familiar and comforting.
“Bradley’s being interviewed about that charity event he’s hosting over Memorial Day weekend.” Effie perused Annabelle, who sat quietly in her carrier, four fingers stuffed happily in her mouth. “My goodness, she’s grown since last week. And she does look like Patricia!” Effie patted Olivia’s hand. “I’m so glad you came, dear.”
“I wanted to see you.” Olivia looked into Effie’s eyes, the same startling green as Brad’s. Uncanny, how much that gaze was like her grandson’s. Olivia quickly shifted her own gaze to the baby, who was dressed in a tiny sundress sprinkled with strawberries and bumblebees and a matching sun hat. Olivia squatted down next to her and ran a finger over her velvety cheek before undoing the straps of her carrier.
She wanted to tell Effie so many things. Things she couldn’t share with her grieving father, but that she surely would have told her sister. Like how her heart squeezed when she thought of this baby, so alone. Except for her, the scary caretaker.
The last few hours had become a comedy of errors. She’d slept off her headache while the baby napped, but then it had taken another hour between soothing, feeding, and changing before she finally got herself decently dressed. Another hour before she could put on makeup—at least enough to camouflage the dark circles. She’d finally dressed Annabelle and set out again.
“Oh, it’s starting.” Effie clasped her hands together in excitement then gestured to the remote. “Turn it up, would you, honey?”
Olivia placed Annabelle on Effie’s lap and sat.
Olivia cranked the volume and stared at Brad’s chiseled body, secretly enjoying the opportunity to stare that she wouldn’t have in real life. He reclined gracefully at an outdoor table in a finely tailored suit, his shirt as white as his straight, beautiful teeth. The wind gently stirred the thick layers of his dark hair, the sun picking up its golden highlights. Olivia felt like she was watching a movie shot in the Riviera with a sexy male lead instead of a local news interview.
“That’s Erika Peters, from Channel Five. She’s working with Bradley on the Bachelors Who Cook event.”
Next to him sat a sultry woman with glossy black hair and pouty lips who could have been the missing Kardashian sister with her defined cheekbones and sexy curves. She spoke into the camera. “I’m working very closely with successful entrepreneur Brad Rushford, who’s kindly offered to host Bachelors Who Cook at his newly remodeled restaurant Reflections.”
“Brad owns four other restaurants in the southeast area, including the new Vinoin New London, which just got an excellent Zagat rating,” Ms. Peters said. “What’s next, Brad? We’ve heard rumors of a new restaurant in Philly or some even say Paris. Talk about a local boy making good.”
“My restaurants are doing well,” Brad said. “But I’m especially proud of the one here in Mirror Lake. If it helps bring people to town where they can discover everything we have to offer, all the better.”
Effie beamed. “I’m so proud of him. He was fifteen when his parents passed, you know. And then I had that heart attack and couldn’t work. And trying to feed and clothe and get five children through college on a nurse’s salary—Lord, we’ve been through a lot. But I feel like he’s my own child.” She sat with her hand pressed over her heart, proudly
Effie sat down carefully and patted the couch cushion next to her. She wore a bright pink cardigan and spotless white tennis shoes, and smelled of old-fashioned drugstore fragrance . . . like Emeraude or Chantilly. Familiar and comforting.
“Bradley’s being interviewed about that charity event he’s hosting over Memorial Day weekend.” Effie perused Annabelle, who sat quietly in her carrier, four fingers stuffed happily in her mouth. “My goodness, she’s grown since last week. And she does look like Patricia!” Effie patted Olivia’s hand. “I’m so glad you came, dear.”
“I wanted to see you.” Olivia looked into Effie’s eyes, the same startling green as Brad’s. Uncanny, how much that gaze was like her grandson’s. Olivia quickly shifted her own gaze to the baby, who was dressed in a tiny sundress sprinkled with strawberries and bumblebees and a matching sun hat. Olivia squatted down next to her and ran a finger over her velvety cheek before undoing the straps of her carrier.
She wanted to tell Effie so many things. Things she couldn’t share with her grieving father, but that she surely would have told her sister. Like how her heart squeezed when she thought of this baby, so alone. Except for her, the scary caretaker.
The last few hours had become a comedy of errors. She’d slept off her headache while the baby napped, but then it had taken another hour between soothing, feeding, and changing before she finally got herself decently dressed. Another hour before she could put on makeup—at least enough to camouflage the dark circles. She’d finally dressed Annabelle and set out again.
“Oh, it’s starting.” Effie clasped her hands together in excitement then gestured to the remote. “Turn it up, would you, honey?”
Olivia placed Annabelle on Effie’s lap and sat.
Olivia cranked the volume and stared at Brad’s chiseled body, secretly enjoying the opportunity to stare that she wouldn’t have in real life. He reclined gracefully at an outdoor table in a finely tailored suit, his shirt as white as his straight, beautiful teeth. The wind gently stirred the thick layers of his dark hair, the sun picking up its golden highlights. Olivia felt like she was watching a movie shot in the Riviera with a sexy male lead instead of a local news interview.
“That’s Erika Peters, from Channel Five. She’s working with Bradley on the Bachelors Who Cook event.”
Next to him sat a sultry woman with glossy black hair and pouty lips who could have been the missing Kardashian sister with her defined cheekbones and sexy curves. She spoke into the camera. “I’m working very closely with successful entrepreneur Brad Rushford, who’s kindly offered to host Bachelors Who Cook at his newly remodeled restaurant Reflections.”
“Brad owns four other restaurants in the southeast area, including the new Vinoin New London, which just got an excellent Zagat rating,” Ms. Peters said. “What’s next, Brad? We’ve heard rumors of a new restaurant in Philly or some even say Paris. Talk about a local boy making good.”
“My restaurants are doing well,” Brad said. “But I’m especially proud of the one here in Mirror Lake. If it helps bring people to town where they can discover everything we have to offer, all the better.”
Effie beamed. “I’m so proud of him. He was fifteen when his parents passed, you know. And then I had that heart attack and couldn’t work. And trying to feed and clothe and get five children through college on a nurse’s salary—Lord, we’ve been through a lot. But I feel like he’s my own child.” She sat with her hand pressed over her heart, proudly
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