“What did she say about him?”
“Why do you care?”
Susan produced an airy shrug that should have managed to hide her momentary guilt. “Just curious. I’m not used to having Indiana Jones show up at my doorstep bearing gifts from my mysterious godmother.”
“I think he looks more like that man in The English Patient.”
“Before or after he was burned?” Susan drawled.
“And you haven’t told me why you lied to Deb. She’s between beaux right now, and there’s no reason she shouldn’t entertain herself with Jake. I think they’d make a lovely couple.”
“It would be disastrous. Deb’s much too vulnerable?—”
“Deb Stover is entirely capable of taking care of herself. Are you sure you don’t have another reason for scaring her off Jake? You seem far too interested in him.”
“I’m not the slightest bit interested in him. I’m not someone out of a screwball comedy, about to run off with a mountain man on my wedding day.”
“No, you’re a nervous bride who’s not absolutely convinced she’s making the right decision.”
The gently spoken words were like a slap in the face. Susan stared up at her mother in shock. “I’m thirty years old, mother. Edward is everything I’ve ever wanted in this life—security, comfort, friendship. We’ll have a good life together.”
“What about love? What about passion?”
“I saw where that got you. I can do very well without it, thank you very much. You’ve lived the past thirty years quite happily, and you didn’t miss it at all.”
“Who says?” Mary started toward the bedroom door, looking suddenly older than her fifty-nine years, and Susan stared at her in shock and guilt.
“You gave it up because of me,” she said, stricken. “I just assumed you were happy, when all the time you were sacrificing?—”
Mary whirled around. “Don’t be silly, darling. I didn’t make any sacrifices I didn’t want to make. I didn’t give up on love and passion for your sake. I just never found anyone I cared about Not the way I cared about your father.”
“Then why didn’t you try to work it out with him?”
Mary shook her head. “That was in the past No need to belabor it now. I just don’t want to see you making the same mistakes I made.”
“That’s why I’m marrying Edward. I don’t want to marry the wrong man like you did.”
“Oh, Susan,” she said gently. “I didn’t marry the wrong man, sweetheart. My mistake was leaving him.” She shut the door behind her with quiet firmness, and Susan sank back on the sofa.
It had never occurred to her that her mother might have regretted her choices. That her own choices might not be the wise, rational decisions she’d prided herself on.
And she couldn’t rid herself of the feeling that her mother was lying to her, trying to spare her feelings. That she’d spent the past thirty years living like a nun for the sake of her ungrateful daughter.
She’d deny it, of course. Susan pushed herself off the sofa and headed for the kitchen, looking for something to calm her nerves. Prewedding jitters, of course. All brides had them. Doubts and second guesses were an occupational hazard. And the unexpected appearance of Jake Wyczynski didn’t help things.
Though there was no particular reason why she should find him so unsettling. She’d seen dangerously good-looking men before and she considered herself impervious to their dubious appeal. But the fact of the matter was that this time, this man, was different.
Four more days until the wedding, and every single minute was crammed with things to do. She hadn’t been sleeping well, even though she usually prided herself on being unflappable, and if she had any sense at all she’d head into the bedroom and go right to sleep.
However, she’d learned the hard way that sense and sleep had no connection whatsoever. And she knew that despite the bare five hours of intermittent sleep she’d had the night before, she was far from ready to go to bed.
She made as little noise as possible when she went to her room, stripping off the perfect little black dress and pulling on an ancient pair of jeans and an old sweatshirt, shoving her bare feet into a pair of sandals. She washed off the makeup, shoved her fingers through her short hair and headed out into the cool night air, taking in a deep breath. She’d been feeling oddly stifled all night long, surrounded by people and demands, and the quiet stillness was balm to her soul.
The streets were empty, quiet, as she set out at a leisurely pace, stretching her long legs. She had no particular destination in mind, but it came as no surprise to her when she ended up on Forrest Street, just down the block from Winnie’s All-Night Cafe.
Winnie was long gone—the place was run by two transplanted yuppies who’d installed an espresso machine and served biscotti, but you could still find the best doughnuts and French fries in the world. Susan usually contented herself with a salad and latte, but tonight she was in need of comfort food.
She slid into a booth, ordered a huge, greasy cheeseburger and fries, washed down by a Coke, and leaned back, closing her eyes, as the sound of New-Age music drifted in the background. She hadn’t eaten anything at the party tonight. She’d only nibbled at lunch—it was no wonder that she’d gotten overwrought She had to remember to eat—there was no frilly, too-small wedding dress to starve herself into. Her doomed Aunt Tallulah’s satin wedding dress fit her frame perfectly—if she lost any weight it wouldn’t hang as well, and there was hardly time to get it altered.
