He’d been with Annie so long. They’d been high school sweethearts, and he’d never even been with another woman. He’d never say such a corny thing out loud, but she’d been his soul mate. His everything.
And then suddenly she was gone.
He’d never find that again. But did he want to spend the rest of his life alone? He missed Annie’s friendship. He missed having a companion. And yes, he missed having a lover. The bar was so high, though, he feared no one else would truly satisfy him.
For some reason, the image of Louise’s granddaughter, Maddy, formed in his mind. Shiny brown hair, moving easily around her shoulders. That long fringe of lashes, sweeping over her almond-shaped brown eyes. He imagined her generous lips stretching in a wide smile—something he had yet to see.
“So what about it?” Lexie asked. “Are you willing to meet her after your restaurant crisis is over?”
Connor shook the cobwebs from his head. “Who?”
Lexie gave him a look. “My friend Johanna... the one with all theverys? Ringing any bells?”
Connor set his mug on the table between them. He knew he had to start dating eventually. He’d admit, if only to himself, that he was tired of being alone. He craved some form of what he’d had before, even if it couldn’t be the same. And Lexie was right. Annie wouldn’t have wanted this lonely existence for him.
He gave a put-upon sigh. “Fine. I’ll do it.”
Lexie squealed, clapping her eager young hands.
“But not until I find someone to fill Cheryl’s spot,” he said firmly. “And only this once.” He had to set some limits or his baby sister would run all over him.
Undeterred, Lexie’s smile was as bright as the sunshine. “I promise you won’t regret it.”
Connor scowled at his sister. He was definitely going to regret it.
Chapter 9
“Look at this,” Maddy said, holding up the tiny sundress. It was their third day in the hot, stuffy attic, and it had been slow going.
Emma looked up from a dusty box. “Aw, that was yours, Maddy. I saw a picture of you wearing it in one of the boxes.”
Nora was working quietly in a corner, black readers perched midway down her nose, sorting through a box of financial records.
Maddy envied her the unemotional job. She’d set aside a few boxes of her dad’s things, not wanting to deal with them yet. There was a part of her that was very curious about her dad, since he’d died when she was still a child. She knew him only as a loving father. What kind of man had he been? What kind of worker? What were his dreams and aspirations?
Gram would be able to fill in the blanks, but she always got such a sad look in her eyes when Daddy came up in conversation. And Maddy was reluctant to bring up the touchy topic with her mother. She had to admit he’d been her “favorite parent,” and she had a feeling that hadn’t gone unnoticed by her mother.
Maddy tossed some old magazines into the recycle pile. They already had three large trash bags full of garbage and several full of Goodwill items. They’d set back a few things for themselves: photographs, seashells, pictures they’d drawn for Gram.
Gram called almost daily, and they updated her on their progress. She sounded more concerned about their relational progress, but a tense truce seemed to be the best Nora and Emma could manage. Gram would have to be all right with that because Maddy couldn’t imagine either of them waving a white flag anytime soon.
Nearby, Emma stretched her neck, then checked her watch. “It’s going on two. I’ll go put something together for lunch. Turkey sandwiches and soup all right?”
Maddy’s stomach gave a growl. “Sounds good. I didn’t realize how hungry I was until you said that.”
“I’ll text you when it’s ready.”
After Emma left, Nora stood and stretched. “I never realized Gram was such a pack rat. She’s kept financial records dating back to the seventies.”
“Well, I didn’t get that quality from her,” Maddy said. “I’m lucky to find all my year-end information at tax time.”
Maddy pulled out a store flier, her eyes quickly scanning the bathing suit ad that must’ve been from the fifties. Her gaze honed in on one of the models.
“Look at this,” Maddy said. “Is that Gram?” She pointed at one of the four young women who were standing at the surf’s edge, arm in arm. The one who looked like Gram in her younger years wore a yellow one-piece with a snug skirt.
“Well, I’ll be. It sure looks like her.”
“She never told us she modeled! She was gorgeous.”
