Change of Life. Leigh Riker
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her girlhood summers in Richmond with Maggie. To this day, she and her grandmother were close, and Nora wished she could duplicate their relationship.
Maggie snorted. “Why bother with the doctor? That man books months ahead. By the time I really need him, I won’t need him,” she insisted.
Nora bit back a sigh. No wonder they didn’t get along. Like Maggie, she didn’t relish change in her life (take today, for instance), but she’d had her share. Nora was a survivor, and she remained an optimist. She blew a stray hair from her forehead, then counted to ten before she took a last sip of her Frappuccino. “If you don’t want to see your regular doctor…” Nora hesitated before adding, “then come visit me. Better yet—” she took the plunge “—live with me. As soon as you get here we’ll get you a complete workup.”
This was an old argument, and Maggie didn’t accept it now.
“I don’t want to move to Destin. I have plenty of friends here. I refuse to become a burden on my children.”
Child, Nora corrected in silence. Her only brother lived in Hawaii, and Hank Jr. had made it clear years ago that their mother was Nora’s responsibility. His interests seemed to consist of a collection of surfboards, the highest seas he could find, and endless women with the kind of deeply tanned skin that wouldn’t age well. He hadn’t held a steady job in years, unlike Nora, who had been working since she was fifteen. And seeing to Maggie’s future rather than her own.
“When it’s my time, I’ll go.” Maggie didn’t mean the move to Destin.
Nora ignored that. She didn’t want to think about losing Maggie. She slammed her empty cup into the holder on her console, steering a path with her other hand on the wheel through rush-hour traffic past the posh Silver Sands Mall. Overhead the sky was a clear, brilliant blue, and outside the car she knew the temperature still hovered in the eighties. It was too hot to open the windows, but Nora had the urge to inhale the bracing salt sea air along with the ever-present humidity. “The weather’s nicer here,” she pointed out. “Don’t you know how I worry about you alone in that house?”
“It’s my home,” Maggie said stiffly. She had rarely left it in fifty years.
“Yes, and it has three flights of narrow stairs and an outdated kitchen with faulty wiring. What if there was a fire?”
“My problem,” Maggie insisted. “I should think you have enough to handle. What about Savannah, living with that man before they’re even married? In my day, that would be a scandal. And then there’s Browning, who may have a fancy-sounding job with the government—he’s a spy, if you ask me—yet he hasn’t a clue about settling down. How many times has he ‘fallen in love’ in the past six months?”
Nora sighed. “More times than I can count.”
She swung her white Volvo convertible, the top of which was up today to shade her from the sun, off the two-lane road onto a side street that connected to her subdivision. And made one more try. “Please listen to reason. I’m your daughter. Your only daughter.”
Maggie’s tone hardened. “I hate Florida. What would I do among that bunch of leather-skinned sunbathers in retirement? They look like alligators. Listen to me, Nora Marianne Scarborough Pride, I am still your mother.”
After a few more minutes when neither of them budged from their usual positions, Nora said a wistful goodbye, then hung up, feeling frustrated. Well, that had gone badly, which, considering the rest of her day, shouldn’t have come as a surprise. First Starr, then Mark, now Maggie. Nora hadn’t even mentioned her troubles, after all.
Thank goodness her day was at an end.
By the time Nora reached home in her quiet, off-the-beaten-path neighborhood, she felt drained. The sight of her tidy, one-story house of rosy brick and the winding stone path to her door didn’t help for once. The Frappuccino hadn’t restored her spirits, either, or her energy, despite its triple kick of caffeine, and neither had her talk with Maggie. Still, Nora smiled as she opened her door.
Before she stepped inside, she heard familiar doggy footsteps. As always, Daisy greeted her in the foyer. Nora felt an immediate burst of vitality and a love that was both given and received. Several years ago, after Savannah had moved out and then Browning, Nora had adopted the silky golden retriever through a rescue organization. In truth, she felt they had saved each other. Unlike Maggie, Nora no longer entered an empty house. And who needed a man? Even her ex-husband had never been as affectionate or as good a companion.
“Hey, girl. Sorry I’m late. Anybody interesting call today?”
She dropped her keys and bag, then bent to hug the dog; Daisy wriggled with delight. Nora kissed the top of her head, then waited until Daisy bumped her wet nose against the hallway table that stood under a gold-framed mirror. It was part of their daily ritual, and dutifully Nora opened its small drawer to retrieve a bag of beef-flavored treats. Who had trained whom? she wondered with another smile.
The pleasure with which Daisy munched on the canine equivalent of a Dove chocolate bar almost wiped out Nora’s memory of her day. With a heartfelt groan of relief, she kicked off her Ferragamo pumps. She padded into the living room, Daisy right behind her, and reminded herself that, their differences aside, Maggie was indeed still her mother. And Nora did love her.
For the few seconds until her jaw had unclenched, she allowed herself to take in the tasteful taupe and gold and cream furnishings of her living room. Hers. She’d done a bang-up job with its simple but elegant decor, including the rich, darker shade she’d chosen for the walls, and tonight, especially, she needed its welcome sanctuary. It even smelled like home, part discreet potpourri from the bowls scattered throughout the house, part animal even though Nora bathed Daisy regularly, part furniture polish and the lingering scents of the white chicken chili Nora had fixed for dinner last night.
“Hungry, angel?”
There was only one answer to that question. Daisy launched into another dance, hips wiggling, doggy nails clicking all the way into the kitchen. Nora fed her before she headed straight for the chilled bottle of New Zealand chardonnay that languished in her refrigerator. Frankly, tonight she was a hair away from phoning Heath Moran when she’d promised herself she never would again.
Seeing a younger man, no matter how gorgeous he was, didn’t seem…well, seemly, as Maggie might say. The months Nora had spent with her hunky health club trainer had been fun—wildly, madly so—but they were over. Love games were for people her son’s age.
Nora had just poured a glass of wine when she heard the front door open. Engrossed in her meal, topped with leftover chili for gravy, Daisy didn’t look up from her food bowl. Lazy Daisy, Nora often called her with affection. Daisy didn’t concern herself with protecting her mistress. Obviously she recognized the intruder by scent and wasn’t alarmed. For an instant, Nora wondered if Heath had come to return her house key—or to offer her a second chance. On her stocking-clad feet she glided out of the kitchen into the living room and to her surprise heard stifled laughter, twice over. Her heart settled for the first time that day, then warmed at the sight of her daughter and Savannah’s fiancé.
“What are you two giggling about?” she asked. They stood by the door whispering like conspirators. Nora supposed it had something to do with their upcoming wedding. If one thing had gone wrong in the planning, everything had, and it had become a joke among the three of them. Nora relished sharing their regular reports of the latest snafu as much as she enjoyed supplying her own version of the often-ridiculous events. “If that printer has changed his delivery date again for those invitations, I’ll—”
Savannah grinned. “No, Ma. It’s nothing like that.”
Nora took a first sip of wine and assessed her future son-in-law’s not-quite-suppressed smile. His eyes sparkled, as if he knew some delightful secret, and he waggled his eyebrows at her. Nora lifted hers in response. She was happy to see him and Savannah, too, the one bright spot in this day, except for Daisy. She held up her glass. “Would either of you like a drink?”
“Maybe