Stealing Home. Sherryl WoodsЧитать онлайн книгу.
talk he used to give me about how you’re supposed to treat someone you care about was just a crock.”
“Ty, he’s your dad. You don’t hate him,” she chided. “And what he told you is the way it’s supposed to be. People who care about each other should be kind and supportive and faithful. Unfortunately life doesn’t always follow the rules.”
“You can’t make me love him,” he said, his tone unyielding. “I heard what he asked you. He wants you to convince me he’s not a jerk.”
“He loves you. He came over here because he misses spending time with you.”
“I’m not the one who left,” Tyler said bitterly. “He is. Why should I go out of my way to see him, especially when she’s around all the time?”
Maddie moved to the sofa and held out her hand. “Come here.”
He hesitated, then came closer and awkwardly took her outstretched hand.
“Sit here beside me,” she said. When he was seated, she turned and met his gaze. “Ty, you’re old enough to understand that things don’t always work out with grown-ups just because we want them to. It’s not anybody’s fault.”
“Are you telling me that Dad having an affair and getting Noreen pregnant is as much your fault as it is his?”
Her lips curved in a small smile at that. “Well, no, I can’t say that, but obviously things weren’t good between your dad and me or he wouldn’t have turned to her.”
“Did you know they weren’t good?”
“No,” she told him candidly. In hindsight, the signs were there, tiny fissures so small she could be forgiven for missing them, but at the time she’d thought their marriage was as solid as anyone’s could be.
“Then it was all his fault,” Tyler concluded, still being fiercely loyal to her.
As much as she wanted to agree with him, she was determined to be fair. “Spend some time with him, Ty, just the two of you. Listen to his side of things,” she encouraged. “You’ve always been so close. Don’t lose that.”
“He’ll just make a bunch of excuses. I don’t want to hear them.” Ty regarded her warily. “Are you going to make me spend time with him?”
“I won’t force you to, no,” she said. “But I will be disappointed in you if you don’t at least try to meet him halfway.”
“Why?” he asked incredulously. “He walked out on you, Mom. On all of us. Why do we need to be fair?”
“He didn’t walk out on you, Kyle and Katie,” she said quietly. “He isn’t divorcing you. Your dad loves every one of you.”
“Man, I don’t get you,” her son said angrily, yanking his hand away and standing up. “How come I’m the only one in this house who sees Dad for the scumbag he is?”
“Tyler Townsend, don’t talk about your father like that!” she said.
His gaze locked with hers, then eventually faltered. “Whatever,” he mumbled and stalked out of the room.
Maddie watched him go, her heart aching. “Damn you, Bill Townsend,” she said for the second time that night.
The old Victorian house on the corner of Main and Palmetto Lane was at the western fringe of downtown Serenity. Not that there was much of a downtown anymore, Maddie thought as she stood with Helen and Dana Sue. The hardware store had stuck it out, as had the drugstore with its old-fashioned soda fountain, but Willard’s Grocery had been empty for a decade, ever since a superstore with discount grocery prices had opened twenty-five miles away on the outskirts of Charleston. It had quickly become evident that residents would rather drive all that way for a bargain than pay a few cents more to keep a local merchant in business.
The white paint on the Victorian was peeling, the shutters were askew and the porch sagged. The lawn hadn’t been cut in ages and most of the picket fence was broken. Maddie dimly remembered the place as it had been when old Mrs. Hartley was alive. Yellow roses had tumbled over the white fence, the porch and sidewalk had been swept daily and the shutters had gleamed with dark green paint.
Mrs. Hartley, who must have been in her eighties by then, had sat on the porch every afternoon with a pitcher of iced sweet tea and welcomed anyone who happened to walk by. More than once, Maddie had climbed onto the swing hanging from the porch rafters and eaten sugar cookies while her grandmother had visited with the elderly woman. Nana Vreeland and Mrs. Hartley had been witness to most of the changes in Serenity through the years, and Maddie knew she’d absorbed their love for the small town with its friendly people, old white clapboard churches and acres of green space with a small lake in the middle that was home to a family of swans. Free summer concerts in the bandstand by the lake drew everyone in town on Saturday nights.
Despite Serenity’s charm, a lot of people Maddie’s age had been eager to leave and never come back, but not Maddie or Bill. They’d never wanted to live anywhere else. Nor had Helen or Dana Sue. The slower pace and sense of community meant something to all of them.
“Boy, this place brings back a lot of memories,” Maddie said at last. “What a shame that none of Mrs. Hartley’s kids wanted the property or made any effort to take care of it.”
“Their loss is our gain,” Helen said briskly. “We can get it for a song.”
“I’m not surprised,” Maddie said. “Are you sure it’s safe to go inside? Looks to me as if all sorts of critters might have taken up residence in there.”
Dana Sue nudged her in the ribs. “Do you think we’ve forgotten about your terror of spiders and snakes? Helen made sure the real-estate agent had it all swept out last week. There’s nothing in there but the resident ghost.”
“Oh, please,” Maddie said. “How can there be a ghost? No one’s died here.”
“But wouldn’t it be fabulous if there were a ghost?” Dana Sue persisted. “Just think of the PR value. There’s nothing a Southerner loves quite so much as a good ghost story or bragging rights to having one up in the attic.”
“I’m not sure having a ghost would be much of a recommendation for a health club,” Helen said. “What if it appears in a mirror one day? It could scare twenty years off someone’s life and pretty much destroy the place’s reputation as a fitness mecca. I’m not sure even I could win that lawsuit.” She met Maddie’s gaze. “Ready to go inside?”
“Sure. Why not?” Maddie said, still trying to see what the two of them obviously saw in the run-down house. Even her memories of the way it had once been didn’t help her to envision it as a thriving spa.
Not two minutes later, though, once she’d stepped across the threshold and into the sunlight pooling on the old oak floors, her pulse began to race a little faster. The downstairs rooms were huge. The windows were dingy, but even so they let in streaming rays of sun. With pale yellow walls and white woodwork, the spa would be cheerful and welcoming. The floors could be brought back with sanding and a good coat or two of polyurethane.
When she reached the dining room, which faced the back of the property, she realized that the French doors and tall windows opened to a wooded lot with a small stream trickling through it. Treadmills set up to face that way would give the illusion of walking or running outdoors. Wouldn’t that afford women a sense of serenity while they exercised?
Dana Sue latched on to her hand and tugged her into the kitchen.
“Can you believe this?” she demanded, gesturing around her. “The appliances are old and the cabinets are a mess, but the room is huge. Just imagine what we could do with it.”
“I thought the idea of this place was to make people forget about food, not to feed them,” Maddie said.
“No, no, no,” Dana Sue chided. “It’s supposed to give them a place to make healthy choices. We