Читать книгу: «The Manning Grooms: Bride on the Loose / Same Time, Next Year»
Make time for friends. Make time for Debbie Macomber.
CEDAR COVE
16 Lighthouse Road
204 Rosewood Lane
311 Pelican Court
44 Cranberry Point
50 Harbor Street
6 Rainier drive
74 Seaside Avenue
8 Sandpiper Way
92 Pacific Boulevard
1022 Evergreen Place
1105 Yakima Street
BLOSSOM STREET
The Shop on Blossom Street
A Good Yarn
Susannah’s Garden
(previously published as Old Boyfriends) Back on Blossom Street (previously published as Wednesdays at Four) Twenty Wishes Summer on Blossom Street Hannah’s List A Turn in the Road
Thursdays at Eight
Christmas in Seattle
Falling for Christmas
A Mother’s Gift
Angels at Christmas
A Mother’s Wish
The Manning Sisters
The Manning Brides
The Manning Grooms
Praise for New York Times bestselling author
Debbie Macomber
‘Debbie Macomber is a skilled storyteller
and a sure-buy with readers’
—Publishers Weekly
‘Just what the doctor ordered for that feel-good factor’
—Sunday Express on Hannah’s List
‘A charming and touching tale of love,
loss and friendship’
—Closer magazine on Hannah’s List
‘Another touching read from Macomber’
—OK! magazine on Susannah’s Garden
‘An emotional, heart-warming and
highly enjoyable read’
—Closer magazine on Thursdays at Eight
‘She’s sold seventy million books and this
is another heart-tugger’
—Evening Telegraph on A Turn in the Road
‘Debbie Macomber’s books have such a lovely
feel-good factor to them’
—lovereading
About the Author
DEBBIE MACOMBER is a number one New York Times bestselling author. Her recent books include 44 Cranberry Point, 50 Harbor Way, 6 Rainier Drive, and Hannah’s List. She has become a leading voice in women’s fiction worldwide and her work has appeared on every major bestseller list. There are more than one hundred million copies of her books in print. For more information on Debbie and her books, visit www.debbie Macomber.com.
The Manning
Grooms
Jason’s Story
in
Bride on the Loose
James’s Story
in
Same Time, Next Year
Debbie Macomber
Jason’s Story
in
Bride on the Loose
Debbie Macomber
To Virginia and Dean,
whose fifty years of love have inspired me.
Happy Golden Wedding Anniversary!
One
It was one of those days. Jason Manning scrubbed his hands in the stainless-steel sink, then applied ointment to several scratches. He’d just finished examining and prescribing antibiotics for a feisty Persian cat with a bladder infection. The usually ill-mannered feline had never been his most cooperative patient, but today she’d taken a particular dislike to Jason.
He left the examining room and was greeted by Stella, his receptionist, who steered him toward his office. She wore a suspiciously silly grin, as if to say “this should be interesting.”
“There’s a young lady who’d like a few minutes with you,” was all the information she’d give him. Her cryptic message didn’t please him any more than the Persian’s blatant distaste for him had.
Curious, Jason moved into his book-lined office. “Hello,” he said in the friendliest voice he could muster.
“Hi.” A teenage girl who seemed vaguely familiar stood as he entered the room. She glanced nervously in his direction as if he should recognize her. When it was obvious he didn’t, she introduced herself. “I’m Carrie Weston.” She paused, waiting expectantly.
“Hello, Carrie,” Jason said. He’d seen her around, but for the life of him, couldn’t recall where. “How can I help you?”
“You don’t remember me, do you?”
“Ah … no.” He couldn’t see any point in pretending. If a cat could outsmart him, he was fair game for a teenager.
“We’re neighbors. My mom and I live in the same apartment complex as you.”
He did his best to smile and nod as though he’d immediately placed her, but he hadn’t. He racked his brain trying to recall which apartment was hers. Although he owned and managed the building, Jason didn’t interact much with his tenants. He was careful to choose renters who cared about their privacy as much as he cared about his. He rarely saw any of them other than to collect the rent, and even then most just slipped their checks under his door around the first of the month.
Carrie sat back down, her hands clenched tightly in her lap. “I—I’m sorry to bother you, but I’ve been trying to talk to you for some time, and … and this seemed to be the only way I could do it without my mother finding out.”
“Your mother?”
“Charlotte Weston. We live in 1-A.”
Jason nodded. The Westons had been in the apartment for more than a year. Other than when they’d signed the rental agreement, Jason couldn’t recall speaking to either the mother or her daughter.
“Is there a problem?”
“Not a problem … exactly.” Carrie stood once again and opened her purse, taking out a thin wad of bills, which she leafed through and counted slowly. When she’d finished, she looked up at him. “It’s my mother,” she announced.
“Yes?” Jason prompted. He didn’t have a clue where this conversation was leading or how long it would take the girl to get there. Stella knew he had a terrier waiting, yet she’d purposely routed him into his office.
“She needs a man,” Carrie said, squaring her shoulders.
“I beg your pardon?” The girl had his attention now.
“My mother needs a man. I’m here to offer you one hundred dollars if you’ll take her out on a date. You are single, aren’t you?”
“Yes … but …” Jason was so surprised, he answered without thinking. Frankly, he didn’t know whether to ask which of his brothers had put her up to this, or simply to laugh outright. He couldn’t very well claim he’d never been propositioned before, but this was by far the most original instance he’d encountered in thirty-odd years.
“She’s not ugly or anything.”
“Ah … I’m not sure what to tell you.” The girl was staring at him so candidly, so forthrightly, Jason realized within seconds it was no joke.
“I don’t think my mother’s happy.”
Jason leaned against the side of his oak desk and crossed his arms. “Why would you assume my taking her out will make a difference?”
“I … don’t know. I’m just hoping. You see, my mom and dad got divorced when I was little. I don’t remember my dad, and apparently he doesn’t remember me, either, because I’ve never heard from him. Mom doesn’t say much about what went wrong, but it must’ve been bad because she never dates. I didn’t care about that before, only now …”
“Only now what?” Jason asked when she hesitated.
“I want to start dating myself, and my mother’s going totally weird on me. She says I’m too young. Boy, is she out of it! I’m not allowed to date until I’m sixteen. Can you imagine anything so ridiculous?”
“Uhh …” Jason wasn’t interested in getting involved in a mother-daughter squabble. “Not being a father myself, I can’t really say.”
“The ninth-grade dance is coming up in a few weeks and I want to go.”
“Your mother won’t allow you to attend the dance?” That sounded a bit harsh to Jason, but as he’d just stated, he wasn’t in a position to know.
“Oh, she’ll let me go, except she intends to drop me off and pick me up when the dance is over.”
“And that’s unacceptable?”
“Of course it is! It’s—it’s the most awful thing she could do to me. I’d be mortified to have my mother waiting in the school parking lot to take me home after the dance. I’d be humiliated in front of my friends. You’ve just got to help me.” A note of desperation raised her voice on the last few words.
“I don’t understand what you want me to do,” Jason hedged. He couldn’t see any connection between Carrie’s attending the all-important ninth-grade dance and him wining and dining her mother.
“You need me to spell it out for you?” Carrie’s eyes were wide, her gaze scanning the room. “I’m offering you serious money to seduce my mother.”
For a wild instant, Jason thought he hadn’t heard her right. “Seduce her?”
“My mother’s practically a virgin all over again. She needs a man.”
“You’re sure about this?” Jason was having a hard time keeping a straight face. He could hardly wait to tell his brother Rich. The two of them would have a good laugh over it.
“Absolutely positive.” Carrie didn’t even flinch. Her expression grew more confident. “Mom’s forgotten what it’s like to be in love. All she thinks about is work. Don’t get me wrong … My mother’s an awesome person, but she’s so prim and proper … and stubborn. What she really needs is … well, you know.”
Jason felt sorry for the kid, but he didn’t see how he could help her. Now that he thought about it, he did recall what Charlotte Weston looked like. In fact, he could remember the day she’d moved in. She’d seemed feminine and attractive, more than a little intriguing. But he’d noticed a guardedness, too, that sent an unmistakable signal. He’d walked away with the impression that she was as straitlaced as a nun and about as warm and inviting as an Alaskan winter.
“Why me?” Jason was curious enough to wonder why Carrie had sought him out. Apparently his charisma was more alluring than he’d realized.
“Well, because … just because, that’s all,” Carrie answered with perfect teenage logic. “And I figured I wouldn’t have to pay you as much as I would one of those dating services. You seem nice.” She gnawed on her lower lip. “Being a veterinarian is good, too.”
“How’s that?”
“You’ve probably had lots of experience soothing injured animals, and I think my mother’s going to need some of that—comforting and reassuring, you know?” The girl’s voice became fervent. “She’s been hurt…. She doesn’t talk about it, but she loved my father and I think she must be afraid of falling in love again. I even think she might like another baby someday.” This last bit of information was clearly an afterthought. Carrie cast him a speculative glance to be sure she hadn’t said something she shouldn’t have. “Don’t worry about that—she’s probably too old anyway,” she added quickly.
“She wants a baby?” Jason could feel the hair on the back of his neck rising. This woman-child was leading him toward quicksand, and he was going to put a stop to it right now.
“No—no … I mean, she’s never said so, but I saw her the other day holding a friend’s newborn and she had that look in her eyes … I thought she was going to cry.” She paused. “I shouldn’t have said anything.”
For one brief, insane moment, Jason had actually considered the challenge of seducing Charlotte Weston, but the mention of a baby brought him solidly back to earth.
“Listen, Carrie,” Jason said, “I’m sorry, but this isn’t going to work.”
“It’s got to,” she pleaded urgently, “just for one date. Couldn’t you ask her out? Just once? If you don’t, I’ll be humiliated in front of my entire class. I’d rather not even go to the dance if my mother drives me.”
Jason hated to disappoint her, but he couldn’t see himself in the role of rescuing a fifteen-year-old damsel in distress from her mother’s heavy hand, even if Carrie did make a halfway decent case.
“Is it the money?” Carrie asked, her eyes imploring. “I might be able to scrounge up another twenty dollars … but I’m going to need some cash for the dance.”
“It isn’t the money,” Jason assured her.
Wearing a dejected look, Carrie stood. “You sure you don’t want to take a couple of days to think it over?”
“I’m sure.”
She released a long, frustrated sigh. “I was afraid you were going to say that.”
“Good luck.” Jason held open the door. He had no intention of asking Charlotte Weston out on a date, but he he did feel sorry for Carrie. Although he hadn’t been a teenager in years, he hadn’t forgotten how important these things could seem. Things like the ninth-grade dance.
Charlotte let herself into the apartment at six that evening. She slipped off her heels and rubbed the tense muscles at the back of her neck.
“Hi, Mom,” Carrie called cheerfully from the kitchen. “How was work?”
“Fine.” There was no need to burden her daughter with how terrible her day had been. Her job as an executive assistant at a large insurance agency might have sounded high-powered and influential, but in reality it was neither. Charlotte worked long hours with little appreciation or reward. For six months, ever since Harry Ward had taken over as managing director, she’d been telling herself it was time to change jobs. But she couldn’t give up the security of her position, no matter how much she disliked her boss.
“How was school?” she asked.
“Good. Tickets for the dance went on sale today.” Her daughter looked hopefully at Charlotte, as though expecting her to make some profound comment.
Charlotte chose to ignore the pointed stare. Her stand on the dance issue was causing a strain in their relationship, but she refused to give in to her daughter’s pressure. Carrie wasn’t going on an actual date. She was interested in a boy named Brad, but as far as Charlotte was concerned, Carrie could attend the dance with her girlfriends and meet him there. Good grief, the girl was only fifteen!
“Mom, can we please talk about the dance?”
“Of course, but …”
“You’re not going to change your mind, right?” Carrie guessed, then sighed. “What can I say to prove how unreasonable you’re being? Every girl in my class is going to the dance with a boy. And Brad asked me.”
Charlotte reached for an apron, tied it about her waist and opened the refrigerator door. She took out a package of ground turkey for taco salad. She wasn’t up to another round of arguments over the dance.
“Did you buy a dance ticket?” Charlotte asked, forcing an artificial lightness into her voice.
“No. I won’t, either. I’d rather sit home for the rest of my life than have my mother drop me off and pick me up. Brad’s father said he’d drive us both … What am I supposed to tell Brad? That my mother doesn’t trust his father’s driving? You’re making way too big a deal out of this.”
Ah, the certainty of youth, Charlotte mused.
“Will you think about it?” Carrie implored. “Please?”
“All right,” Charlotte promised. She hated to be so hardheaded, but when it came to her daughter, she found little room for compromise. To her way of thinking, Carrie was too young for a real date, even if the boy in question wasn’t the one driving.
The meat was simmering in the cast-iron skillet as Charlotte started to wash the lettuce. The faucet came off in her hand, squirting icy water toward the ceiling, and she gasped.
“What’s wrong?” Carrie asked, leaping up from the kitchen table where she was doing her homework.
“The faucet broke!” Already Charlotte was down on her knees, her head under the sink, searching for the valve to cut off the water supply.
“There’s water everywhere,” Carrie shrieked.
“I know.” Most of it had landed on Charlotte.
“Are you going to be able to fix it?” Carrie asked anxiously.
Charlotte sat on the floor, her back against the lower cupboards, her knees under her chin. This was all she needed to make her day complete. “I don’t know,” she muttered, pushing damp hair away from her face with both hands. “But it shouldn’t be that hard.”
“You should call the apartment manager,” Carrie said. “You’ve had to work all day. If something breaks down, he should be the one to fix it, not you. We don’t know anything about faucets. We’re helpless.”
“Helpless?” Charlotte raised her eyebrows at that. The two of them had dealt with far more difficult problems over the years. By comparison, a broken faucet was nothing. “I think we can handle it.”
“Of course we can, but why should we?” Carrie demanded. “We pay our rent on time every month. The least the manager could do is see to minor repairs. He should fix them right away, too.” She marched over to the wall phone and yanked the receiver from the hook. “Here,” she said dramatically. “You call him.”
“I … I don’t know the number.” They’d lived in the apartment for well over a year and until now there hadn’t been any reason to contact the manager.
“It’s around here somewhere,” Carrie said, pulling open the top kitchen drawer and riffling through the phone book and some other papers. Within a very brief time, she’d located the phone number. “His name is Jason Manning. He’s a veterinarian.”
“He’s a vet? I didn’t realize that.” But then, Charlotte had only met the man once, and their entire conversation had been about the apartment. He seemed pleasant enough. She’d seen him in the parking lot a few times and he struck her as an overgrown kid. Frankly, she was surprised to learn he was a veterinarian, since she’d never seen him in anything other than a baseball cap, jeans and a T-shirt. Dressing up for him was a pair of jeans that weren’t torn or stained and a sweatshirt.
“Are you going to phone him?” Carrie asked, holding out the receiver.
“I suppose I will.” Charlotte rose awkwardly to her feet in her straight skirt. By the time she was upright, her daughter had dialed the number and handed her the receiver.
“Hello,” came Jason Manning’s voice after the first ring, catching her off guard.
“Oh … hello … This is Charlotte Weston in apartment 1-A. We have a broken faucet. I managed to turn off the valve, but we’d appreciate having it repaired as quickly as possible.”
“A broken faucet,” he repeated, and although she knew it made no sense, he sounded suspicious to Charlotte, as though he thought she’d purposely interrupted his evening. She resented his attitude.
“Yes, a broken faucet,” she returned stiffly. “It came off in my hand when I went to wash some lettuce. There’s water everywhere.” A slight exaggeration, but a necessary one. “If you’d prefer, I can contact a plumber. Naturally there’ll be an additional charge for repairs this late in the day.”
He muttered something Charlotte couldn’t decipher, then said, “I’ll be right over.” He didn’t seem too pleased, but that was his problem. He shouldn’t have agreed to manage the apartments if he wasn’t willing to deal with the hassles that went along with the job.
“What did he say?” her daughter asked, eyes curious, when Charlotte hung up the phone. “Is he coming?”
“He said he’d be right over.”
“Good.” Carrie studied her critically. “You might want to change clothes.”
“Change clothes? Whatever for?” Surprised at her daughter’s concern, Charlotte glanced down at her business suit. She didn’t see anything wrong with it other than a little water, and in any event, she couldn’t care less about impressing the apartment manager.
“Whatever.” Carrie rolled her eyes, returning to her homework. No sooner had she sat down than the doorbell chimed. Her daughter leapt suddenly to her feet as if she expected to find a rock star at the door. “I’ll get it!”
Jason considered the whole thing a nuisance call. It didn’t take a rocket scientist to figure out what Carrie Weston was doing. The girl had arranged this broken faucet just so he’d have a chance to see Charlotte. The kid seemed to think that once Jason got a good look at her mother, he’d change his mind about wanting to date her. Well, there wasn’t much chance of that.
Apparently the girl thought he was something of a player. Jason might’ve gotten a kick out of that a few years ago, but not now. Not when he was nearing middle age. These days he was more concerned about his cholesterol level and his weight than with seducing a reluctant woman.
He probably would’ve ended up getting married if things had worked out between him and Julie, but they hadn’t. She’d been with Charlie nearly seven years now, and the last he’d heard, she had three kids. He wished her and her husband well, and suffered no regrets. Sure, it had hurt when they’d broken off their relationship, but in the end it just wasn’t meant to be. He was pragmatic enough to accept that and go on with his life.
Jason enjoyed the company of women as much as any man did, but he didn’t like the fact that they all wanted to reform him. He was disorganized, slovenly and a sports nut. Women didn’t appreciate those qualities in a man. They would smile sweetly, claim they loved him just the way he was and then try to change him. The problem was, Jason didn’t want to be refined, reformed or domesticated.
Charlotte Weston was a prime example of the type of woman he particularly avoided. Haughty. Dignified. Proper. She actually washed lettuce. Furthermore, she made a point of letting him know it.
“Hi.” Carrie opened the door for him, grinning from ear to ear.
“The faucet broke?” Jason didn’t bother to keep the sarcasm out of his voice.
She nodded, her smile as sly as a wink. “Kind of accidentally on purpose,” she explained under her breath.
Jason was surprised she’d admit as much. “I thought that might be the case.”
She pulled a screw from the small front pocket of her jeans and handed it to him. “It was the only way I could think of to get you here to see my mother up close—only don’t be obvious about it, all right?”
“Carrie, is it the apartment manager?” The subject of their discussion walked into the living room, drying her hands on a terry-cloth apron.
Not bad was Jason’s first reaction. She’d changed her hair since the last time he’d seen her; it was a cloud of disarrayed brown curls instead of the chignon she’d worn a year earlier. The curls gave her a softer, more feminine appeal. She was good-looking, too, not trying-to-make-an-impression gorgeous, but attractive in a modest sort of way. Her eyes were a deep shade of blue, as blue as his own. They were also intense and … sad, as though she’d withstood more than her share of problems over the years. But then, who hadn’t?
Her legs were attractive, too. Long and slender. She was tall—easily five-eight, maybe five-nine.
“She’s not bad-looking, is she?” Carrie asked in a whisper.
“Shh.” Jason slid back a warning.
“Mom, this is Dr. Jason Manning, remember? Our apartment manager,” Carrie said, her arm making a sweeping gesture toward her mother.
“Hello.” She stayed where she was, her fingers still clutching the apron.
“Hi. You called about the broken faucet?” He took a couple of steps into the room, carrying his tool kit. He’d have a talk with Carrie later. If this took more than a few minutes, he might be late for the Lakers play-off game. It was the fifth game in the series, and Jason had no intention of missing it.
“The broken faucet’s in the kitchen,” Charlotte said, leading the way.
“This shouldn’t take long.” Jason set his tools on the counter and reached for the disconnected faucet. “Looks like it might be missing a screw.” He turned pointedly to Carrie, then made a show of sorting through his tool kit. “My guess is that I have an identical one in here.” He pretended to find the screw Carrie had handed him, then held it up so they could all examine it. “Ah, here’s one now.”
“Don’t be so obvious about it,” Carrie warned in a heated whisper. “I don’t want Mom to know.”
Charlotte seemed oblivious to the undercurrents passing between him and Carrie, which was probably just as well. He’d let the kid get away with it this time, but he wasn’t coming back for any repeat performances of this handyman routine.
“I should have this fixed in a couple of minutes,” he said.
“Take your time,” Carrie told him. “No need to rush.” She walked up behind Jason and whispered, “Give her a chance, will you?”
True to his word, it took Jason all of thirty seconds to make the necessary repair.
“The bathroom faucet’s been leaking, hasn’t it, Mom? Don’t you think we should have him look at that, too, while he’s here?”
Jason glanced at his watch and frowned. If the kid kept this up, he’d miss the start of the basketball game. But he decided he had little choice: pay now or pay later. He gave Carrie the lead she was hoping for. “Or it’ll need fixing tomorrow, right?”
“Probably.” There was a clear glint of warning in the fifteen-year-old’s eyes.
Charlotte turned around and glanced from one to the other. Crossing her arms, she studied her daughter, then looked at Jason as if seeing him for the first time. Really seeing him. Apparently she didn’t like what she saw.
“Is something going on here I don’t know about?” she asked.
“What makes you say that?” Carrie said with wide-eyed innocence.
Jason had to hand it to the girl; she had the look down to an art form.
“Just answer the question, Caroline Marie.”
The mother wasn’t a slacker in “the look” department, either. She had eyes that would flash freeze a pot of boiling water.
The girl held her own for an admirable length of time before caving in to the icy glare. She lifted her shoulders with an expressive sigh and said, “If you must know, I took the screw out of the faucet so we’d have to call Jason over here.”
Once again Jason glanced at his watch, hoping to extract himself from their discussion. This was between mother and daughter—not mother, daughter and innocent bystander. He hadn’t meant to let Charlotte in on her daughter’s scheme, but neither was he willing to become a full-time pawn in Carrie’s little games. No telling how many other repair projects the girl might turn up for him.
“Why would you want Dr. Manning here?” Charlotte asked with a frown.
“Because he’s a good-looking man and he seems nice and I thought it would be great if you got to know each other.”
It was time to make his move, Jason decided. “If you’ll excuse me, I’ll be leaving now.”
“You purposely broke the faucet so we could call him down here?” Charlotte gestured toward Jason.
Carrie sent him an irritated look as though to suggest this was all his fault. “I wanted him to see you. For being thirty-five, you aren’t half bad. Once he saw your potential, I was sure he’d ask you out on a date. I tried to talk him into it earlier, but—”
“You what?” Charlotte exploded. Color flashed into her cheeks like bright neon lights. Her eyes narrowed. “Tell me you didn’t! Please tell me you didn’t!”
Carrie snapped her mouth shut, about ten seconds too late to suit Jason.
“This is all a big joke, isn’t it?” Charlotte turned to Jason for reassurance, which was a mistake, since he was glaring at Carrie, irritated with her for saying far more than necessary.
“I had to do something,” Carrie cried, defending herself. “You need a man. I saw the look on your face when you were holding Kathy Crenshaw’s baby. You’ve never said anything, but you want more children. You never date … I don’t know what my father did to you, but you’ve shut yourself off and—and … I was just trying to help.”
Charlotte stalked to the far side of the small kitchen. “I can’t believe this. You actually asked a man to take me out?”
“I did more than ask. I offered him money!”
Charlotte whirled on Jason. “Just what kind of man are you? Agreeing to my daughter’s plans … Why … you’re detestable!”
Despite himself, Jason smiled, which was no doubt the worst thing he could have done. “So I’ve been told. Now if you’ll both excuse me, I’ll leave you to your discussion.”
“What kind of man are you?” Charlotte demanded a second time, following him to the door, blocking his exit.
“Mom …”
“Go to your room, young lady. I’ll deal with you later.” She pointed the way, as if Carrie needed directions.
Jason hadn’t imagined things would go like this, and he did feel badly about it, but that didn’t help. Charlotte Weston could think harshly of him if she wanted, but now Carrie was in trouble and Jason felt halfway responsible.
“She was just trying to do you a good turn,” he said matter-of-factly. “Think of it as an early Mother’s Day gift.”
