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swallowed, but her mouth remained dry. “Your dad called me today and wanted me to tell you something.”

      Spit it out, Margo.

      “Your father and Catherine have decided to get married.” Margo swallowed again. “This weekend.”

      She waited for the fallout, but nothing happened.

      “Cool,” Ellie said, then resumed walking.

      “Cool,” Peter echoed, his eyes on his sister, as if he needed to gauge her reaction in order to determine his own.

      “So you’re okay with this?” Margo asked her daughter.

      “Why wouldn’t I be?”

      Indeed. “Good.”

      That had been so much easier than she’d expected. And yet Margo didn’t feel entirely satisfied with the children’s reactions. Could it be she didn’t want Catherine to be a nice person? That she would have been happier to have her children kick up a fuss?

      Bitterness curdled on her tongue and she had the urge to lash out. To say something shallow and mean-spirited about Tom and the speed with which he’d replaced her. To disparage a woman she’d never even met.

      Why…I’m jealous.

      Margo was disappointed in herself, but she couldn’t deny her own feelings. The truth was, she felt a little usurped by Catherine and she would have preferred it if her kids had said something even just a little negative about her.

      Ellie and Peter were hers. She’d given birth to them and raised them and loved them. Just because Tom wanted another woman in his life didn’t mean she and the kids did.

      Only…maybe her kids did want Catherine in their lives. They hadn’t given any sign that they didn’t.

      By the time they reached the bistro, Margo felt close to tears. She watched her kids scoot up onto stools where Em had milk and cookies waiting. They attacked the snack like starving creatures. Lately it seemed Ellie couldn’t get her hands on enough food, while her younger brother was always thirsty.

      They were so cute. Peter with his missing front teeth and mischievous blue eyes. Ellie, so serious and grown-up acting, the way she’d always been, even as a baby.

      Margo hated that their innocence was being marred by this divorce. Their father moving out had only been the beginning of the hurdles they would face, she now realized. Next would be the new stepmother. And possibly halfsiblings sometime down the road.

      Feeling her anger toward Tom mounting, Margo made an excuse to go to the kitchen. The table at the back was now occupied by two young men in leather jackets and artfully disheveled hair. She wondered if she’d seen the last of Suit Guy and was surprised to realize she felt a bit disappointed at the idea.

      In the kitchen she allowed herself to slam the copper pots around a little. Life was so unfair at times. She hated being divorced. Learning to share her time with the kids had been difficult enough. Now she had to stand on the sidelines as Tom moved on and married again.

      The kitchen door swung open, and Em breezed into the room. She pulled her apron over her head, then shoved it into the dirty laundry basket. “Sandy just showed up, so I’m off.”

      Margo knew “off” was a relative term. Em would be going home to prepare dinner for her husband and starving teenagers. Then she’d spend her evening either watching her son play basketball, or driving her daughter to dance lessons.

      “We have some leftover muffins from the morning. Want to take them for the kids’ lunches tomorrow?” Margo bagged them as she made the offer and Em accepted the package gratefully. A moment later Sandy—a college student with shoulder-length brown hair and serious, wide-set green eyes—popped in to grab an apron.

      “It’s quiet out there, thank goodness.”

      Margo could guess what she meant by that. “Edward hasn’t shown up yet?”

      “Second time this week.” Sandy shook her head, slipped on the apron, then hurried back to the front.

      Margo was glad she had Sandy to rely upon. Two months ago, Edward had seemed like a good hire. At first impression, he’d been good-natured, motivated and pleasant. But the day after she’d given him the job, he’d come to work with rings in his lip and eyebrow, as well as a stud through his tongue. Margo had nothing against self-expression, but it had seemed slightly deceitful to her that he had hidden his piercings for the job interview.

      Lately, he’d been arriving late for work and shirking cleanup duties at the end of his shift. Today, when he finally arrived and came to the back to get an apron, he avoided eye contact with her.

      “Hi, Edward. How are things?”

      “Fine.” He still didn’t look at her.

      “You’ve been running behind quite a bit lately. Is anything wrong?”

      He shook his head, eyes still averted.

      Margo sighed. “Are you sure there isn’t a problem?”

      “No. Everything’s good.”

      Margo tilted her head to one side. If there was one thing she was sure about, it was this. Everything was not good. Not with Edward, not with the bistro and not with her life.

      But how to begin tackling the problems, she had no idea.

      A MESSAGE WAS WAITING for Robert on his machine when he got home from the gym. He dumped his sports bag near the closet, then hit the playback button, hoping the call would be from his headhunter. But the recorded voice was about thirty years too young for that.

      “Hey, Robert, it’s Andrew. Maybe you didn’t get my other message, but I was wondering if you could come to my birthday party tomorrow? It’s at six o’clock and Mom’s making a chocolate cake. Well, she’ll probably buy it, but it’ll be chocolate for sure. Um…see you then. Bye.”

      Robert stared at the machine for several seconds, before erasing the message. Feeling like the biggest jerk on the planet, he hit the shower, trying not to remember Andrew’s last birthday party.

      He’d bought the boy a fishing pole and foolishly he’d made a bunch of promises, never dreaming that he might not be able to deliver on them. Even now he didn’t know who’d been more excited about those pie-in-the-sky plans—him or Andrew.

      Robert shut off the water, dried quickly then contemplated the remaining hours of the evening. He hadn’t eaten, and after his workout, he was starving. There were some frozen entrées on hand, or he could call for take-out, but he found himself craving…soup.

      The squashed pear soup at Margo’s today had been delicious. Even better than the sunshine carrot from the day before.

      As he made up his mind to go, Robert knew it wasn’t just the food he was after. Sure it was good and the atmosphere at the bistro was warm and welcoming, but there was something more compelling pulling at him: the friendly woman who owned the place.

      As he passed by the phone on his way out, he tried not to think of the boy who’d left him that message. He knew Andrew would be home, waiting and hoping, and his heart ached to think of that.

      But what could he do? Belinda had said no contact, and she was the boy’s mom.

      FIFTEEN MINUTES LATER, Robert stepped inside Margo’s Bistro. The place was small, holding ten tables, max, not counting the annex through an archway to his left. The colors of the decor were vivid, but the tones blended harmoniously—sort of like the flavors in Margo’s soups.

      Robert checked behind the counter. The older brunette he’d seen on his previous two visits wasn’t on duty now. Instead, two college-aged kids were at work. The girl seemed to be hustling her buns off. The guy acted as if he was annoyed about something.

      Robert scanned the rest of the room, disappointed when he didn’t spot Margo. He’d taken a chance, hoping she might

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