LITMIR.BIZ

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his heart—and if not his heart then surely his lust.

      Carrie straightened her napkin over her knees and turned toward Mallory. “I’d have a meltdown if a man looked at me like that.”

      “He is a cutie,” Mallory replied. “I wouldn’t mind having him for dessert.”

      Carrie Hudson was thirty-five, five-three, always on a diet and a single mother of seven-year-old twin boys. Her blue eyes sparkled, and she blushed easily. She reminded me of a pink carnation. Resilient and pretty.

      After my husband died, I’d eventually discovered I was like a dandelion. Not the prettiest flower, but strong, determined and, when push came to shove, I didn’t take no for an answer. There were worse things in life than being compared to a weed that persisted against all odds.

      Every Friday evening after work, the three of us met at DiMillo’s, a car ferry converted into a floating restaurant known for its good food and ambiance on the Portland waterfront. Soon it would be too cold to be outside so we’d decided to sit on the top deck, enjoy the unseasonably warm September weather and watch the boats going by.

      We always ordered a decadent dessert and drinks, which for me was usually a diet Pepsi, but tonight was special. I’d gotten the promotion I’d worked so hard for, and no one orders a Pepsi on such an occasion. So I’d decided to live dangerously and drink a martini. I wasn’t crazy about the taste, but I loved olives so I couldn’t lose.

      Below us in the marina, cruisers and sailboats in their slips swayed as gentle waves washed ashore. The smell of salt, seaweed and fish permeated the air. In the distance seagulls cawed and a bell buoy clanged.

      A light breeze ruffled my hair as I leaned back and thought with satisfaction about my promotion. I’d worked hard and deserved this. But a person didn’t always get what he/she deserved. I’d lucked out. My life was on a steep uphill path, and I’d equipped myself for the climb. Even my relationship with Tony was about to take a major turn. We loved each other. I was happy. Only now, I’d have to tell my mother-in-law, Violet, about him.

      “Hey, why the long face?” Mallory asked.

      “I was thinking about how everything is clicking into place, except…” I sucked in my lower lip, a bad habit I’d tried unsuccessfully to stop. “I’m meeting Violet tomorrow to break the news that Tony is moving in.”

      “You’re an adult, and you don’t owe your mother-in-law an explanation,” Mallory pointed out.

      “Yes I do. She’s been like a mother to me since my mom moved away. She’s the only family I’ve got. And I don’t want to hurt her, but I can’t put off telling her about Tony any longer. She’ll never approve of my seeing another man. And to her, we’ll be living in sin.”

      Mallory rolled her eyes. “No one thinks like that anymore.”

      “You haven’t met Violet. She’s a staunch Catholic and very old-fashioned.”

      Carrie looked thoughtful. “Too bad you didn’t tell her about Tony months ago.”

      “I tried, but each time I’d start to tell her, she’d interrupt and say something about Paul. She worships her son’s memory, and to hear her talk you’d think he died yesterday. She isn’t ready to hear I’m with another man.”

      Mallory straightened. “Tell her what a jerk her precious son was.”

      “I couldn’t do that to her.”

      Carrie ran a finger over the condensation on the side of her glass. “This might be the wakeup call she needs to accept Paul’s death and go on with her life.”

      “Maybe,” I said, doubting that would happen.

      Violet would never give her blessing to Tony and me living together. Not that I needed her approval, but even before Paul’s death we’d formed a strong bond and a friendship that until now, I’d thought indestructible.

      “My, don’t you look pretty this morning,” Vi said as she opened the kitchen and caught me in a tight hug; her mouth brushed my cheek.

      I felt warm, safe and at home.

      Surely she’d understand. If only I’d told her sooner. She had a right to know that her son’s widow had fallen in love with another man.

      Panic swelled inside and threatened to cut off my breathing.

      Vi reminded me of a rose, delicate and beautiful.

      “You smell good,” I said amazed at how steady my voice sounded when she pulled away, took my hand and led me into the kitchen.

      “My Avon lady gave me a few samples that I’m trying out. This one’s called Lilacs in Bloom. I’m thinking of ordering some. Nice, don’t you think?”

      “Yes.” I put the box I’d been carrying on the table and untied the string. “I picked up a raspberry strudel at the bakery on my way over here.”

      She filled the kettle with water and set it on the burner. While putting cups, spoons and napkins on the table, she smiled at me. “You’re always so thoughtful, and it means so much to me. I couldn’t wait for you to arrive. I have a special gift for you in honor of your new job,” she said, her gray eyes glowing with excitement.

      Many women complained about their mothers-in-law, but I’d been blessed. Vi had been my rock, my strength, my family for years. Shortly before Paul’s death, my mother had remarried and moved to Texas with her husband. It wasn’t that she didn’t care about me, but she was immersed in her new life. We spoke on the phone several times a month and visited a couple times a year.

      No one knew for sure where my sister Dana and her thirteen-year-old daughter Summer lived, but according to the postcard from California I’d received months ago, they were fine. Could I wire her some cash and please hurry because she was moving again? As soon as she’d found a job, she’d repay me, which I knew would never happen. Against my mother’s advice, I’d sent the money and an extra couple hundred dollars hoping against very slim odds that my sister would use some of it on my niece.

      Vi looked so happy, so unaware of what I was going to say.

      Guilt gnawed at my insides. She waved for me to follow her into her bedroom. She was nearing sixty, and when she smiled, which was rare, she looked much younger. Usually her mouth turned down, her brow furrowed and her eyes filled with grief.

      I hated to cause her more pain. She’d already suffered too much.

      As she crossed the room and opened a cedar chest, I noticed the pictures of Paul on her dresser. There was a cute one of him as a toddler playing in the sand, another on his graduation from college and several of us on our wedding day. Our smiles wide and our hearts full. When we’d believed love conquered all.

      Vi reached way in the back of the chest and pulled out a small package. She turned, took my hand, and nestled a velvet box into my palm. “I’m sure you already know this, but I want to say again how much I love you. You’ve been like a daughter to me.” Her eyes misted. Blinking away tears, she reached into her apron pocket and blew her nose on a tissue. After sucking in a long breath, she continued, “I’d promised myself I wouldn’t get all mushy and sentimental, but you know how I am. If you and Paul had had babies, I’d planned to give you this in the hospital to enjoy for a while, then pass on to the next generation.”

      As I cupped the box in my hand, a faint scent of cedar rose to my nostrils.

      “Go ahead, open it,” Vi, said, looking happy. “I can’t wait to see your face.”

      Positioning a finger on either side of the box, I lifted the lid and looked down at a beautiful emerald ring that I’d seen only once before on Vi’s finger on the day Paul and I said our vows. It had belonged to her mother. Vi had explained she’d kept it locked away in a safe-deposit box for fear of losing it.

      “I can’t accept this,” I said, overwhelmed with emotion. Love and guilt consumed me. How could

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