Chapter 3
Chapter Three
When Max went out to refill his bird feeder the next day, a sole mourning dove perched on the porch railing, cooing softly. As he approached, the bird fluttered its wings but didn’t move, its gaze trained on the ground. Peering over the edge, Max groaned. A pile of feathers was all that remained of the dove’s mate.
“I understand how you feel,” he said. After descending the stairs, he looked around, trying to determine what had happened. “Must have been a predator of some sort.” He glanced up at the dove and found it watching him. “Looks like he put up a hell of a fight, though.”
The screen door opened, and Lanie popped her head out. “Who are you talking to at this hour?”
“Myself,” Max replied. It probably sounded less crazy than to tell her he was talking to a bird. “Don’t come out here. There’s a dead bird.”
“Aw, poor thing.” Ignoring his warning, she stepped onto the porch and approached the dove, which was still perched on the railing. “Was that your mate?”
The bird cocked its head and stared at her before flapping its wings and taking to the sky. Max envied the bird’s ability to easily escape uncomfortable conversations.
“Now you’ve scared it off.”
Lanie shrugged, unconcerned. “I seem to have that effect on birds. I had a frequent cardinal visitor when I stayed at Mom’s. Whenever I got too close to it, it flew away.” Her eyes searched the sky. “I’m sorry for that poor dove. I’ve heard they mate for life.”
“I’m sure it’ll find a new mate soon,” he said, but it was a sobering sentiment. Humans could learn a lot from birds. He would hazard a guess that divorce didn’t exist in the animal kingdom. The animals that chose new mates each year were unlikely to experience jealousy either.
He gestured for her to return to the house, following closely. There wasn’t much point to cleaning up the feathers, as they would likely blow away. As he closed the sliding glass door, the lonesome dove returned to its perch on the railing. It glanced at him before bowing its head as if sending up a prayer for its lost mate.
His daughter slid into a chair at the kitchen table and sipped a cup of coffee. She looked exhausted, and he couldn’t help wondering if she’d bitten off more than she could chew. Between planning her wedding and beginning a new school year, she had a lot on her plate. It didn’t help that it was her first year of officially teaching students with disabilities.
“Got any plans for the day?” he asked.
“Nate and I are meeting to start building a registry, and then I’ve got lesson planning to do.” Her voice lacked its usual enthusiasm.
“You don’t sound excited.”
“I could use another week or two off,” she admitted. “The summer was a whirlwind, between Steven’s recovery, helping to plan the wedding that almost wasn’t, and now trying to plan my own.” She shook her head. “I’m exhausted.”
“Maybe you could push your own wedding back a bit.” And find yourself a new wedding planner in the process. He was still irritated with the reception he’d received from Carissa when he called her last night. The nerve of that woman to suggest she knew his own daughter better than he did. They might not have the best of relationships, but he and Lanie had discussed his idea about doing the baking themselves before he contacted Carissa. So what if Lanie had been half asleep when he suggested it? She’d still nodded, sort of. The argument could be made that she’d nodded… off.
She rolled her eyes. “We’ll manage, especially with Carissa’s help.”
“Some help.” With a harrumph, he grabbed his mug. The last thing he needed was a third cup of coffee, but maybe it would help spark some idea of how to reach his daughter. If he could convince her to find a new wedding coordinator, or better still, nix that expense entirely, his life would be a lot easier.
“I don’t get why you don’t like her,” Lanie continued. “She was instrumental in getting Steven and Rose down the aisle, and she’s been a godsend with finding vendors that were available on such short notice.”
“Maybe if you had a longer engagement, she wouldn’t be necessary,” he muttered under his breath.
Lanie rubbed her temples and took several deep breaths.
A quiet voice inside told Max to drop it. Change the subject. Whatever it took to keep his daughter from pulling even further away from him.
“She’s too pushy,” he said, trying to steer them back to Carissa. “It’s as if no one else’s ideas are ever good enough for her.”
“Well, she has been doing this for her entire adult life.”
“But everyone can learn something new,” he pressed.
Lanie quirked an eyebrow. “Even you?”
Instead of answering, he drank his coffee to hide his scowl. It wasn’t that he couldn’t learn new things. It was more that he didn’t see the point in bothering.
“I’m retired. I don’t need to learn anything new.”
She laughed. “Learning isn’t limited to work. It’s something we should strive to continue doing at any age, whether through formal education or not.”
He grimaced at her authoritative tone, the one she usually used on students. “I don’t need a lecture.”
She sighed. “I’m not lecturing you.” Tapping her fingers on the table, she appeared to consider a different approach. Before he could redirect their conversation to Carissa, her eyes brightened. “What about woodworking?”
“What about it?”
“You used to want to build furniture. There were several unfinished pieces at Mom’s house that we moved here. Wouldn’t you like to learn more about that? Develop that skill?”
He didn’t have the heart to tell her that his dream had died with his marriage, which was why all his pieces had stayed at the house he’d left behind. Melody had been a staunch supporter of his work, even begging him to refinish the kitchen cabinets and build a matching set of nightstands for the master bedroom. The thought of going back to that, without her encouragement, was one he couldn’t quite swallow.
“Woodworking is a young man’s business.” He drained his coffee cup then stood, hoping that would signal the end of the conversation.
“No, it’s not,” she countered, not taking the hint or perhaps ignoring it entirely. “And if furniture is too much to start with, you could try whittling.”
“I’m no sculptor.”
“My point,” she said with a sigh, “is that you don’t have to have a job to find something worth learning about. Studies show the best way to counteract mental deterioration and prevent illnesses like dementia and Alzheimer’s is to continue engaging our brains through learning.”
“I’m not that old.”
She crossed her arms. “You’re the one who said woodworking was a young man’s business. I was pointing out how hobbies can help avoid the diseases old people such as yourself”—her lips twitched as if she was fighting a smile—“are at risk of developing.”
“We’re getting off the subject.” He waved his hand. “ My point is Carissa doesn’t know everything, and she should listen to her client’s ideas with care and consideration.”
“Seeing as I’m the client, I’d say she is listening to me .”
“I’ve invested in this wedding too.” He folded his arms on the table. “I paid for your dress.”
That was the wrong thing to say. Lanie’s eyes darkened, and her lips pressed into a thin line. “I let you pay for one thing and only because you kept insisting on it. As I’ve told you several times, Nate and I are perfectly capable of paying for the rest of the wedding ourselves.”
“Lanie, I didn’t mean?—”
“I’d better get moving, or I’ll be late to meet Nate.” Her eyes flashed to his before dropping to the floor. “We can discuss this later.”
Max sank back into the chair at the kitchen table with a sigh. Strike two.
Try as he might, Max couldn’t get Lanie’s suggestion out of his head. It’d been years since he’d done any woodworking. The half-finished pieces were moved to his garage after Melody died, in preparation for selling the house. They’d been sitting there gathering dust. His drive to build and create things had dissipated with the smoldering ashes of his marriage.
It wasn’t like the divorce was a shock. He and Melody had been having problems for years before they finally called it quits. While they’d gotten married young, they’d waited to have children. But after they had Steven, things started falling apart. He’d taken on more hours at work to support their growing family, which meant Melody often spent time with the children alone without a break. His absence led to resentment, not just with Melody but with his children as well.
In a last-ditch effort to save his family, Max had planned a trip to Disney World when Lanie was twelve. The trip hadn’t gone as expected, as everyone had gotten sick from the heat, and they’d spent a couple of days recovering in their hotel room. Despite the illness, those had been such happy days. Spending time as a family, playing board games, talking and laughing—it felt like things were going to be okay. But once they’d recovered, the bickering started again, and he and Melody knew it was time to let go.
He entered the garage, preparing for an onslaught of unhappy memories as he removed the sheets covering the unfinished furniture. To his surprise, the sad memories didn’t come. Instead, as he inspected his handiwork, he realized he was a lot closer to finishing the pieces than he’d originally thought. The intricate designs he’d started would be easy to replicate with practice.
Leaning against the wall, he surveyed his options. He could sell the unfinished furniture or give it away to Goodwill. Maybe someone who had more interest and drive could finish what he’d started. Alternatively, he could buy some scrap wood and retrain his hands, rebuilding his carving skills to what they’d been when he was younger.
A part of him wondered what the point was. His house was fully furnished. Granted, most of it, he’d put together himself with frustrating instructions written in broken English by a Swedish company. But it held together just fine. Why did he need to finish that furniture? Why bother doing all that work when the person it was meant for would never enjoy the completed product?
But another part of him, the part that still loved his late wife, sparked to life at the thought of doing one last thing for her as a tribute to her memory and the love they’d once shared. A love they’d rekindled briefly, only to be snuffed out by a disease that even the strongest of bonds couldn’t overcome.
“You look like you’re trying to work out a tough math problem,” a voice said from the open garage door.
He jumped and banged his knee on a nightstand. As he rubbed the sore spot, he frowned when he met a familiar pair of blue eyes. “What are you doing here?”
Unperturbed by his demanding question, Carissa sauntered into the garage, running a finger over the nightstand. “I came to speak to Lanie.” Her forehead creased as she examined the rest of the items surrounding him. “Is this a furniture graveyard?”
He bristled. “No, they’re not decrepit. Just unfinished.”
“Why did you buy a bunch of unfinished furniture?” Her half smirk gave her a more youthful look. If she hadn’t been making fun of him, he might have found the expression attractive.
“I didn’t buy this stuff,” he retorted. “I made it.” A rush of satisfaction went through his veins on seeing her obvious surprise.
“You made these?”
The admiration in her voice made his chest swell. “A long time ago.”
“Why didn’t you finish them?”
That question deflated his ego—and his mood. “They were a gift for my ex-wife. When she served me with divorce papers, it became a moot point.”
Her eyes widened. “Oh, I see.” Her teeth chewed on her lower lip, and he found the action disturbingly distracting. “Well, they’re quite beautiful.” She met his gaze head-on. “You should finish them. They’d be a lovely wedding present for Lanie and Nate.”
Now, why hadn’t he thought of that? Probably because he was so focused on their original intended recipient that he hadn’t even considered his daughter might like them. But it made sense. She’d been the one to suggest he return to his former passion, so why shouldn’t she be the beneficiary of him doing just that?
“That’s a great idea,” he said.
His sincerity seemed to catch Carissa off guard. They stared at each other, and his heartbeat quickened. But she broke eye contact first, clearing her throat. The sound brought him back to reality.
“What’d you want with Lanie?” he asked, trying to refocus the conversation.
“To talk to her about the idea you called me with last night.” She wore a hint of a smile.
He avoided looking at her directly, fearing a repeat performance of whatever had happened between them minutes before. No way was he attracted to that woman. She was his polar opposite in every way and a real thorn in his side about his children’s weddings. Still, he could acknowledge she was pretty. Her ocean-blue eyes were framed with dark lashes, and her silver hair gave her a sophisticated air. He wasn’t blind, after all, but that was as far as his attraction went.
“You mean to convince her not to go along with it,” he replied, unable to keep the frustration out of his tone.
“Not necessarily.” She stepped forward as if she wanted to reassure him. “I want to make sure she understands what an undertaking that would be before she makes a decision.” When he didn’t respond, she sighed. “I’m not your enemy, Max.”
The way she said his name did strange things to his insides. “Oh, really? Is that why you’ve shot down every idea I’ve had?”
Her face fell. “I understand why you feel that way, but I assure you, it’s not on purpose. I’ve been doing this a long time, and I know what works and what doesn’t.”
“That’s what Lanie said.”
“But I thought about what you said last night, and the fact that Steven and Rose are willing to help with the baking…” She shrugged. “Lanie and Nate are on a budget. If they’re on board, then so am I.”
A home run! With a nonchalant shrug, he tried to temper his joy at winning. “Glad you’re finally seeing the light.”
She scoffed. “I wouldn’t go that far.”
“I’ll tell Lanie you stopped by and that we finally agreed on something.”
“I bet if you weren’t so pigheaded, you’d see there is a lot we agree on.”
The way she said it almost sounded like a challenge, and Max straightened his spine, pulling himself up to his full height. “Is that how you always talk to your clients?”
“I thought I made it clear last night you aren’t my client,” she said, completely undeterred by his attempt at intimidation.
They’d moved subtly closer to each other until they stood a hair’s breadth apart. Her flowery perfume filled his senses, intoxicating and infuriating all at once. She lifted her chin. Whether that was a further challenge or an invitation, he couldn’t tell. And he wasn’t brave enough to find out.
Taking a giant step back, he breathed deeply, relishing the fresh air that wasn’t polluted by her scent. As he did so, his senses cleared, and he glared at her. “If there’s nothing else you need, I have work to do.”
An emotion that resembled disappointment flickered across her face, but before he could fully register it, it was gone.
“Tell Lanie to call me.” Then she spun on her heel and stomped down the driveway.
Once he was alone, Max leaned against a half-finished table and ran a hand through his hair. He had no idea what had just happened, but he couldn’t help hoping that whatever it was, it might happen again.