Page 65 of Hearts Aweigh
“Saints preserve us, if it ain’t herself,” Seamus said, approaching with a cup of hot chocolate. He extended it to Gerry. “Would you care for some tasty sustenance with marshmallows?”
“No, thank you.” She made no move to take the cup. “Drinking too much is a bad idea. The bathrooms aren’t conveniently located.”
“Ah yes.” His smile drooped. “My mistake, sorry.”
Seamus walked away, and Althea poked a finger in Gerry’s side. “Why you gotta be so harsh, baby? It’s obvious the man fancies you.”
“Then it’s better not to encourage his futile aspirations.”
Emily thrust out her chin. “Why ‘futile’? He might be your Mr. Right.”
“I spent the better part of seventy years imagining Mr. Right. And in all those daydreams, I never once crouched down to kiss him.” Gerry fussed with her spectacles. “Does that sound shallow?”
“Yes,” said Emily.
“Not to me.” Abby swooped her hand from head to toe. “I relate with the height issue, although I’m coming at it from the opposite direction. Men are too short for you. They’re too tall for me.” She sank to the deck and sat cross-legged. “Either way, it’s a problem.”
“Come on, Gerry.” Althea draped an arm around her friend’s stiff frame. “Give the magician a chance. He’s adorable.”
Gerry shrugged away from the embrace. “Do you know how many times I’ve been called a beanpole? People don’t comprehend how embarrassing it is for me to stand next to a shorter man. It plays into my old insecurities.”
“Too bad. Seamus is a sweetheart.” Abby lifted her palm to stall Gerry’s protest. “But I get it. You don’t think of him that way, no matter how great he is. It’s like me and Spencer.”
“Spencer?” Emily bent closer. “How do you mean?”
“He’s good-looking, industrious, intelligent.” Abby checked on the man she was describing. As always, he was observing Maddie, protecting her from a distance. “Kind.”
Althea’s jaw dropped. “You reckon that boy’s kind?”
“Not in an obvious way.” Abby grinned. “You have to get past the stuck-up Southern aristocrat shell, but inside he’s very caring. You should’ve seen him with his daughter when I took them on the ropes course. The way he spread out his arms as he followed her.”
“I’ve heard of the type,” Gerry said. “Helicopter parents. Always hovering.”
“No. I know all about helicopter parents. He’s something different.” Abby searched for the best explanation. “He’s like a … an undercover guardian angel. It’s sad.”
“Sad?” Emily said. “How so?”
“Madeleine craves love and attention more than anything.” Abby caught a strand of hair and twirled it around her fingers. “But she’s too young to recognize the many ways her father takes care of her. If he showed his affection more, I bet she would open up.”
Daisy joined them and settled in an empty chair. She laid her hands on the armrests, a queen on a collapsible throne. Her lips parted as she watched Madeleine at play in the tent. “Abby, thank you for taking such good care of my granddaughter. I can already mark a difference in her.”
“The pleasure’s mine. Maddie’s easy to love.”
“She’s such a dear.” Emily shook her head. “How can her mother bear to be apart?”
“It’s better for Madeleine that her mother remains aloof.” Daisy’s mouth pinched. “Priscilla was never the nurturing type. She was only able to get the divorce because my son supported her decision. Usually, once you’re part of the Masterson dynasty, there’s no getting out. Any whiff of divorce, and the whole brood descends to explain why you can’t bring shame on the family name.”
Althea shivered. “You make it sound like the mafia.”
“They possess more similarities than you might imagine.” Daisy reached over and took Abby’s hand. “Please forgive me if this is an uncomfortable question, but … are you interested in my son?”
“Interested?”
“In a romantic way.”
“What?” Abby’s eyes jerked to where Spencer sat. Even though he was far away, she still lowered her voice. “Not in the least.” She yanked her hand from Daisy’s. “I’m his nanny—his daughter’s na—You know what I mean.” She sprang from the floor. “Would you excuse me? I need a bathroom break.”
Yip. Yip. Yip.
