“Well, for one thing, I heard from my coconspirator that Mr. Hamlin fired her first thing Monday morning.”

Sunshine’s head sagged as though the news weighed heavily upon her. She seemed to take the news personally. “Did he really?”

“I realize she probably shouldn’t have been so free with his personal information. I feel terrible about that.” Sondra had been less upset about her dismissal than Beth had.

“Peter said he was going to let her go,” Sunshine whispered, “but I didn’t actually think he’d go that far.”

“Sondra worked part-time and is semi-retired. She says she’s fine with it. What bothers me is knowing that I was responsible for her losing her job.”

Sunshine set aside the same brush she had picked up only a few minutes earlier. “Peter has changed. I barely recognized him as the man I once knew.”

“Sondra said he’s difficult.”

Sunshine smiled. “What Peter doesn’t realize is that when we fail to be kind and loving, then we fail to be wise. I fear his life hasn’t gone the way he expected or wanted. I wish him well, I do, but he’s caught in a net of self-pity and resentment. I doubt anything I might have said would have reached him.” She paused and sadness leaked into her eyes. “He doesn’t understand that in his effort to penalize your friend, he has hurt himself even more.”

Her aunt was wise and beautiful. It stunned Beth that Peter didn’t recognize that in her. She was right, he was to be pitied. “Did Peter … blame you for what’s happened in his life?”

“He said he didn’t, claimed he accepts full responsibility. The sad part is he resents my success. While he might be one of the highest-priced attorneys in the city, Peter views himself as a failure.”

“But why?” This made no sense to Beth.

Her aunt reached out and cupped Beth’s cheek. “I read once that one of the saddest things in life is to die with the music still inside us. There’s tremendous talent in Peter that has been long denied. When I knew him, he was one of the most promising artists in college. His work was praised by staff and students alike. His potential was breathtaking.”

“And he gave it up?”

“He did. He walked away from it all.”

“But why? Why would he do that?”

Sunshine mulled over the question. “That isn’t easy to answer. He would like to blame outside factors, but I believe deep down Peter had a terrible fear of failure. His talent came easy for him. I remember how hard it was for him to accept even the slightest criticism. He grew defensive and argumentative.”

“You loved him, though.”

“Yes, I won’t deny that.” She turned back to her painting, but not before Beth saw the sheen in her aunt’s eyes.

Immediately Beth was struck with guilt. “I’m so sorry.”

“Please, no apologies. They aren’t necessary. You acted in love, and how could I ever fault that?”

“But—”

“I don’t want you to feel bad that the meeting with Peter didn’t go well. I’m not the least bit upset. If anything, I’m terribly sad for him.”

“You’re sure you’re all right?”

“Oh yes, very sure.”

Beth stood to leave. “I better head to the store so I can get what I need for our dinner.” Then, to lighten the mood, she said, “Sam wants to help me with the preparation.”

“Does he cook?”

“Not that I’ve seen.”

“This should be interesting,” Sunshine said, smiling again.

Beth left then, feeling better than she had when she’d arrived. She had a renewed appreciation of this wonderful, wise woman who was her aunt. Hearing about Peter, she felt a terrible sadness for him, much as her aunt did.

She couldn’t let her mind dwell on the attorney for long, though. Sam was hours away from spending time with her parents. If nothing else, this should be one interesting Thanksgiving Day.

Chapter 32

Sam

The minute Sam arrived for Thanksgiving dinner, Beth’s mother’s gaze narrowed in on him like the laser from a sniper’s rifle. Ellie dressed with the grace and style of Jacqueline Kennedy Onassis and possessed the eyes of a werewolf. Staking his claim, he walked directly to Beth, wrapped his arm around her waist, and wished her a happy Thanksgiving.

Beth looked up and he saw the concern in her eyes. Leaning forward, he whispered, “We got this, babe.”

Momentarily reassured, she smiled and nodded.

He kissed her cheek, broke away, and walked over to Beth’s father, who sat in a chair, reading in the cozy living room. He thrust out his hand. “Sam Carney,” he said. “And you must be Beth’s father.”

“Phillip,” the other man said. Putting aside a thick book, he stood to shake Sam’s hand.

Sam looked him square in the eyes and knew the two of them would have no problem. Phillip Prudhomme was the picture of the absentminded professor. He was slightly disheveled, the knot in his tie was loose, and his dinner jacket looked large on his shoulders. He needed a haircut, and although he’d shaved, he’d missed a spot.

Having recently shaved, Sam felt almost nude. It would take a few days for him to grow accustomed to not having facial hair. A nice side benefit had been Beth’s reaction. When she first saw him, her eyes had grown warm and soft as she reached up and stroked his bare cheeks.

“Well, what do you think?” he’d asked.

“I like it. But then I like you with your beard, too.”

Phillip returned to his chair and reached for his book, as if escaping into the written word and academia was where he belonged, where he was most comfortable.

“Good to see you again, Ellie,” Sam said, turning to greet Beth’s mother.

“You … too,” she said, and withdrew her hand quickly, as if she were afraid his grip would cripple her fingers.

Beth joined Sam and he wrapped an arm around her waist, bringing her close to his side. His hope was that Ellie got his message. Beth was staying with him. They were a couple.

“Need any help, babe?” he asked Beth. He could see Sunshine busily working in the kitchen. He knew both Beth and her aunt had been preparing food since early that morning.

“Thanks, but we’ve got everything under control,” Beth told him.

“You need anything, all you need to do is ask.” He noticed Ellie hadn’t gotten anywhere close to the kitchen. She sat in a chair next to her husband and held a glass of white wine, sipping from it occasionally.

Sam took another chair and was about to reach for the television remote when Ellie spoke.

“What was that you called Beth?” her mother asked him conversationally.

“When?”

“Just now. Did you call her baby?”

He nodded. “Babe. It’s a term of affection.”

“Babe,” she repeated, as though amused. Her lips moved, but it looked more like sarcasm than humor. “I find that interesting.”

“Really?”

“Well, yes, it’s rather ironic.”

“Why is that?”

Beth’s mother studied him briefly as if she needed to use small words in order for him to understand. “You must know my daughter moved to Portland to show us she could live independently of her father and me. Then as soon as she has her own apartment and a job far beneath her skill, she chooses to let someone call her babe, as if she were an infant in need of care.”

“Like I said, it’s a term of affection,” Sam repeated.

Ellie slightly shook her head, as if his answer was beyond her comprehension. “How exactly did you two meet? I assume you aren’t one of her charity piano students.”

“Mom, you already know how we met. It was a blind date,” Beth said, coming out from the kitchen to stand at his side. She sat on the side of the chair and placed her arm around his shoulders.

“A blind date,” Ellie repeated, frowning. “Who would possibly think to match up the two of you?”

“A friend from school,” Beth supplied.

Sunshine carried out the water pitcher and set it on the table. She shared a look with Sam as though to suggest he not rise to the bait.