Free Chances Are by Barbara Bretton Page A

The thumb, however, was getting a workout.
    She wasn’t the mother of five for nothing. When it came to kids, you had to push your agenda with the zeal of a politician seeking reelection, or you’d end up living out the rest of your days at Chuck E. Cheese’s.
    “Did Billy tell you that Opal had kittens?”
    Hannah nodded, eyes widening with interest.
    “Would you like to see them?”
    The thumb was ejected from her mouth with a pop. “Can I have one?”
    Big mistake. Never mention puppies, kittens, or bunnies to a five-year-old. She regrouped. “They’re too young to leave Opal yet, Hannah.”
    “Can I have one when they’re big enough?”
    “We’ll have to ask your mom about that.”
    “She’ll say yes.”
    “Well, your Grandma Rose has to agree, too.”
    Hannah’s expression reminded Claire of how her kids looked when she served Brussels sprouts. “My grandpa has lots of cats,” Hannah said. “Horses, too. He’ll let me have a kitten even if Gramma Rose won’t. I know he will.”
    So even Hannah had her issues with Rose. Oh, this had juicy possibilities. She could dine out on the gossip for six weeks and not even begin to wear out her welcome.
    The thought of some of her own darker moments seeing the light of day brought her back to her senses. She couldn’t do it. She wanted to, she was dying to find out everything, but she flat out couldn’t ask. The thought of Denise or Pat grilling Billy Jr. for the scoop on the O’Malleys made her head spin. There were few things lower on the food chain than a thirty-nine-year-old woman who would pump a five-year-old child for gossip. No matter how juicy it might be.
    “I have an idea,” Claire said, as she made a left onto Main Street. “Why don’t I take you home now?” Better to run from temptation than try to stare it down. She had learned that a long time ago.
    “Okay,” said Hannah. “I saw Grandpa Bill sleeping in Grandma’s bed last week.”
    “I’ll pretend I didn’t hear that,” Claire said.
    “Grandpa Bill slept over with Grandma,” Hannah repeated in a louder voice. “I saw them kissing in the kitchen.”
    “No, Hannah, I didn’t mean I didn’t hear you, I meant—” She forced herself to stop. Another five seconds, and she’d pull over to the curb and order the poor kid to spill her guts or Santa would skip Paradise Point this year.
    Clearly it was time to get a life. She needed a new one, a better one, because the one she currently had belonged to somebody else, a woman who no longer existed.
    CLEARLY THE GODS believed Rose had suffered enough during lunch with her sisters and they enabled her to escape Bernino’s before any of the aging DiFalco girls had the chance to ask for a ride home.
    The car started on the first try. The lights were green from Bernino’s to the parkway.
    Even better, Olivia Westmore answered her cell phone on the first ring.
    “I’m on my way home,” Rose said. “Meet me at The Candlelight in an hour.”
    “I’m at work,” Olivia protested. “I can’t close up because you feel like gossiping.”
    “Be there,” Rose said. “I promise it’ll be worth your while.” Fifty-eight minutes later she pulled into the parking lot behind The Candlelight and laughed when she saw Olivia perched on the back steps. She wore one of her trademark floaty skirts, the kind that automatically settled themselves into graceful lines around her legs. She had kicked off her Jimmy Choos and they sat at attention on the top step, gleaming expensively in the late afternoon sunshine. She was the picture of languid grace, a woman who clearly never had to work a day in her life.
    All wrong, of course. Olivia owned Le Papier, the fancy stationery store in the heart of town that had suddenly become a shopping mecca for the men of Paradise Point. It had taken the women a little bit longer to warm up to the siren in their midst, but the quality of her wares—and her good nature—finally won them over, too.
    “This better