Free The Chocolate Lovers’ Wedding by Carole Matthews Page A

coming. I do appreciate that it’s not easy. For either of us.’ Autumn double-checked that the woman was alone. ‘I hoped that Willow would be with you.’
‘So did I.’ Mary frowned, worried. ‘I’m afraid that I have rather a lot to tell you.’
Autumn felt her mouth go dry and her heart was racing. She hoped that nothing too awful was wrong. Let it not be a terrible setback before they’d even started. She tried to sound more calm than she felt. ‘Then you sit down and let me get you a coffee.’
Mary looked relieved and grateful. Autumn took her order and headed to the counter. When she went to pay for the cappuccino, her hands were trembling. Putting the coffee on the table between them, Autumn sat down again. She forced herself to sit back and not perch on the edge of the sofa.
‘I’m shaking inside,’ Mary said.
Autumn managed a thin laugh. ‘Me too.’
‘I never thought this day would come,’ Mary confessed. ‘I always knew that it might be on the horizon, but you think if you do a good enough job, if you’re the best mother that you possibly can be to your child, that they’ll never want to find their birth mother. You always hope in your heart that you’ll be enough.’
Autumn didn’t know what to say.
‘But it’s not, is it?’ she continued, letting out a weary breath. ‘Blood, as they say, is very much thicker than water.’ There was an edge of bitterness in her tone that she couldn’t hide. Mary sipped her coffee and composed herself. ‘I’ve done my best for her, for Willow.’
‘I’m sure you have.’
‘She was a lovely baby,’ Mary said. ‘So happy, contented.’
Autumn was both relieved and saddened to hear it. She’d missed it all, but Willow had clearly had a mother who’d loved her dearly. She couldn’t have hoped for more.
‘She was always so easy and she was the apple of her father’s eye. I’ve brought some photographs.’ Mary fumbled in her handbag and handed them over.
Autumn looked at the family shots. It was like looking at a mirror image of herself. They had the same-shaped face, the same mouth and, of course, the same wild auburn hair – she couldn’t have escaped that.
‘She was three then,’ Mary said, smiling fondly. ‘Six in that one by the seaside.’
‘She looks lovely.’
Mary raised a disapproving eyebrow. ‘Willow doesn’t look like that now. Goth phase.’ She shook her head, bewildered. ‘I think that’s what you call it. All black eyeliner and ripped tights.’
Autumn had toyed with that look herself, more to annoy her parents than for any other reason.
Mary handed her phone to Autumn. A sulky teenage girl, caked in make-up, glowered back from the screen, but there was still no mistaking the family resemblance. It was like looking at herself at the same age. A lump came to her throat and, tenderly, Autumn ran a finger over the image. This was her child. After all these years, she finally knew what she looked like. She fought down the sob that threatened to escape. Her b a b y.
‘She’s quite headstrong,’ Mary said, regretfully. ‘All the sunny side of her has gone. I told her she’s too young to be looking for you, but she wouldn’t listen. I wanted her to wait until she was eighteen, at least. It used to be more difficult for adopted children to trace their birth mothers, but now with the internet . . . ’ Mary shrugged. ‘It really wasn’t that hard. We’ve never hidden anything from her. You think that’s for the best.’
She couldn’t stop looking at the picture of her child. The ache of the lost years was almost unbearable. ‘Did you ask her not to come?’
‘No.’ Mary grimaced. ‘If I’d done that, then she definitely would have been here. Whatever I ask Willow to do, she’ll invariably do the opposite.’
‘If it’s a consolation, I’m sure most teenagers are the same. I know I was.’
‘I suppose you’re right,’ she agreed grudgingly. ‘Doesn’t make it any easier to deal with.’
‘No,’ she