Free A Mother's Wish by Debbie Macomber Page B

seemed impossible.
    Meg’s head was on his chest, tucked beneath his chin.
    “It’s too late,” she whispered.
    “What’s too late?”
    “We’ve gone to all this trouble to convince Lindsey that you’re all wrong for me.”
    “I know, but … “
    “Do you think Nancy will believe this was all a silly joke?”
    “No.”
    “I think we should end everything right here and now, don’t you?” she asked.
    Steve stiffened. “If that’s what you want.”
    She moved away from him. “I guess it is,” she said, with just a hint of regret.

Five
    L indsey was pacing the living room, waiting for Meg when she walked in the front door.
    “Hi, honey,” Meg said, trying to sound cheerful yet exhausted—since she’d led Lindsey to believe she was taking inventory at the bookstore and that was why she’d come home so late.
    “It’s way after seven!” her daughter cried, rushing toward her. “You weren’t with Steve, were you?”
    “Ah …” Meg wasn’t willing to lie outright. Half truths and innuendos were about as far as she wanted to stretch this.
    Lindsey closed her eyes and waved her hands vaguely. “Forget it. Don’t answer that.”
    “Honey, what’s wrong?” Meg asked as calmly as shecould. Unfortunately, she didn’t think she sounded all that reassuring. She’d left Steve only moments earlier and was already feeling some regret. After following through with this ridiculous charade, Steve wanted to change his mind and continue seeing Meg. She’d quickly put an end to
that
idea. Now she wasn’t sure she’d made the right decision.
    “Mom,” Lindsey said, her dark eyes challenging, “we need to talk.”
    “Of course.” Meg walked into the kitchen and took the china teapot from the hutch. “My mother always made tea when we had something to discuss.” Somehow, the ritual of drinking tea together put everything in perspective. Meg missed those times with her mother.
    Lindsey helped her assemble everything they needed and carried it into the dining room. Meg poured them each a cup, once the tea had steeped, and they sat across from each other at the polished mahogany table.
    Meg waited, and when Lindsey wasn’t immediately forthcoming she decided to get the conversation started. “You wanted to talk to me about Steve, right?”
    Lindsey clasped the delicate china cup with one hand and lowered her gaze. “Do you really, really like him?” she asked anxiously.
    Meg answered before she took time to censor the question. “Yes.”
    “But why? I mean, he’s nothing like what I thought he’d be.” She hesitated. “I suppose this is what Brenda and Iget for pretending we were you,” she mumbled. “Maybe if you’d read his stuff, you would’ve been able to tell what kind of guy he really is.”
    “Steve is actually a fine person.” And he was. Or at least the Steve Meg knew.
    Lindsey risked a glance at her. “You’ve said hundreds of times that you don’t want me to judge others by outward appearances, but sometimes that’s all there is.”
    “You’re worried about me and Steve, aren’t you?” Meg said gently.
    Lindsey rubbed her finger along the edge of the teacup. “I realize now that what Brenda and I did was really stupid. We linked you up with a guy who has a prison record. We sure were easy to fool,” Lindsey said with a scowl. “We’re only fifteen years old!”
    “But I like Steve,” Meg felt obliged to tell her.
    Lindsey looked as if she didn’t know how to account for that. “I’m afraid he’s going to hurt you.”
    “Steve wouldn’t do that,” Meg assured her, “but I understand your concern, honey, and I promise you I won’t let the situation get out of hand.”
    Lindsey frowned, stiffened her shoulders and blurted out, “I don’t want you to see him again.”
    “But … “
    “I mean it, Mom. This guy is trouble.”
    Talk about role reversal!
    “I want you to
promise
me you won’t see Steve Conlan again.”
    “Lindsey … “
    “This is