“No, I don’t think that.” He frowned and sat back in his chair. Deidre had the distinct impression he was torn about whether to go on about the subject.
“What is it, Nick?” Deidre asked. “Do you think I’ve been too hard on my mother?”
“I understand you’re mad about being kept in the dark all these years, missing out on a relationship with Lincoln. But your mom lost her husband and she lost her best friend. She lost you for a good portion of her life and probably fears she’ll never get you back. I can’t help but feeling bad for her.” He shook his head and gave a sheepish wave. “I know—it’s none of my business.”
“I don’t think that it’s none of your business. I’m just confused as to why you care one way or another,” she said. “You’ve been urging Mom and me to resolve our differences. Why?”
For a few seconds he didn’t reply. “I guess I just worry about you.”
“Me? You want to make sure I have a mommy to look out for me? I’ve been taking care of myself for a long, long time, Nick,” she said, chuckling.
“I don’t like the idea of you being alone in the future.”
Her mirth faded. Was he telling her he was trying to prepare her for the fact that what was between them wasn’t permanent? Was he implying that she needed to build up her support because there was a good chance she would be cast adrift again sometime in the near future?
She closed her mouth and cleared her throat. Of course that’s not what he meant. Hadn’t he been the definition of a passionate, interested male in the past week? She was just being paranoid.
“You don’t have to worry about me. Or my mother.”
“You’ve told me the story about Brigit. I feel for her, that’s all. She finds out her husband has had an affair. She’s devastated...hurting. She flees West and finds comfort from an old friend.”
“It was selfish of her. Pure and simple. There were much better ways to handle the situation with Dad than to get him back by having her own affair,” Deidre insisted, her jaw tilted up defiantly.
Nick’s eyes flashed. “Do you know for a fact Brigit was intent on payback? You loved Lincoln after knowing him only for months...weeks...days, maybe? He was a wonderful man. Wouldn’t you consider running to him, after a betrayal like your mother experienced? Imagine how deep your mother’s feelings must have been for him, given their long history. Maybe it was a mistake for them to sleep together, but you don’t have to twist your mom into the wicked witch. I won’t argue that Brigit made a huge mistake. She’s paid a heavy toll for it. Don’t you think she’s suffered enough?”
Deidre just stared at him, amazed that he saw the topic so differently than her. As an outsider, did he perhaps see it more clearly? Was her perspective hazed by a teenager’s pain and simplistic view of the adult world?
“Look, I’m sorry for bringing it up,” he mumbled. “I’m sorry, period. I don’t want to fight with you. I just wanted to give you the jewelry. I don’t know how the hell we got here.”
She stared at the velvet pouch, longing and doubt warring inside her.
“To whom would that jewelry belong if not you?” Nick asked after a grave pause.
She met his stare. “You,” she mouthed.
He nodded slowly and leaned toward her. “So no matter what happens, it’s yours,” he said before he kissed her trembling lips.
* * *
Deidre stared out the kitchen window the next morning, watching a gentle snowfall. Nick and she had gone to the Starling Hotel last night and had Lily DuBois’s precious jewels locked in the hotel safe. This morning, however, Deidre felt as if she carried a priceless treasure in her heart. Her entire world sparkled.
“Hey.”
She turned and smiled at the source of her newfound joy. “Hey.”
“You ready to go?” Nick murmured, stepping toward her and wrapping his hands around her shoulders.
“Yes,” she replied, turning her face up to receive his kiss.
“Do horses like the snow?” she asked after a moment.
“It depends on the horse,” Nick said wryly next to her mouth before he kissed her again. He grabbed her hand. “Come on, I told your mother we’d pick her up by ten.”
Nervousness fluttered in her belly as they approached Sycamore Avenue, but Brigit was walking out of the house at the same moment Nick pulled into the driveway. She walked toward them through a gentle snow wearing a pair of riding breeches, supple brown leather boots and a dark green anorak. Brigit gave her a warm smile through the windshield as she walked to the car. Gratitude swelled in Deidre’s breast at the knowledge that her mother had understood she wasn’t quite ready to go into the house.
“It’s a wonderful day for a ride,” Brigit enthused as she got in the backseat. Deidre glanced back at her mother. Brigit beamed at her. Was Deidre’s happiness with the world contagious? Her mother seemed to glow with health and good spirits.
“I’m so excited. To think—I’m finally going to teach one of my children to ride.”