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The Next Best Thing - Softcover

Buch 2 von 3: Gideon's Cove

Higgins, Kristan

 
9780373777341: The Next Best Thing
Softcover
ISBN 10: 0373777345 ISBN 13: 9780373777341
Verlag: HQN, 2013

Inhaltsangabe

Lucy Lang isn't looking for fireworks… 

She's looking for a nice, decent man. Someone who'll mow the lawn, flip chicken on the barbecue, teach their future children to play soccer. But most important: someone who won't inspire the slightest stirring in her heart…or anywhere else. A young widow, Lucy can't risk that kind of loss again. But sharing her life with a cat named Fat Mikey and the Black Widows at the family bakery isn't enough either. So it's goodbye to Ethan, her hot but entirely inappropriate "friend with privileges," and hello to a man she can marry. 

Too bad Ethan Mirabelli isn't going anywhere. As far as he's concerned, what she needs might be right under her nose. But can he convince her that the next best thing can really be forever?

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Über die Autorin bzw. den Autor

Kristan Higgins is the New York Times, Publishers Weekly and USA TODAY bestselling author whose books have been translated into more than twenty languages. She has received dozens of awards and accolades, including starred reviews from Publishers Weekly, Library Journal, The New York Journal of Books and Kirkus. Kristan lives in Connecticut with her heroic firefighter husband, two atypically affectionate children, a neurotic rescue mutt and an occasionally friendly cat. 

Auszug. © Genehmigter Nachdruck. Alle Rechte vorbehalten.



"You have a whisker."

Though I hear the loudly whispered comment, it doesn't quite register, as I am rapt with adoration, staring at the wonder that is my hour-old niece. Her face still glows red from the effort of being born, her dark blue eyes are as wide and calm as a tortoise's. I probably shouldn't tell my sister that her baby reminds me of a reptile. Well. The baby is astonishingly beautiful. Miraculous.

"She's amazing," I murmur. Corinne beams, then shifts the baby the slightest bit away from me. "Can I hold her, Cory?" My two aunts mutter darkly—only Mom has held the baby so far, and clearly, I'm breaking rank.

My sister hesitates. "Um…well…"

"Let her, Cory," Chris encourages, and my sister reluctantly hands over the little bundle.

She's warm and precious, and my eyes fill with tears. "Hi there," I whisper. "I'm your auntie." I can't believe how much I love this baby…she's fifty-five minutes old, and I'm ready to throw myself in front of a bus for her, should the need arise.

"Pssst. Lucy." It's Iris's voice again. "Lucy. You have a whisker." My seventy-six-year-old aunt taps her upper lip. "Right there. Plus, you're holding her wrong. Give her to me."

"Oh, gee, I don't know about that," Corinne protests, but Iris deftly takes the baby from me. My arms feel lonely without the sweet weight of my niece. "Whisker," Iris says, jerking her chin at me.

Almost against my will, my finger goes to my upper lip…gah! Something thick and almost sharp, like a piece of barbed wire, is embedded in my skin. A whisker! Iris is right. I have a whisker.

My tiny aunt Rose sidles up to me. "Let's take a look here," she says in her little-girl voice, studying my lip. Then, before I know it, she seizes the offending hair and yanks.

"Youch! Rose! That hurt!" I press a finger against the now smarting hair follicle.

"Don't worry, honey, I got it. You must be coming into the Change." She gives me a conspiratorial smile, then holds my whisker up to the light.

"I'm thirty years old, Rose," I protest weakly. "And come on, stop looking at it." I brush the whisker from her fingers. The whisker was a fluke. I'm not menopausal. I can't be. Could I? Granted, I'm feeling a bit…mature today, given that my younger sister has had a baby before I did…

Rose scrutinizes my face for another hair. "It can happen. Your second cousin Ilona was thirty-five. I don't think you're too young. A mustache is usually the first sign."

"Electrolysis," my mother recommends as she tucks the blankets around Corinne's feet. "Grinelda does it. I'll have her look at you next time she comes in for a reading."

"Your psychic also does electrolysis?" Christopher asks.

"She's a medium. And yes, Grinelda is a very talented woman," Iris says, smiling down at Emma.

"Don't I get a turn to hold that child? I seem to remember I'm also her great-aunt," Rose peeps. "And personally, I bleach. Once I shaved, and three days later, I looked like Uncle Zoltan after a bender." She accepts my niece from Iris and her wrinkled, sweet face morphs into a smile. "Oh, shaving. Never shave, Lucy," Iris says. "You get stubbly."

"Um…okay," I say, shooting a glance at my sister. Surely this is not normal conversation in a labor and delivery room. "So how are you feeling now, Corinne?"

"I'm wonderful," she says. "Can I please hold my daughter again?"

"I just got her!" Rose protests.

"Hand her over," Christopher orders. With a martyred sigh, Rose obeys.

My sister gazes down at the baby, then looks up at her husband. "Do you think we should put some Purell on her?" she asks, her brow wrinkling in worry.

"Nah," Chris answers. "You girls scrubbed in, right?"

"Absolutely. Don't want Emma to catch the polio," Iris says, not a trace of sarcasm in her voice. I suppress a smile.

"Chris, honey, how are you feeling, sweetie?" Corinne asks her husband.

"A lot better than you, honey. I didn't just give birth, after all."

Corinne waves away his protest. "Lucy, he was so wonderful. Really. You should've seen him! So calm, so helpful. He was amazing."

"I didn't do a thing, Lucy," my brother-in-law assures me. He reaches out to touch the baby's cheek. "Your sister…she's incredible." The new parents gaze at each other with sappy adoration, and I feel the familiar, wistful lump in my throat.

Jimmy and I might've looked at each other like that.

"Hello! I'm Tania, your lactation coach!" A booming voice makes us all jump. "Well, well! Quite a turnout, I see! Do you want an audience, Mother?"

"Corinne, we'll go," I say, though it's quite possible that my mother and aunts would like to stay and offer a running commentary. "We'll see you later. I'm so proud of you." I kiss my sister, touch the baby's cheek once more and try not to notice as Corinne wipes her baby's face. "Bye, Emma," I whisper, my eyes filling yet again. "I love you, honey." My niece. I have a niece! Visions of tea parties and jump rope fill my head.

My sister smiles at me. "See you later, Lucy. Love you." She risks a pat to my arm with one hand, already instinctively adept at handling the baby.

"Let's take a look at those nipples," Tania the lactation coach barks. "Husband, take the baby, won't you? I need to see your wife's breasts."

Like a well-trained border collie, I herd Mom, Rose and Iris out of the room. In the hallway, I notice something. My mother, aunts and I all seem to be wearing black today. My step falters. Mom is clad in a chic black wraparound sweater, something that wouldn't look out of place on Audrey Hepburn; Iris wears a shapeless black turtleneck and Rose a black cardigan over a white shirt. My T-shirt of the day happens to be black—I get up at 4:00 a.m. and don't spend a lot of time on clothing choices…this one just happened to be on the top of the pile.

By an ironic and unfortunate twist of fate, my mother, Iris and Rose bear the maiden name Black, translated from Fekete when my grandfather immigrated from Hungary. By an even more ironic and unfortunate twist of fate, all three were widowed before the age of fifty, so it's only natural that they're called the Black Widows. And on this happiest of days, somehow we're all wearing black. It dawns on me that today I, also widowed young, am more like a Black Widow than like my radiant sister. That today I found my first whisker and was advised on facial hair management.

That I'm a long way off from having a baby of my own, a thought that's been on my mind more and more recently. It's been five years since Jimmy died, after all. Five and a half. Five years, four months, two weeks and three days, to be precise.

These thoughts override the chatter of my aunts and mother as we drive over the short bridge to Mackerly, back to the bakery where the four of us work.

"We're going to the cemetery," Mom announces as they pile out of the car, first Iris, then Rose, then my mother. "I have to tell your father about the baby."

"Okay," I say, forcing a smile. "See you in a while, then."

"You sure you don't want to come?" Rose asks. All three...

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Verlag
HQN
Erscheinungsdatum
2013
Sprache
Englisch
ISBN 10 
0373777345
ISBN 13 
9780373777341
Einband
Taschenbuch
Anzahl der Seiten
400
Kontakt zum Hersteller
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