“I’m warning you, Lucy. If I find out anything inappropriate is going on there, you’ll regret it.”
“Is that a threat?”
“It’s a warning.”
Lucy stood up and put money on the table for her tea.
“Then we’re done here. See you in court if that’s what you want. But understand this—I will fight.”
She walked out of the café without looking back. Her heart was pounding, her knees shaky. But her mind was clear. For the first time in years, she had told Eric no. And the world had not ended.
Outside, Mike was waiting by his SUV, arms folded.
“I told you not to come.”
“You did. I came anyway. Just in case.”
Lucy felt tears sting her eyes. Not from pain this time. From gratitude.
“Thank you. Let’s go home.”
Home. Strange, but that house really had become home. The first real one she had known in years.
Spring came quietly—first little streams of meltwater, then the apple trees in Margaret’s yard bursting into bloom. Lucy stood on the porch breathing in the sweet smell and thinking how much her life had changed in six months. The inheritance case had finally started moving. It turned out Mike’s father had owned a share in a small local real estate firm, several parcels of land, and a substantial amount in investment accounts. All of it was passing to Mike, his only heir.
“I don’t know what to do with any of it,” he admitted one evening as they sat on the porch after dinner. “I’ve worked at sea my whole life. I know practical things. Business isn’t me.”
“You could sell.”
“I could. But there are people working there. Agents, office staff. If I sell to the wrong person, they’ll all be gone.”
“Then hire someone to manage it.”
Mike looked at her for a long moment.
“Want to try?”
“Me? You’re kidding.”
“No. In three months you figured out those legal papers better than the attorney I was paying. You’ve got a good head. And you’re honest.”
“Mike, I’ve never run a business.”
“Neither have I. We can learn.”
It was crazy. Completely crazy. But Lucy felt something she hadn’t felt in years—excitement. The urge to try. To risk something. To do something new.
“Give me a week to think about it.”
“Take all the time you need. I’m not in a rush.”
He wasn’t in a rush about the business, and he wasn’t in a rush about her. In six months, nothing had happened between them. No kisses. No declarations. Just long talks at night, accidental touches, looks that made Lucy catch her breath.
“Mom, are you and Uncle Mike going to get married?” Maddie asked one day with a child’s bluntness.
“What makes you ask that, sweetheart?”
“You’re always together. And he looks at you the way Daddy used to. Only different.”
“Different how?”
“Real.”
The children accepted Mike easily. Ben adored him: they built model boats, went fishing, fixed an old bike in the shed. Maddie demanded bedtime stories and got them—long tales about sea monsters and brave captains. Even Paige, suspicious and sharp-edged, softened over time.
“He’s a good man,” she told her mother. “A real one.”
Eric called at the end of April. His voice was tight, angry.
“Lucy, I need to see the kids. Today.”
“What happened?”
“Nothing. I just want to see them.”
“Come Saturday, like usual.”
“No. Today. Now.”
“Eric, it’s evening. They’re getting ready for bed.”
“I don’t care. I have a right to see my children.”
Something in his voice made Lucy go still.
“What happened?”
Long pause. Then a hard exhale.
“Regina left. Took her stuff and left.”
Lucy said nothing. She didn’t know what to say. She felt no triumph, only weariness.
“I’m sorry.”
“You’re not sorry. You’re glad.”
“No, Eric. I really am sorry. But the kids didn’t cause your problems. They don’t need to see you like this.”
“Like what? Angry? Broken?”
“You’ll scare them.”
“I’m not angry. I’m just…” He stopped. “Fine. Saturday, then.”
He hung up. Lucy stood with the phone in her hand, looking out at the evening yard.
“Trouble?” Mike appeared quietly, as he always did.
“My ex-husband. He’s having… problems. The woman left.”
“How do you know?”
