A Mother's Wish: Wanted: Perfect Partner / Father's Day

“Steve’s coming to meet Lindsey.”

“To your house?”

“Yes.”

Laura grinned widely. “R-e-a-l-l-y,” she said, dragging out the word.

“Really. But it isn’t what you think.” Because if Laura did believe Steve wanted to pursue something with Meg, her friend was in for a major disappointment.

Meg got home an hour later. Lindsey had taken Steve’s visit seriously. She’d cleaned the house, baked cookies and wore her best jeans. A dress would’ve been asking too much.

“Hello, sweetheart.”

“Mom,” Lindsey said, frowning at her watch. “Do you have any idea what time it is?”

“Yeah.”

“Don’t you think you should shower and change clothes? Steve will be here in an hour and a half.”

“I know.” She supposed she should reveal more enthusiasm, if only for show, but she couldn’t make herself do it. This had been Steve’s idea and she’d agreed, but she still wasn’t convinced.

“I was thinking you should wear that sundress we bought last year with the pretty red-rose print,” Lindsey suggested. “That and your white sandals.” She studied her mother critically. “I wish you had one of those broad-brimmed sun hats. A pretty white one would be perfect. Very romantic.”

“We’ll just have to make do with the sombrero Grandpa bought you in Mexico,” Meg teased.

“Mother,” Lindsey cried, appalled. “That would look stupid!”

Meg sighed dramatically, for effect. “I don’t know how I managed to dress myself all these years without you.”

She thought—or hoped—that her daughter would laugh. Lindsey didn’t. “That might be the reason you’re still single. Have you considered that?”

This kid was no help when it came to boosting her confidence.

“You’re a great mother,” Lindsey said, redeeming herself somewhat, “but promise me you’ll never go clothes-shopping without me again.”

Rather than make rash pledges she had no intention of keeping, Meg hurried up the stairs and got into the shower. The hot water pulsating against her skin refreshed her and renewed her sense of humor. She could hardly wait to see Lindsey’s face when she met Steve.

With a towel tucked around her, Meg wandered into her bedroom and examined the contents of her closet. In this case, Lindsey was right; the sundress was her best choice. She wore it, Meg told herself, because it looked good on her and not because Lindsey had suggested it.

Her daughter was waiting for her in the living room. The floral arrangement Steve, or rather Nancy, had sent was displayed in the middle of the coffee table.

Lindsey had polished the silver tea set until it gleamed. The previous time Meg had used it was when Pastor Delany came for a visit shortly after Meg’s father died.

The doorbell chimed. Lindsey turned to her mother with a grin. “We’re ready,” she said, and gave her a thumbs-up sign.

Meg had assumed she knew what to expect, but when she opened the front door her mouth sagged open.

“Steve?” she whispered to the man dressed in a black leather jacket, tight blue jeans and a white T-shirt. “Is that you?”

He winked at her. “You expecting someone else?”

“N-no,” she stammered.

“Invite me in,” he said in a low voice. As she stepped aside, he walked past her and placed his index finger under her chin, closing her mouth.

He stood in the archway between the entry and her living room, feet braced apart. “You must be Lindsey,” he said gruffly. “I’m Steve.”

“You’re Steve?” Lindsey sounded uncharacteristically meek.

“Lindsey, this is Steve Conlan,” Meg said, standing next to him.

Steve slid his arm around Meg’s waist and planted a noisy kiss on her cheek. He glanced at Lindsey. “I understand you’re the one who got us together. Thanks.”

“You’re welcome.” Lindsey’s eyes didn’t so much as flicker. She certainly wasn’t about to let them read her thoughts. “You, uh, don’t look anything like your picture.”

Steve refused to take his eyes off Meg. He squeezed her waist again. “The one I sent was taken a while back,” he said. “Before I went to prison.”

Lindsey gasped. “Prison?”

“Don’t worry, sweetheart. It wasn’t a violent crime.”

“What … were you in for?” Lindsey asked, her voice shaking.

Steve rubbed the side of his jaw, shadowed by a dark growth of beard. “If you don’t mind, I’d rather not say.”

“Sit down, Steve,” Meg said from between gritted teeth. Talk about overkill. Any more of this and everything would be ruined.

“Would you care for coffee?” Lindsey asked. Her young voice continued to tremble.

“You got a beer?”

“It’s not a good idea to be drinking this early in the afternoon, is it?” Meg asked sweetly.

Steve sat down on the sofa, balancing his ankle on the opposite knee. He looked around as if he were casing the joint.

Meg moved to the silver service. “Coffee or tea?”

“Coffee, but add a little something that’ll give it some kick.”

Meg poured coffee for him and added a generous dollop of half-and-half. He frowned at the delicate bone china cup as though he wasn’t sure how to hold it.

Lindsey sat down on the ottoman, her eyes huge. “I … you never said anything about prison.”

“Don’t like to mention it until people have a chance to meet me for themselves. Some of ‘em tend to think the worst of a person when they hear he’s had a felony conviction.”

“A … felony.” Lindsey snapped her mouth shut, inhaled deeply, then said in a subdued tone, “I see.”

“The flowers are lovely.” Meg fingered a rosebud from the bouquet.