Willow Brook Road

“Here’s your tea,” Megan said, handing her the delicate, old-fashioned chintz-patterned teacup. “Now tell me what’s on your mind.”

“I’m at loose ends,” Carrie admitted.

“No news there,” her grandmother agreed. “Any thoughts about what you intend to do about it?” She gave her a sly look. “Other than avoiding advice from your grandfather, that is?”

Carrie grinned. “How’d you guess?”

“The way you took off from the pub as if you didn’t hear him calling after you last night,” Megan said. “And the fact that you’re in here right now, rather than in your own house where you could put the baby down for his nap.”

“You know how Grandpa Mick is,” Carrie said.

“I most certainly do,” Megan replied. “That said, not all of his ideas should be dismissed so readily.”

“But I need to find my own ideas,” Carrie argued. “Isn’t that the whole point of growing up, to figure out what we’re meant to do? You didn’t exactly have a handle on it, did you? You were how old and had five kids at home, when you decided it wasn’t enough, divorced Grandpa Mick, moved to New York and discovered how much you loved art and working in a gallery?”

“Touché,” her grandmother said. “But there was a little more to the divorce than my running off to find myself.”

“I know that. It was because Grandpa Mick was a workaholic and you felt like he’d abandoned you to be a single mom, stuck at home with five kids.”

Megan smiled at what even Carrie knew to be a simplistic version of a very difficult time in her grandparents’ marriage.

“That does sum it up,” Megan acknowledged. “Or at least the heart of what happened. Here’s the difference between you and me. I didn’t know just how unhappy I was for a very long time, and I hurt a lot of people when I took off, including your mother and your aunts and uncles. I’ve spent a lot of time making amends for that. You have the advantage of being on your own. Now’s the perfect time for you to get serious about finding your dream. To make your mistakes when the only person likely to be hurt is you.”

Carrie met her sympathetic gaze. “You’re talking about Marc.”

“Not exactly. I’m talking about what you did to yourself. You worked yourself into exhaustion to impress a man who didn’t appreciate it,” Megan corrected. “The good news is that you had sense enough to leave before you were trapped by a marriage that was doomed.”

Carrie rolled her eyes. “Trust me, marriage was never on the table, except maybe in my fantasy. Marc had an entirely different agenda. He was a selfish, manipulative man who took advantage of the feelings he knew I had for him. I can see that now.”

“Good for you! You won’t make a similar mistake again, will you?”

“I sure hope not.”

Her grandmother studied her worriedly. “You’re not going to let that one mistake keep you from taking risks or opening your heart again, are you? Because that would be a real tragedy. You have so much potential, Carrie, so much love to give.”

“But I need a purpose,” Carrie told her. “Grandpa Mick has been harping on that ever since I left Europe.”

“And he’s right. Everyone needs a purpose, a passion that makes them want to get up in the morning.”

“So you think I’m wasting time, too?”

“No, I think you’re taking your time trying to avoid another mistake. That’s not you. You’re my impulsive, embrace-everything granddaughter, but suddenly you’re scared. I think that’s what I hate most about Marc Reynolds. He robbed you of that wonderful, spontaneous spirit that made you special. If I may offer one piece of advice, it’s this. Start taking chances again, Carrie. If something feels right, try it. If someone feels right, open your heart.”

“Maybe you’re right,” Carrie acknowledged. “Maybe I have been playing it safe.”

She gave her grandmother a plaintive look. “Or maybe I simply have no idea where to go from here.”

Her grandmother wrapped her in a tight embrace. “You’ll know it when it comes along. In the meantime, I’ll try to get your grandfather to give you some space.”

Carrie laughed. “Thanks for the offer, but we both know that’s a losing fight. I’ll just tune him out.”

She tried to imagine how well that would work and couldn’t. “I’d better get Jackson home. He’ll be awake again any minute and he tends to wake up cranky. We don’t want him scaring off your customers.”

“Wednesdays are usually slow. I’m not worried. I’m glad you came by, sweetheart.”

“Me, too. Love you.”

Surprisingly, though there had been no sudden bursts of inspiration during their conversation, Carrie felt at peace when she left. That lasted two whole blocks until she spotted Sam Winslow sitting on a bench by the playground, and his nephew heading straight for the top rungs of the jungle gym.

Carrie’s breath caught in her throat as she pushed the stroller as fast as she could in their direction. She didn’t dare call out for fear the boy would take a misstep and tumble straight to the ground.

With her eyes glued to the boy, she made it to the base of the jungle gym and stood there watching his every move, ready to catch him if he fell.

She sensed Sam’s approach, but never looked away.

“What were you thinking?” she said in a quiet voice. “Did you have any idea what he was doing?”

“Of course I did,” Sam said defensively, his welcoming smile immediately fading. “I’m not completely incompetent. Bobby’s been climbing jungle gyms since he was four. He’s a little daredevil.”

He leveled a look at her. “Don’t believe me?” He whipped out his cell phone and showed her a picture of a triumphant little boy atop another jungle gym with a woman who was clearly his mom standing watch just below, a tremulous smile on her lips.

“Your sister?” Carrie asked.

Sam nodded.

“She looks terrified.”

“But she let him do it,” Sam pointed out.

“The difference is she was standing right below in case he fell.”

“And I was sitting a few feet away. I may have looked distracted to you, but trust me, I saw his every move. And you saw firsthand how quickly I got over here when you turned up.”

“I suppose.”

“Carrie, I may be new at this, but I’m not going to let anything happen to Bobby. My sister trusted me to get it right, and I will.”

She looked into his eyes then and heard the sincerity behind his words. “Then I should relax and leave you to it.”

“Or you could go to the café with us. I promised Bobby a milk shake and a grilled cheese sandwich for lunch.”

She was a little too tempted by the invitation. “I should probably get Jackson home.”

Sam looked at the sleeping baby and smiled. “Is this your nephew?”

“The one and only Jackson McIlroy,” she confirmed. “His dad’s the doctor in town. With an adventurous kid in your life, you’ll want to get to know him.”

“Absolutely,” Sam said. “Now, about lunch. How about it? You can grumble that nothing I’m feeding Bobby is healthy.”