Second Honeymoon. Laura Abbot

home.”

      “I didn’t know it would be so big.” Hayley stared incredulously. “It’s gross. I’m so embarrassed.”

      “Why on earth would you say that?”

      “The other kids’ll laugh. Mom, it’s total senior-citizen geekdom!”

      Meg stifled a giggle. The motor home did scream AARP. “Get over it. You will be gracious and accepting of your grandparents.”

      Hayley gave her a mock salute. “Aye, aye, captain.” Then, to Meg’s surprise, she relented. “I’m sorry. It’s just…so big. But I do love Gramma and Grampa.”

      “I know you do, honey.” Meg decided to capitalize on Hayley’s temporary good graces. “I could use your help with dinner.”

      “Ask Gramma. She loves to putter in the kitchen.”

      In one fell swoop, Hayley had removed herself from consideration and volunteered her grandmother—the very person whose help Meg had hoped to avoid.

      But what did she deserve? Her marriage was falling apart, and now she couldn’t even pull off being a gracious hostess. Easing past the behemoth and into the garage, she muttered a silent prayer, then told her daughter, “The least you can do is help carry in the groceries.”

      WHERE THE HELL was Scott? Meg’s face was a mask of good cheer, but internally she was boiling. Did she have to entertain by herself? The Harpers were his parents, after all. Somehow she’d managed to light the gas grill, and Bud and Justin were presiding over the steaks. Marie, however, had not left her side during the rest of the food preparation, inserting culinary tips into the conversation like “You’ll want to chill the salad bowls, Meg”—which necessitated rearranging the refrigerator. Hayley had willingly set the table under her grandmother’s direction, but heaven forbid the salad forks went on the inside of the dinner forks.

      Meg was within minutes of serving the meal, and still there was no sign of Scott. He hadn’t even bothered to phone. Despite the awkwardness, Meg refused to make excuses for him, but Marie more than made up for that. “Scotty works so hard. I know he’ll be here as soon as he finishes whatever business he has.”

      Meg bit her lip. Marie’s very words got at the heart of the problem—Scott would be home when he’d addressed his more important obligations. Only then would he be ready to face priority number two—his family.

      The sliding glass door to the patio opened. Beaming, Bud raised a platter toward the women. “Behold. Best darn steaks you’ll ever put in your mouth.”

      Justin followed, rubbing a hand over his stomach. “I’m starving. Can we please eat?”

      Well, why not? Meg thought to herself. Let the Harpers experience what we do. Dinner without the lord and master. “Call your sister,” Meg said, and instructed Bud to set the meat on the table.

      Marie readjusted the parsley around a plate of deviled eggs. Apparently Meg hadn’t even done that satisfactorily. “Surely we’re not going to eat without Scotty.”

      Meg clenched her fingers. “He should be here any minute. He wouldn’t want us to let the food get cold.”

      “Those steaks are perfect now, sweetheart,” Bud added, by way of support.

      Marie stared wistfully out the kitchen window. “It doesn’t seem right not to wait.”

      Hayley and Justin took their places at the table. “Come on, Gramma and Grampa,” Justin pleaded. “Let’s eat.”

      Reluctantly Marie picked up the plate of eggs. Meg gave one last desperate look down the street before following with the salad and baked potatoes.

      Fortunately, the kids kept the conversation going and, to Meg’s relief, displayed obvious pleasure in their grandparents’ visit, asking them numerous questions about the great motor-home odyssey. Hayley, especially, seemed eager to make them feel at home. Meg toyed with her salad, resentment robbing her of an appetite. How could she and Scott maintain this charade of a marriage for even one more day, much less carry off an anniversary? And when would they have the opportunity to make the decisions so vital to their future? Find time to communicate those decisions to their children and the Harpers? First, though, before anything could happen, Scott had to appear.

      As if her thoughts had conjured him up, she heard the garage door open, followed by the sound of a car pulling in.

      “That must be Scotty.” Marie nearly knocked her chair over, bounding up to greet her son. Bud rose, too, but the kids went right on eating.

      From her seat, Meg watched Scott embrace his parents, then heard him apologize for being late. “…last-minute changes the creative director needed to go over.” Meg flinched. Brenda Sampson. It figured.

      “It’s good to have you here,” Scott said as he accompanied his parents back to the dining room, false heartiness apparent in his conciliatory gestures. “Sorry, honey,” he mumbled, resting a hand on Meg’s shoulder. “Kids, I’m glad you didn’t wait. I’ll bet you were hungry.”

      “Starving,” Justin said, helping himself to a second steak.

      Hayley pointed to her brother’s plate. “Too much red meat isn’t good for you.”

      “At least I’m not a picky eater, like you.”

      “Children,” Meg admonished.

      Somehow Meg endured the rest of the dinner, watching stoically as Marie and Bud hung on Scott’s every word about the Jordan department-store account.

      At one point, Marie leaned over, and, eyes glowing, asked Meg, “Aren’t you proud of your husband?”

      Even as Meg reluctantly murmured, “Yes,” she had to admit that in some ways she was proud of his accomplishments. But why did she have to play second fiddle? Why couldn’t she feel as important to him as his new accounts?

      Between the main course and dessert, Bud tapped on his wineglass. “I have an announcement to make.”

      Hayley and Justin made eye contact as knowing grins formed on their faces. Meg went on alert. Her children were seldom in cahoots.

      “Saturday, you two—” he nodded at Scott and Meg “—will celebrate a milestone twenty years of marriage, and if you don’t have anything special planned…”

      Meg was overcome with bitterness. Anything special? Just a separation. Is that special enough?

      “…Marie, Hayley, Justin and I have arranged to take you to dinner at the country club to celebrate.”

      Scott caught Meg’s eye briefly as if to say “Don’t ruin this for them.” Then he said, “Mom, Pops, that’s really not necessary.”

      “Nonsense,” Marie interrupted. “We are so proud of this wonderful family you’ve created. You’re both busy, talented people who somehow manage to keep the spark alive. That needs to be celebrated.”

      Meg, cheeks flaming, nearly choked as she responded, “That’s very generous of you.”

      What she was really thinking was that, unbelievably, she and Scott had his parents fooled. For the moment, anyway.

      EXHAUSTED, SCOTT FINISHED brushing his teeth, turned out the bathroom light and made his way to bed where Meg was already sleeping—or pretending to—her back to him, one arm tucked under her pillow. There’d been no opportunity to talk with her, to apologize for being late. Not that he could have convincingly explained what had detained him. She wouldn’t care. Especially if his reason involved Brenda. And it did.

      He should’ve been home to greet his parents. He could have called. But cowardly as it was, he hadn’t wanted to hear Meg’s nagging accusations; he was harboring more than enough guilt himself. On the drive home, he’d second-guessed his motives. Could his conversation with Brenda have waited until tomorrow? Not if they wanted to get the logo redesign ready for Monday’s