Her Mother's Shadow. Diane Chamberlain

opened her mouth to reply, but he stopped her.

      “I don’t mean financially,” he said. “I mean emotionally. It could be long and drawn out. You and your family need to really think this through. You need to be sure you’re up for going through the whole thing again.”

      “I think we have to do it,” she said.

      He moved a scallop around on his plate. “I’m just playing devil’s advocate here, all right?” he asked. “I can’t possibly know how this feels to you, how it feels to lose your mother … but have you thought of … just letting it go? Putting it behind you? Maybe even taking it one step further by forgiving the guy who did it?”

      He must have seen her stiffen, because he continued quickly.

      “Maybe not forgive him, exactly, although I have to tell you, I believe strongly in the power of forgiveness,” he said. “It brings peace to the person doing the forgiving. I understand that’s probably too much to ask. But you might consider not fighting his release. Not wasting your energy on him. As long as the parole board decides he’s not a danger to anyone else, as long as he’s truly been rehabilitated, can you just let it go?”

      She shook her head. “No,” she said.

      “Lacey, I’m not talking about letting it go for his sake, but for yours,” he said, his dark eyes searching her face. “If you fight this, you’ll have to relive everything that happened.”

      “I’ll never stop reliving it,” she said, but she was frankly touched by what he had said. He was a kind man, and she knew there was wisdom in his words. “You sound like you’ve been through something like this.”

      He shook his head. “No,” he said. “Not really.” He pressed his napkin to his lips, then smiled at her again. “I haven’t known you long,” he said, his voice soft, “but just seeing you with customers at the studio, seeing the sweet and gentle way you are with me, I can tell that you’re a compassionate person. I bet you usually forgive people very easily.”

      “Well.” She sighed, lifting her fork from the edge of her plate. “The irony is that my mother would have been the first to forgive him,” she said, spearing a scallop. “Unfortunately, though, I’m nothing like her.”

       6

      LACEY STOOD NEXT TO THE EXAMINING TABLE at the animal hospital, her hands buried in the thick, black shoulder fur of a Bernese mountain dog, while her father snipped the stitches from several shaved areas on the dog’s side.

      “You’re being such a good boy,” Lacey cooed to the dog. He was huge, a hundred and ten pounds, and panting up a storm. His heavy coat was not designed for a North Carolina summer.

      “He’s healing very well,” her father said.

      From where she stood, she could see how the gray was rapidly invading her father’s once dark hair, and for some reason, that distressed her.

      “Don’t you try to escape again,” Lacey said to the dog, who appeared to be ignoring her. He stared straight ahead at the wall, stoically tolerating the procedure until he could return to the waiting room and his beloved owner. The dog belonged to a family staying in a beachfront house, and he’d run straight through a flimsy wooden fence on the day of their arrival, anxious to cool off in the ocean.

      Suzy, the receptionist, suddenly opened the door to the examining room and poked her head inside.

      “There’s a gorgeous vase full of yellow roses out here for you, Lacey,” she said. “They were just delivered.”

      “You’re kidding.” Lacey looked at Suzy. “Who are they from?” She knew there could only be one answer to that question.

      Suzy held up a small envelope. “You’ve got your hands full,” she said. “Want me to open it for you?”

      Lacey nodded, and Suzy pulled out the card and held it toward her. One hand still deep in the dog’s fur, Lacey took the card and read the handwritten message to herself. You are the best thing about this summer. With affection, Rick.

      “Well?” Suzy asked with a grin, her curiosity clearly piqued.

      “A friend.” Lacey slipped the card into the pocket of her lab coat. “Thanks for letting me know.”

      Suzy left the room, and Lacey did not need to look at her father to know his eyes were on her.

      “Roses, huh?” he asked. Two little words, but she knew all that was behind them. What are you doing, Lacey? Are you being careful? Are you falling into your old ways?

      “Not from anyone special, Dad,” she said.

      He returned his attention to the stitches without another word, but she knew he wasn’t finished. He wouldn’t be able to help himself. She wasn’t surprised when he spoke again. “None of them were ever special to you, though,” he said. “That was the problem, wasn’t it? That you were indiscriminate? That caring about a person wasn’t really what mattered to—”

      “Dad,” she said. She loved him immensely, but he could be such a pain in the neck. “I don’t want to talk about this, okay? The roses are from a nice guy I’ve been seeing recently. Platonically. They’re yellow roses, not red. Please have a little faith in me.” She was quiet a moment, then added, “Gina and Clay have met him, and they like him.”

      She and Rick had been out three times so far, and she’d finally allowed him to pick her up at the keeper’s house the night before. She’d been nervous about introducing him to her brother and sister-in-law, but they’d instantly been able to tell that Rick was different from the other men she’d dated. The house had been full of people when he arrived, and she’d worried that Rick would be overwhelmed. Henry, the grandfather of Clay’s first wife, and Walter, Gina’s grandfather, were both there. The two elderly men were frequent visitors to the house, especially now that Rani had arrived. The men had lost their dear, longtime friend, Brian Cass, over the winter and some of the joy had gone out of them. Rani, though, had brought it back.

      Rick had handled all the introductions easily, and this morning at breakfast, Clay and Gina had given him their stamp of approval.

      Her father snipped the final stitch and straightened up. “I’m sorry, hon,” he said, reaching for a dog treat from the bowl on the counter.

      “I feel like a kid who gets an A-minus on a test and you yell at her for not getting an A,” Lacey said, still wounded.

      He smiled at that. “I know you’ve tried hard to change, Lace,” he said. “I’ve admired that. And I do trust you. I just flipped out there for a sec.”

      He was backpedaling so fast she felt sorry for him. “It’s okay,” she said. She helped him lift the dog from the table and set him on the floor. The dog instantly ran to the door of the room, pawing to be let out. She reattached his leash to his collar.

      “I’ll take him out,” Alec said, taking the leash from her hand. “Your shift’s nearly over.”

      “Thanks,” she said. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

      The roses, resting in a glass vase on the reception counter, were beautiful and just about to open fully. Ordinarily, she would stop at a restaurant, usually Sam and Omie’s, for lunch between her morning at the animal hospital and her afternoon in her studio, but she wanted to take the roses home with her and they would bake in the car while she was eating. So, instead, she bought a sandwich from the Subway around the corner and settled into the small kitchen at the animal hospital to eat and read.

      The book she was reading was titled Making Good Choices: A Woman’s Guide to Relationships, and was one of a half dozen her therapist had recommended to her. Most of the books, filled with psychobabble, had not spoken to her, but this one did. She could see herself in the anecdotes the author used to illustrate her points. And this author was forward-looking rather