Wedding For One: Wedding For One / Tattoo For Two. Dawn Atkins

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      “This just ruins everything for us,” Meredith said. “Now your father won’t retire.”

      “What?”

      “I’ve been talking to your father about retiring until I’m green in the face. Finally, he agrees, but only if Nathan takes over,” she said in her dramatic way. “Now Nathan’s leaving, so your father won’t retire.”

      “That’s ridiculous.”

      “I know. You have to talk some sense into him.”

      “You can put him on, but I doubt Daddy will listen to me.”

      “Not Daddy. Nathan. You have to talk to Nathan. Convince him to stay. It’s the only way. You know your father. He won’t budge. The Monroe Doctrine—never give an inch. Come and talk to Nathan, please. Otherwise, I don’t know what we’re going to do.” The catch in her mother’s voice didn’t even sound theatrical. She really was upset.

      “Why would Nathan listen to me?”

      “Because you’re you. I know you don’t want to hear this, but he still cares about you.”

      “Mom, stop it.”

      “I know, I know. You’re past all that. But my point is he’ll listen to you.”

      “I doubt it.”

      “Wait until you see him. He gets more handsome every year.”

      “Mother.”

      “I know, I know. You have a full life. A new boyfriend every time I turn around. Someone like Nathan couldn’t possibly appeal to you. He owns his own boring custom-built home, has a dull management job and lives in an annoying little town where everyone supports each other through the good times and the bad.”

      “Okay, Mother.”

      “What? I’m agreeing with you. So, just talk to him. Come for a visit. We haven’t seen you in a year. You’ve probably changed your hair color three times since then.”

      “I don’t see the point.”

      “We miss you. Who knows how long we’ll last? You know Fred Nostrad had a stroke and died at sixty-five, not one week after his retirement dinner at the bank.”

      “Are either of you sick?” Her heart clutched for a second.

      “Not so far. Though your father’s cholesterol…through the roof.”

      Mariah blew out a breath. It was just Meredith playing the life-hangs-by-a-thread card.

      “So, come out. You can see us and remind Nathan that Cactus Confections is his home. What more could anyone want than to run a candy factory?”

      “Maybe something more meaningful?” Though Nathan was pretty much a nose-to-the-grindstone guy. Work was work.

      “What’s more meaningful than candy?”

      “Millions of dentists agree, I guess.”

      “Your father has been happy here for thirty years. You could have been happy here, too, you know.”

      “I’m happy here, Mom,” she said. Absently, she rubbed the callus on her thumb from making Pikachu balloon animals. Well, she would be happy as soon as she found another job.

      “Well, hel-lo…”

      The male voice made her look up. Raul, Nikki’s latest boyfriend, grinned down at her from the door of Nikki’s bedroom.

      “Whoops!” Mariah yanked the puddle of clown suit over her bare breasts.

      “Don’t do that on my account,” Raul drawled. He wore tattered jeans and a leather vest that revealed three of Nikki’s original tattoos. By the way his eyes took a slow trip along her body, she knew he’d be interested in her when Nikki was through with him.

      Raul was sweet, for a biker. But Mariah wasn’t interested in him. She’d been taking a break from boyfriends, spending some alone time with the VCR and, lately, she’d felt like painting again. That seemed more fun than dealing with casual boyfriends. She could never quite be herself. She had to stay on guard for when they got serious. Keeping it easy in a relationship was hard work. Right now, the only thing she wanted to change was her job.

      She gave Raul a neutral smile. He got the message, shrugged, then stepped over her on his way into the kitchen.

      “Mariah? Hello?” Meredith said.

      “I’m here, Mom.”

      “You don’t want Nathan to make a mistake, do you? You want the best for him, don’t you?”

      “Sure I do,” she said on a sigh. She owed him a lot. In a way he’d helped her make her own life. Her parents had lavished their concern, affection and appreciation on him, and that reduced the hassle they gave her and the amount of worrying they did about her. He was the son her father never had and the business partner he would have wanted Mariah to be.

      Nathan was probably just having the identity crisis her mother had guessed at. Or maybe he didn’t think he could handle the factory on his own when her father retired. Maybe she could talk him through it, get him back on track. Maybe her mother was exaggerating.

      “How about if I give him a call?” The thought of seeing him in person made her pulse race and her head pound. Maintaining the two-hundred-mile distance between them seemed the safest bet. She’d call and straighten this all out. Easy.

      “PUNKIN!” Mariah’s dad said, meeting her at the door when she arrived two days later. He tugged her into a hug against his portly frame.

      “Hi, Daddy.” After three failed attempts to call Nathan—she kept panicking and hanging up—Mariah had decided she’d have to talk to him in person. After eight years of silence, how could disembodied voices ever connect about something so important? Face-to-face would be the only way. She was much more convincing in person. Plus, if this was just a Meredith maneuver to get her out for a visit, she might as well get it over with, before her mother faked a heart attack or something.

      So here she was home again, for better or worse. She felt the familiar mix of nostalgia, homesickness and being smothered with a pillow. She loved her parents, but she loved her own life more. And her freedom most of all.

      After her mother had almost bulldozed her into that false marriage to Nathan, she’d promised herself she’d never depend on them—or anyone else—to make her choices. She’d make her own way, her own decisions. She was a butterfly, light on her feet. There was nothing wrong with that. Butterflies brought beauty into the world. They didn’t stay long, but they dazzled you while they were here, and left you breathless with memories when they flew on.

      She so much liked thinking of herself as a butterfly, she’d asked Nikki to sketch one she’d had made into a tattoo on her left shoulder. Nikki’d gotten a tattoo, too. And that experience had made Nikki decide to become a tattoo artist. As soon as she got together some bucks, she’d have her own shop.

      “You’re skin and bones,” her mother said, swooping down on her from the kitchen, smelling of rosemary, onion and fresh-baked dinner rolls. “What are you eating? Soda crackers and ketchup soup? Do you have enough money?”

      “I’m fine, Mom,” she said, leaning down to kiss her mother’s powdery cheek. She caught her mother’s hand before she could slip a wad of bills into Mariah’s jeans pocket. “Really, I mean it.”

      Before long, her father would do the same, she knew. It was a point of pride that Mariah hadn’t spent the money her parents were forever mailing her or slipping into her pockets or luggage or handbag when she visited. She’d opened a mutual funds account with the money and planned to use it as a retirement gift to them.

      She gave up thumb-wrestling her mother. “Thanks,” she said on a sigh, and tucked the wad into her pocket. Her eyes scanned the room. “What’s all this?” She walked to the dining room table,