A Year on Ladybug Farm #1 by Donna Ball Read Free Book Online Page B

“Paved roads and everything. And it’s all horse country out there. Maybe we could talk about keeping a horse for you to use when you visit.”
    This time Lori’s expression was a little sad. “Mom,” she said gently, “I’m really too old to bribe with a pony.”
    Cici opened her mouth to reply, snapped it shut again, and instead hugged her daughter fiercely. “I miss my baby,” she whispered, squeezing her eyes tightly shut.
    “I miss you, too, Mom.” Lori leaned back and smiled through what Cici was surprised to see was a shimmer of tears. “But we’re both big girls now, huh?”
    Cici sniffed and carefully blotted her mascaraed lashes with the tips of her index fingers. She tried to mimic Lori’s brave smile. “You bet.”
    Lori gave her mother’s fingers a reassuring squeeze, then held out her hand, palm up. “Cell phone,” she said.
    Cici hesitated, then grinned, dug into her pocket, and plopped the device into Lori’s open hand. “Let’s get back to the party,” she said.
     
     
     
    Holding a drink, Kevin slipped his other hand around Bridget’s arm and nodded an apologetic smile to the group surrounding her. “Mom, okay if we borrow you for a minute?”
    Bridget excused herself and let Kevin lead the way to Cici’s downstairs guest room, which tonight was serving as a coat closet. Kate, who had just returned from putting the girls to bed next door, had cleared off three chairs. She was sitting in one of them, her hands folded, her knees crossed, her expression reserved. Kevin quietly closed the door behind them. “Have a seat, Mom,” he said.
    Bridget glanced around, smiling a little. “Why does this feel like an intervention?”
    “Nothing like that,” Katie insisted quickly, patting the chair next to her. “We just wanted to talk to you for a minute. Sit down, Mom.”
    Curious, Bridget did. Kevin straightened the bottom of his suit jacket before sitting on it, straight and stiff, just like he had been taught in law school—or wherever it was that he had picked up all those rigid, pompous mannerisms that always reminded Bridget of some stuffy British barrister on public television. Pompous, at his age. And what about Katie? The single mother of twin preschoolers, working sixty hours a week at a Chicago accounting firm, her lipstick was perpetually chewed, her face puffy, her eyes always strained. She was barely thirty. She should be having the time of her life. Bridget’s heart ached for her children, but in the end, what could she do?
    As though in answer to her unspoken thought, Kevin said abruptly, “Mom, Kate and I have been talking it over, and we think you should go live with her.”
    Bridget’s eyebrows shot up. “With Kate? In Chicago? Why in the world would I want to do that?”
    Her children exchanged a glance in which Kevin was apparently elected spokesperson. The way he squared his shoulders and jutted out his chin reminded Bridget so much of his father that she felt a stab of longing in her chest. He said, “Mom, we know losing Dad has been hard on you. You’ve never been alone before. And God knows, he didn’t exactly leave you a wealthy woman . . .”
    Bridget said sharply, “Your father was a college professor. He did the best he could.”
    “What we’re trying to say,” Kate intervened quickly, “is that we know this whole plan of moving to the country is just your way of trying to build a new life for yourself. But it’s just not necessary, Mom. I mean, moving in with two strangers—”
    “Sinking all your assets into a broken-down old house and leaving the only life you’ve ever known—”
    “It’s not as though you don’t have a family, or anyplace to go. You don’t have to do this,” Kate repeated. She took a breath, tightened her fingers in her lap, and declared, “We’ll take care of you.”
    Bridget’s first reaction was astonishment. What did she mean, they would take care of her? What was she, a hundred and eight years old? And her