The Wedding Gift by Sandra Steffen Read Free Book Online Page A

every choice, every situation, every life had a purpose.
    Since Aaron’s death, she’d been wondering what her purpose was. Maybe there was a good reason Riley’s mother thought he needed a nurse. Maybe he needed to take ownership of his dog, of his house and of his new heart.
    Maybe Madeline could help with that.
    The thought took hold as she looked at the dog waiting for a name, at the furniture waiting to be unveiled and at Riley waiting for her to say something. Although she had no idea how she was going to accomplish any of this, one thing was certain. Her melancholy mood had completed lifted.

Chapter Four
    T he more Madeline saw of Riley’s house, the more she thought it suited him. Both were classic in design and revealed only a little at a time.
    Dust particles floated weightlessly through the air in his living room, catching like faerie dust on the sunbeams slanting through the windows across the room. Madeline didn’t need magic to imagine what the room would look like when the sheets were removed and the furniture unveiled.
    She and Riley had eaten breakfast standing at the counter in his kitchen, ankles crossed, a bowl of cereal with milk and strawberries in one hand, spoonin the other. Dining this way had become a common practice for her these past eighteen months. Tables were for families. And couples.
    They’d talked about the weather and the Detroit Red Wings and a movie star who was in the news again, but she hadn’t broached the subject of spending the remainder of her vacation in Gale. And she wanted to stay. The realization set off a mild thrum she thought might be gladness.
    Already she was formulating a plan.
    Riley may not have named his dog, but he treated him well, with a kind word, plenty of food and a soft green pillow next to the stove. In return, the dog adored him. He followed him everywhere and listened with rapt attention as if he understood every word Riley said. Encouraging him to choose a name would be fun. It wouldn’t be difficult to remove the remaining dust sheets and rearrange his furniture, either. Riley’s recurring dream was Madeline’s biggest concern. She wasn’t a trained counselor, but she was a good listener. Perhaps talking about it at greater length would help.
    When they’d first met at the construction site yesterday he’d assumed she’d been hired by his mother. Madeline couldn’t blame him for jumping to conclusions. After all, she had wandered onto private property, and apparently Riley’s mother often meddled.Aaron’s mom had been the same way. Since her son’s death, the lines beside Connie Andrews’s mouth had deepened and her eyes had dulled.
    Mothers had good reason to worry.
    Shaking herself out of her reverie, Madeline tried to pick up the vein of conversation. “Let me get this straight,” she said. “You’re the middle brother. Braden races boats and is three years younger and Kyle, a journalist, is four years older.”
    Riley was taking her on a leisurely tour of his house. She wasn’t surprised he’d pointed out the more prominent features of the home’s horizontal form, the use of wood and stone and symmetry, but she found she was enjoying his anecdotal accounts even more.
    â€œKyle, Braden and I weren’t raised together, per se, but we stuck together out of self-defense,” he said as they passed a period bathroom where she saw several pill bottles next to the sink. “Until Kipp came to live with my mother and me when I was fourteen, Kyle, Braden and I were the only males in three households of women. Other than one son apiece and a weakness for our father, the only things our mothers had in common was a mutual love for us, a passion for shopping and small, high-strung dogs. When Braden was ten, one of my mother’s Pekingeses latched on to the seat of his pants and wouldn’t let go. They had to sedate