Page 63 of The Playboy and the Widow
“I think it’d be great if you married Mom,” Joan answered. “But if it’s possible, I’d like to be able to get my ears pierced before the wedding.” Briefly she fondled her thin earlobe. “What do you think, Cliff?”
As an attorney, Cliff was far too wise to get drawn into those mother-daughter power games. “I think that’s up to your mother.”
“And you already know my feelings on the matter, Joan!”
“Okay. Okay. Sorry I asked.”
Any further argument was delayed by the waitress, who delivered their order, and for a brief time, all dissension was forgotten. Katie dug into her crispy fried chicken, while Joan daintily dipped her jumbo shrimp in the small container of cocktail sauce.
“Mom, will Cliff be my father?” Joan asked a minute later, cocking her head in a thoughtful pose.
“Your stepfather.”
Joan nodded and dropped her gaze, looking disappointed. “But would a stepfather be considered a real enough father for the banquet?”
It took Diana only a moment to understand Joan’s question. The Girl Scout troop Joan had been involved with throughout the school year was sponsoring a father-daughter dinner at the end of the month. Diana had read the notice and not given the matter much thought. Unless someone from church volunteered to escort them, the girls generally didn’t attend functions that involved fathers and daughters.
“I’m sure a stepfather will be acceptable,” Cliff answered. “Would you like me to take you to the banquet?”
“Would you really?”
“I’d be more than happy to.”
It seemed such a minor gesture, but a feeling of such intense gratitude filled Diana’s heart that moisture pooled in her eyes. She turned to Cliff and offered him a watery smile. “Thank you,” she whispered. She wanted to say more, but speaking was quickly becoming impossible.
His eyes held hers in the most tender of exchanges, and it took all the strength and good manners Cliff could muster not to kiss Diana right there in the Space Needle restaurant. His insides felt like overcooked mush. He was ready for a wife, more than ready, and he was willing to learn what it meant to be a father.
It wasn’t his intention to take the memory of Stan away from Joan and Katie, nor would he be the same kind of father they’d known. He was sure to make mistakes; he wasn’t perfect and this father business was new to him, but he loved Joan and Katie and he planned to care for them as long as he lived. Somewhere along the way to discovering his feelings for Diana, her daughters had neatly woven strings around his heart.
“It’s because of me, isn’t it?” Katie asked, waving a chicken leg in front of Diana’s and Cliff’s nose as though it were a weapon.
“What is?” Diana asked.
“That you and Cliff are going to get married.”
“How come?” Joan asked sharply, reaching for her napkin. “I think it’s because of me.”
“No way!” Katie cried. “I was the one who broke my arm and Cliff came back to Mom because of that!”
“Yeah, but I was the one who called and told him you were in the hospital—so it’s all my doing. If it hadn’t been for me, we could have ended up with Owen, or worse yet, Dan from Wichita, as our new dad.”
“Will you girls kindly stop arguing?” Diana hissed. Embarrassment coated her cheeks a shade of hot pink. People were turning around to stare at them. Diana was certain she could feel disapproving looks coming their way from the restaurant staff.
“Who did it, then?” Katie demanded.
“Yeah, who’s responsible?”
Both girls stopped glaring at each other long enough to turn to look at their mother.
“In a way you’re both responsible,” Diana conceded, praying the two would accept the compromise.
“Ask Cliff.” Once again the chicken leg was waved under their noses.
“Yeah, Cliff, what do you think?”
“I think...”
“Drop it, girls,” Diana insisted in a raised voice the girls readily recognized as serious. “Immediately!”
