Deeply, Desperately by Heather Webber

the Looms would be all in a twist if you had any idea how much I know about your family."

9
    "How long have your parents been married?"
    A cowbell jangled as I pulled open the front door of Falmouth's Ye Olde Antique Shoppe. The town center bustled with activity. A jovial Santa had a tent set up on the green, and shoppers were out in full force, bundled against the cold.
    "I thought you knew everything about my life?"
    "Are you always so literal?" Preston asked.
    "Are you always so annoying?"
    "Yes," she said, cracking a smile.
    The ride down here hadn't been too terrible. Actually (though I'd never admit this aloud), I'd had fun. We'd sung the whole
Mamma Mia!
soundtrack at the top of our lungs. Seemed Preston and I were both Broadway-musical fans.
    Genetic? I wondered, stealing a glance at her. Really, I couldn't see any resemblance. Not to me--or my father.
    "Thirty years?" Preston guessed.
    Fidgety, I unbuttoned my coat. This was dangerous territory.
    "Twenty-nine years."
    Despite their separation, my parents remained friends, sometimes lovers, and were great, if not a bit odd, parents. Right after Dad moved out, Mum threw herself into a home renovation, converting the carriage house into a music studio, and began offering music lessons. It kept her occupied during those years when she was trying to adjust to living without Dad. And eventually music had grown into her true love.
    Trying to coax warmth, I rubbed my hands together as I entered the shop. We'd had to park in a lot down the block near the marina, and the stiff wind blowing off Nantucket Sound sliced the air temperature in half. At least.
    My phone rang, a welcome distraction. I answered before the second verse of "Deck the Halls."
    "How's it going?" Sean asked.
    "Preston and I just got here."
    "Preston?"
    "Long story."
    He laughed.
    I lowered my voice. "Not funny."
    Preston motioned that she was going to browse around. Two other customers roamed the shop, lifting, inspecting, tsking. I breathed deep. There was nothing like the scent of an antiques shop, that mix of old dust and history.
    "Is the test done already?" I asked.
    "Not yet. We're still waiting. I should probably go and see Andrew. I think he's still in the emergency room."
    It wasn't funny, but I couldn't help the smile. "What's wrong with him?"
    "Looks like his appendix."
    Ouch. "Poor kid. Who won the pool?"
    I heard the reluctance as he said, "You did."
    "Are you ready to apologize to Rosalinda?"
    "This has to be a coincidence, Lucy."
    "Right."
    He coughed. "Maybe I should look up her up, just in case."
    I smiled. "I knew you'd come around. Oh!"
    "What?"
    My feet cemented to the floor in front of a small burl-elm and fruitwood dining table, magnificently crafted, early nineteenth century. I skimmed my hand over the dimpled surface of the table, worn by time. An inlay of acorn and oak leaf circled the outside. The finish was original and generous waxing had brought out the wood's natural glow.
    "Lucy?"
    "It's gorgeous," I breathed.
    "What is? Me?"
    "That goes without saying."
    "I like to hear you say it."
    "Are you flirting with me, Mr. Donahue?"
    "Who, me? Never. That would be inappropriate in a hospital waiting room, Ms. Valentine. Don't you think?"
    "And you're never inappropriate."
    He laughed.
    "Actually, I was talking about a table. A gorgeous table. Here in the store. It's the most beautiful thing ever."
    "I'd disagree."
    Suddenly warm and gushy, I smiled like a fool. "I better go."
    "We're still on for tonight?"
    "You tell me."
    "Thoreau and I will be there."
    "Grendel will be beside himself." He had a thing for Sean's Yorkie. No one pretended to understand it.
    I slipped my phone back into my bag and found Preston standing under a large oil portrait of a weathered seafarer. It was a lovely piece, but dust and dirt had muddied the surface, dulling its beauty. Someone could do a lot with it.
    "Sean?" she asked.
    "How'd you know?"
    "The oopy-goopy look on your face while you were