Reunion in October (The Calendar Girls Book 2) by Gina Ardito Page B

else’s needs above your own. Now I’m no prince, and I don’t have a ball to take you to, but I want to make you smile because you deserve somebody in your life who makes you happy.”
    My knees weakened, and I sank back into my seat, too stunned to move, barely able to see through the tears welling in my eyes. I couldn’t help myself. No one had ever said anything so… sweet …to me.
    “And I’ll tell you something else,” he continued, pointing his salad fork at me like an exclamation mark. “Mikey-boy will never make you happy. Whether you live here or in Oshkosh—”
    “Oregon,” I corrected.
    He grimaced. “Like it matters, which is my point. No matter where you live with him, he’ll fold you into his one-size-fits-all box, and that’s where you’ll stay. You’ll be stuck in Stepford-Wife-mode with a closet full of beige suits and practical shoes.”
    I shook my head. “You don’t know that.”
    “Yeah, I do. And so do you. Or you would’ve taken him back the minute he reappeared in Snug Harbor, instead of coming out with me tonight.”
    “What happened between Michael and me is—”
    “None of my business, I know. But, see, the thing is, Mikey doesn’t know who you are. You aren’t Cinderella or Snow White or Florence Nightingale, and no one has the right to squeeze you into some cramped box.”
    I cocked my head, my lips twitching in a half-smile. “Oh? Then, who am I, Josh?”
    “You’re Frannie. Francesca Florentino, M.D., the woman with the elusive million dollar smile who never gets to have any fun.” His fingers, roughened from his work with wood and power tools, curled around my hand, intimate and nurturing. “And you deserve a boatload of fun. So tell me, Frannie. What would make you smile?”
    “You could try an exotic dance to a Barry White tune.”
    “Really?” Josh’s eyes widened. “Any particular Barry White tune?”
    Omigod, had I said that out loud? Chalk it up to the fact he’d totally disarmed me with his speech. But now, I had to do some serious backpedaling. Or play it off as a joke. I feigned deep thought before replying, “Oh, I don’t know. Maybe ‘You’re the First, the Last, My Everything.’ That one has a great instrumental groove, perfect for gyrating.”
    “Gyrating.” His cheeks flushed red, and he grabbed his water glass to gulp half the liquid.
    I laughed. I couldn’t help myself. He looked so… nonplussed by what I’d said. I laughed until the sentimental tears I’d amassed rolled down my cheeks.
    “Quick,” he called out to the other nearby diners. “Someone get a picture for the tabloids. She not only smiles, she can laugh.”
     
     

Chapter 7
    Francesca
     
    The next morning, I played my voicemail and heard the message I expected but dreaded every October.
    “Francesca? It’s your mother. The leaves are killing my lawn. When are you coming over to rake? Tomorrow after church would be perfect, if you can make time for me.”
    If I could make time for her? She made it sound like I hadn’t seen or spoken to her in months, when, in reality, I’d visited her last week. Before life as I knew it had grown into a tornado. Guilt card or no, I owed her a conversation or two. Her request had simply amped up my planned phone call to a face-to-face confrontation.
    After Josh’s impassioned speech last night, I realized he had an excellent point. Oh, not about my smile, but about my mom and the rest of my family and how they saw me. When I was thirteen, my dad passed away suddenly from a brain aneurysm. Mom fell apart before we even reached the hospital. As the oldest of the six kids, I took over responsibility for the family. More than twenty years later, I still did, which was why I was the only one Mom called to mow the lawn, take her to doctors’ appointments, or power wash the aluminum siding. The time had come to lay down the law. All of my siblings were adults now, living within a forty minute or less drive, and every one of them was