Wedding Series Boxed Set (3 Books in 1) (The Wedding Series) by Patricia McLinn

beatable. All it took was determination and unbending resistance.
    "It really is a wonderful place now. This whole area . . ." Bette made an all-encompassing gesture, then seemed to remember a complaint. "But what possessed you to say I was looking at a house in this neighborhood? I can't afford this area. And even if I could - what are you smiling about?"
    "Nothing. Let's get going. I'm hungry and we have pumpkins to unload. I wonder if the neighbors need jack-o'-lanterns this year?"
    * * *
    "WOULD YOU LIKE more, Bette?"
    "No, thank you, Mrs. Monroe. This was wonderful, but I couldn't eat another bite."
    "Are you sure? I don't think you young people who live alone get enough to eat. I'd hate to think you'd be hungry later."
    Paul's chuckle spluttered into his glass of water. Bette thought she heard something resembling "told you so."
    Giving him a quelling look, she politely declined once more, then helped Mrs. Monroe clear the table. In the kitchen she put a few things away while her hostess prepared coffee and chatted of cooking, gardens, the symphony and family.
    ". . . I'll have to show you a portrait of my father after dinner. Paul looks so much like him at the same age."
    Bette wondered if Paul had ever heard that comparison. Considering his views on that relative, he wouldn't like it.
    In Nancy Monroe's mostly gray hair, Bette could see the vestiges of Paul's chestnut color. Although he shared a lot of mannerisms with his father, Bette saw that many of his features had come from his mother. Physical features, but also the ability to make people comfortable in an instant.
    Bette could admit to herself now that she'd been a bit awed.
    Not only by meeting Paul's parents so unexpectedly - so soon, she almost added, as if it were an occurrence she'd expected eventually, when that wasn't the case at all - but by the house, with its sweeping, dignified exterior, its views of Lake Michigan through multiple sets of French doors, its casually elegant furnishings.
    But Nancy Monroe melted away the awe. She was a very nice woman. In fact, Bette thought as she prepared to take the cream and sugar in to the dining room, they were a very nice family. Not so unlike her own.
    As she stepped into the dining room, she became aware that the Monroes were not unlike her own in other ways. She felt the tension immediately.
    Between her and her parents, the topic was her living alone. Between Paul and his father, it apparently concerned his business.
    "Contact with a prestigious museum like that can't help but enhance your reputation and that can only aid your business. It's the sort of opportunity you should cultivate." James Monroe took a breath, and Bette could tell he was repeating a question, more to drive home a point than to get an answer. "So, are you going out there to discuss this opportunity with them?"
    "I'm going out there." The coolness in Paul's voice surprised her.
    "But are you -"
    Paul caught sight of Bette. Rising to take the sugar and creamer as if they were too heavy for her, he cut off his father. "Ah, good. Now all we need is something to mix them with."
    Without the usual amusement lighting his face, the words fell flat. He seemed to realize that. As he returned to his chair, he went on immediately. "Did you know my dad was a heck of a shortstop thirty-five years ago? Reached the top of the minor league system. Would have made it to the majors, too, only -"
    Paul looked up as his mother came through the door with the coffee on a tray, and broke off.
    "Are you two talking about baseball again?" she asked with fond exasperation.
    "No," answered her husband. "I was trying to pin him down to make a decision, with as little success as ever. Or at least to find out if he's making a trip to D.C." He faced his son, and his voice seemed to gentle. "And I was a borderline shortstop at best. My making the majors was extremely doubtful."
    Nancy Monroe looked from one man to the other. If she forced her smile, she did it very well.