Emma considered her own three children the most amazing ever, but she didn't challenge Francesca, who gave a rueful laugh. "He was completely uncoordinated. He could hardly walk across a room without tripping. Trust me when I tell you his athletic talent came late in his childhood. And thank God he outgrew his allergies." She blew her nose. "He was homely, too. It took him years to grow into his looks. And he was so smart, smarter than everybody around him-certainly smarter than me-but he never condescended to people." Her watery smile broke Emma's heart. "He's always believed everybody has something to teach him."
Emma was glad Francesca and Dallie were leaving for New York soon. Francesca thrived on hard work, and taping her next series of interviews would be a good distraction. Once they'd settled into their Manhattan town house, they could immerse themselves in the diversion of big-city life, much healthier than staying in Wynette.
Francesca rose from the bench and rubbed her cheek. "Lucy was the answer to my prayers for Teddy. I thought he'd finally met a woman who was worthy of him. Someone intelligent and decent, someone who understood what it was like to be raised with privilege but hadn't been spoiled by her upbringing. I thought she had character." Her expression hardened. "I was wrong there, now wasn't I?"
"We all were."
The tissue shredded in her fingers, and she spoke so softly Emma could barely hear her. "I so desperately want grandchildren, Emma. I-I dream about them-holding them, smelling their soft little heads. Teddy's babies . . ."
Emma knew enough about Francesca and Dallie's history to understand Francesca was expressing more than a fifty-four-year-old woman's simple yearning for a grandchild. Dallie and Francesca had been estranged for the first nine years of Ted's life, right up until the time Dallie learned that he had a son. A grandchild would help fill that empty hole in their lives.
As if reading her thoughts, Francesca said, "Dallie and I never got to watch first steps together, to hear first words." Her voice grew bitter. "Meg Koranda stole Ted's babies from us. She stole Lucy, and she stole our grandchildren."
Emma couldn't bear her sadness. She rose from the bench and hugged her. "You'll still have those grandchildren, love. There'll be another woman for Ted. A woman far better than Lucy Jorik."
Francesca didn't believe her. Emma could see that. And she decided right then not to tell Francesca the worst of it. That Meg Koranda was still in town.
"Do you have another credit card, Ms. Koranda?" the beautiful blond desk clerk asked. "This one seems to have been rejected."
"Rejected?" Meg acted as though she didn't understand the word, but she understood it all right. With a soft whoosh, her last remaining credit card disappeared into the middle drawer of the front desk at the Wynette Country Inn.
The desk clerk didn't try to hide her satisfaction. Meg had become public enemy number one in Wynette, as a twisted version of her role in the wedding debacle that had subjected the town's sainted mayor to international humiliation had spread like an airborne virus through the small town where a few members of the press still lingered. A grossly exaggerated account of Meg's confrontation with Birdie Kittle the night of the rehearsal dinner had also become public fodder. If only Meg had been able to leave Wynette right away, she could have avoided this, but that had proven to be impossible.
Lucy's family had left Wynette on Sunday, twenty-four hours after Lucy had run off. Meg suspected they'd still be here, hoping Lucy would return, but the president had committed to attending the World Health Organization's global conference in Barcelona along with Lucy's father, who was hosting a gathering of international medical journalists. Meg was the only one who'd spoken to Lucy since she'd run away.
She'd gotten the phone call late Saturday night, around the time the bride and groom should have been leaving the wedding reception for their honeymoon. The signal was weak, and she barely recognized Lucy's voice, which sounded thin and unsteady.
"Meg, it's me."
"Luce? Are you all right?"
Lucy gave a choked, semihysterical laugh. "Matter of opinion. You know that wild side of me you're always talking about? I guess I found it."
"Oh, honey . . ."
"I'm-I'm a coward, Meg. I can't face my family."
"Luce, they love you. They'll understand."
"Tell them I'm sorry." Her voice broke. "Tell them I love them, and I know I've made a horrible mess of everything, and that I'll come back and clean it up, but . . . Not yet. I can't do it yet."