Holding the Dream Read Online Free PDF Page A

washed out.” And frail, she realized. Frail and edgy. “If I didn’t know better I’d say you were the one who was pregnant.”
    â€œThat would be a good trick since I haven’t had sex in what feels like the last millennium.”
    â€œWhich could be why you seem edgy and washed out.” But she didn’t grin. “Really, Kate, what’s going on?”
    She wanted to say it, spill out all of it. Knew if she did she would find comfort, support, loyalty—whatever she needed. My problem, she reminded herself.
    â€œNothing.” Kate made herself look down her nose disdainfully. “Except I’m the one doing all the work and my arms are falling off while you sit on your rock and pose for a Glamorous Mothers-to-Be photo shoot.” She rotated her shoulders. “I need a break.”
    Margo studied her friend for another moment, tapping her fingers on her knee. “Fine. I’m hungry anyway. Let’s see what Mum packed.” Opening the nearby hamper, Margo let out a long, heartfelt moan. “Oh, God, fried chicken.”
    Kate peeked in the hamper. Five minutes more, she decided, then she was digging in. Mrs. Williamson’s chicken was bound to erase the nagging hunger pains. “Is Josh back from London?”
    â€œHmm.” Margo swallowed gamely. “Tomorrow. Templeton London did a little remodeling, so he’s going to bring back some stock for the shop. And I asked him to check with some of my contacts there, so we may have a nice new supply. It would save me a buying trip.”
    â€œI remember when you couldn’t wait to get on a plane.”
    â€œThat was then,” Margo said smugly. “This is now.” She bit into the drumstick again, then remembered something and waved a hand. “Umm, forgot. Party next Saturday night. Cocktails, buffet. Be there.”
    Kate winced. “Do I have to dress up?”
    â€œYes. Lots of our customers.” She swallowed again. “Some of the hotel brass. Byron De Witt.”
    Pouting, Kate turned off the machine and grabbed a chicken thigh out of the hamper. “I don’t like him.”
    â€œOf course not,” Margo said dryly. “He’s gorgeous, charming, intelligent, world-traveled. Absolutely hateful.”
    â€œHe knows he’s gorgeous.”
    â€œAnd that takes a lot of nerve. I don’t really give a damn whether you like him or not. He’s taken a lot of the weight off Josh here at the California hotels, recovered a lot of the ground Peter Ridgeway lost for us.”
    She caught herself and glanced over toward Laura. Peter was Laura’s ex-husband, the girls’ father, and whatever she thought of him, she wouldn’t criticize him in front of Ali and Kayla.
    â€œJust be civil.”
    â€œI’m always civil. Hey, guys,” Kate called out and watched Ali and Kayla’s pretty blond heads pop up. “We’ve got Mrs. Williamson’s fried chicken over here, and Margo’s eating it all.”
    With shouts and scrambling feet, the girls dashed up to join the picnic. Laura came after them and sat cross-legged at Margo’s feet. She watched her daughters squabble over one particular piece of chicken. Ali won, of course. She was the older of the two and in recent months the more demanding.
    Divorce, Laura reminded herself as Ali smugly nibbled her chicken, was very, very hard on a ten-year-old girl. “Ali, pour Kayla a glass of lemonade too.”
    Ali hesitated, considered refusing. It seemed, Laura thought as she kept cool, calm eyes on her daughter’s mutinous ones, that Ali considered refusing everything these days. In the end,Ali shrugged and poured a second glass for her sister.
    â€œWe didn’t find anything,” Ali complained, choosing to forget the fun she’d had giggling and digging in the dirt. “It’s boring.”
    â€œReally?” Margo selected a cube of cheese from a plastic