Love Remains Read Online Free PDF Page B

life, every decision she’d made since he chose his career over their relationship plagued her, forcing her to doubt everyattraction she’d downplayed, every man she’d rebuffed—there hadn’t been very many—every man she’d made walk away from her. Had it been because she didn’t like them or because of Bobby?
    “Good night, Kiki.”
    “Good night, Zarah. Sweet dreams.”
    Zarah ended the call and tossed the phone onto the stack of books on the nightstand. She’d thought she was over Bobby, thought he was out of her system. So why did all those old feelings come back as soon as she saw him?
    And now he knew where she lived. Maybe it was time to think about moving.

    “Bobby? Is that you?”
    Bobby came back down the two steps he’d taken up toward the guest bedroom on the back side of the house and went through the mudroom into the kitchen. “It’s me, Mamm.”
    His grandmother, Melinda AnneMarie Mansfield Patterson—alias Mamm —sat at the kitchen table, a multicolored floral scarf tied around the blond hair she’d spent an hour at the beauty parlor this morning getting “set.” A delicate china teacup sat on its saucer near her right hand while she worked the newspaper crossword puzzle with her left. She watched him walk around and take the seat across the corner of the table from her.
    “How was the party?”
    He tipped the chair back on its hind legs and hooked his fingers together behind his head. “Fun. It’s a big group—you’re right.”
    “Meet anyone interesting?” Mamm’s blue eyes took on an unusual glint.
    Bobby let the front legs of the chair down slowly and crossed his arms. “Do you know someone named Zarah Mitchell?”
    “Of course I know Zarah. She’s Katrina and Victor Breitinger’s granddaughter.” Mamm picked up her teacup and took a sip, thenmade a face. She stood and crossed to the sink, where she dumped the contents. “Want some tea?”
    “No thanks.” He turned sideways in the chair and hooked his arm over the back of it. “So…you know who Zarah is—she’s the granddaughter of one of your friends. But do you really know who she is?”
    Mamm slid the kettle forward on the ancient gas stove and turned the front flame on high. She leaned against the countertop. Dressed in cropped jeans—much like Zarah’s—flip-flops, and a short-sleeved blouse, Mamm could have passed for a woman twenty or thirty years younger than the eighty-three he knew her to be. She even had pink toenails with little rhinestone designs on the big toes.
    “Are you trying to tell me she’s an undercover superhero or something?” Mamm winked at him. “Ooh, is she Wonder Woman? I always suspected she might be.”
    He rolled his eyes and fought against smiling at her. “No, Mamm. What I mean is: When you sent me to that party, knowing full well that Zarah Mitchell would be there, did you know that she and I already knew each other?”
    The kettle shrilled, and Mamm turned to get a fresh tea bag and pour the water over it into her cup. A perfect stall tactic. He’d interrogated too many people over the years not to recognize such a typical method of trying to gain oneself time to formulate an answer. And as with all of them, he waited. People with guilty consciences hated long, uncomfortable silences.
    Mamm carried her teacup back to the table, and from the matching china bowl in the middle of the table, she added two sugar cubes. Bobby hadn’t known any companies out there made sugar cubes anymore. He was tempted to grab a handful of them and eat them like he had as a child, but with everything he’d eaten at the party tonight, he’d already sentenced himself to several extra hours at the gym next week—once he joined one.
    “What’s a five-letter word for slip past?” Mamm picked up herpen again and tried to be convincing with her act that she was more interested in the crossword puzzle than in their conversation.
    Bobby didn’t buy it. “I asked you a question. Did you