Can't Fight the Moonlight (Whisper Lake #3) - Barbara Freethy Page 0,2

laugh. "Anyway, come in. I'm sorry your mom couldn't come. I heard she fell down some stairs."

"Yes. She was carrying some boxes down from the attic, and she tripped. She's all right, but she fractured a bone in her foot, sprained her ankle, and has to stay off her feet for a while. She's not happy about it. Where's your mom?"

"In the living room." Nicole waved her hand toward the crowded room off to the right of the entry. "Make yourself at home. There's food in the dining room, drinks in the kitchen, and plenty of people everywhere."

Mia was used to large gatherings. Growing up in the Callaway family meant every party involved at least twenty to thirty immediate family members, and this joint shower was no exception.

She'd always liked being a Callaway, having a solid family around her, although being a Callaway also came with responsibility. Her father had been a firefighter like her Uncle Jack and several other relatives. And while not every Callaway saved lives, a lot of them did something to better the community or the world, setting the bar quite high. She'd fallen quite a ways under that bar in recent weeks, but she wasn't going to think about that today.

As she moved toward the living room, she ran into the bride-to-be coming down the hall. Maddie Heller was another beautiful blonde with a happy glow, obviously looking forward to her upcoming wedding. Maddie reminded her of her Aunt Carly. Like Carly, Maddie had been a free spirit, traveling the world before falling for Burke and choosing to marry and settle down.

Maybe it was about time Mia joined the free-spirit crowd. Certainly trying to do everything exactly right and meet everyone's expectations had not worked out well.

"So glad you could come," Maddie said, giving her a hug.

"Are you getting nervous about the wedding?"

"Not even a little bit. Burke is not perfect, but he's the perfect man for me."

"I'm so glad you found each other. I can't wait to see you two walk down the aisle."

"You're still coming, right?" Maddie asked. "Did I hear something about you going to Angel's Bay for a while?"

"Yes, but Angel's Bay is only an hour or so from Santa Barbara, so I'll be able to make the wedding."

"Good. I'm counting on you being there."

As Maddie left to say hello to someone else, Mia walked into the living room.

Her Aunt Lynda waved her toward the couch. "Come sit next to me, Mia."

Lynda Callaway, a blue-eyed blonde in her late fifties, was married to Mia's Uncle Jack and was both mother and stepmother to eight of her cousins. She was also one of the nicest people Mia had ever known.

"I'm sorry about your mother's fall," Lynda said, as Mia sat down next to her. "And I'm also sorry about your Aunt Carly. She was such a lovely, energetic woman. I got a postcard from her on my birthday a few months ago. I couldn't believe she remembered. The postcard was from Paris. She told me she'd rented a loft for a month and was spending her days painting by the Seine, drinking wine at dusk and talking to handsome men in the moonlight." Lynda laughed. "What a life."

"I'll say." The restlessness she'd been feeling for weeks grew stronger as she thought about her aunt's words. Maybe her aunt had died too young, but she'd certainly lived well.

"Your mom said you're going down to Angel's Bay to clear out Carly's house," Lynda continued.

She nodded. "Yes, it might take a few weeks. Aunt Carly had a lot of stuff."

"Well, there are worse things than spending August at the beach."

"I know. It's a tough job, but someone has to do it," she said lightly.

"Can I give you one little piece of advice, Mia, if you don't mind?"

"Of course not," she said, tensing at the question. She didn’t know how much the rest of the family knew about her problems, but she was hoping very little.

"Don't be in a rush to throw things away. Sometimes what people leave behind is more important than you think. And there's a healing to touching and holding items that meant something to the person you loved."

Lynda's words brought unexpected moisture to her eyes. "I agree."

"Oh, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to make you cry." Lynda gave her an apologetic smile.

"I'm fine. I'm just a little emotional."

"As you should be. Loss is always difficult. But you're the perfect person for the job, because you love history and art. I think you're