Page 1 of Never Marry the Best Man (Whatever It Takes #4)

Chapter One

yogurt

chicken breast

eggs

wine

flowers

Ranney

Crossing out flowers, Ranney wrote in tulips , then frowned at her list.

Always a big believer in lean protein, she added salmon .

Coming up with some kind of fruit she liked enough to actually eat was more of a challenge.

She knew perfectly well that whatever she bought would sit in the white porcelain bowl on her kitchen counter, more of a decorative accessory than any kind of dessert, until a few stray fruit flies drew her attention to a furry green spot on a clementine and the whole thing went in the trash.

“Are water chestnuts a vegetable?” she wondered aloud, although she was alone in her condo. If they’re not a vegetable, then what the heck are they?

And when exactly had maintaining her weight started to require serious thought, anyway?

When her daughter, Nessa, was small, chasing around after a toddler had been plenty of exercise. Kindergarten gave Ranney more free time, so she began playing tennis and taking the occasional spin class, but then there was the divorce.

After that, she’d gone back to work three days a week, because first of all, she needed an income, and second of all, the last thing she’d needed was time to think .

Who has an appetite when they discover their husband is having an affair with the next-door neighbors’ Russian nanny?

If you can even call it an affair when one of the parties involved is barely twenty-two.

"Affair" is such a sophisticated word; it makes you think of Ingrid Bergman in Indiscreet , not someone wearing high-top sneakers and chewing gum.

Nevertheless, an affair it was.

At the time, Ranney had used some uglier words to describe the situation, but Natalya and Carmine had been married for over twenty years now, and tempers had cooled.

Also, of course, Natalya was Nessa’s stepmother, so Ranney tried to think in more generous–or at least neutral–terms. This was made easier by the fact that the lovebirds lived in London, and also by the four serious and not at all charming daughters that Natalya had produced in short order.

“They’re just like the matryoshka doll Daddy sent me for my birthday,” Nessa observed when the fourth was born.

Next to her half-sisters, Nessa was a bird of paradise, even as a tween.

Not that Ranney would ever say that–comparisons are odious–but she was only human and the truth was, it did give her some satisfaction.

She had to find pleasure where she could.

Occasionally, after a dinner with Nessa and her fiancé, Ranney pondered the influence of the divorce on Nessa’s choice of a partner.

Matt Draper was everything that Carmine was not: thoughtful, considerate, reliable.

Also tall and handsome. Also not in a high-paying line of work; Matt was a Unitarian minister.

Based on her daughter’s previous relationships, Ranney had not seen this one coming, to say the least, but they seemed utterly happy together.

That was all that mattered.

Having food in the house when she got home from work also mattered, so she tucked the shopping list in her trendy little backpack and grabbed her keys from the front hall table.

It was the kind of spring Saturday in Boston’s Back Bay when the sun warms you and even in the city, the air smells like grass and trees and a little bit salty from the harbor.

When she crossed Commonwealth Avenue, the budding leaves made pale green halos around the trees on the mall.

This was the day Bostonians waited for all winter, the day you promised yourself was coming when you were using your credit card to scrape the ice off your windshield on a frigid February morning. Her spirits lifted as she walked.

As she approached Newbury Street, the sidewalks began to be more crowded, serious shoppers and window-shoppers and cafe seekers all making the most of the beautiful weather.

Everyone looked chic and cool in their own personal way, and Ranney began making mental notes: the cut of a pair of jeans, the brand of sneakers that suddenly predominated, haircuts and colors and lengths.

Big bags, small bags, crossbody, clutch…

The trick , she thought, is adapting the fashion, making it work for you. Fifty-two is not twenty-two, and a tiny miniskirt–or a piercing–might not be a great idea anymore, but a sleeve detail, the shape of a heel, maybe an inch off her hair, that was all it took.

Up ahead of her, in front of the Nike store, a put-together young woman caught her eye.

Her back was toward Ranney and she was holding her phone to her ear.

At that moment, Ranney’s own phone began ringing with the shards-of-tinkling-glass ringtone she had assigned to her daughter, and she dug it out of her bag.

“Hey,” she answered in a low tone. “I’m on Newbury Street, and there’s a woman on the sidewalk ahead of me wearing the coolest jacket. It’s quilted but the sleeves are elbow length…”

The woman whose jacket she was describing turned quickly, scanning faces, and they both burst out laughing when their eyes met.

It was Nessa.

“Love your jacket,” Ranney said with a smile, three steps bringing them together. There was no need to kiss or hug; they saw each other every day at the office.

“Thanks, you can borrow it. What are you doing here?”

“I live here. What are you doing here?”

“I meant here , on Newbury Street. I had to return a pair of shoes.” Nessa gestured to the Nike store. “Matt wants me to run with him. Do you have any idea how expensive good running shoes are?” Her voice was incredulous. “But some of the outfits are cute.”

“Where is he?” Ranney glanced around.

“The Youth Group is volunteering at Father Joe’s shelter today. They’re making lunch and serving it. Spaghetti and meatballs.”

“Ah. I’m headed up to DeLuca’s for groceries. Want to walk with me? We can get coff–OOF!”

A tall man with salt-and-pepper hair, a trimmed matching beard, and in a fleece jacket bumped into Ranney, hard enough to knock her sideways and take her breath away.

“Oh, my god, I am SO sorry! ” Spinning around, he put his hands on her shoulders to steady her. “A lot of people out today–are you okay?”

“Fine, I’m fine,” she answered, startled, but she really was fine. “No worries.”

“I don’t know,” he said, peering into her face, eyes changing from apologetic to appreciative. “I hit you pretty hard. You might have internal injuries. I think we should sit down somewhere until we can be sure–can I buy you a coffee?”

This was unusual, and she looked up to see blue eyes crinkling with a smile.

“Yes!” Nessa jumped in, her eyes pinging between the two of them. “I’ve got some more errands–you go ahead, Mom, I’ll see you later!”

“No!” Ranney exclaimed, flustered now. “Nessa, for goodness’ sake…”

“This is your daughter? That’s amazing–would you join us?” he asked her, obviously sensing that Nessa was already on his team.

Before either of them could say another word, Ranney replied firmly, “Thanks, but I’m fine. No coffee. All good. Enjoy your day.” With a polite smile, she moved off, and the guy gave Nessa a good-natured shrug, as if to say, Well, I tried.

“Mom,” Nessa hissed, “why didn’t you have coffee with him?”

“It was just a little bump, Nessa, I’m perfectly fine! A lot of fuss over nothing.”

“But he was so nice and so good-looking. How are you ever going to meet anyone if you don’t give them a chance?”

“He bumped into me and he was being polite, that’s all! Maybe he’s from the Midwest and thinks that’s normal. That was definitely a flat Ohio accent. Maybe Cleveland?"

Nessa sighed loudly. “Mom. He was hitting on you.”

“Don’t be ridiculous. But coffee sounds good, I was just about to suggest that.”

At the takeout counter inside the cafe, the barista greeted them with, “Hey, Ranney, where you been? And who’s this?”

“This is my daughter, Mario. We’ll have two medium lattes with cinnamon and nutmeg.”

“I know your favorite.” Already pulling out the spices, he smiled at Nessa. “Your mom, every week I ask her to come over for dinner, I tell her I will make her the best pasta she has ever eaten in her life, but she always says no. Can you talk to her for me?”

“I have no influence whatsoever,” Nessa told him, shooting Ranney a dour look. “But I do know someone who needs a good spaghetti recipe, enough to feed a crowd. You have one?”

“Family secret, but you help me out, maybe I can help you out.” He winked. “The lattes are on the house.”

“How’s Mame?” Nessa asked as they exited the coffee shop and continued up the street. She tried to see her grandmother once a week but she knew Ranney spoke to her every day. “What’s she up to?”

“Planning a barge cruise through Bordeaux. I think she’s invited Matt’s grandmother to join the group this year.”

“We need to warn the tour director.”

“I know, right?” Ranney smiled. “Mame and Rosemary will have a glass of wine in their hands at all times, so that should help.” Glancing at her daughter, then the ring on Nessa's finger, she added, “Mame loves Matt. I think she feels like there’s order in the universe if her granddaughter is married to her old friend’s grandson. ”

Nessa glanced sideways at her mother. “Let’s talk about your love life, why don’t we?”

“Oh, Nessa, for goodness’ sake. There’s nothing to talk about. Literally nothing. You know every nonexistent detail.”

“But wouldn’t you like a few interesting details in your life? I mean, now that I don’t live at home anymore?”