June 2009
Dear Friends,
I’m so pleased that my publisher has decided to reissue these two “oldies but goodies.” Father’s Day was originally published in 1991 and The Courtship of Carol Sommars in 1990. This was when my own children were teenagers.
In fact, pay close attention to the rap song in the first chapter of The Courtship of Carol Sommars. My son Ted and his friend Bill Hall wrote that while they were in high school. (And now that the book has been given a second life, I wonder if Ted’s going to demand a share of the royalties!)
The 1990s were crazy years for my husband and me, since all four of our children were teenagers. In retrospect it’s probably a miracle that we survived, with all those hormones bouncing off the walls. Those were also the years when our youngest son, Dale, decided to read his oldest sister’s diary and write notes in the margins. Notes like “I’m telling Mom.” And “You are so busted.”
Now two of my favorite books written during that time are available again. They’ll be hitting the shelves just as my oldest granddaughter turns fourteen. I can only smile as I watch my daughter dealing with her teenage daughter. Life has come full circle. (Good luck, Jody!)
I guess you could say these stories have a common theme—love might be closer than you think. I hope you enjoy them both. Note that I’ve updated them a little so the details are in keeping with changes in contemporary culture, technology and slang.
I always enjoy hearing from my readers. You can reach me through my Web site at www.debbiemacomber.com or by writing to me at P.O. Box 1458, Port Orchard, WA 98366.
Praise for the novels of Debbie Macomber
“Macomber’s assured storytelling and affirming narrative is as welcoming as your favorite easy chair.”
—Publishers Weekly on Twenty Wishes
“It’s impossible not to cheer for Macomber’s characters…. When it comes to creating a special place and memorable, honorable characters, nobody does it better than Macomber.”
—BookPage on Twenty Wishes
“It’s clear that Debbie Macomber cares deeply about her fully realized characters and their family, friends and loves, along with their hopes and dreams. She also makes her readers care about them.”
—Bookreporter.com on Susannah’s Garden
“It’s easy to see why Macomber is a perennial favorite: she writes great books.”
—RomanceJunkies.com
“Macomber is a master storyteller.”
—Romantic Times BOOKreviews
“Macomber spins another pure-from-the-heart romance giddy with love and warm laughter.”
—BookPage on The Snow Bride
“Debbie Macomber has written a compelling book that is absolutely unputdownable…one of the most compelling books I’ve read in a very long time.”
—The Best Reviews on Changing Habits
“Popular romance author Debbie Macomber has a gift for evoking the emotions that are at the heart of the genre’s popularity.”
—Publishers Weekly
“Debbie Macomber writes characters who are as warm and funny as your best friends.”
—New York Times bestselling author Susan Wiggs
DEBBIE MACOMBER
Right Next Door
Also by Debbie Macomber
Blossom Street Books
THE SHOP ON BLOSSOM STREET
A GOOD YARN
SUSANNAH’S GARDEN
BACK ON BLOSSOM STREET
TWENTY WISHES
SUMMER ON BLOSSOM STREET
Cedar Cove Series
16 LIGHTHOUSE ROAD
204 ROSEWOOD LANE
311 PELICAN COURT
44 CRANBERRY POINT
50 HARBOR STREET
6 RAINIER DRIVE
74 SEASIDE AVENUE
8 SANDPIPER WAY
A CEDAR COVE CHRISTMAS
The Manning Family
THE MANNING SISTERS
THE MANNING BRIDES
THE MANNING GROOMS
Christmas Books
A GIFT TO LAST
ON A SNOWY NIGHT
HOME FOR THE HOLIDAYS
GLAD TIDINGS
CHRISTWAS WISHES
SMALL TOWN CHRISTMAS
WHEN CHRISTMAS COMES
THERE’S SOMETHING ABOUT CHRISTMAS
CHRISTMAS LETTERS
WHERE ANGELS GO
Dakota Series
DAKOTA BORN
DAKOTA HOME
ALWAYS DAKOTA
Heart of Texas Series
VOLUME 1
(Lonesome Cowboy and Texas Two-Step)
VOLUME 2
(Caroline’s Child and Dr. Texas)
VOLUME 3
(Nell’s Cowboy and Lone Star Baby)
PROMISE, TEXAS
RETURN TO PROMISE
THIS MATTER OF MARRIAGE
MONTANA
THURSDAYS AT EIGHT
BETWEEN FRIENDS
CHANGING HABITS
MARRIED IN SEATTLE
(First Comes Marriage and Wanted: Perfect Partner)
Midnight Sons
VOLUME 1
(Brides for Brothers and The Marriage Risk)
CONTENTS
FATHER’S DAY
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
THE COURTSHIP OF CAROL SOMMARS
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Epilogue
FATHER’S DAY
For Lois and Bill Hoskins,
living proof that love is
better the second time around
One
“I can’t believe I’m doing this,” Robin Masterson muttered as she crawled into the makeshift tent, which was pitched over the clothesline in the backyard of her new home.
“Come on, Mom,” ten-year-old Jeff urged, shifting to make room for her. “It’s nice and warm in here.”
Down on all fours, a flashlight in one hand, Robin squeezed her way inside. Jeff had constructed the flimsy tent using clothespegs to hold up the blankets and rocks to secure the base. The space was tight, but she managed to maneuver into her sleeping bag.
“Isn’t this great?” Jeff asked. He stuck his head out of the front opening and gazed at the dark sky and the spattering of stars that winked back at them. On second thought, Robin decided they were laughing at her, those stars. And with good reason. There probably wasn’t another thirty-year-old woman in the entire state of California who would’ve agreed to this craziness.
It was the first night in their new house and Robin was exhausted. They’d started moving out of the apartment before five that morning and she’d just finished unpacking the last box. The beds were assembled, but Jeff wouldn’t hear of doing anything as mundane as sleeping on a real mattress. After waiting years to camp out in his own backyard, her son wasn’t about to delay the adventure by even one night.
Robin couldn’t let him sleep outside alone and, since he hadn’t met any neighbors yet, there was only one option left. Surely there’d be a Mother of the Year award in this for her.
“You want to hear a joke?” Jeff asked, rolling on to his back and nudging her.
&
nbsp; “Sure.” She swallowed a yawn, hoping she could stay awake long enough to laugh at the appropriate time. She needn’t have worried.
For the next half hour, Robin was entertained with a series of riddles, nonsense rhymes and off-key renditions of Jeff’s favourite songs from summer camp.
“Knock knock,” she said when it appeared her son had run through his repertoire.
“Who’s there?”
“Wanda.”
“Wanda who?”
“Wanda who thinks up these silly jokes?”
Jeff laughed as though she’d come up with the funniest line ever devised. Her son’s enthusiasm couldn’t help but rub off on Robin and some of her weariness eased. Camping was fun—sort of. But it’d been years since she’d slept on the ground and, frankly, she couldn’t remember it being quite this hard.
“Do you think we’ll be warm enough?” she teased. Jeff had used every blanket they owned, first to construct the tent and then to pad it. To be on the safe side, two or three more were piled on top of their sleeping bags on the off-chance an arctic frost descended upon them. It was spring, but a San Francisco spring could be chilly.
“Sure,” he answered, missing the kidding note in her voice. “But if you get cold, you can have one of mine.”
“I’m fine,” she assured him.
“You hungry?”
Now that she thought about it, she was. “Sure. Whatcha got?”
Jeff disappeared into his sleeping bag and returned a moment later with a limp package of licorice, a small plastic bag full of squashed marshmallows and a flattened box of raisins. Robin declined the snack.
“When are we going to buy me my dog?” Jeff asked, chewing loudly on the raisins.
Robin listened to the sound and said nothing.
“Mom…the dog?” he repeated after a few minutes.
Robin had been dreading that question most of the day. She’d managed to forestall Jeff for the past month by telling him they’d discuss getting a dog after they were settled in their house.
“I thought we’d start looking for ads in the paper first thing tomorrow,” Jeff said, still munching.
“I’m not sure when we’ll start the search for the right dog.” She was a coward, Robin freely admitted it, but she hated to disappoint Jeff. He had his heart set on a dog. How like his father he was, in his love for animals.
“I want a big one, you know. None of those fancy little poodles or anything.”
“A golden retriever would be nice, don’t you think?”
“Or a German shepherd,” Jeff said.
“Your father loved dogs,” she whispered, although she’d told Jeff that countless times. Lenny had been gone for so many years, she had trouble remembering what their life together had been like. They’d been crazy in love with each other and married shortly after their high-school graduation. A year later, Robin became pregnant. Jeff had been barely six months old when Lenny was killed in a freak car accident on his way home from work. In the span of mere moments, Robin’s comfortable world had been sent into a tailspin, and ten years later it was still whirling.
With her family’s help, she’d gone back to school and obtained her degree. She was now a certified public accountant working for a large San Francisco insurance firm. Over the years she’d dated a number of men, but none she’d seriously consider marrying. Her life was far more complicated now than it had been as a young bride. The thought of falling in love again terrified her.
“What kind of dog did Dad have when he was a kid?” Jeff asked.
“I don’t think Rover was any particular breed,” Robin answered, then paused to recall exactly what Lenny’s childhood dog had looked like. “I think he was mostly…Labrador.”
“Was he black?”
“And brown.”
“Did Dad have any other animals?”
Robin smiled at her warm memories of her late husband. She enjoyed the way Jeff loved hearing stories about his father—no matter how many times he’d already heard them. “He collected three more pets the first year we were married. It seemed he was always bringing home a stray cat or lost dog. We couldn’t keep them, of course, because we weren’t allowed pets in the apartment complex. We went to great lengths to hide them for a few days until we could locate their owners or find them a good home. For our first wedding anniversary, he bought me a goldfish. Your father really loved animals.”
Jeff beamed and planted his chin on his folded arms.
“We dreamed of buying a small farm someday and raising chickens and goats and maybe a cow or two. Your father wanted to buy you a pony, too.” Hard as she tried, she couldn’t quite hide the pain in her voice. Even after all these years, the memory of Lenny’s sudden death still hurt. Looking at her son, so eager for a dog of his own, Robin missed her husband more than ever.
“You and Dad were going to buy a farm?” Jeff cried, his voice ebullient. “You never told me that before.” He paused. “A pony for me? Really? Do you think we’ll ever be able to afford one? Look how long it took to save for the house.”
Robin smiled. “I think we’ll have to give up on the idea of you and me owning a farm, at least in the near future.”
When they were first married, Robin and Lenny had talked for hours about their dreams. They’d charted their lives, confident that nothing would ever separate them. Their love had been too strong. It was true that she’d never told Jeff about buying a farm, nor had she told him how they’d planned to name it Paradise. Paradise, because that was what the farm would be to them. In retrospect, not telling Jeff was a way of protecting him. He’d lost so much—not only the guidance and love of his father but all the things they could have had as a family. She’d never mentioned the pony before, or the fact that Lenny had always longed for a horse….
Jeff yawned loudly and Robin marvelled at his endurance. He’d carried in as many boxes as the movers had, racing up and down the stairs with an energy Robin envied. He’d unpacked the upstairs bathroom, as well as his own bedroom and had helped her organize the kitchen.
“I can hardly wait to get my dog,” Jeff said, his voice fading. Within minutes he was sound asleep.
“A dog,” Robin said softly as her eyes closed. She didn’t know how she was going to break the bad news to Jeff. They couldn’t get a dog—at least not right away. She was unwilling to leave a large dog locked indoors all day while she went off to work and Jeff was in school. Tying one up in the backyard was equally unfair, and she couldn’t afford to build a fence. Not this year, anyway. Then there was the cost of feeding a dog and paying the vet’s bills. With this new home, Robin’s budget was already stretched to the limit.
Robin awoke feeling chilled and warm at the same time. In the gray dawn, she glanced at her watch. Six-thirty. At some point during the night, the old sleeping bag that dated back to her high-school days had come unzipped and the cool morning air had chilled her arms and legs. Yet her back was warm and cozy. Jeff had probably snuggled up to her during the night. She sighed, determined to sleep for another half hour or so. With that idea in mind, she reached for a blanket to wrap around her shoulders and met with some resistance. She tugged and pulled, to no avail. It was then that she felt something wet and warm close to her neck. Her eyes shot open. Very slowly, she turned her head until she came eyeball to eyeball with a big black dog.
Robin gasped loudly and struggled into a sitting position, which was difficult with the sleeping bag and several blankets wrapped around her legs, imprisoning her.
“Where did you come from?” she demanded, edging away from the dog. The Labrador had eased himself between her and Jeff and made himself right at home. His head rested on his paws and he looked perfectly content, if a bit disgruntled about having his nap interrupted. He didn’t seem at all interested in vacating the premises.
Jeff rolled over and opened his eyes. Immediately he bolted upright. “Mom,” he cried excitedly. “You got me a dog!”
“No—he isn’t ours. I don’t know who he be
longs to.”
“Me!” Jeff’s voice was triumphant. “He belongs to me.” His thin arms hugged the animal’s neck. “You really got me a dog! It was supposed to be a surprise, wasn’t it?”
“Jeff,” she said firmly. “I don’t know where this animal came from, but he isn’t ours.”
“He isn’t?” His voice sagged in disappointment. “But who owns him, then? And how did he get inside the tent with us?”
“Heavens, I don’t know.” Robin rubbed the sleep from her eyes while she attempted to put her garbled thoughts in order. “He looks too well fed and groomed to be a stray. He must belong to someone in the neighborhood. Maybe he—”
“Blackie!” As if in response, she was interrupted by a crisp male voice. “Blackie. Here, boy.”
The Labrador lifted his head, but stayed where he was. Robin didn’t blame him. Jeff was stroking his back with one hand and rubbing his ears with the other, all the while crooning to him softly.
With some effort, Robin managed to divest herself of the sleeping bag. She reached for her tennis shoes and crawled out of the tent. No sooner was she on her feet than she turned to find a lanky man standing a few yards from her, just on the other side of the three-foot hedge that separated the two properties. Obviously he was her neighbor. Robin smiled, but the friendly gesture was not returned. In fact, the man looked downright unfriendly.
Her neighbor was also an imposing man, at least six feet tall. Since Robin was only five-three, he towered head and shoulders above her. Instinctively, she stiffened her back, meeting his dark eyes. “Good morning,” she said coolly.
He barely glanced in her direction, and when he did, he dismissed her with little more than a nod. After a night on the ground, with her son and a dog for bedmates, Robin realized she wasn’t looking her best, but she resented the way his eyes flicked disinterestedly over her.