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Excerpted from Dating the Mrs. Smiths:
"Are the kids
tucked in, Charlie? I thought maybe we could talk."
Intriguing. From my
mother-in-law's antsy, smiling demeanor, she seemed like someone with a
happy secret to share. It crossed my mind that we'd recently talked
about her dating again, but surely not even Rose with all her stubborn
determination could have accomplished that so soon? A boyfriend wasn't
like a carton of milk--you didn't just make the decision you needed one and
run out to the nearest corner market.
Of course, you probably also didn't
call them boyfriends past sixty. A beau, maybe? Gentleman
callers? This is Rose, not Scarlett O'Hara. I followed
her into the kitchen, where we sat at the table.
"Charlotte, dear, I know we haven't
always been the picture of harmony, but I never had a daughter. And
you were born without knowing your mother." This is where anyone else
might have said she loved me like a daughter. Rose did not. But
I was touched by the implication all the same. "I want you to know
that I heard what you said the other night. Loud and clear. And
I've been thinking about it."
I grinned. "So, this is
about dating?
"Yes, and I'm touched you wanted my
blessing."
"Bl-blessing?"
"To date. All of those things
you said, about how our husbands would want us to be happy... You were
absolutely right. Tom always took care of you and the kids, he
wouldn't want you to be alone. So how better for me, his mother, to
honor his family than to help you?"
Oh, this conversation had so taken a
wrong turn! "Help me?" I'd come into the kitchen expecting her
to tell me she'd decided to take ballroom dance or play bingo at the senior
center, and meet people her own age. Instead--and my spinning brain
couldn't quite process this--my late husband's mother wanted to help me land
a man? "That's really..." Bizarre? "Kind of you, Rose, but
there have been so many recent changes in my life, in the kids' lives.
I don't think they're ready for the shock of Mommy dating on top of
everything else."
"But it's for the kids that this is
such a good idea, dear. Tom wouldn't have wanted them to be
fatherless."
Egad, she'd zoomed past dating right
on to marriage! "Rose, when I broached the subject of getting out
more, maybe dating, I meant you."
She blinked. "I couldn't
possibly. I'm much too used to being on my own after all these years.
But you're still young. And you have me to help."
So she'd said. "Help how?"
I had horrific visions of a personals ad going out to major Boston
newspapers without my knowledge.
"Glad you asked." She reached
for the spiral notebook that sat at the center of the table, near the
flowered napkin holder. When she flipped the book open, I saw a page
filled with names, phone numbers and other information. "I spent today
collecting and organizing details about potentially suitable young men."
"You made a list of men?" I
kept my voice low, so as not to wake the kids, but even I heard the rising
hysteria in my tone.
"Well, not by myself. I called
all my friends."
"Right. Even better."
My lack of rampant enthusiasm seemed
to be getting through to her. "Charlie, on Halloween, you seemed in
favor of this."
"For you," I reiterated.
"Finding some for you."
"Well, if I had been interested,
what was the plan? To troll bars and ask men their astrological
signs?"
"Of course not. I just thought
you could..." I stopped, utterly clueless. I'd met Tom when I
was a college freshman and we'd been together until just over a year ago.
More than two decades. What did I know about dating?
"My method is thorough and logical,"
Rose pressed on. "I've even put asterisks by the men who would be my
first choices."
Apparently, I'd been wrong.
Men were like cartons of milk. You just let Rose know whether
you wanted skim, soy, or chocolate, and she diligently set about getting you
one.
From the book Dating the
Mrs. Smiths by Tanya Michaels NEXT 11/05. Copyright by
Tanya Michaels ® and ™ are trademarks of the publisher. The edition
published by arrangement with Harlequin Books S.A. For more romance
information, surf to:
http://www.eHarlequin.com .
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