people's houses, working until all hours in a bar."
"Not you, too," she murmured and moved to the window.
"Half the time if I see you down on the waterfront you've got shadows
under your eyes. 'Course, the way your mother's jabbering, that'll
change before long."
She glanced over her shoulder. "Change?"
"Ethan Quinn's not a man who'll let his wife wear herself to the bone
working two jobs. That's the kind of man you should have been looking at
all along. Honest, dependable."
She laughed again, pushed a hand through her hair.
"Mama's mistaken. I won't be marrying Ethan."
Pete started to speak again, closed his mouth. He was smart enough to
learn by his mistakes. If he'd pushed her toward one man by pointing out
his flaws, he might also push her away from another by listing his
virtues.
"Well, you know your mother." He let it go at that. Trying to fit the
words in his head, he plucked at the knee of his khakis. "I was afraid
to let you go to New York," he blurted out, then shifted when she turned
from the window to stare at him. "I was afraid you wouldn't come back. I
was afraid, too, that you'd get yourself hurt up there. Hell, Gracie,
you were only eighteen, and so damn green. I knew you were good at
dancing. Everybody said so, and you always looked pretty to me. I
figured if you got yourself up there and didn't get your head bashed in
by some mugger, you'd find you wanted to stay. I knew you couldn't
manage it unless I gave you the money to start you out, so I didn't. I
thought you'd either stop wanting to go so damn bad, or if you didn't,
it'd take you a year or two to put by enough."
When she said nothing, he sighed and leaned back. "A man works hard all
his life building something, and while he's doing it he thinks that
someday he'll pass it on to his child. My daddy passed the business on
to me, and I always figured I'd pass it on to my son. Had a daughter
instead, and that was fine. I never wanted to change that. But you never
wanted what I was planning on giving you. Oh, you'd work. You were
always a good worker, but anybody could see you were only doing a job.
It wasn't going to be a life. Not your life."
"I didn't know you felt that way."
"Didn't matter how I felt. It wasn't for you, that's all. I started to
think that you'd get married one day and maybe your husband would come
into the business. That way I'd still be passing it on to you, and to
your children."
"Then I married Jack, and you didn't get your dream, either."
His hands rested on his knees, and he lifted his fingers, let them fall.
"Maybe Aubrey'll have an interest in it. I'm not planning on retiring
anytime soon."
"Maybe she will."
"She's a good girl," he said, still looking down at his hands. "Happy.
Youa you're a fine mother, Grace. You're doing a better job than most
under hard circumstance. You've made a good life for both of you, and
done it on your own."
Her heart trembled and ached. "Thank you. Thank you for that."