What a Rich Woman Wants Read Free Page B

breakfast of cereal and fruit, toast, juice and milk.
    â€œHow are you this morning, Ricky?” She smiled at the boy, who regarded her before addressing his reply to his bowl of cereal.
    â€œOkay.”
    Lesley gazed out the windows at the side garden. A narrow strip of beach was visible from here. She blinked, wishing as she did almost every morning that her life were different, that she were different. She sipped her coffee and glanced at Ricky once again. It wasn’t his fault that he reminded her so much of Steven. Yet his presence was a constant reminder of Steven’s treachery and her own foolishness.
    But what Lesley berated herself for most was not getting over her own feelings enough to give Ricky what he needed—a loving mother figure. She simply couldn’t do it. He had Maria’s dark eyes, and they seemed to judge her and find her wanting. Thank God for Lita, she thought, just as the other woman set a plate with a slice of plain whole-grain toast in front of her. She gave Lita a weak smile and a thank-you. Lita replied by topping off Lesley’s cup.
    â€œHello, darlings.” Lesley’s mother glided into the room, wearing one of her beaded peignoirs, this one a delicate shade of lavender that matched the feathered high-heeled slippers on her feet.
    â€œGood morning, Mother,” Lesley greeted her.
    â€œHi, Missy,” Ricky said, glancing her way and then taking another bite of toast. Ricky hadn’t been able to get his tongue around “Mitzi” when he’d started to talk and invariably said “Missy” instead. Mitzi Robinson would never be referred to as Nana or Grandma. The title he’d given to his surrogate grandmother had stuck.
    â€œHow’s my little man this morning?” From behind she placed a hand on either side of Ricky’s head and dropped a kiss on his dark hair. “Ready for school?” she inquired as she took a seat at the table.
    â€œYes, ma’am,” Ricky replied glumly.
    â€œThank you, Lita,” Mitzi said as coffee appeared in front of her along with a cup filled with delicate wedges of ruby red grapefruit.
    Lesley sipped more of her coffee, regarding both her mother and Ricky as they addressed their breakfasts. It never ceased to amaze her that Mitzi had so willingly accepted Ricky into her household. Lesley hadn’t expected her mother, who was always conscious of her age and appearance, to allow a child who technically had no blood relation to her to be considered her grandchild.
    Yet for all her flightiness and fluff, Mitzi had a special relationship with Ricky. Though she’d allowed Lita to do the dirty work of changing diapers and fixing formula once the infant Ricky had been released from the hospital, it was Mitzi who rocked him and soothed him with a tenderness Lesley hadn’t known her capable of. In the evenings she read to him, often until he fell asleep. On Sunday afternoons, she sometimes took him out for ice cream or to a movie.
    Lesley couldn’t be sure if Ricky provided a respite from Mitzi’s loneliness or if her mother truly cared for the child. A small part of Lesley was jealous, too, for she couldn’t remember Mitzi ever being so interested in her when she’d been Ricky’s age.
    â€œHow’s Dad this morning?” she asked once Ricky had finished his meal and gone to brush his teeth at Lita’s insistence.
    â€œIn a mood,” Mitzi replied. She’d finished her grapefruit and pushed the bowl away. As if on cue, Lita refilled her coffee cup. Mitzi added a yellow packet of sweetener and a drop of cream and stirred it. “But then he’s always in a mood. It’s no wonder, considering how long it takes him to write even a sentence.”
    Uh-oh. Her father wasn’t having a good morning. Although normally Mitzi carried on as if her spouse’s absence didn’t faze her, there were days when her frustration and sadness got the