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  ENIGMA

  A Second Chance Holiday Romance

  Taylor Brent

  © Copyright 2018 - All rights reserved.

  It is not legal to reproduce, duplicate, or transmit any part of this document in either electronic means or in printed format. Recording of this publication is strictly prohibited and any storage of this document is not allowed unless with written permission from the publisher except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

  This book is a work of fiction. Any resemblance to persons, living or dead, or places, events or locations is purely coincidental.

  Table of Contents

  Prologue

  Chapter One: A Chance Encounter

  Chapter Two: Family Ties

  Chapter Three: Future Plans

  Chapter Four: Getting To Know You

  Chapter Five: A Night for Meddling

  Chapter Six: A Lesson in Desire

  Chapter Seven: Gentle Passion

  Chapter Eight: Two Hearts Beat

  Chapter Nine: A Date to Remember

  Chapter Ten: A Knight in Shining Armor

  Chapter Eleven: Ghosts of the Past

  Chapter Twelve: Turkey with a Side of Guilt

  Chapter Thirteen: Fairytale Endings

  Epilogue

  About Taylor Brent

  To Justin, Matthew, Jana, Jessica, Laura

  ~ because sometimes fairytales do come true ~

  Prologue

  Margery sat stunned as she listened to Mitchell, her husband of seven years. He had been going on for the last fifteen minutes about how in love he was. Normally, Margery would have found his heartfelt declarations romantic… except he wasn’t in love with Margery. He was in love with Catherine Felstone, his medical assistant at the clinic where Mitchell practiced as the town’s only doctor who specialized in sports medicine.

  At least this answers whether he forgot it’s our anniversary, Margery thought bitterly. Well, she hoped it meant he had forgotten today was their seventh anniversary, but with Mitchell, she could never really tell. She listened to his reasons for ending their marriage with only half an ear while she thought about what she was going to do next.

  “And you’re always at that diner,” Mitchell complained, drawing Margery’s attention back to him.

  Margery rolled her eyes. This was a fight she had grown weary of over the last few years. Her grandfather had left his diner to her when he’d died ten years ago, and she had put everything she had into keeping it going. That diner had put Mitchell through medical school and his residency, but, of course, Mitchell wouldn’t care. He never had.

  Thoughts of the diner turned Margery’s mind back to her own plan of action, and she tuned Mitchell out until he brought up their two-year-old daughter, Ainsley.

  “I never wanted to have Ainsley, but you forced the issue,” he accused, arms crossed as he glared at her.

  That wasn’t entirely true. Mitchell had wanted kids years ago when they’d first gotten married, but Margery had wanted to wait until he had finished school. She had also wanted to wait until the diner was stable, refusing to hand over the reins to the diner while she was pregnant and raising kids. More than anything, she’d wanted to wait until they were ready. That meant that they’d had Ainsley only two years ago when Margery was already out of her twenties and on her way to her forties. Margery couldn’t understand why Mitchell was so hung up on when they’d had Ainsley, and it angered her that he would use their child in his reasons for cheating and deception.

  “Don’t you dare blame Ainsley for your utter lack of morals and control,” she hissed. “I don’t remember forcing you to create her with me. You joined me in that endeavor willingly enough, so stop blaming me and everyone else around you.”

  “You’ve never cared about my happiness.”

  “That is not true,” Margery replied. “But it doesn’t matter now, does it? Instead of talking to me and trying to work on our problems like adults, you moved on to the shiniest, newest thing you could find.”

  “I love her,” Mitchell insisted.

  “Fine. Then get out of my house and go live with her. I don’t want you near me anymore.”

  “Fine,” Mitchell snapped, picking up his suitcase and striding from the room.

  Margery wondered if he would stop in and see the daughter he claimed he’d never wanted, but he—unsurprisingly—did not. She tried to call up some pain or sadness at the loss, but all she felt was utter relief. Their marriage hadn’t been happy for a long time, and, deep down, Margery had suspected he was cheating. She just hadn’t had proof until now.

  Sighing, she reached into her purse and called her best friend, Rose. If there was anyone in the world who would know what Margery should do next, it was Rose Callahan.

  Rose arrived at Margery’s little cottage a half hour later with a bottle of wine in one hand and a box of chocolate cupcakes in the other. The house sat against picturesque red cliffs just a couple miles from the diner; Margery’s family had owned both the house and the diner for generations. Margery had planted trees for privacy and had cared and tended the yard for her young daughter to play in. Although not very large, the house had a quaint charm to it that made Rose smile as she walked up the front steps, but that smile dropped from her face when she remembered why she was there.

  It had come as no surprise to her that Mitchell had not only left Margery but had cheated on her. Rose had told her friend long before Margery and Mitchell got married that she believed Mitchell to be wrong for her, but Margery had been in love and hadn’t listened. Rose wasn’t about to tell the woman “I told you so”—at least not today.

  Margery answered Rose’s knock in her bathrobe and eyed the wine and cupcakes.

  “You know me so well, Rose,” she laughed, stepping aside to let Rose enter the cozy house.

  “I should hope so,” Rose replied, her voice soft and even. “We’ve known each other since we were kids.”

  Margery smiled and beckoned Rose into the living room, then dashed into the kitchen to get a wine opener and some plates. Rose set the wine and cupcakes on the wooden coffee table and looked around the small room. A giant stone fireplace sat as the focal point of the room, the rough-cut stones hundreds of years old. Margery had hung a big, flat-screen television over the hand-carved wooden mantel, securing it in the jagged stones with large steel bolts. A couch and two recliners circled the room, offering a decent amount of seating. Rose settled down on the couch. The mix of modern and antique gave the room a cozy, warm feel, and Margery’s own energies added to that tranquility.

  “Found the bottle opener,” Margery announced, striding into the room.

  Rose took the proffered opener and twisted the cork out of the wine bottle while Margery set out two glasses. It didn’t take long for the two women to relax and start talking about the issue at hand.

  “Do you want to fight for him?” Rose asked, curious.

  Margery took a sip of her wine giving herself time to think it over. She shook her head. “No, I don’t. It’s funny, Rose, but I don’t feel pain right now. I only feel relief. Maybe I knew deep down this was coming. The hardest part isn’t even letting him go, it’s the humiliation of the whole town knowing what he did.”

  “The town will hardly judge you for what he did.”

  Margery shrugged. “It will be hard to see them around town after this. And what about Ainsley? How will all this affect her?”

  “Ainsley is young,” Rose replied. “She’ll be fine. And so will you. You’ll find love again, Marge. Trust me on that.”

  “If I had trusted you years ago, I wouldn’t be in this situation now, would I?” she asked Rose.

  “Who can say?” Rose said, shrugging.

  “You really aren’t going to say ‘I told you so�
�?”

  “I’m your friend,” Rose murmured. “How would saying that be helpful?”

  Margery shrugged.

  Satisfied, Rose served her a cupcake. “Eat up. And let’s start planning your future as a strong, independent woman. You’ll see. Everything will be just fine.”

  Margery didn’t say anything. She had learned her lesson. From this moment on, she would trust Rose Callahan. After all, the woman had yet to be wrong so far.

  Chapter One: A Chance Encounter

  Five Years Later

  “Mommy! Mommy!”

  Margery turned toward the sound of Ainsley’s voice just in time to brace herself as her daughter barreled into her.

  “Ainsley,” Margery gasped. “What in the world is the matter with you?”

  Ainsley beamed up at her. “Mommy! I got a part in the pageant at school today. A big part!”

  “Oh? That’s great,” Margery replied, smiling at her daughter, who was now bouncing up and down with excitement, her dark hair swirling around her.

  “Don’t you want to know which part it is?” Ainsley asked.

  “After you set your things down in that booth and wash your hands. I’ll bring you some pie, and you can tell me about your day.”

  “Mooom,” Ainsley replied, drawing out the word in exasperation.

  “Now, Ainsley.”

  Ainsley made a big show of slinking off to do as her mother told her, causing the nearby diners to smile in amusement.

  Margery shook her head. Usually, having Ainsley at the diner while Margery finished up the lunch shift and prepared for the dinner rush wasn’t an issue, but nobody could expect a seven-year-old girl to behave all the time. A few busy minutes later, Margery chanced a look over at the booth she had directed her daughter to sit in and found Ainsley sitting with her homework spread out in front of her. Scooping up a piece of pie, Margery whisked toward the booth and sat down across from her daughter, setting the pie in front of Ainsley.

  “Now, Ainsley,” Margery began, and Ainsley looked up expectantly. “Why don’t you tell me how your day went?”

  “I got a big role in the Thanksgiving Day Pageant at school,” Ainsley replied, excited.

  “What’s the role?” Margery asked, unable to keep the smile off her face. Ainsley had been talking about the pageant for months now.

  “I’m the Indian princess.”

  “Native American,” Margery corrected her, motioning for her to continue.

  “Native American,” Ainsley repeated. “I’m the chief’s daughter, and I get to lead the Ind—I mean, Native Americans in the Thanksgiving feast.”

  “Sounds like an awfully big part. We’ll work on your costume and your lines when you get back from your dad’s house on Sunday.”

  Ainsley groaned. “Do I have to go there this weekend?”

  “Ainsley Elizabeth,” Margery scolded. “Your father misses you very much when you aren’t with him. You need to be more respectful.”

  “But he never wants to spend time with me,” Ainsley complained. “All I do is watch TV or stay with a babysitter while he and Cathy go out.”

  Margery frowned. “It doesn’t matter. He’s your father, and he loves you. See if he’ll take you to the park,” she suggested. “I bet if you ask him, he will.”

  “Okay, I’ll try,” Ainsley said doubtfully.

  “Finish your homework before he gets here, sweetie,” Margery said with a reassuring smile, rising and kissing her daughter on the head.

  She took Ainsley’s empty plate to the kitchen, thinking about her daughter’s newest revelation. If Mitchell didn’t want to spend time with Ainsley, then why did he insist on having her every other weekend?

  Their custody agreement stated that, during those weekends, Mitchell had her from Thursday evening until Monday morning, but Margery had always told him he was welcome to see her any time he wanted. He had never seen Ainsley outside his allotted time, but Margery hadn’t known he left her with a babysitter on the weekends he had her. It was ridiculous, especially when Margery lived in the same town and could just as easily have taken care of Ainsley herself.

  Sighing, she washed off Ainsley’s plate and resolved to talk to him about it when he came to pick Ainsley up. It was possible Ainsley had been exaggerating, as that was not all unusual for her, but Margery wanted to be sure.

  Margery settled herself back behind the counter and took orders as they came in. Glancing around the diner, Margery smiled to herself. The diner had passed to her from her grandfather upon his death. The building had been in their family for generations, but it was her grandfather, Billy Cartwright, who had turned it from an old saloon to a classic American diner in the 1950s.

  Billy had practically raised Margery, and he had meant the world to her, and she to him. Margery had spent many childhood afternoons helping her grandfather in his diner, so it surprised no one when Billy left the business to Margery in his will.

  When Margery had taken over, she’d recognized the need to impress the tourists while keeping the townsfolk happy. She had kept the name—Cartwright Diner—to honor her late grandfather but had done a complete overhaul of the space using the rest of her inheritance money as funding. She had replaced the 1950s decor with a western theme. A giant stone fireplace sat against the far wall, and even now, there was a small crowd of people milling around it, seeking the warmth and comfort of the fire. Vaulted ceilings gave the diner a more spacious feel, and the wooden beams crisscrossing over their heads made her customers feel like they were in a cozy barn instead of a restaurant. She had kept the original breakfast counter but had changed the black swivel barstools for wooden ones.

  Even the menu had changed some. Margery had kept the old favorites but had added a few new things like homemade brick oven pizza, and in the summer, they had pounds of smoked BBQ cooking out back in the giant fire pit.

  Margery had dedicated every inch of her diner to comfort and warmth. She couldn’t help but be proud of all she had accomplished over the years, particularly the last five when she hadn’t had Mitchell breathing down her neck about how much money she was spending on the diner. It was everyone’s favorite place to eat besides Rose Callahan’s bar, and most people went there for the liquor and the atmosphere, not the food. Rose was never one to cook for the masses, only for her friends and family. No, Cartwright Diner was the best place in town to get a nice, hot meal, and Margery couldn’t be happier about that.

  A few more customers placed orders before Mitchell and Cathy came sauntering into the diner. Sighing, Margery wiped her hands on her apron and strode over to the duo where they had stopped at Ainsley’s booth.

  “Mitchell,” she said when she stood next to them. “I need to speak with you for a few minutes.”

  Mitchell hesitated. “Sure,” he said. “I need to talk to you, too.”

  Mitchell glanced pointedly at Cathy, and his wife stalked off, rolling her eyes. Ainsley wrapped her small arms around Margery’s waist as her mother leaned over and kissed her on the cheek.

  “Have fun,” Margery whispered. “I’ll see you on Sunday.”

  Ainsley smiled and followed Cathy outside to Mitchell’s car.

  Margery eyed Mitchell. He had changed little in the five years they had been apart. He was still medium height with sandy brown hair and gray eyes. His oval face had gotten a little rounder with age, but he was still the pretty boy he had been when she had married him. Mitchell wasn’t the most attractive man she had ever met, but he was the most charming. It was why she had fallen so hard for him. It was only after they’d gotten married and the charm had worn off that she’d realized things weren’t all they appeared to be with Mitchell Andrews.

  “What did you want to talk about?” Margery asked warily.

  “I can’t take Ainsley for Thanksgiving this year.”

  “What?”

  “Cathy and I are going to see her parents this Thanksgiving,” Mitchell continued, ignoring Margery’s shock.

  “And Ainsley can
’t go with you?” Margery asked, narrowing her eyes. She wasn’t upset at the unexpected change of plans. Part of her was ecstatic to have her daughter for Thanksgiving, but the other part of her knew this development would only reinforce Ainsley’s feeling that her father didn’t want to spend time with her.

  “It’s not like that,” Mitchell insisted, recognizing Margery’s look of disgust and anger. “Cathy and I don’t get a lot of time alone together, and—”

  “From what I’ve heard,” Margery interrupted, “you get plenty of time alone.”

  “What is that supposed to mean?”

  “Is it true you leave Ainsley with a babysitter almost every weekend you have her?” Margery hissed, fixing Mitchell with an icy glare.

  “Is that what Ainsley told you?” Mitchell growled.

  “It’s a small town, Mitchell, and people love to gossip. Ainsley didn’t have to tell me anything,” Margery lied.

  “What I do with Ainsley while she is with me is my business, Margery.”

  “Actually, it’s not,” Margery snapped. “We live in the same town, Mitchell. If you’re going to leave her with a babysitter, then you can leave her with me. There’s no reason for a stranger to watch her when one of her parents is more than willing to spend time with her.”

  “Are you saying I don’t want to spend time with my own daughter?” Mitchell demanded.

  “Do your actions speak any differently? Whether you like it or not, she is your daughter, Mitchell, and she wants a relationship with you. As much as you might want to start over with your new wife, you still have a child, and that won’t change.”

  “I spend time with her,” Mitchell defended weakly. “And you don’t get to tell me what to do, Margery. It was you who wanted to have kids so late, anyway.”