“Good night, Peter.”

The cool air touched my warm cheeks as I crossed the yard, but the smile remained on my face long after I returned home.

After that evening, Peter became part of my everyday life.

We read books from his enormous collection, experimented with new recipes and laughed over neighbourhood gossip. While I cooked, he hummed my favourite songs.

His home, once silent and gloomy, gradually filled with warmth.

I discovered a happiness I had not felt in years.

Even Kate’s sharp remarks stopped bothering me. I had Peter now, and my attention was no longer focused entirely on my son’s household.

On Thanksgiving, I invited Peter to dinner because I did not want him spending the holiday alone.

At some point, I noticed him quietly entering the kitchen to speak with Kate.

Curious, I followed them.

“Kate, I wanted to ask about the record player,” Peter said.

“I’ve already ordered it,” she replied. “It should arrive soon. You have no idea how grateful I am. You’ve made my life much easier. I honestly don’t know how you tolerate her, but the record player will be yours soon. Thank you for agreeing to this entire performance.”

I stopped in the doorway.

Her words struck me like a slap.

A performance?

A record player?

Tolerating me?

“So this has all been a game?” I demanded.

Kate spun around, her face turning pale.

“Oh…”

“Would someone care to explain?”

Andrew hurried into the kitchen.

“What happened?”

“Your wife created some sort of scheme against me!”

Andrew released a long sigh.

“It was not only Kate’s idea, Mom. I was involved too. We thought you and Mr Davis might make one another happy, but neither of you would have made the first move. So we gave him some encouragement.”

“Encouragement?”

“We offered him a new record player in exchange for taking you on several dates.”

Kate looked at him in disbelief.

“Andrew, why would you tell her like that?”

“At least my son is finally being honest with me,” I snapped.

Kate’s patience broke.

“Your son was just as desperate as I was! You criticised everything I did. You interfered in our marriage, our home and every small decision I made. I am pregnant, exhausted and constantly stressed. We needed you to focus on something other than us.”

Her words hurt because part of me knew they were true.

“The plan worked,” she continued. “You were happy and occupied, and I finally had room to breathe.”

I turned toward Peter.

Part 3:

“I expected something like this from her. But not from you.”

“Margaret, let me explain.”

I refused to listen.

I stormed out of the house, my supposedly injured leg suddenly beginning to ache with every step.

“Margaret, wait!” Peter shouted as he followed me.

I spun around.

“What could you possibly say? I am too old to be treated like someone’s joke.”

“I told Kate I did not want her record player!” he shouted. “I told her I only wanted you.”

“That does not change the fact that you accepted the deal in the beginning.”

“Because you were unbearable!”

I stared at him.

He took a breath and softened his voice.

“Or at least that was what I believed. I heard you constantly correcting Kate and telling her how to run her own home. I assumed you were impossible.”

He stepped closer.

“But I was no better. I was bitter, isolated and angry at the world. You changed that. You made me laugh again. You brought music and warmth back into my house.”

My anger began to weaken, though I did not want him to see it.

“Why should I believe you?”

“Because I fell in love with you, Margaret.”

His expression was completely serious.

“I fell in love with the stubborn, meticulous woman who always believes she is right. I also fell in love with the woman who remembers my favourite songs, cooks meals that feel like home and cares more deeply than she is willing to admit.”

Tears gathered in my eyes.

The truth was that I had fallen in love with him too.

No matter how furious I was, my feelings would not allow me to walk away.

Peter gently brushed a tear from my cheek.

“I am sorry I hurt you. Please give me another chance.”

I slowly nodded.

“Very well. But you are still accepting that record player from Kate.”

Peter looked surprised.

“We will need it for our music,” I added.

He laughed, relief spreading across his face.

From that Thanksgiving onward, Peter and I were inseparable.

Every year, we celebrated the holiday together while jazz played from the record player that had once been offered as part of a ridiculous scheme.

The plan may have begun with deception, but the love that followed was real.

And with every song, it only grew stronger.

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