A Mother's Homecoming(58)
It’s pretty out here. The thought shouldn’t have surprised her; after all, she’d grown up with this same night music, the same stars twinkling overhead. She supposed “serene” just wasn’t how she remembered her childhood home. Twenty minutes ago, she’d come out here with a glass of cold milk and a small plate stacked with cookies; now she was too relaxed to move. “I finally got around to eating those cookies Leigh gave me.”
He chuckled. “Did you feed them to the ladies at the salon first and deem them safe after a forty-eight-hour period passed with no one’s stomach needing to be pumped?”
“Nah, but that would have been so much better than my plan. I ignored the cookies for two days, then got the munchies and scarfed down four of them in one sitting. They’re excellent.”
“Her peacemaking cookies,” he said affectionately. “Whenever she used to do something really mean to me, I’d get my very own batch a couple of days later.”
“Not the worst policy I’ve ever heard.” Forgiveness wasn’t always an easy concept; cookies could help.
“Speaking of Leigh, she’s actually the reason I’m calling,” he said.
“Oh?” Pam tried not to sound miffed. He wasn’t calling, perhaps, to tell her about an interesting movie coming to theaters or to let her know about a restaurant that had opened in Mimosa during her years away? It had been nearly a week since Pam had advised him to ask her out, but so far, nothing. They’d had a couple of good conversations in the four days since he’d kissed her. But on the possibility of going out, he’d said nothing.
Zip, bupkus, nada, squat.
“Leigh has sons,” he said, sounding extremely cheerful about this piece of trivia. “So occasionally she likes to do female bonding stuff with Faith. And next Monday just so happens to be a teacher in-service day at the middle school, giving the students a three-day weekend. Leigh has offered to take Faith out of town to do some outlet shopping and a riverboat luncheon cruise. Looks like I’ll have the house all to myself for a couple of days.”
“You don’t say?” Pam’s heart was so light it was floating in her chest. “You know, I’ve always liked your sister.”
He laughed. “But not as much as you like me, right? I’m the one who sent you flowers.”
“Which I already called and thanked you for,” she drawled, mock-bored even while she was grinning like crazy. “That’s old news.”
“Oh, I see.” He played along. “You’re of the ‘what have you done for me lately?’ mindset. Tough lady to impress.”
Yeah, right. All he had to do was smile at her and she melted inside. “Exactly.”
“Do I get any credit for nudging Leigh in the longweekend direction?” he asked. “I may have let it slip that I was hoping Faith would find ways to occupy her time this weekend that didn’t include hanging around with Morgan.”
“So you’re saying you secretly masterminded the whole trip? Sneaky,” she said approvingly.
“You haven’t heard my ace up the sleeve yet. I cook! Want to come check it out for yourself on Saturday? My place, say, seven o’clock?”
She managed not to squeal her acceptance like some girl Faith’s age being asked to sit at lunch with the cutest guy in school. “Sounds perfect.”
As they ended their phone call, Pam rocketed to her feet, brimming with renewed energy. The hours between now and Saturday would drag, and she was determined to keep them as full as possible.
IT DID NOT BODE WELL for one’s romantic evening, Pam decided, when merely the act of lifting your sore arm to knock on the front door made you cringe. Mental note: doorbell, next time. She’d just be sure to ring with a finger she hadn’t squashed with a hammer yesterday. Her entire upper body felt like one big bruise.
Nick answered the door quickly as if he’d been hovering on the other side, anxious for her arrival. “Right on time,” he praised. His gaze slid down her red jersey dress, a simple scoop neck with a far more daring scooped back. “And you look amazing.”
“Thank you.” And thank you, Dawn. Her friend had come over to the house today, not only to offer her services in the wallpapering department, but also to help with Pam’s hair and makeup.
“Please come in,” he said. “We have about twenty minutes until dinner’s ready. Can I pour you a glass of w—oh, crap. I’m so sorry.”