Angel's Peak (Virgin River #10)(45)

On the outside, it probably seemed like the perfect life. A deeper look gave Sean the impression his mother was filling the days just to stay busy. He wondered if she had a true passion about any of the things she spent her time on.

The place had never seemed to fit her, in Sean’s mind. Their da, an electrician, had been a hard worker who’d earned a decent living, but they’d had five sons to raise. They had lived in a smallish three-bedroom house—three boys in one bedroom, two in another—on a tree-lined street on the outskirts of Chicago. The house had been forty years old the year Sean was born, and his parents had been mortgaged to their chins. When his father died, between insurance, retirement plans, Social Security and the sale of their home, Maureen was finally able to do whatever she pleased. So she moved her furniture into the small two-bedroom condo that had a Whirlpool tub in the master bath and, for the first time, a dishwasher, though she only had to run it once a week.

“I don’t know,” Sean had said. “It doesn’t feel like you.”

“It feels very low maintenance,” she had replied.

“You won’t have a vegetable garden.”

“I’ll buy my peas and tomatoes. Besides, I don’t necessarily have to stay here for life. I might find something I like better.”

“You might find a second husband.”

“Pah,” she scoffed. “It’s more likely one of you boys will find a wife and settle somewhere. And I might want to be nearby.”

“We’re all in the military! If we do find wives, we’ll be moving them around for twenty years!”

“Sean, if there’s one thing I’ve learned, you can count on things changing more than on them staying the same.”

In ten years, however, nothing had changed. And his mother’s traditional, homey furniture still looked awkward in the modern digs. Maureen had gone back to work a couple of times since moving here—twice for three years each—but at present she was retired. She had been a crackerjack administrative assistant and worked once for the police department and once for a brokerage firm. The boys all assumed boredom drove her to work and a need to relax drove her back home. If their dad hadn’t left her well-enough fixed, they’d been prepared to take care of her. Aiden, a navy doctor, was the one to watch over her most closely and he kept his brothers up to speed, when he wasn’t out to sea.

On the rare occasions that all five boys could visit at the same time, there were a couple of guest apartments at the complex that they could reserve—his mom’s place wasn’t large enough for big family gatherings. The kitchen seemed too small for a woman who loved to cook but, as she quickly pointed out, her cooking skills were not exactly in demand these days.

Sean parked in the guest parking space nearest her condo and called her from the car. When she answered, he said, “Hi, I caught you at home. I’m in your parking lot. Do you have time for some company?”

“Sean? What in the world…?”

“I grabbed a break from the honeymooners’ cottage. I’ll be right over.” He signed off, grabbed his duffel and headed for a building on the far side of the complex’s largest pool. He had to admit, his mother had found one of the best locations available. But then she’d bought it when the development was new and she had been one of the first tenants.

Maureen met him outside her patio door. She looked as if she was ready to go out. “Sweetheart,” she said, opening her arms.

“Oh, nuts, I interrupted your plans,” he said.

“Nothing important. I played tennis this morning with the women’s group and this afternoon I was supposed to go to a bridal shower of all things! For a woman in her sixties! Who has a bridal shower in their sixties? I’ll take my gift over there and we’ll go out to lunch—how’s that? I had no interest in going, anyway. They’re going to play games.” She made a face. “That’s the best reason to be a man, Sean. No shower games.”

The shower games that came instantly to Sean’s mind had nothing whatever to do with hen parties and everything to do with Franci. He was going to be fired as a father within thirty days, he was sure. What he felt every time he thought of Franci was not paternal and had nothing to do with little Rose. He flushed in spite of himself.

“Are you all right, Sean?” his mother asked.

“Is it hot here?”

She laughed. “It’s cooling down, finally. Come on, come in.”

He threw his duffel just inside the door and she asked him if he’d like something to drink. Coke? Tea? “Any chance you have a cold beer on hand?” He was feeling a little weak, nervous and anxious to get the worst of this over with.

When they were seated in her living room, her with an iced tea and he with a cold beer, he asked her about tennis, about her bridge club, about her volunteer work.

She smiled at him. “I think you’ve just about exceeded your limit for small talk, Sean. And you’re fidgeting. Either you have to go to the bathroom or you have something to tell me.” She squinted at him. “Are you wearing makeup?”

He frowned, then thought back to the day before. “Oh. Sort of. Some kind of cover thing for my…rash. I guess I’m allergic to…must be pizza…”

“Pizza?” she asked, confused. “With your lifestyle? That would be tragic.”