Angel's Peak (Virgin River #10)(70)

“Hey, hey, hey,” Luke called after her with laughter in his voice. “Mom!” Maureen stopped and turned to him. “What was that?”

She just tilted her head in a questioning way. “Excuse me?”

“That! You aren’t recently widowed! You brushed him off. Totally.”

“Oh that,” she said. “I’m not interested in dating anyone.”

“Why, for heaven’s sake? George seems like a very nice guy. And he’s not exactly Stranger Danger—Noah’s known him for years. He was at our wedding. Maybe the two of you would enjoy yourselves.”

She put a hand on his cheek. “That’s very sweet, Luke,” she said. “I’m just not interested.”

“But why? Is there something about George you don’t like?”

“Not really,” she said, shaking her head as if disinterested. “I don’t want to go out with a man.” She shivered. “Now, I need to get going. It’s a long drive and I’m cold.”

He just stared at her for a second. He leaned toward her and kissed her cheek. “Thanks for coming out, Mom. Drive carefully.”

He watched as she got in her car to drive away from him and he thought, I’d better get to the bottom of that! As far as Luke knew, as far as he could tell, his parents had had a good relationship. They weren’t overtly physical or affectionate in front of their boys but—it was a well-known fact—his mother was way uptight. He assumed, since they had five sons in ten years, they were very physical in private. At his father’s insistence, his mother was always treated with the utmost deference and respect; the man worshiped her. If there was anything she needed, she had only to snap her fingers and he was there for her. She called him her knight, but she called him that softly, quietly.

What the hell was wrong? If she’d had a positive marriage, shouldn’t she be at least amenable to the idea of dinner with a nice man? And now that he gave it some thought, his mother was a knockout for a woman in her early sixties; she looked at least a decade younger than she was. She had a good figure, a quick wit, excellent health and a positive attitude. Logically, she should have been dating, possibly remarried, years ago.

Aiden, Luke thought. Aiden knew women inside and out. Literally. He would figure this out.

Maureen absolutely remembered George, but it just wouldn’t do to let on that she had noticed him. She’d be mortified if he even suspected that the very moment she met him a month ago she’d found him handsome, charming and amusing. Because she was not, definitely not, interested in ever having a man in her life again. Romance was for young girls, not women her age.

She was finally where she wanted to be in life. Comfortable in her skin. Confident in her independence. She was busy all the time, felt good and didn’t mind looking at herself in the mirror…provided she was fully clothed. Her sons were, if not completely settled, at least not as frivolous and immature as they’d once been.

She had wanted grandchildren and now she had one, and a little girl at that. She had always wanted a little girl of her own, but just hadn’t been up to a sixth child. If Shelby and Luke would ever own up, she’d be informed that a second grandchild was on the way. They must be keeping the news tight until they got past the shaky first trimester; lots of couples did that.

And Vivian had literally come to her rescue so she could be near Rosie without interfering in Sean’s attempts to gather up and secure his family.

Viv had turned out to be more than just a port in a storm—she was becoming a good friend. Maureen got a kick out of her, though they didn’t have much in common. While Maureen had kept busy with things like golf and bridge and her church, Vivian had been working full-time, helping out with her daughter and granddaughter and seeing a man. Maureen was so much more old-fashioned than Vivian—she’d never have done such a great job of helping and supporting a daughter who had chosen to be a single mother. But then Maureen was about ten years older and Vivian had herself been a single mother, widowed as a young woman.

When Maureen got back to Viv’s house, she found her roommate was just tucking Rosie into bed.

“Well, hello,” Viv said. “I thought you’d be out a bit later. I hope you had a good time.”

“Of course. I didn’t know we were babysitting tonight,” Maureen said. “I’d have stayed home.”

“It was last minute. Sean and Franci decided on a nice dinner out and I didn’t have plans, so I said I’d keep Rosie here. If they decide to let her stay the night, she can snuggle in with me. But I’m pretty sure they’ll come for her.”

“Gramma Mo-ween, you do me a story?” Rosie asked.

“You’ve had a story already,” Vivian reminded her granddaughter.

“But another won’t hurt,” Maureen said. “Just a short one, then get some sleep. Okay?”

Fifteen minutes later Maureen was back in Viv’s tidy, comfy little living room. Vivian had a fire going and the TV off; she was curled into the corner of the sofa that had her imprint in it, her book in her lap. “It’s getting so cold,” Maureen said. “The fire is nice.”

“How are Shelby and Luke?”

Maureen smiled. “They still haven’t unleashed their news. To me, anyway.”

“Sometimes the mothers are the last to know. Sometimes they tell us things we wish they’d keep to themselves.”