My Kind of Christmas (Virgin River #20)(61)

“Nah, don’t get mad. Everything will turn out. We’ll manage just—” He stopped shy of the house and just stared. A very fancy RV was parked next to the house. “Oh, God, this isn’t happening to me.”

“What?” she asked.

“My mother.”

“No way!”

“Way,” he said tiredly.

She took a breath. “Talk about awkward.”

Chapter Thirteen

“How long has this been going on?” Donna asked Jack.

“Since the day she walked into town,” he answered. “The second she saw him. I couldn’t have shot her out of a gun faster.”

“And you didn’t tell me because…?”

Jack put down the towel and the glass he was polishing. “Listen, it’s hard for me to see Angie as an adult—I keep flashing back to that little blonde in pigtails and glasses, taking apart anything that wasn’t under guard, acing spelling bees, sitting on my lap and asking me questions I couldn’t answer. I want her to be a child again, but she’s not. She lacks experience, I know that. She’s still a little like a fawn—kind of clumsy and immature in certain parts of her life. But, Jesus, Donna—do you remember being twenty-three?”

“Vaguely…”

“You were engaged! And we both know you weren’t exactly a virgin on your wedding night.”

“Yeah, yeah, yeah—enough!”

“Mom kept saying, ‘Not my Donna—she’s too busy studying to have sex!’ What a crock.”

“I did study!”

“You were so damn smart you had time to make the honor roll and Tommy Maxwell! You somehow flew under the radar and Mom and Dad never monitored you the way you’ve strapped yourself to Angie.”

“They had five kids! They were a little busy. And Angie—special circumstances. We used to be so close....”

Jack leaned close. “I don’t want her to grow up and have her own life, either, Donna. We always want our kids to stay young and innocent forever. But she isn’t brain damaged—she’s a twenty-three-year-old woman who’s doing what comes naturally.”

“And if I’m not ready?” Donna asked.

Jack took a moment. “You’ll lose her,” he said softly. “And I’m counting on you to come back when Emma’s a young lady to remind me of this conversation.” Then the door to the bar opened and Mel came in. “Thank God,” Jack said. “The cavalry.”

* * *

Maureen Riordan was apparently not feeling as polite as Patrick had hoped—she checked the cabin door and, finding it unlocked, entered. With her was her partner, George Davenport. The two of them shared the big RV and drove between extended family and vacation spots. Retired senior citizens living in sin—and loving every minute of it.

When Patrick and Angie entered the cabin, they found George sitting in front of a fire and Maureen enjoying the kitchen, more spacious than that in the RV. “Mom?” Patrick said.

“Paddy!” she said excitedly. She rushed to him, though he held Angie’s hand. “How are you, my love?”

“I’m…fine… Mom, what are you doing here?”

“I haven’t seen you since Jake’s memorial and have hardly talked to you at all. When I did talk to you, you just didn’t sound yourself. I wanted to see for myself.” Then she shifted her eyes to Angie and gave a smile. “Hello.”

“Mom, this is Angie LaCroix, here on vacation, visiting her uncle, Jack Sheridan.”

Maureen put out a hand and her smile widened. “Ah, Jack! A fine man. So nice to meet you, Angie. I’m Maureen. And this is George. Paddy, I’m so glad the door was unlocked—I think that’s my beef recipe in the Crock-Pot. I started the potatoes and lucky for you I had homemade rolls in the freezer in the RV. I found the cake—if I’d known, I’d have baked one for you.”

Patrick was thinking that if he’d known, he wouldn’t have left a forwarding address. “I take it you’re free for dinner.”

“We wouldn’t want to impose,” George said. “Kind of looks like date night…”

“You’re not imposing,” Angie said. “We were going to have dinner and play Scrabble.”

Patrick glared at her.

“By all means, join us,” Angie said.

“But you’re hooking up the RV at Luke’s, right?”

“Of course we will. We’re not going to be able to get to Luke’s tonight, as it is. That snow over the dirt on that narrow drive of yours—I think it’s best to wait until morning.”

“Morning?” Patrick said weakly.

Maureen just laughed. “We’ll stay in the RV, of course. I can’t tell you how wonderful it is, driving your home around the country.”

“Mother, do Luke and Colin know you’re here?”

“No, not yet,” she said, looking surprised. “I intend to see them, of course, but you’re the one leaving to go back to Charleston soon. I just couldn’t help myself. Paddy, I’ve been worried about you.”

“I’m fine,” he said.

“I just want to spoil you a little bit, honey.”

His mother was the last person Patrick was in the mood to be spoiled by. But Angie was shrugging out of her jacket, letting Patrick take it. “I’ll help set the table,” she offered.