More Than I Could (11)

“You didn’t have to clean for me.”

“Honey, it’s the least I can do.”

I’m greeted by the scent of freshly baked bread and the undeniable easiness that only a home can deliver. The sensation caresses my frayed nerves.

Hardwood floors extend from the small foyer in every direction. A small, cozy living room with a rock fireplace is beyond an arched doorway on my left. A stack of books sits in the center of a long table through the archway on my right. Stairs rise in front of me, and a hallway stretches beside them, leading to what appears to be a kitchen at the back of the house.

“This is it,” Maggie says, closing the door behind her. “Lonnie and I live just down the road. So if you need something and don’t want to drive to town, feel free to see if we have it. I’ll leave a key with you. Kennedy and Chase each have one too, of course.”

“I’m sure we’ll be fine. Don’t worry about us.”

She motions for me to follow her down the hallway. “Oh, I’ll worry. That’s my job. Just wait until you’re a mother. You’ll understand then.”

“If my life doesn’t get on track soon, my eggs might be dried before I find viable sperm.”

Maggie laughs. “You’re your mother’s daughter, that’s for sure.”

“Don’t tell her that. She’s convinced she’s never going to be a grandma. I keep telling her that she should’ve had more kids to up her chances.”

“Oh, she doesn’t think that. She wants you to be happy.”

We enter the kitchen. The bright and airy room has white cabinets and buttery-colored walls. The appliances are stainless steel, and a farmhouse sink sits under a wide window with gauzy curtains.

“Mom should relax because I want to be happy too,” I say, peeking out the window at the expansive yard.

“How are things going with you? Your mom said you were pretty bummed to be back in Dallas.”

I press my hip into the island and watch her piddle around the kitchen, putting up a few cups that sit by the sink.

“Moving home at my age isn’t exactly a reason to celebrate,” I say. “But my company felt the pinch after the pandemic and downsized. I can’t blame them.”

Maggie frowns. “Well, I know Denise loves having you back home. She missed you and worried about you in Los Angeles alone.”

“I know. She keeps asking me if I’ll move back to California, and I keep telling her I’m not. As much as I loved my job and the beaches and the weather, I’m not a West Coast girl.” I laugh. “I don’t think she believes me, though.”

“Where do you see yourself?”

I can’t answer that question.

My dream job was a dream job that I didn’t know I had. It fell into my lap like a gift from above.

Who thought you could get a job designing nail polishes? And who would’ve guessed it would be so fun and inspiring? Not me. I worked with the most incredible creative team and public relations division to select each season’s themes based on current events, movies, or travel destinations. Visiting sets of music videos, traveling to exotic destinations, and meeting some of the most interesting people in all facets of the business were more than I imagined was possible.

Sales rose during the pandemic. Our older lines sold out. We devised an at-home kit that went bonkers … and then the world reopened. Sales slowed. Budgets were cut, and so was I.

“I don’t know, Maggie. I have a few feelers out there and am hoping something pans out before this month is up.”

“I’ll keep my fingers crossed for you.”

“Thanks.” I move around the island toward a china cabinet in the corner. “When do I get to meet Kennedy? Is she here?”

“She’s with her grandpa. They have a standing Saturday morning breakfast date, and Lonnie wasn’t about to miss it because it’ll be the last one they get for a long time.”

My heart warms. “I love that.”

“They do too.” She dries her hands off on a kitchen towel decorated with fall leaves. “They’ll be back soon. Chase should be back anytime too. He helped his brother with a fence this morning.” She shakes her head and tosses the towel onto the counter. “That man works so much that you’d think he’d want to sleep in on the weekends. But he’s just like his father. He didn’t get that waking up early nonsense from me.”

I laugh but bristle when a door slams on the other side of the wall.

“That’s the mudroom,” Maggie says, nodding toward a door I didn’t notice to my left. “Chase uses that when he comes in filthy. He put a whole bathroom in there last summer. It keeps the floors much cleaner in the rest of the house.”

The energy in the room shifts. It’s heavier, more electrified—chock-full of anticipation.

“Did you have an easy trip yesterday?” Maggie asks. Despite her attempt at nonchalance, her eyes sparkle. “I wish you would’ve called last night.”

“Actually, it was a bit of a shit show.”

Maggie lifts a brow, amused. “Oh?”

“Yeah. I tried a shortcut and ended up somewhere by Cotton’s—whoever that is. I sat there for a while before a guy stopped to help me.”

“Oh?”