“Things that aren’t talked about fester,” she said. “If you’d gone to Juilliard you would have been in New York and we could have seen each other.” He didn’t reply for so long that she wondered if he’d heard her. “What are you thinking?”
“I texted my mother yesterday,” he said. “She didn’t reply.”
Carly didn’t know what to say. “Sorry.”
“Do you know what she said when I told her I was taking you to the after-party?” he went on. “That you wouldn’t be interested in a poor boy trying to be a rock musician but that you might be interested in a student of classical piano attending Juilliard.”
“Pretty sure that back then I would have gone for the rock star from the wrong side of the tracks,” Carly said. Probably now, too.
“Mom’s comments only made me more determined to follow my own path,” he said. “I couldn’t make myself into someone I wasn’t for the sake of climbing the social ladder.”
“Nor should you have.” Carly turned back to the window. The girl and boy had made their way to the corner. While she watched, the girl turned to the left and the boy kicked his skateboard straight ahead. For some reason it made her feel sad. “So, can we be friends?”
“That’s a given,” Finn said.
Carly breathed out in relief. No matter what happened, she didn’t want to lose touch with him again.
An older model blue sedan pulled in to the curb. A woman in her fifties with frizzy blond hair that should never have been cut in a bob got out and glanced up at the house.
“Someone’s here,” Carly said.
Finn came to stand beside her. “Maybe she’s going next door.”
“Doesn’t look like it.” The woman, who wore a colorful pullover and carried a casserole dish, climbed the steps to the porch. Faintly, the doorbell rang.
“She must be one of Irene’s friends.” Carly didn’t recognize her from the funeral but there was something familiar about her. “I’d better go down.”
CHAPTER NINE
CARLY SWEPT DOWN the spiral stairs, hands skimming the rails, to the second floor.
The doorbell rang again and Taylor poked his head out of his room. “Did you want me to answer that?”
“No, I’ve got it.”
In the foyer, Carly checked herself in the mirror and smoothed down her hair. All she had to do was thank the woman for the casserole, offer a cup of tea and make polite chitchat for twenty minutes.
She opened the door. “Can I help you?”
“I’m Susan Greene, Taylor’s mother. Is he here?”
“Oh!” Carly squeaked. She was not prepared for this. “Nice to meet you. Taylor’s upstairs.”
“Are you Irene Grant?” Susan asked. “I got the impression you were older.”
“I’m Carly, Irene’s niece.” She opened the door wider. “Come in.”
She hoped Taylor wouldn’t be upset that she’d invited his mom in. After hearing his story she was pretty sure Susan was the last person he would want to see. But how could she turn the woman away without being rude?
Susan held out the casserole dish. “I made pot roast, Taylor’s favorite.”
“And you brought it all the way from Seattle, wow.” Was this stalker behavior or caring maternal instincts? “How kind of you.”
“I wanted to see where he was living, make sure the accommodation is as advertised.” Susan laughed indulgently. “His head is in the stars in more ways than one, if you know what I mean.” She stepped past Carly, her bright hazel gaze darting around the foyer. “The ad said room and board but what some people call dinner these days ought to be against the law. Fast food, frozen food, and goodness knows what.”
“Sometimes people get strapped for time.” Ordering a pizza didn’t make her a bad person. Was it too late to tell Susan that Taylor wasn’t there and subtly hint that next time she should call first before showing up on the doorstep?
Before she could, Finn loped gracefully down the stairs. “Hi, I’m Finn. Let me take that for you. Irene would have appreciated your thoughtfulness.”
“Why thank you.” Taylor’s mom might be in her fifties but she succumbed to Finn’s charm like a debutante. She handed over the casserole then patted her frizzy hair. “I’m Susan.”
Carly watched the exchange with bemusement. Finn might not be a rock star but he had the charm and magnetism of someone able to command attention.
Finn turned to Carly. “Could we offer Susan a drink? Coffee, or something stronger?”
“I’ll put a pot of coffee on.” Before she could tell him who their guest was Finn adeptly kept the conversational ball rolling.
“How did you know Irene?” Finn asked Susan.
“I don’t. I’d like to meet her though.” Susan, not picking up on the reference to Irene in the past tense, peered around Carly into the living room.
Carly tried unsuccessfully to block her view. Clearly Taylor hadn’t told his mother that his prospective landlady had died. What must Susan be thinking about the house? What with one thing and another, Carly hadn’t finished tidying up after the wake. Books were scattered near unfilled empty boxes, a cushion lay on the floor and from here she could see a shoe beneath the couch. No doubt Susan could see it, too, and was passing judgment on what some people called cleanliness these days.
“You don’t know Irene?” Finn turned a puzzled gaze to Carly. “Then who?”
“Susan is Taylor’s mother,” Carly explained.
“It’s the first time he’s lived away from home,” Susan said, almost apologetically. “He’s not used to being alone.”
Finn rapidly recalibrated. “Taylor is the boarder.”
As if on cue, the lanky young astrophysicist came down the stairs. “Was that the pizza guy?” He saw Susan and did a double take. “Mom, what are you doing here?”
“She brought you dinner.” Carly could see Susan’s point of view. Having her only son leave home for the first time must be hard. But bringing dinner uninvited and unannounced to a son who wanted independence seemed a tad intrusive.
Susan gave Carly a quizzical smile. “You’re ordering pizza? Just as well I came by. There’s enough pot roast for everyone.”
“My aunt Irene died last week, suddenly and unexpectedly,” Carly explained. “It’s been kind of hectic.” Patience, calm, understanding. That’s how her aunt would have responded to this situation.
“I’m so sorry,” Susan said. “Taylor didn’t say anything.” She looked at her son, who hunched his bony shoulders into a shrug.
“You’ll stay and eat with us, of course, Susan?” Finn said.
“Well, I don’t like to impose…” The older woman patted her hair. “But it is a long drive and I haven’t had dinner.”
Surprise, surprise. Carly threw a sympathetic glance at Taylor. “Is that okay?”
Taylor nodded, tight-lipped.
“I have mashed potatoes and green beans, too,” Susan said, indicating the thermal bag slung over her shoulder. “This is a lovely home,” she went on as they all trooped into the kitchen. “So big. Just made for a family.” She glanced between Carly and Finn. “Do you two have children?”
“Not yet,” Finn said with a mischievous wink at Carly.
She frowned at him. “We’re not a couple.”
Susan looked from one to the other.
“Please, sit down,” Carly said. “I’ll just pop my home-made bread in the oven.”
She prodded the flaccid loaf. It didn’t seem to have risen much but she put it in the oven anyway. At least she hadn’t ordered the pizza yet, so there was no need to cancel.
Susan sat at the table right in front of the scribbled-on room rental ads in the local paper that Taylor had left out. “This is your writing, Taylor. Are you looking for new accommodation already?” She turned to Carly. “Is there a problem n
ow that your aunt has passed?”
“Carly is selling the house,” Taylor said.
“Is that so.” Susan’s soft lips pressed together. “Taylor, honey, you come home with me tonight. You don’t need the distraction of Realtors and buyers traipsing through the house while you’re trying to work. You’ll have to move again anyway, better to do it now before you get settled. The commute isn’t bad. Why, I got here in just under an hour. Or, you could transfer to a college in Seattle and the drive would take half the time.”
“I can’t transfer, Mom.” Taylor’s Adam’s apple bobbed up and down. “I’ve got funding, a supervisory committee, a tutorial job. The telescope is booked.”
Taylor going home would make life easier for Carly. He wasn’t her problem, and letting him stay was only postponing the inevitable. But while Carly also felt for Susan, on her own for the first time in what must be decades, she couldn’t let Taylor down.
“There’s no problem.” Carly scooped away the newspaper and crumpled it. “I’m going to honor my aunt’s commitments. Taylor is welcome to stay for the summer term. If the house sells sooner than that, I’ll arrange for closing to take place at the end of August.”
Taylor’s and Finn’s astonished gazes homed in on her, two sets of eyebrows raised. Susan made a soft sound of disappointment.
“It’ll be fine.” Carly stared them all down. She hoped this would seem like a good idea in the morning. And then, because they were still looking stunned, she decided a change of scenery would help move the evening along. “On second thought, let’s eat in the dining room. Finn, can you give me a hand?”
* * *
FINN SET OUT Irene’s best china around the dining table while Carly and Susan duked it out in the kitchen for control of warming up the pot roast in the microwave. In his opinion, a less formal meal would be more likely to defuse the tension between Taylor and his mom, but Carly seemed bent on proving to Susan that Taylor hadn’t stumbled into a crack house, or worse, a place where people ate fast food from the box with their hands.
“You’re a mother hen, just like Irene,” he murmured to her as she brought in the casserole dish clutched between two oven mitts and set it on a hot mat.
“That woman isn’t going to have a single thing to hold against me or this house,” Carly whispered. “She insisted Taylor show her his room. She treats him as if he’s five years old instead of a PhD student.”
“He’ll figure out how to deal with her on his own.” Finn knew firsthand how much it sucked to have a mother interfere in his life, even when she believed she had his best interests at heart. “He has to make his own mistakes.”
“Wanting independence isn’t a mistake.” Carly pulled off the oven mitts. “Taylor needs to stand up for himself but it doesn’t hurt for him to know someone has his back.”
Finn cracked a tiny smile. She was so earnest, so sincere, so passionate in her desire to do good. And that was why he liked her so much. Unless her efforts were turned toward him, that is. “Okay, but don’t say I didn’t warn you. The house might be harder to sell if you’ve got a tenant.”
“I’ll take that chance. It could be a couple of months before I find a buyer. And then there’s escrow. I can stretch that out three, even four months.” She moved the salt and pepper from the sideboard to the table. “Why did you tell Susan we don’t have children yet? Is that some kind of joke? Because after what we talked about in the tower, I don’t get it.”
He’d only said it because he’d been annoyed that she’d broken away from him so abruptly and shut down any discussion of their kiss. Playing the friends card seemed premature, and a tad presumptuous. Exploring their attraction didn’t necessarily mean commitment. Just because they’d kissed wasn’t any reason for her to panic.
“I spoke lightheartedly,” he said. “Don’t give it another thought.”
“So you don’t want us to have children together?” she asked. “Just to be clear.”
“Children are not on my radar,” he vowed.
She blew out an exaggerated breath. “Whew. That’s a relief.”
Finn went on setting the table. Maybe she was right and they should keep their relationship platonic. He was in an unstable period of his life right now. She was busy cementing her own status with a prestige job. All that being said, they did have unfinished business. “I’d like to know though, is it because you’re still mad at me for that summer? I had too much on my plate back then.”
“It’s not that.” She brought down crystal water glasses from the sideboard. “I’m simply not in the market for a relationship.”
Talk about being in denial… Up in the tower, Finn had felt her body heat rise and the way she moved restlessly in his arms. But he wasn’t going to push her where she didn’t want to go. “Fine.”
“So we’re good?” Carly asked.
“We’re always good,” he growled. “No matter what.”
The doorbell rang.
Carly picked up the oven mitts and laid them neatly next to the casserole. “Now who?”
Finn followed her out to the foyer. He did a double take when he saw Annie standing there with her dimpled knock-knees below her miniskirt, pulling nervously at her hair.
“Sorry to bother you.” Her gaze darted from Carly to Finn. She stuck the end of her ponytail in her mouth and then dragged it out again, spitting hair. “Finn, can I talk to you for a minute?”
“We were just about to have dinner.” Finn glanced at Carly. “Can we hold off eating for five minutes?”
“Sure,” Carly said. “The bread isn’t done yet anyway.”
“What is it?” Finn asked Annie. She was shifting her weight from one flat, pointed shoe to the other. Whatever it was must be important for her to work up her courage to come and see him.
“You know how you were going to let me sing the other day?” Annie said. “I thought if you heard me, you could tell Dingo and the other guys I’m okay. If you think I am, that is. If it’s not too much trouble. But you’re busy, I can see that. Thanks anyway.” She started to turn away.
“Wait. I’d be happy to listen to you.” Finn looked at Carly. If ever a person needed help, Annie did.
Carly picked up on his silent communication. “You’re welcome to stay for dinner,” she said to Annie. “We have plenty of food.”
“Really?” Annie looked to Finn for confirmation.
“Why not?” he said. “The more the merrier.”
“Oh, thank you. Thank you both so much.” Annie stepped inside and smiled. “Is that pot roast I smell? I love pot roast. It’s my favorite. And baking bread? Awesome!”
“Thanks,” Finn whispered to Carly as they led Annie into the dining room.
“Now who’s the mother hen?” Carly murmured.
Taylor and Susan came downstairs. Introductions were made. After an awkward shuffle, Carly directed Taylor and Susan to sit next to each other with Annie opposite. That left her and Finn at either end of the table, spots usually reserved for the mom and dad. He flashed her an ironic smile and she rolled her eyes.
“The bread.” Carly jumped up again. “Go ahead and start. I’ll be right back.”
Susan took the lid off the casserole and passed it across to Annie. Finn started on the vegetables and for a few minutes they were occupied in passing food around.
“It’s nice when friends drop in for dinner,” Susan said, smiling at Annie.
“Oh, I’m not…” Annie cast an anxious glance at Finn.
“It is, isn’t it?” Finn said. “This pot roast is delicious, Susan.”
“Yes, what did you put in the gravy?” Annie asked.
“I can write out the recipe, if you like,” Susan said, beaming. She turned to her son. “Better than pizza, isn’t it, Taylor?”
“Your pot roast is the best, Mom,” he said dutifully.
“I like y
our and Taylor’s sweaters,” Annie said to Susan. “Did you knit them?”
Now that Annie was certain of her welcome, she became chatty. She seemed to take it for granted that Taylor and Susan were longtime friends of Finn’s and Carly’s. Susan and Taylor accepted Annie without question. Finn was cool with all that. A home-cooked meal was a treat for him, too. Irene’s portrait, still propped on the mantelpiece, smiled benignly at them. She would have approved of the hospitality and she would have adored that such a diverse group had come together over a meal.
Carly came quietly back into the room empty-handed and slid into her chair. “Didn’t work,” she said in reply to his questioning glance.
“Bring it in,” Susan said. “Let’s see it. Takes a lot to make bread inedible.”
It took some convincing before Carly would produce the bread but eventually she agreed and shamefacedly carried in a bread board with her sourdough loaf. A golden brown oval, it was flat at the ends and rose to barely an inch in the middle.
“I bet it tastes good,” Finn said.
“Either it’s overproofed or there’s a problem with the starter,” Susan diagnosed.
“Starter, I think,” Carly said, cutting the dough.
Susan sniffed a slice and took a tiny bite. “It’s got a good flavor. Try again.”
Carly asked how to tell when the starter was ready to use and Susan responded with a dissertation on bread making.
Finn chatted to Annie about music while Taylor listened, casting curious glances across the table at the waitress. Susan noticed and when there was a lull, began talking about her son’s research into pulsars. It was clear from the way Taylor kept gently correcting her that she had no idea what he actually did.
But she was proud of him, Finn could see that. Interfering mothers always were proud. And the prouder they were, the more they pushed their offspring to do things the right way, their way. Finn knew all about that. Taylor was quietly chafing under his mother’s attention but was too polite to say anything rude.
“Taylor, do you play basketball?” Finn said, to rescue him. It was a reasonable question given the guy’s height but the nerd factor left room for doubt.
Harlequin Superromance May 2018 Box Set Page 87
