Why was she defending Stone? If her mother didn’t like him, what did it matter? He was a co-worker, someone who wanted to be her friend.
It did matter.
A lot.
She wanted her mother to like Stone.
Which was why Carly was nervous as she straightened her mother in the wheelchair, made sure her gown was nice and neat, finger-styled her mother’s hair back into place, then pushed her to the living area.
Hearing her moving about, Stone called from the kitchen, “Dinner is almost done.”
“Smells good,” she responded, glancing at her mother. If she could, Audrey would be out of her chair and into the kitchen quick as a flash. “Stone,” she called, taking her clammy hands off the wheelchair grips and wiping them across her yoga pants. “When you can, I’d like you to meet my mother.”
“Let me take the bread out, turn the sauce down to simmer, then I’ll be right there.”
Wondering why she was so edgy at the prospect of her mother meeting him, Carly fought the urge to wring her hands. Instead, she wrapped her fingers around the wheelchair grips while she settled her mother into “her” spot in the living room. A prime open area where there was no furniture, just worn hardwood flooring.
Against a wall was a television that was as deep as it was wide, attesting to its age. A small loveseat-size sofa and a sturdy wooden rocking chair that had been Carly’s grandmother’s were also in the room. In the far corner was a small round dining table with three chairs. The fourth spot was reserved for her mother, although she rarely felt up to eating meals at the table. A wooden bench was pushed against a wall. Pictures of Carly graced the wall. Her first birthday. Her sweet sixteen. Her high-school graduation shot.
There were a few family photos taken at a local department store that featured Carly and her mother. And Carly’s favorite, which was a photo of her grandparents, her mother, and Carly sitting in her mother’s lap. Both of her grandparents had died from natural causes within a few years of the photo.
Other than getting rid of a recliner and sofa that had matched the loveseat to make a spot for her mother’s wheelchair, the room hadn’t changed in years.
What had Stone thought of her home?
Had he judged her the other night when he’d dropped off the box? If so, he’d still come back.
With groceries to cook a meal.
Did he feel sorry for her? Was that what his real interest was? She was his charity project?
If Stone didn’t like her home, he could leave. If it wasn’t up to his standards, he could leave. If he pitied her, well, he’d better keep it hidden or she’d boot him. She didn’t need or want his, or anyone’s, charity.
If her mother didn’t like Stone, no big deal.
She’d say goodbye and life would go on. He was a co-worker. Possibly a friend. A fantasy all kinds of things.
She positioned her mother to where she could see the television and the hallway where Stone would appear.
“Y-you’ve n-not br-brought a m-man h-home s-since T-Tony,” her mother pointed out, watching Carly too closely for comfort.
She’d not brought anyone, male or female, except Tony, home in years.
“Remember he’s just a friend, Momma,” Carly reminded her. Okay, so Carly was struggling with remembering that herself. Maybe she needed to convince herself that he felt sorry for her so she could use anger to push him away.
“A very good friend,” Stone added as he walked into the room, bent, and held out his hand to Carly’s mom.
Intentional movement was a major problem for her mother and that seemed to hit Stone after his hand was in the air a moment longer than it should have been. Rather than wait on Audrey to shakily respond, he lowered to a squatting position, placed his hand over hers, and looked Carly’s mom straight in the eyes.
“It’s very nice to meet you, Ms. Evans.” His smile was enough to dazzle anyone. His dad should use him as an advertisement; make him wear buttons promoting his dental practice. “I’ve heard a lot about you from Carly.”
Carly’s mother’s gaze cut to her. “Sh-she’s not s-said m-much about y-you.”
“That’s because I’m new in town and she’s still trying to figure me out.” Stone’s charm was on full blast. Plus, he was still squatting, holding her mother’s hand.
“Wh-what’s sh-she go-going to f-find?”
Stone chuckled, then his expression took on a more serious look. “I’d like to say all good, to assure you there was nothing that wasn’t pure white in my past, but we all have skeletons in our closets.”
Carly found his comment odd as he’d made that implication previously when speaking about baggage. She couldn’t imagine Stone having many skeletons in his closet and if he did they were probably the plastic, non-scary Halloween version.