Kitchen Boss

“Then it’s a good thing I’ve come.” She touches my cheek. “I knew it. I knew there was a voice telling me to come see you.”

I give her a smile.

She hooks her arm around mine and leads me into the house. “Now, you must tell me everything. Tell me how this wonderful thing happened. And of course, I must meet your fiance. Tell me, has he grown handsome?”

“You won’t believe your eyes, Mom.”

At least that isn’t a lie.

She chuckles. “Well, I’d like to tell him a few things.”

“He’s not home yet,” I tell her.

“Then I’ll wait. In the meantime, you can tell me about how you got engaged, about when you plan to get married. Oh, you must let me help you pick your wedding gown. How was your reunion with Jackson? Was it love at first sight? Did you…?”

I let out a deep breath as I stop listening to her questions. It’s not like I can answer them all at once anyway, or even remember them all.

Thank goodness it’s my day off tomorrow, because I have a feeling this is going to be a long night.

~

“Your mother left already?” Jackson asks me in the morning as I enter the kitchen.

“Yes,” I answer.

I pull out a stool and sit at the counter resting my face on my hands.

Finally, my interrogation is over.

Jackson sets a cup of coffee in front of me. “You look relieved.”

“Not really.” I place both hands around it and inhale the steam. “I don’t know how I’m supposed to tell her now that the engagement isn’t real.”

“You don’t have to.” He leans on the counter in front of me. “You can just tell her when the engagement has been broken off.”

The thought brings a frown to my face, though I don’t know what makes me sadder – the fact that breaking off the engagement will break my mother’s heart or the fact that her heart may not be all that gets broken.

“At least she was happy for us,” Jackson says. “Unlike Betty.”

“Right.” I grin. “But of course, she isn’t like Betty.”

They’re as different as night and day.

“Did you hear what Maisie said? She said your mother makes a better grandma.”

My eyebrows arch. “She did?”

Jackson nods.

“Well, I don’t blame her. I think the same thing.”

“Same here,” he says. “Your mother’s still as kind as ever. She hasn’t changed much, actually. She still looks… young.”

I lift my cup to my lips. “Do you know your daughter asked her how old she was? She didn’t like that.”

Jackson chuckles. “What did Nina say?”

“She said that one never asks a mother that question.” I take a sip of coffee and set down my cup. “I was actually afraid then that she would ask Maisie about her mother. I’m glad she didn’t.”

“It would have been fine,” Jackson says. “I don’t think it really bothers her.”

Doesn’t it? When Maisie was talking about her mother last weekend, it sounded like she wished she was still around. But of course she does. Who wouldn’t? Or maybe she just wants a mother.

“I’ve been meaning to thank you, by the way.” Jackson places his hand over mine.

My pulse quickens.

“For listening to me tell you about Evelyn,” he says as he looks into my eyes. “I haven’t really spoken about her to anyone since she passed away.”

It feels like I might drown in those dark pools. I hold my breath.

“And for all the things you said. They… gave me strength.”

I suddenly become aware of the warmth of his hand. My palm starts to tingle. His burning gaze lights a fire in my cheeks and in my chest. A lump forms in my throat.

I swallow. “I’m sure you don’t need me to give you strength. You’ve managed to move on all on your own. You…”

I pause as I try to pull my hand away. He holds it fast.

My heart stops.

“Just the same, I’m grateful,” Jackson tells me, his voice sounding a tad deeper. “I’m glad I saw you again, Cathy.”

My breath catches. What is this? Is he playing some game with me again? He looks serious, though.

“Cathy!” Maisie suddenly bursts into the kitchen in her blue pajamas. “Daddy!”

At once, Jackson lets go of my hand. He goes around the corner to give her a hug.

“Good morning, sweetheart.” He lifts her in his arms. “Slept well?”

Maisie nods. “Because Cathy told me lots of stories.”

I smile. I don’t know how I still managed to tell her bedtime stories after answering my mom’s questions, but I did.

“Maybe you should ask your daddy to read you stories next time,” I suggest.

“Will you?” Maisie asks him hopefully.

“Sure.” Jackson plants a kiss on the top of her head. “Why not?”

Maisie grins. “That’s my favorite question.”

Jackson and I laugh.

Maisie gets out of Jackson’s arms and runs to me. She tugs my shirt.

“Come, Cathy. I want to show you something,” she says.