"Mom, this is all nice." Gray plowed right over her words with uncharacteristic rudeness, dishes cradled in his hands. "But I need to head into work, and Magda's been sick. Lori, too. They both need quiet and rest."
"Oh, now that's too bad, son. Good thing they had you to take care of them. We didn't plan to stay long, anyway. I just had to get a peek at this little one." Angela tugged her silent husband and his cardboard box toward Lori. "Grayson told me on the phone yesterday that you stepped in to take Magda when her foster parents backed out. Since we grandmas always have extra toys on hand, I thought you could use a few to tide you over."
"How thoughtful. Thank you, Angela, really. Both of you." Lori smiled at Dave Clark and tried not to think about how Gray might look just like his father in twenty years. Except she wouldn't he around to see the change.
"Afternoon, Lori." Always a man a few words, Dave nodded and hung a step behind his wife.
"It's good to see you again. Thanks for driving all the way over." Lori traced a bare toe along the dusty stone path. Awkward didn't even begin to cover it. How did one talk to the parents of an ex-lover? "Would you like to come inside for lemonade?"
"No, thank you, dear. We really won't stay but a minute." Angela dipped a hand inside the Tupperware container and pulled out a cookie for Magda. "What a cutie pie you are, sweetie."
Magda clung tighter to Lori's neck. Lori's hand dropped protectively to cup Magda's head. "I'm sorry, but she's had so much change. And she doesn't speak English yet."
"Of course she's shy." Angela placed the cookie on top of the container, strategically within Magda's reach. "Not a thing in the world wrong with that. I vow Mary Ann didn't let go of my leg until she was five. We'll have plenty of time to get acquainted come Friday."
"Mom, about Friday—"
"Angela, I'm not so sure we'll be—"
"Dave, honey. Set the box on the bench over there." Grayson's mother stepped away as if neither of them had even spoken. Magda squirmed to get down, eyeing that cookie, stomach flu obviously long gone.
Angela waggled her hand toward the duo of wrought-iron benches by the fountain. With a nod, her husband lumbered over and set the box on a bench, taking his place beside it. He relaxed back in the seat, eyes trained on the trickling fountain.
Gray stepped forward. "Mom—"
"Son, why don't you run those dishes upstairs before that chicken pie spoils in this heat?"
He hesitated as if searching for some way to dodge the inevitable. Finally he pulled another pained smile. "Sure, Mom. I'll he right back down so I can walk you to the car."
After Gray climbed the steps and disappeared into her apartment, Lori turned to the older woman and tried again. "This is so thoughtful, but I don't want you to misunderstand the—"
"Shush, now!" Angela waved for silence, her eyes carrying a hint of melancholy. "Just hush up and let a mama dream. All right, dear? I know this is very likely not going to play out the way I want. But maybe you can indulge a meddlesome, worried mother for just a minute longer." Angela paused for a breath, then smiled. Her hand drifted up to her mouth. "Oh, Lori, look."
Lori followed Angela's gaze over to the black iron bench. During Angela's minirant, Magda had slipped away to stand beside Dave.
One by one, the older man quietly passed toys to the solemn-eyed little girl. A rainbow-striped ball. A Cinderella coloring book and box of crayons. A Raggedy Ann doll that looked suspiciously new with a dangling price tag.
Angela tucked her hand in the crook of Lori's arm. "He was always so good with our boys when they were little. Just like that. So patient."
Magda scooted forward, stretching up on her toes to peer inside the box. She eyed Dave warily, and when he nodded, her hand snaked inside the box. She pulled free a stuffed white-and-black Snoopy dog that had seen better days. Definitely a well-loved toy. Magda scooched up onto Dave's lap and continued to empty the box, one treasure at a time, all the while keeping her Snoopy snuggled under her arm.
Angela's bracelet jingled as she pressed a hand to her chest. "My goodness, Lori, does that ever bring back memories. Grayson's younger brother, Davis, was a cuddler like I bet you were." Angela sighed. "But Grayson, Lord have mercy, that child could wiggle. He never could hold still for more than five seconds at a time. The peculiar thing was deep down he wanted, even needed, those hugs much more than Davis."
Lori swallowed the urge to run up the stairs and lock herself in her apartment before Angela unveiled anymore heart-wrenching peeks into Gray's past. Instead of running, Lori changed the subject. "Magda seems to have taken a liking to the dog. I hope your grandchildren won't be upset that it's on loan for a while."
"They won't miss it. That's one I had tucked away. It was Grayson's. He slept with that Snoopy every night when he was a baby." Angela gnawed the corner of a nail absently. "He took it back after his father deployed to Vietnam."
Magda nested under Dave's chin, her eyes drooping as he patted her back. Lori couldn't help but think of how much living the man had missed with his own children.
Tears dulled Lori's vision without warning. She should have run when she'd had the chance. She was way out of her league in holding strong against the emotion-tugging powers of Angela Clark.
The older woman's hand fell back to her side. "So, dear, should we pick you up for the finit flight party at four or closer to four-thirty on Friday?"
Lori took in the determined gleam shining from Angela's eyes. There wasn't even a chance of avoiding that party. "You don't play fair."
The door slammed shut above, just before Gray charged down the stain, a determined look on his face.
Angela studied her son for a lingering second, then turned back at Lori. "Mothers rarely do when their children need them."