That said, we'd only been on one official date. Playing the plus-one card now was a risk. A lot could change in a month. For all I knew, he'd decide that he still wasn't ready for something serious, after losing his previous wife. Or else, I might decide that I couldn't live in Tamlin any longer and wanted to move back to Chicago. Or anything in between.
I sighed and shook my head. I needed a distraction, or I was going to sit here all afternoon worrying myself sick over what he might say. For all I knew, he wouldn't get back to me until tomorrow, anyway. I'd given him until the end of the weekend, after all.
I decided to head over to Mom's house and see what she was up to. The weather was nice that day, and I had a feeling she was probably outside in the garden. Not that there was much left to do. We'd plucked most of the weeds the last time I was over there. Still, I could do with a little sunshine, and I was sure she could as well. That had always been one of her main complaints when we'd lived in the city: hanging out on the roof to enjoy the sun just wasn't the same as hanging out in your backyard.
When I got to Mom's house, though, it wasn't her that I found out in the garden. Instead, there was a young man there, about my age, with a friendly face. He was large and built, and he was currently hacking away at a blackberry bramble, his muscles bulging with every movement of the saw.
He looked over at me as my shadow fell at his feet.
“Hi,” I said hesitantly as I stepped forward, holding out a hand. “I'm Olivia Sable. My mom lives here?”
“Olivia, I was wondering when I'd have the pleasure of meeting you,” the man said smoothly, shaking my hand in a warm, calloused grip. “I'm Buck. Well, Barclay. Barclay Johanssen. But no one calls me that!”
“Buck,” I said, rolling the name around in my mouth. “Nice to meet you.”
“Pleasure's all mine,” Buck said in a charming, twangy drawl. He gestured toward the brambles. “I come by and do some yard work for your mom, from time to time.”
“Oh!” I said. “That makes sense.” I struggled to find something else to say. Fortunately, Mom came down off the porch just then, a pitcher of lemonade in one hand and glasses in the other.
“Figured you could use some refreshment,” she said to Buck. “Olivia, it's good to see you too!”
“Hey, Mom,” I said, smiling at her.
Mom held up the pitcher. “I grabbed a glass for you too, sweetie, when I saw you coming up the drive. I'm sure we all could use a drink on a day like today!”
“It sure is humid,” Buck agreed, wiping the sweat from his brow. “Summer is definitely on its way!”
“Mm, I'm excited for a good summer,” I said, looking toward the sky as though the clouds might signal when the summer would begin. “In Chicago, it always gets so stuffy during the summer. But out here, it's beautiful.”
“Sure is,” Mom agreed. She turned to Buck and handed him a glass of lemonade. “Do you have any plans for the summer, Buck?”
“We have a family reunion coming up in August,” Buck said, frowning. “I'll have to head down to Texas for that. But otherwise, I'm hoping to just get up to the lake a couple of times. Go camping, maybe.”
“Sounds fun,” Mom said. “What about you, Olivia?”
I shook my head. “Not up to much,” I said. “Just running the daycare, the usual.” I grinned. “I'd like to go camping at some point too; it's been ages since I did that.”
“Well, if you're ever interested, I could take you some time,” Buck offered politely. “I know all the best spots in the area if you even just want to talk about it.”
I smiled at him. “I appreciate that,” I told him. “We'll see what the summer holds.”
Mom smiled between the two of us.
“I'm going to try to get this bramble out before it gets too hot,” Buck told us, finishing his drink and gesturing toward the saw. “But thanks for the lemonade, Mrs. Sable.”
“How many times do I have to ask you to call me Jeannie?” Mom said, smiling broadly. She grabbed our glasses and started back inside the house, and I trailed after her.
In the kitchen, I leaned against the counter, watching as she started washing the glasses and the couple other dishes that had been used that day.
“Have you talked to Dr. Jones at all?” I finally asked. I didn't want to spoil her good mood. I had to wonder if asking her about the chemo when she was in such a good mood might do the trick. Maybe she'd be more open to what I had to say.
I knew it didn't work that way, but it was worth a shot.
Mom groaned and shook her head. “Is that what you came over here to talk about?” she asked. “To pester me about, rather.”
“I have some money saved up,” I said quietly. “I know it might not cover everything, but it would at least pay for some of your medical treatments. Enough to get you started, while we figure this whole thing out.”
“I can't ask you to do that,” Mom protested. “You've worked hard to save up money over the years. You ought to be putting that money toward a good vacation. Or a wedding, maybe?”