She rose and hugged him in return, her arms and her grip strong and sure. This was his mother, the woman who had raised him, and though they touched base only once in a while because of his schedule, he adored her. He couldn’t imagine life without her in it. “I want you around for a long, long time.”
She sniffed. “Me too.”
“Don’t wipe your nose on my shirt.” Female tears made him uncomfortable and he wanted her perky and strong again. “The doctor said you’ll be fine as long as you take care of yourself, right? No stress, no overdoing it?”
She nodded.
“I suppose reading couldn’t hurt. Can I drive you into town?”
“Chase is picking me up.”
“How are you getting home?”
“Eric is dropping me off after lunch.”
“How is Dr. Fallon?” Roman asked.
“Fine. Looking out for me just like you boys.” She stepped backward, dabbed her eyes with a napkin she’d swiped off the table, and though she didn’t meet his gaze, she was his composed mother again.
“How about a bagel and a cup of decaffeinated tea?” Roman asked.
“Don’t spoil me. I’ll be lost when you’re gone.”
He grinned. “Somehow I doubt that. You’re the strongest woman I know.”
Raina laughed. “And don’t you forget it.”
An hour later, Roman slipped out of the house for a walk to town, grateful his mother’s breakfast discussion had included only town gossip and no more baby talk. He knew what he had to do and neither needed nor wanted a reminder.
The job ahead wouldn’t be a simple one. The women of this town were raised to be wives and mothers—working or stay-at-home, it didn’t matter. It was the wife part that made Roman nervous, and had him wondering how the hell he’d find someone willing to accept his untraditional needs. He needed an untraditional woman who’d accept his absences and wondered if that person could be found in Yorkshire Falls.
There was always the possibility of choosing a more cosmopolitan woman, one who understood Roman’s needs better. He’d have to check his phone’s address book when he got home, but a few women he’d met in his travels and knew more intimately in the past came to mind. There was Cynthia Hartwick, an English heiress, but Roman immediately shook his head. She’d hire nannies to care for her children, and Roman wanted any kid of his to know a loving motherly upbringing.
He’d always liked Yvette Gauthier, a pretty redhead with a bubbly personality and the ability to make a man feel like a god. Then, just as he recalled how that same personality trait had nearly smothered him, he also remembered she’d become a flight attendant, which meant she wouldn’t be around if his kid fell and got hurt or needed help with homework. Raina had always been home for her boys. Though Roman didn’t mind if his wife worked, a long-distance job for both parents was out of the question.
His mother wouldn’t approve of either woman. It made him laugh thinking of Raina’s reaction to the cool Englishwoman or the sultry French tigress. His mother was the crux of this situation—she wanted grandchildren, so the woman would have to live or be willing to settle in Yorkshire Falls.
So much for the women he’d met along the way, Roman thought wryly. He felt somewhat relieved. He couldn’t imagine marrying any of them anyway.
The glare of the sun beat down on his aching head. He definitely wasn’t in the mood for people yet. Not until he’d had some caffeine, but as he approached town, his solitude was interrupted. A high-pitched voice called to him and he turned to see Pearl Robinson, an older woman he’d known forever, rushing toward him dressed in her housecoat and her hair in the same gray bun she’d always favored.
“Roman Chandler! Shame on your mother for not telling me you were in town. Then again, she’s got more on her mind than gossip. How is she feeling? I baked a tray of brownies to bring over this afternoon. Is she up for company?”
Roman laughed at Pearl’s rambling. She was such a sweet woman, harmless if you didn’t mind chatter and nosiness, and after being away for so long, Roman was surprised to find he didn’t mind either.
“Mom’s okay, Pearl, thanks for asking. And I’m sure she’d love to have a visit today.” He gave the older woman a quick hug. “How’ve you been, and how’s Eldin? Still painting?”
For an older couple, Pearl Robinson and Eldin Wingate had had an unconventional living arrangement for years. Unmarried, they shared an old house owned by Crystal Sutton, another friend of Raina’s, who’d had to move to a nursing home a year or so ago.
“Eldin’s still painting, though Picasso he isn’t. But he’s fine, thanks for asking, and healthy, knock on wood.” She banged on her head with her fist. “Though his back still acts up on occasion and he still can’t carry me over the threshold. That’s why we’re still living in sin,” she said, citing her favorite description of their relationship.