“She might need you more than just a friend,” he says as he walks out of the office, slamming the door behind him.
I rub my hand on my face, and I’m about to call her when there is another knock on the door. This time, it opens just a bit, and my mother sticks her head in. “Knock, knock, knock,” she says with a smile as she enters. I get up to greet her. Of course she is dressed perfectly in a skirt and a matching top with a sweater tied at the neck. Her pearls hang perfectly around her neck. Her blond hair curled to perfect and even her makeup is perfect. That is my mother, perfect all the time. “There he is. My son, the mayor.”
She comes over and hugs me. “So nice of you to come out,” I say, and she nods at me. “Come sit down.” I point at the couch. “Bonnie, can you get us something to drink, please?” I ask. Bonnie gets up, smiling.
“You look tired,” my mother says when I walk back to the couch. “I heard about Savannah.”
“Yeah,” I say, sitting down.
“It’s terrible,” she says, putting her hand crossed in front of her while she folds her legs to the side. “Your father told me this morning when he got back home.”
“Back home?” I ask her. “Where did he go?”
“He had some sort of meeting somewhere.” She brushes it off. “A business venture. Now that he’s not mayor, he needs something to keep him busy.” Bonnie comes in with a tray of tea before I can answer.
“Thank you, dear.” My mother smiles at her. “My favorite cranberry tea.”
“I stock it up just for you,” Bonnie says and walks out of the room.
“She’s nice,” my mother says, looking at me. “I said I wasn’t going to say anything.” My mother pours herself some water in the cup. “But now that you’re mayor, it’s time for you to start planting roots.”
I close my eyes. “Are you saying that I need to have a kid?”
“I didn’t say that exactly,” she says, putting her cup down delicately. “I’m saying that now that you’re mayor, you need a wife and then a child.” My mother is the most traditional woman I’ve ever met. Church every Sunday and cooks every meal for my father. She waits on him hand and foot and never talks back to him.
“I think I’m okay, Mom,” I say.
“Your brother,” she says, shaking her head. “He isn’t even close to giving me a grandchild.” I swallow now, not saying a word. “I think they are having problems.”
“Well, he probably should lay off the booze a bit more,” I say, and she just looks at me.
“He’s under a lot of stress.” My mother’s making excuses for him, and I have to shake my head. She was very good with that when we were growing up. She made an excuse about everything when it came to my brother and father. I was the only one who took it like a man and admitted when I was wrong. She called me the wild child for doing this.
“He is barely working,” I remind my mother.
“He consults on a lot of stuff,” my mother says, and I laugh. “It’s not funny, Beau. You should think about hiring him to help out here.”
“Doing what?” I ask. “Drinking?”
“You know what I mean. He can help take some pressure off your shoulders.”
“Mom, having him here would put even more on my shoulders.” I try to let her down quietly and with as much respect as I can. When, in fact, I want to tell her that he can find a rock and hide under it for all I care.
“Anyway.” She changes the subject. “I’m making a huge dinner tonight,” she tells me. “I’ve invited a couple of friends and their eligible daughters to come over.”
“Mom …” I shake my head. “Not going to happen. Besides, I have a barbecue at Casey’s with Savannah and Ethan.”
“Honey.” She picks up her cup and puts it to her lips. “I know that Savannah is like a sister to you and all that.” I cringe when she says that because the things I want to do to Savannah are nothing that you should do to your sister. “But this is a chance for you to meet eligible women to date and get to know.”
“Again,” I say, “I’m not interested in any of them. I know most of them, and I’m happy the way I am. I don’t have a lot of time to donate to a relationship right now.”
“Love isn’t going to knock on your door, Beau,” she says, shaking her head. “You have to put yourself out there.”
“I’ll think about it,” I say, knowing it’s the only thing I can say to make her stop bugging me. “Now, what are your plans for the weekend?”