by Loree Lough
“And you think you can take her place?”
Logan knew that tone. He’d heard it all his life. It was a challenge, and he credited it for every success of his youth.
“It’s only a week,” he said, placing his father’s bowl on the table. “Sandra will get some fresh air. A chance to get her head on straight. Catch up on her sleep.” He filled another bowl. “And we’ll be fine, too. Overdose on pizza and Chinese takeout, maybe, but—”
His dad laughed. “Sandra will have a fit. You know how she fusses over those kids.”
The way Bianca fusses over Drew and Maddy. Logan shook his head. Where had that crazy thought come from?
“I don’t want to be around when she finds out you’ve pumped them full of junk food for seven days.”
Logan shrugged. “So we won’t let her find out.”
“You know I don’t do things that way.”
No. Of course he didn’t. Carl Murray believed blunt honesty was a good thing, solicited or not, even when it hurt. How Sandra managed to remain civil in the face of dual paternal disapproval, he didn’t know. Could he could take a lesson from her and get through the week without blurting out something rude or hurtful?
Only one way to find out, he thought, picking up his mother’s tray. He was halfway to the hall when his dad said, “Son, before you take that to your mom…”
Logan hesitated.
“I know she can be…difficult. But cut her some slack, will you?”
He chose his words carefully. “Dad. C’mon. Have you ever known me to be anything less than respectful with you or mom?”
Carl pursed his lips, and Logan prepared for a recitation of insolence, committed at age five or ten, or both. Instead, his dad said, “You might want to add the salt shaker to your tray. The soup is pretty bland.” Then he plucked his keys from the hook beside the back door. “Better get back to the office. See you at dinnertime.”
Logan looked at his dad’s still-full bowl and the spoon that sat beside it.
“Would it have killed him to say thanks?” he said to Poe.
The dog answered with a breathy bark.
“Gonna be a long week.”
Another quiet woof.
“Well,” his mom said when he walked into her room, “it took you long enough.”
Logan hesitated for a moment before sliding the tray onto the adjustable overbed table. He considered telling her, as he raised the head of her bed, that Sandra made the soup before leaving for the mountains. But knowing his mom, she’d find a reason to reject it for no reason other than to make a point: her daughter had left her in a lurch.
Logan rolled the table close, tucked a napkin under her chin…
…and waited for her to react.
“Stop that,” she said, smacking the back of his hand. “I’m not a helpless baby.”
Baby. He blamed the word for conjuring the image of Bianca with her tiny ponytails and sheep-covered pajamas. Not sheep, he corrected, grinning, lambs.
“What’s so funny?”
“Nothing.” He waved a hand in front of his face. “So what can I get you? Something sweet to eat after your soup? I saw some cookies in the pantry.”
“There were cupcakes, unless Sam and Sally ate them all.” She sipped her tea. “You’d think they were lumberjacks, the way they pack away food.”
“You used to say the same thing about Susan and Sandra and me, remember?”
She grew pensive as tears filled her eyes. “Yes. Yes, I remember.”
He’d seen her cry before—when she had lost her folks, after her favorite cat died—but this was different. Her days were ticking down to a precious few, and no one was more aware of that than Nancy.
“So when was the last time you saw the grandkids?”
“Oh, couple days ago, I guess.” She flapped her blankets. “I hate being so feeble that I’m susceptible to every bug that comes down the pipe.”
Logan frowned, remembering how an ordinary cold, caught on Christmas morning when the family had crowded around the tree, had turned into full-blown pneumonia. It had been a scary few days, and more than once, they’d thought the illness would take her before the disease had a chance to. Always a fighter, Nancy had muscled through and came out of it just in time for her second round of chemo. The powerful drugs lowered her resistance even more, so if anyone had so much as the sniffles, they were barred from her room.
“I miss them,” she admitted. “I know it’s for my own good, but sometimes I’d rather risk catching something than sitting up here all alone, all day, every day.”
“Well, hang in there. Mother’s Day is right around the corner. Your treatments will be over by then, so maybe we can pull something together to celebrate.”
He’d call Sarah, insist that she fly in for the weekend, invite Deidre, Bianca and her mom, sister and son. He’d buy a gross of paper facemasks and surgical gloves in case sniffling and sneezing had nothing to do with spring allergies.
“That might be nice.”
Her soft, sad voice told him she was only too aware that this would be her last Mother’s Day.
It wouldn’t be easy on any of them, least of all his dad. But they’d muddle through and do it up right and make a happy memory they could talk about for years.
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
BIANCA HAD SPENT the morning cooking up casseroles that could be frozen, then heated up for supper during the week. The afternoon had been devoted to cleaning closets and scrubbing floors. She’d just finished vacuuming the living room when the doorbell rang.
Drew thundered into the foyer, shouting, “Mom, there’s somebody at the door!”
“Why don’t you find Grandmom,” she said, “so she can ask that rude salesman why he ignored our No Soliciting sign?”
“But Grandmom is outside reading a book, ’member?”
Yes, she remembered because when Maddy announced her intention to head into the yard, she had two choices: point out all the things she’d be doing while her mom enjoyed the breezy sunshine, or ask for some help with the housework. Bianca had two choices now, too: answer the door in her grimy sweat suit, or bellow “Go away!” through the door.
She peeked into the foyer mirror. No smudges on her face, at least. After tucking perspiration-dampened hair behind her ears, she opened the door.
And there stood Logan, looking like a GQ cover model in his snug jeans and a University of Maryland T-shirt. If she’d looked out the peephole, there’d be no reason to wish she’d put her second choice into action. What was it about this guy that made her drop her guard time and again?
Drew wriggled between her and the doorjamb. “Hey, you’re back. Did you forget something?”
“No, I have something to tell your mom. Something I didn’t want to say over the phone.” He held up a white paper bag. “I brought you a cupcake. My sister made it.” Logan met Bianca’s eyes. “If it’s okay with your mom, maybe you can eat it in the kitchen while we talk?”
“What kind of cupcake?”
“Chocolate with butter cream frosting.”
Drew tugged at her hand. “Is it okay, Mom? I promise to be quiet, and I won’t interrupt.” He glanced back at the bag and licked his lips. “You know chocolate is my favorite….”
She was about to agree when Maddy stepped up behind her.
“Logan, what a lovely surprise.” She elbowed Bianca. “Don’t let him stand out there like a common salesman,” she teased. “He’ll think I didn’t teach you any manners at all!”
Bianca stepped aside, and as Logan entered the foyer, he leaned close to her ear. “Sorry,” he whispered. “This is exactly what I was trying to avoid by not calling first. I won’t stay long. Promise.”
She was far more interested in why he’d stopped by than how long he’d stay.
“He brought me a cupcake,” Drew said. “His sister made it for me. Because he wants me to behave myself while he talks to Mom alone.” He smiled up at Logan. “Isn’t that right?”
“Co
uldn’t have said it better myself.”
Bianca relieved him of the bag. “C’mon, sweetie,” she said, leading Drew into the kitchen. “I’ll get you set up at the table.”
“Can I watch TV while I eat my cupcake?”
“If you promise to drink a cup of milk, yes, I’ll put a movie into the DVD player for you.”
“Shrek!” he said. “I love that one!”
Maddy laughed. “He’s only seen it a dozen times. Haven’t you, cutie?”
“How many is a dozen again?” Drew asked.
Logan said, “Twelve.”
The boy looked at his grandmother. “Then I’ve seen it a dozen plus three times.”
“I guess that explains why you can recite every line of dialogue!” She kissed his temple. “I’ll be out back, sipping lemonade and reading a book,” she told Bianca. And facing Logan, Maddy added, “Good to see you again. Don’t be a stranger!”
Bianca stared at the toes of her once-white sneakers and summoned the willpower to exercise those rules of etiquette Maddy had drilled into her head.
Bianca peeled away the cupcake paper and put the treat on a plate. Then she dampened a paper towel and put it on the table. “Remember to wipe your hands on that,” she said, “and not your shirt, okay?”
“Okay, Mom,” he said around a mouthful of cake.
Bianca headed into the family room with Logan close behind her.
“So the reason I disrupted your Saturday morning,” he said, “is my sister.”
“Oh?” His tone of voice at the door had made her wonder if maybe his mom’s condition had deteriorated.
“Stopped by Thursday for a routine visit with my mom, took one look at Sandra and knew if I didn’t do something fast, she’d snap.” He drove a hand through his hair. “So I sent her to my condo in Deep Creek for the week. She left yesterday morning.” Then, arms akimbo, he said, “You’re lookin’ at her replacement.”
Bianca studied his face. His easy smile told her he could do the job and that he felt satisfied he’d done the right thing. The image of him packing the kids’ lunches, shuttling them to the school’s carpool lane, then folding towels and washing dishes produced a smile.
“Who’s with your mom now?”
“She just got her morning morphine dose, so she’ll be out for an hour, maybe two. If she comes around before I get back—which, according to Sandra’s instructions isn’t likely—Dad’s right there.”
And because they lived so close, Bianca realized, he was confident he’d be home long before his mom woke up.
“I’m guessing you’ll need to postpone this job-share thing.”
“No way. Sandra will be back in a week. I ordered some equipment for you. But before I deliver it, I want to make sure you’re okay shouldering the work alone until she gets back.”
“Equipment?”
“Laptop, printer… Stuff to make the job easier. I wanted to see how you feel about a separate phone line so we can route calls through it. Less disruption for you and Maddy and Drew, y’know?”
“No need to go to all that expense. I could use my cell.”
“Maybe. We’ll see.” He cocked his head. “Does that mean you’re on board?”
She had no idea what he’d set into motion, but she trusted that whatever it was, he’d kept her crazy schedule in mind.
“What does Sandra say about me running the show while she’s on vacation?”
“I didn’t give her a chance to voice an opinion, but I know she’ll be fine with it.”
Because it was true? Or because she didn’t want to disappoint her amiable brother?
“Okay, then…”
“Excellent!” he said, clasping his hands. “I’ll just say bye to Drew and Maddy and let you get back to work.”
Logan walked into the kitchen and stood at the table beside Drew.
“Well, didn’t you make quick work of that cupcake?”
“It was delicious,” he said around the last bite. “Tell your sister thank you.”
“Will do. See you soon, kiddo.”
Drew waved, using one chocolate-covered finger, as Logan crossed to the patio doors.
He slid the screen aside and leaned out. “Good seeing you, Maddy. Enjoy this nice weather while you can. I hear we’re in for one heck of a storm later.”
Maddy fired off a tiny salute and went right back to reading her book.
“Be nice, Mom,” Bianca called, “or Logan might think I didn’t teach you any manners.”
“Touché,” Maddy called back.
On the way to the foyer, Logan said, “You guys have a cool relationship.”
Smiling, she nodded. “Yeah, we do. I’m pretty lucky.”
“So is she. Not every daughter would open her home to a widowed mom.” He smirked. “Especially a strong-minded mom.”
“Well, for the most part, we’re like-minded, so that’s cool, too.”
He grabbed the doorknob. “Your laptop and other stuff should be delivered on Monday. I’ll give you a heads-up, and maybe soon after that, I’ll bring it over and help you hook it up. Meanwhile, how ’bout if I email you the names of the experts you’ll interview? If they check out, that is.”
At first she’d balked at the idea of letting him provide office equipment. But it made perfect sense from a business standpoint; her computer was old and slow, and the printer was on its last legs. And a separate phone would greatly reduce any chance that incoming calls would interfere with day-to-day activity around here. Besides, it was a temporary arrangement; after delivering the information Logan needed, she’d return it.
“Sounds good,” she told him. “That way I can get a head start on the research, save the interviews for later.”
He was half in, half out the door when he added, “Oh. One last thing. I’m thinking of doing something special for Mother’s Day. Deidre, Griff, my sisters… If you guys don’t already have something planned, I hope you’ll join us. Nothing fancy. Burgers and dogs on the grill… No pressure. I’m just thinking the more, the merrier, y’know? So give it some thought, okay?”
And with that, he was gone.
Bianca went back to dusting. She’d heard the pain in his voice and had a pretty good idea what put it there: this would be his mom’s last Mother’s Day. Attending the party meant meeting his dad, Sandra and her kids and the sister who lived in Colorado. She warned herself not to read anything into the invitation. Bosses invited employees to their homes all the time.
“You’ll never get anywhere with a man like Logan looking the way you do.”
Startled, Bianca spritzed furniture polish far beyond the end table. “Mom. You’re as bad as Marty. Do I have to hang a bell around your neck, too?”
“You can’t distract me that easily. Just look at yourself. His picture is everywhere with socialites and movie stars, recording artists and Victoria’s Secret models. How do you hope to snag him if every time he sees you, you’re wearing holey sweat pants and a baggy T-shirt? You could have at least run a comb through your hair!”
She might have said, “He has seen me in a business suit” or “I’m not interested in Logan,” but the image of herself in Pippi Longstocking ponytails and blue lambs pajamas silenced her. She could remind her mom that there hadn’t been time to make herself presentable, but what would be the point?
She glanced at the paperback in Maddy’s hands. “So how’s the book?”
Her mother groaned, then wrapped Bianca in a motherly hug. “I give up. If you want to spend the rest of your life alone, there’s nothing I can do about it.”
“Alone?” She patted her mom’s back. “But Mom…I have you and Drew!”
Maddy feigned a long-suffering smile and started up the stairs. “If you need me, I’ll be in my room praying for a miracle.”
“My mom the comedian,” she said, standing beside Drew. “Lucky me.”
She looked over his shoulder at his puzzle. “How’s it going, sweetie?”
“It’s a tie.”
He liked playing games against invisible opponents. Sometimes he taught them his own version of the rules; other times he did everything in his power to win.
Drew stopped working and looked up at her. “Why is your hair wet?”
“Because I was working really hard and got a little sweaty.”
“Then you should get a bath. You’ll be surprised how much better you’ll feel afterward.”
Laughing, Bianca wondered how many times she’d said the same words to him.
“Are we really going to Logan’s house on Mother’s Day?”
So he’d overheard the conversation, had he?
“I haven’t decided yet. Would you like to?”
“Heck, yeah! I really like Logan.” He focused on his puzzle again. “Do you think he likes me?”
“Of course he does. He said he thinks you’re a great kid.”
Smiling, Drew gave a satisfied nod.
“Do you like Logan?” he asked.
She had to choose her words carefully here. If the endorsement seemed too positive, he’d pester her for more time with the guy. Not enough, and he might repeat her words verbatim.
“Yeah, he’s okay. Why do you ask?”
“Do you think he’d make a good dad?”
She didn’t have much to go on, but based on the way he connected with Drew, Bianca said, “Yeah, I think so.”
He sat, quietly adding pieces to his puzzle. “Is it too soon after the cupcake for chocolate milk?”
“Yeah, I think maybe it is.”
Shrugging, he snapped the last piece into place. “That’s okay. I’d rather have white milk anyway.” He leaned forward, admiring the cartoon rendition of SpongeBob and his pals. “I’m sure glad this is just a picture.”
She poured his milk. “Oh? Why’s that?”
“Because SpongeBob’s voice is annoying. And pictures don’t talk.” Tucking in one corner of his mouth, he nodded. “Patrick has an annoying voice, too, but I like Sandy’s.” He grinned. “Sandy is cute.” He looked up at Bianca. “Do you like Sandy?”