by Mindy Hayes
“Stay here?” She blinks up at me, concerned that I’m leaving her.
“Yes, Mama. Stay right there. I’m just going to answer the door. I’ll be right back.”
She nods, but I know she’s only nodding to be agreeable. She’ll be up and wandering around in one minute flat.
The doorbell rings again as I’m turning the knob.
Patience is a virtue!
When I see his face I immediately regret ignoring my instincts.
“Ever heard of the phone, Ballard?” I ask and peek over my shoulder to make sure Mama hasn’t moved.
“Well, hello to you too.”
“We’ve got advanced technology these days where you don’t even have to call. You can type a message and send it within seconds. It’s called a text. It’s incredible,” I say dryly.
“Oh, but texts are so impersonal. This felt like more than a phone conversation.”
I walk outside, forcing him to step back and close the door behind me. “Look, if you’re stopping by to apologize for the other night or whatever, you’re forgiven. It’s fine.”
“What? No. But, you’re welcome for the best night you’ve ever had.” His eyes twinkle.
I choke on a laugh and shake my head. “Far from.” Or so close you should be a freaking detective. Stupid mixed emotions.
“Actually, Dean and I need some design plans drawn up, and I’m told you’re the person for the job.”
I’m immediately skeptical. “What kind of design plans?”
“Well, we’re wanting to remodel my grandpa’s office. Update it. Make it more Dean and Aiden, while keeping it professional, of course. And also, I wanted to talk to you about being one of our go-to drafters for our contracting business.”
If Dean and Aiden’s business is as successful as his grandpa’s was, this could be an incredible lifesaver for our family, but what’s the catch? Why would they just hand me all their clients? “That depends.”
“On what exactly?”
“On what you expect out of it.”
“Design plans?” Aiden asks, mildly confused, but he knows exactly what I’m getting at.
I cross my arms and lift an eyebrow. “And nothing more?”
“To be friends?” he asks cautiously.
“Friends.” I taste the word. Technically that’s what we are anyway. Though labeling us as friends makes it feel familiar. It’s one step closer to being something more. I won’t let us be anything more. I could be friends with Aiden Ballard. We could work professionally together. We can do this. I can do this. Can’t I? “I don’t want to be anything more than friends.”
“Nothing more than friends,” he complies and smiles. But his smile is anything but agreeable. Mischief lines his perfect mouth.
“I’m serious.”
“I understand you loud and clear.” His cocky smile doesn’t fade.
The offer is too good to pass up, no matter Aiden’s ulterior motives. We’ll just have to work passed those. I’ll have to be stronger to ward of his charm.
“Then we have ourselves a deal, but you know I don’t do anything more than the interior design plans. I don’t have contact with venders. I just create the plans.”
“I know. That’s exactly what we need. Your feminine touch to give people an image, something that will help them decide what they want and like.”
“And Dean’s okay with this.”
“Of course.”
I laugh dryly. “Right. I’ll take your word for it.”
“So, when are you available to meet?”
I rub my forehead like it will give me answers. “Umm…maybe tomorrow? Can I text you?” On such short notice, I don’t know if Gina will be able to look after my mom, but maybe I can bribe her with brownies.
“We can meet here if it makes it easier.”
“No,” I say instantly and rethink abruptness. I soften my tone. “No…I need to see the space to get a better feel for what you’re looking for.”
“Right. Yeah. Just text me. We’ll figure out a time.”
I step back and put my hand on the door handle. It hits me that I’ve left my mom alone for a good five minutes. Anything can happen in five minutes.
“All right. Thank you for considering me. Have a good one. I’ll sext—” Dangit! “Text you later. See ya,” I hurriedly say, while opening the door and closing it before he can get a word in edgewise. Really, Alix? Couldn’t slow down your words just a bit? I groan.
I look to the living room to make sure she’s still there, but she’s not on the couch. “Ma?” I holler. She doesn’t answer.
“Mama?” I call louder, searching the kitchen before moving to her bedroom, then my office. “Mama!”
Panic runs through my veins. I race down the hallway toward Brooks’s room, but stop when I see the door at the end of the hallway cracked open. Her old bedroom. The master bedroom. It beats like ominous danger lies on the other side. That door has been closed since the day she kicked my dad out. I rush toward it and burst through.
She’s sitting on the edge of their old bed, looking down at her bottle of perfume. “Mama?” I say softly, carefully approaching her.
All she does is mumble. I’m just grateful she’s safe. I sit down beside her, and she looks at me but then looks back at her lavender perfume. He gave it to her. Not this specific bottle, but it was his favorite, and for some reason she never changed fragrances.
“Phil won’t run…” More mumbling. “Behind the bleachers…” More words that I can’t understand. “The team can’t win…Phil…”
I want her to stop saying his name. I hate his name. I hate the P and the H and the I and the L. I hate every little thing about that four letter word.
“Ma, why don’t you come with me to watch some TV? You love The Ghost Whisperer. Let’s see if we can find some reruns. Or maybe Friends. That one always makes you laugh.” Maybe I laugh more than she does. I can actually handle those repetitive reruns. I embrace those reruns.
Without giving her another option, I take the perfume and place it on the dresser. I hold her hand and she follows me. Closing the door behind us, I guide her down the hallway into the living room.
“Here.” We sit down together, and I take her hand, but as I’m flipping through the channels she stands back up. I hold tighter to her hand and draw her back down. “Hey, c’mon, Ma. We’ll find something good. We’ll watch together.”
“No. No, I need to go.” She pulls out of my grasp and walks back to the master bedroom. This time I don’t stop her, but I follow. I stand at the end of the hallway and watch her through the open doorway as she sits down on the bed with the lavender perfume in her hands and doesn’t move.
I don’t know if she’s trying to remember or if she remembers another time and wants to hold onto it. I don’t know what’s going through her head. Maybe nothing is and she’s seeking comfort in a place that was once full of love. I’ll never know. And the not knowing kills me.
But as long as she can’t cause herself harm, she can stay there and I can get some work done.
***
While I lay in bed that night, with my fingers hovering over the keys on my phone, I word and reword my text to Aiden in my head. No matter how many ways I start the text, it comes out flirtatious, so I settle on short and to the point.
Me: Will 11:00 work tomorrow?
After I bribed Gina, she agreed to watch Mama for a couple hours. Though she told me the brownies really weren’t necessary, I insisted. It’s not as if I can afford to pay her. I need to do something for her. After everything she’s done for us, I always feel so indebted.
My phone pings with a new message.
Ballard: Who is this?
Me: Are you freaking kidding me?
Ballard: Haha. Yes. I didn’t think you would actually text me. It’s about time you used my number.
Me: Don’t get used to it.
Ballard: I will.
Me: Ballard.
Ballard: Fink.
; Ballard: Ink.
Ballard: Inky.
Me: Oh my gosh, Aiden.
Ballard: Haha…what?
Me: Tomorrow.
Ballard: Haha…okay okay. 11:00 works perfectly.
I want to be more annoyed with him than I really am. Before I set my alarm, I consider texting him good night, but think better of it. I fall asleep with a stupid smirk on my face that I can’t seem to wipe away.
AIDEN
“SO,” DEAN BEGINS. “She said yes, huh?”
“I think Alix is really just that desperate for work. There’s no other explanation.”
He snorts. “Other than the fact that she wants your body.”
“My body is pretty sexy,” I agree.
He laughs and scolds with a falsely authoritative finger wag. “I don’t want any fooling around going on in here when she comes. I’m only going to be out for an hour. When I get back you guys better have some pretty dang good plans.”
I wish his tongue-in-cheek allegations were actually something I needed to defend. “I’ll try to control my urges, but a lot can happen in an hour. I can’t make any promises on her behalf.”
Dean’s finger circle his temples like I’m crazy, or maybe he means her. “I don’t get why you bother.”
I half-grin. “Because, my friend, Alix has layers,” I explain. “On the exterior all you see is the woman angry at the world, but there’s more below the surface. I know it, and I’m going to learn every layer. She’s worth the time it takes to get to know.”
***
I see Alix before she walks in. The red shimmers when the sunlight hits her hair. She stands with her hand on the handle of the glass front door and freezes. For a moment it looks like she’s about to change her mind. I move toward the door. She’s not getting out of this now. No way. But she exhales, resolved, and shakes her head as she pulls the door open.
“Miss. Fink.”
She stops and spots me coming from the back corner of the space. “Ballard.” Her attempted professional tone makes me chuckle.
Alix looks around the newly installed drywall.
“So, what do you think? Think you can make something out of the space?”
“It’s got lots of potential. Do you have anything specific you’d like to see?”
“Whatever you think would look good. We need it to be a space where people walk in and feel comfortable working with us.”
She nods. “Do you mind if I take a minute to peruse?”
“Be my guest.” I sweep my hand across the room. She steps past me, farther into the room.
Though I should give her space, I can’t help myself. I watch her as she walks around. We’re never in same room without hostile words exchanged. I’m soaking this in. I can sit back and appreciate the view. She’s wearing dark skinny jeans with a white T-shirt and gray scarf. Not exactly business attire, but I didn’t expect that. She has nothing to prove to me. I like her best like this.
“Ballard,” she says without turning around. “This working relationship does not give you free range to ogle me.”
I can’t stifle a laugh. “I wouldn’t dream of crossing that line.”
“Oh, you’ll dream it, I’m sure. But I know you’re not stupid enough to execute crossing it.”
I bite my lips to keep from grinning. “Nope. Definitely not that stupid.” Definitely that stupid.
She turns to eye me. Dean was right. There’s no way I’m going to be able to keep this professional. I’m already failing, and she hasn’t even been here for five minutes. It’s her own fault for being so dang beautiful. It’s unfair really. If the tables were turned and it was he and Sawyer, he’d have lost the battle from the moment he saw her hesitating outside. I should get a gold medal for lasting this long without an inappropriate comment.
Her hip pops, and she folds her arms as she examines the empty walls. “Well, I think you could use some crown molding here. Maybe some wainscoting, to make it feel more like a home than an office if you’re looking for comfort.” I nod, not even hearing what she says. I have no doubt in her abilities to make this place look great. “You’ll want some live plants. They’ll brighten the place up. We can discuss the perfect indoor plants when the time comes.”
“I already like where you’re going with this.”
“I’ll draw up some plans to let you and Dean get a visual. Should have them done in a week or two.”
“Great.” I figure short answers will weigh in my favor. I’m less likely to say something I shouldn’t when I’m limited. My teeth grab hold of my lips to keep them from moving. I try to think of safe conversation so she won’t leave yet. I’m not ready.
ALIX
AN AWKWARD SILENCE lengthens between us. I know he has things he wants to say. This professional relationship is killing him.
It still baffles me that he hasn’t asked about seeing my mom and me. I want to avoid the topic, but I know that won’t be possible for much longer. As much as I don’t want to admit it, Sawyer is right. Especially now that we’re working together, it’s bound to come up, and I want to have control over when and where the conversation happens. I don’t want him to spring it on me when I’m not prepared.
“Why haven’t you asked me about why my mom and I were in Bakerton?”
Aiden’s eyes jump. He wasn’t excepting me to bring it up. Caught him off guard for once. “Because it’s none of my business.”
He’s so full of it, but I nod since it’s true.
“Did you want me to ask?” No. Yes. No. When I don’t respond he asks, “Alix, why were you and your mom at the neurologist’s office?”
“It’s none of your business, Ballard.”
He laughs. “Yup. That’s about how I thought you would respond.” He pauses before talking again. “I do want to know. I get that you’re a private person, but that doesn’t mean you should have to do everything yourself. Let me help.”
“What did Sawyer say to you?” She’s the only link that would give him any insight into why I could possibly need help.
“Nothing.” He chuckles humorlessly. “But not for my lack of trying. She told me to ask you. But she told me you have a lot on your plate and to take it easy on you.”
“I don’t need her or you—for that matter—coddling me.” I’m not some fragile little girl. I can handle my business and myself on my own.
“It has nothing to do with coddling. Even if I knew how to do that, you wouldn’t accept it. I’m not going to even bother. I want to help. What’s wrong with your mom, Alix?”
“I don’t need your help.” It’s not fair to put this on anyone else. She’s my responsibility. She’s my mom. I should be able to handle it on my own.
“What’s wrong with your mom, Alix?” he asks sternly, nearly ordering me to respond, not accepting anything less than a truthful answer.
I grit my teeth and level my stare. I wanted this. “She has Alzheimer’s.”
His mouth sets in a straight line, and he nods, accepting my answer, tossing pity out the window. Thank goodness. “That wasn’t so hard, was it?”
“It would have been a lot easier if you would have dropped it.”
“Well, you knew that wasn’t going to happen. And you brought it up.” He waits before he asks, “When did this happen?”
I sigh. “About two years ago.”
“Years? Two years?” he asks incredulously. “Alix.” Aiden says my name like I’m being scolded.
“It really wasn’t so bad at first,” I explain. “When I talked to her on the phone I couldn’t even tell anything was off. Sometimes she said things that didn’t really make sense, but it wasn’t until I thought back that I put two and two together. She used to be a little flighty, so it wasn’t really out of the ordinary.”
His eyes soften. The sympathetic expression is so unlike him, my stomach flutters and I have to break eye contact. “How did you figure it out?” he asks.
I talk as I look out the front windows of the office. “It was actually m
y mom’s best friend, Gina. She noticed and called me. My mom used to bake her brownies all the time. Then, for about a month, week after week, she made a batch for Gina, but they never tasted quite right, nor could she remember baking the previous batch for her. Gina didn’t understand it. My mom could have baked those brownies in her sleep. At first she thought it was a bad batch, but they remained inedible. That was the final straw. Apparently, she’d been saying some things that didn’t make sense, or not remembering things that couldn’t be passed off as simply forgetful. I dropped out of school and moved back home a month later. I’ve been taking care of her ever since.”
“So, you didn’t move back home because the college wasn’t right for you like you’ve been telling everyone?” he asks. I shake my head. “And you haven’t told anyone?”
“It’s not public knowledge, no. Gina and a couple others who I know won’t say anything, like Sawyer, but after the way our family got dragged through the gossip mill when my dad left, I couldn’t let that happen to my mom again.” What I don’t say is that I don’t want the news of my mom’s condition to somehow get back to Phil. There are still people in this town who know him. I feel like it would be betraying her if he somehow found out.
It was no secret that he cheated, but it was so much more than that. The truth still isn’t common knowledge, and for my mom’s sake I don’t ever want it to be.
“People haven’t noticed that she’s been MIA?” he asks skeptically.
I shift my stare back to him. “It’s not like she’s been completely absent for two years. When we went out in public in the beginning, people looked at her a little funny if she said something off color or out of the norm, but it really wasn’t until about a year ago that it became too noticeable to bring her out in public. I take her a couple towns over when we need to get out of the house, but it’s easier to stay home. She doesn’t get as anxious and confused when she stays where she’s familiar.”