“Landon,” I replied, waving for the peephole like a dork. Realizing what I was doing, I shoved my hand in my pocket and tried to play it off. “Mom sent me over.”
Locks clicked, and the door opened about an inch or two, a brass chain keeping it from opening further. The right side of Mercy’s face appeared in the doorway, one beautiful blue eye, rimmed in red, staring out at me. “Hey. What’s up?” she asked.
“What’s wrong?” I asked, immediately alarmed by the way she looked like she’d been crying. “Are you okay?”
“Yes.” She blew her bangs out of her face. “I’m just watching some stupid Christmas movie.”
“Can I come in?”
I don’t know why I asked. I could have easily given her the message through the door and been on my way, but a familiar, sweet scent was coming from the apartment, tickling a memory. And I kind of wanted to see her place.
“Um. I don’t think that’s such a good idea.”
Surprised, I stared at her. “What? Why not?”
“I don’t really know you, Landon, and I’m a single woman who lives alone. I’m not looking to become a statistic.”
I couldn’t deny the wisdom of her precaution, but did she really think I’d hurt her? “You know my mother,” I objected.
“Yeah, that’s not the same as knowing you. In fact, that makes it worse because I know you disappeared for seven years. What if you committed some heinous crime and were just waiting out the statute of limitations to return and do it again?”
What the fuck was she talking about? “Are you really watching a Christmas movie? Or is it some man-hating Lifetime flick?”
Her lips twitched. She seemed dangerously close to smiling before forcing a frown. “Why don’t you just tell me why you’re here, so I can check on my cobbler and go back to my movie.”
The familiar scent drifting out of her apartment finally registered. I sniffed the air, my mouth practically watering with anticipation. “You’re making Mom’s marionberry cobbler?” I’d had plenty of desserts since leaving home, but none of them held a candle to Mom’s cobbler. Marionberries were like blackberries, but better. They grew in Oregon, but Mom always found them at the local farmer’s market in early August.
Mercy nodded. “Beth’s been sharing her recipes with me. This one’s my favorite.”
“Mine, too. Where did you find marionberries this time of year?”
The slightest blush colored Mercy’s visible cheek, making her look even younger and more innocent than normal. “I bought a bunch right before school started and froze them. I couldn’t handle the thought of going all winter without cobbler.”
Every new thing I learned about Mercy made me want to get to know her more. Considering that my time in town was limited, and she was my mom’s friend and boss, that was dangerous. Taking a step back from the door I tried to distance myself from her and her delicious scents, and got down to my reason for darkening her doorway. “Mom wanted me to let you know that dinner will be ready at five.”
Mercy’s brows furrowed. “And?”
I shook my head. “And nothing. That’s all she said.”
“Sunday dinner’s always at five, Landon.”
Of course it was. Realizing I’d been played and set up by my mother after all, I took another step back. “Okay. I’ll see you at five then.”
Mercy still looked confused, but I turned and bolted down the stairs before she could ask any more questions.
