Something is digging into my shoulder. I reach behind me to dislodge a pair of sunglasses.
“I did. And you should have invited me sooner.”
Madison laughs. “You’re right. I’m sorry, I’ve just been busy with the restaurant.”
“No excuses.” I hear her clap, then watch Mabel rock back on her black leather therapeutic loafers. And then I realize . . . shit. My boots are right there on the floor. Sitting in plain sight.
“I like the kitchen,” Mabel says, voice wandering in that direction.
Madison must notice the boots because she scurries over and plants herself in front of them. “Me too! James did an excellent job with it.” She’s kicking at the boots, trying to shove them under the bed. I reach through and grab them.
“How’s it going with you and James?” I know Mabel’s tone. It’s her kick-back-and-stay-awhile one. She’s intending to set up camp. Which is so odd for her at this hour. Normally, she’s hunkered down in her recliner watching TV by now.
“It’s . . . going well.”
“You two are getting along?”
“You could say that.” I wonder if Mabel can detect the laughter in Madison’s voice as well as I can right now. I wish I could see her face. Would she blush at the memory of grinding against me in the kitchen?Oof—nope.This is not the time to relive that moment.
“I heard about what he said to Phil in town the other day,” Mabel confesses, voice scratchy from smoking years ago.
I wince, knowing she’s about to throw me under the bus.
“Whatdidhe say to Phil?” I don’t need to see Madison to know she’s crossing her arms. I do, however, see one of her feet point in my direction. Who knew an angle could be so accusatory?
Mabel huffs a laugh. “Scared him shitless after he gave him lip about making sure you don’t burn down the restaurant. Jameson made sure that Phil and them would never disparage you again.”
“Lord.” I love how Madison’s accent comes out thick whenMabel’s around. “I told him not to do that.” Her foot taps. “You’d think he’d listen.”
“I think he’s more interested in making sure you’re taken care of.”
There’s a long pause, and I imagine Mabel is waiting for Madison to fess up. Maybe she knows I’m under the bed.
When Madison doesn’t offer up any juicy info, Mabel continues, “But I wanted to set the record straight so you know that I’ve been on your team since the get-go. Your restaurant is going to be big stuff, mark my words.”
“Thank you, Mabel.” Madison floats around the bed, stopping just at my feet but never looking down at me. “Now . . . Mabel, I know you better than to believe you suddenly had a hankering to see my place.”
I lean forward and touch Madison’s ankle, running my finger up the length of her outer thigh. When my hand almost reaches her hip, she swats my fingers down.
“You’re right,” Mabel says from the kitchen. “You caught me. What I had a hankering for was some of your cookies.”
“Perfect! I can box some up for you and—”
“And it’s nice over here,” Mabel says, quieter. Almost like she doesn’t want to say it but knows she has to. “My place is so quiet sometimes. . . .”
There’s a sharp stab in my gut. I worried that Mabel had been lonely, and this confirms it. I’ve been so busy with the farm and Madison that I forgot to check back in on her and—
Almost as if Madison can sense my thoughts, her eyes cut down to me. Gaze intent on mine. Her eyes say:Don’t take this on.And then she smiles:Let me help.
She breathes in and then out. “Uh, Mabel. While you’re here . . . can I actually get your input about whether you think a shelf would look good in my bathroom?” She gives me a regretful “get out ofhere” nod, then her voice trails off as the two ladies go into the bathroom. As I’m stealing my boots back from beneath the bed and tiptoeing out the door, I hear Madison invite Mabel to stay for a while and have some tea and cookies.
And it’s hard to put a finger on what I’m feeling right now.
But I think it’s something close to relief.
CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE
Madison
