On Thursdaymorning, my mother summons me to Hathaway Manor once again. This isbecoming a habit. Despite our positive conversation and her morerelaxed demeanor yesterday afternoon, I dread to think what she’sgoing to make me do today.
“Oh,good, you’re here,” Mom says absently as she opens the front door.I didn’t linger in the car like I usually do, and I also didn’t seeher hovering behind any curtains, watching for my arrival. A glanceat my watch shows I’m five minutes early. I suppose it’sunrealistic to expect my mom to change completelyovernight.
“Helloto you too, Mother.” I kiss her cheek as I close the front doorbehind me.
Mom gives me afrazzled smile. “Hello, sweetheart.” She shoves her cell phone intothe pocket of her perfectly tailored trousers and surprises me bypulling me into a quick, tight hug. “Thanks for coming. Don’tbother taking off your shoes, he should be here anyminute.”
I groan. “He who?Please don’t tell me it’s Ned. I thought you were done with thematchmaking attempts. And why do I need my shoes on for whatever’sabout to happen?”
The doorbell ringsas I’m asking the last question. Mom holds up a finger as shereaches past me to open the door. She doesn’t wait for me to move,which means I’m wedged behind it, unable to see who itis.
“Twicein one week,” she says. “How did I get so lucky? Get in here andgive your second mother a hug.”
I peer around thedoor, where I’m met with a pair of laughing blue eyes. Wesleyshoots me a wink over Mom’s shoulder as he wraps his arms aroundher. “I’m so glad you called, Eleanor.”
Mom releasesWesley to hold him at arm’s length, looking him over from head totoe. With his eyes on her, I take a moment to shamelessly check himout. He’s freshly shaved today, and my hands itch to touch hissmooth cheeks. I feel a surge of something akin to jealousy as Momdoes exactly that before patting Wesley’s cheek fondly.
“AndI’mgladyou could come. You’re a lifesaver, truly. I hate putting you towork, but I don’t feel too bad since it means you’ll get to spendsome time with Evelyn.”
At the sound of myname, my gaze snaps up from where it was admiring Wesley’s sturdy,denim-clad thighs.
“Buttercup,” Wesley says, the word somehow full of bothaffection and amusement.
Mom lets out adelighted laugh. “I’d forgotten that was your nickname for Evie!You two were obsessed with that movie. Suzanne and I were always socertain we’d end up taking one or both of you to the hospital oneday with an injury either from your sword fighting or fromtraipsing through the forest.”
Wesley ducks hishead as he chuckles, causing a lock of dark-blond hair to fallacross his forehead. My fingers itch at my sides once again. “Let’sjust say Evie and I went through a lot of Bandaids and got good athiding bruises.”
I snicker at theway Mom’s mouth falls open, followed by another tinkling laugh.I’ve been overwhelmed with sense memories the last few days, andthat laugh—so common at one time, yet not heard for ages—bringsback countless memories from my childhood. Mom used to laugh likethat all the time before we became rich and she cultivated apersona she somehow thought matched her new status.
“Areyou ready to go?” Wesley asks me.
“Gowhere? Unlike you, I have no idea why I was summonedhere.”
Momreaches into the same pocket where she stashed her phone andproduces a hand-written list on her personal stationery. “I spoketo Wesley early this morning and happened to mention how swamped Iam with preparations for your birthday party, Evelyn. When I toldhim I was desperate for someone to run a few party-related errandsfor me, he was nice enough to volunteer. Since you’re off for theweek, I thought you could accompany him. It’d besucha bighelp.”
I take the listfrom her and give it a quick once-over. Her idea of ‘a few errands’will take us across the entire city and will likely take half theday.
“Everything is already paid for, so you don’t have to worryabout any of that,” Mom says. “If you need to stop to eat at anypoint, it’s my treat.” She fishes something else out of her pocket,but instead of handing it to me, she slides it into the outsidepocket of my purse. I catch a quick glimpse of red, which tells meshe just forked over a fifty-dollar bill. I’m not sure where shethinks we’d get something to eat that would costthatmuch. Then again,she is part of the Ladies Who Lunch crowd, and I’m sure an averagemeal for them costs at least that much, if not more.
Before I can sayanything, Mom claps her hands and ushers me toward the door.Wesley’s eyes go wide as I practically fly in his direction, and hesteps outside so I don’t mow him down.
“Youtwo are the best and I’m so grateful for your help!” Mom trills,gripping the edge of the door and inching it closed the secondwe’re outside. “Wesley, I hope you’ll join us for dinner once thetwo of you have completed everything on the list. Call if you needanything!Byyyyye!”
And with that, shegives a little wave and closes the door in our faces.
Wesleyis practically vibrating with silent laughter beside me. “Whatwasthat? Shecouldn’t get us out the door fast enough.”
I shakemy head and follow him to his car. “There’s some sort of method inher madness. I wouldn’t expect her to do any of this stuff herself,but she has ‘people’ for everything—a team who are literally paid to do herbidding—so I’m not sure why she’d send us, especially with theparty being the day after tomorrow.”
Wesleyveers around to the passenger side of the car to open my door.Before I climb in, he stops me with a gentle hand on my shoulder.“Whatever her reasons, nefarious or not, I’m glad to have an excuseto hang out with you for a day. Even if itiswhile running errands.”
He’s right, ofcourse. I tossed and turned after going to bed last night, thinkingabout the old feelings that have resurfaced this week, and Wesley’ssoft ‘love you’ last night. An inner debate ensued between my mindand my heart. One said to let him slip back out of my life when hereturns to Ottawa. The other reasoned there was no way I could dothat; as painful as unrequited love is, only having Wesley in mylife sporadically these last few years has been far worse. I can’tgo back to weeks without speaking to him or months without seeinghim, even if that means reburying my feelings. I’m still not surewhich voice was my heart and which was my head.
“You’reright,” I say, sliding into the passenger seat. “Who cares whatMom’s reasons are? I should be thanking her.”
A grin flashesacross Wesley’s face, lighting his eyes. “That’s thespirit.”
*****
