“That’s my name, all right,” she said, frowning. Her eyes skimmed the page. Then stopped on something at the bottom of the page. “Oh my God.”
“What?” Harrison leaned over, trying to see what she was looking at.
Amy dropped her arm and groaned to the ceiling. “This is from my mother.”
“Yourmother?”
Amy lifted her shoulders in the universal, I-don’t-know way. “Maybe she was afraid I wasn’t eating?”
“Or drinking,” he said, pointing at the wine. “I’m impressed. No way my mom would worry if I had enough to eat, and if she did, she would send cauliflower. This is party food.”
Amy glanced at the boxes.
“Chips and soda, cookies, cheese and salami. This has party written all over it.”
“Where did she get the idea I was having a party? I specifically toldher I was going off to make art. And how did she know where to send it? Julie must have told her. But why didn’t Julie tell me?”
“What do you want to do?” Harrison asked. “There is alotof food here. Look, pounds of ground beef.”
“I guess we put it away?” She picked up a package of Oreo cookies and tore it open, helping herself to a couple. She munched one, eying him, then handed him the package. “I saw you had a visitor today.”
“Yeah,” he admitted. “I tried to be discreet.” He took the Oreo package, helped himself to one, then put it down. “Check it out,” he said, and held up a jug of margarita mix.
Amy wrinkled her nose. “My mother believes in buying quantity over quality. That’s probably made with lighter fluid.”
“So you won’t try it?”
“I didn’t saythat. Too bad you didn’t find it before your guest left. Did she?” Amy asked, her voice a little lighter and airier than normal.
“Hillary? Yeah, she left. If you’re wondering—”
“I’m not,” she said too quickly, and crossed her heart.
“Hillary is a conditioning coach with the PGA that my manager sent my way.”
“Oh. How did she…?”
“I made the mistake of telling Clay where I’d be in case something urgent came up. I had no idea she was going to drop in. Complete surprise. Or that she is staying nearby for a few days. Apparently, Clay would really like me to go to Scotland.”
“Ah,” Amy said. “So you have some meddlers in your life, too.”
“Boy, do I.”
“I don’t know, it makes me feel a little fuzzy inside to know that I’m not alone in that.” She grinned as she reached for the jug of margarita mix. “Shall we drink to it?”
“It’s not going to drink itself. I can start a fire in the firepit if you’re upfor it. I mean, if you’re through working?” He barely refrained from crossing his fingers. He did not want to interrupt her work here, but then again, he really, really did.
“I think I’m done for the day. I’ll feed Duchess and bring the giant box of Cheez-Its. Oh, and this,” she said, and pulled a fifth of tequila from the box.
“Ooh,” he said, grinning. “Gourmet. See you there.”
13
Amy scooped up Duchess and sauntered down to her room. She was trying to appear nonchalant, like none of this was anything more than hanging out with a friend. But the moment she was inside, she shut the door, dropped Duchess on the bed, and dashed into the bathroom to change and freshen up, which in the last two days had come to mean putting on makeup. She’d really let herself go au naturel in the last couple of years. Mostly, she was all about body positivity and aging as a natural thing we should all embrace. But when a handsome man was involved, all her noble intentions flew out the window.
So did any tolerance for her family. She didn’t know what was up with her mother and wasn’t going to take the time to figure out why on earth she would send all that junk food. Maybe she thought Amy had brought the boys, even though she’d been explicit about her two-week, all-alone sabbatical. “What a marvelous opportunity!” her mother had said. “We could all use a break like that.”
Well, whatever, at least now they had Cheez-Its, her favorite snack food. And anyway, she was still in her blissful, I-had-amazing-sex mood, and wouldn’t mind more of it. Therefore, the very last person she wanted to think about was her mother.
