He lifted his head. “I don’t know that I do. I mean, how did I get in that river? I find it pretty telling that they never even looked for me.”
Camellia gasped. “What makes you think they never looked for you?”
He shrugged. “Well, they neverfoundme, that’s for sure.”
“Maybe they tried their best.” Her deep blue eyes became a stormy sea. “Maybe it broke their hearts when they failed.”
“Sure would’ve broken mine,” said her mother.
He hadn’t thought of that, that his original family might have tried to find him or might have been heartbroken at his loss. He wondered why he’d gone straight to the opposite assumption.
“Well, I hope you’ll say yes to dinner,” Erica said. “Because that way Camellia will have a ride home.”
He looked from the sly sixty-something to her daughter.
Camellia said, “I assumed we were going home together.”
“Well, we were, but as long as Wolf is willing to give you a ride, I can make it to the ladies’ club meeting. We’re planning for our group cruise, you know.”
“I thought that wasn’t until seven.”
“Don’t argue with your mother, dear. So? Wolf? You’ll drive her home?”
He blinked, taken by surprise at the rapidly shifting topic. “Yeah, sure I will.”
“Good. The lasagna’s in the fridge Camellia. Just enough for two. And there’s pie for dessert!” Then she moved around the headstones and out to the parking lot so fast you’d have thought there were ghosts chasing her.
Camellia let her chin drop to her chest. “She’s fixing us up.”
“Is she?”
“Yes, despite that she knows it’s the opposite of what I want.”
“Oh.” He didn’t really know what to make of that statement and knew his “oh” had borne the distinct ring of disappointment.
“Don’t take that personally,” she said quickly. “I’ve sworn off men in general.”
“Oh?” he said again, this time as a question.
“Look there’s no pressure to drive me home. I can call a Lyft or?—”
“My truck’s right here,” he said, and he shrugged. “Look, I got no interest in women right now anyway, so you’re safe enough. And…I heard there was pie.”
She lifted her eyes up to his. “My mother says pie makes everything better.”
CHAPTER FOUR
Camillia
“That was good,” Wolf said later.
They were sitting at the small kitchen table in her mom’s house, and their plates were empty. “I’m glad you enjoyed it. Mom makes a mean lasagna.”
“I’ve been living on junk the past few days,” Wolf admitted. “Mom did all the cooking. That meal had more vegetables than I’ve seen in a while.”
“Was Cilla a good cook?” Camellia asked.
“No!” He said it with emphasis that made her laugh. Then he went on. “She got it wrong as often as she got it right, but I enjoyed our meals. Grandma Sage, now she could cook. I s’pose I’ll have to learn to fend for myself now.”
