Must Love Flowers(15)

Leaning closer, he lowered his voice as if he didn’t want anyone listening to their conversation. “The thing is…being around you is hard sometimes. You’re so sad, and it makes me sad to see you like this.”

Joan’s eyes widened as she struggled to accept what her son was saying. She hadn’t realized how her grief had affected her sons. Absorbed in her own misery, not once had she considered that her children had not only lost their father, but in many ways her as well.

“Steve and I have been worried about you for a long time and didn’t know what to do or if we should say anything. We thought, you know, that all you needed was time to get over losing Dad, but it’s been four years now and you’re no better now than after Dad first died.”

Joan opened and closed her mouth. Instinctively she wanted to argue how off-base her sons were and then realized they were right. She felt trapped in her grief, lost and floundering.

“I’m making progress,” she said instead.

“I hope so, Mom, for your sake as much as for Steve and me.”

Joan had no clue her sons had been overly concerned about her. “I’ll admit I’ve been in the doldrums for a while now.”

“Mom, it’s more than a while. I’m so happy to see you making an effort to take care of yourself.”

Although her throat had narrowed to the point she could barely speak, she said, “You’re right.”

“Then you’ll get the name of that counselor?”

“I will,” she promised.

Nick eased back in his seat and studied her for a long, tense moment. “We good?” he asked, as though he feared his honesty had bruised their once close relationship.

“More than good,” she assured him, and while she wanted to close her eyes and lick her wounds, she forced a smile.

Nick’s face revealed his relief. “It’ll be great to have my mom back,” he said.

It would be great for Joan, too.





Chapter 7





Maggie wasn’t sure what her next move would be. She’d had such high hopes after the interview with Mrs. Royce.

It had all felt so positive. She needed to move, get some boundaries and distance from her father and his drinking. The house no longer felt like her home, and hadn’t since her mother’s death.

He wouldn’t be able to pay the electric bill. It went without saying he’d blown his disability check on beer.

Avoiding the inevitable, Maggie remained at the library until it closed, studying for her finals, struggling against the uncertain future that filled her with dread.

With nowhere else to go, she finally headed to her father’s house. Noticing that the mailbox was stuffed, Maggie pulled everything free and with a heavy heart headed inside. As was the norm, her father sat in his ratty-looking recliner, a beer bottle in his hand while staring at the television.

“You bring me dinner?” he asked.

“Sorry, I wasn’t able to swing by.” And she hadn’t, discouraged as she was after hearing back from Mrs. Royce.

“But I’m hungry.” Roy looked at her with pleading eyes.

“I am, too, but there are a couple cans of soup in the cupboard. I’ll heat those up for dinner. Besides, eating out gets expensive.”

“What about your tip money?”

“Dad, I needed gas. I’ve been putting off an oil change.”

Her father grumbled under his breath, as if she had let him down and he was now deeply disappointed in her.

Maggie ignored him while she shuffled through the mail, much of which contained past-due notices. She tore open the one from the electric company and saw the date on which the lights would be shut off. Two days. The only way to keep that from happening was to pay the full bill. It had been in arrears for several months, and there was no way Maggie could make a payment that was nearly a thousand dollars. It was hard enough living with her father with electricity; she couldn’t imagine what it would be like without it.

Maggie realized she had to get out of the house, even if she had to make the 1996 Ford she inherited from her mother into a condo. As she headed into her bedroom, her phone rang. She didn’t recognize the number and she was in no mood to talk to a telemarketer.

“Hello.” Her greeting was tentative, as she was half expecting it to be a nuisance call.

A slight hesitation followed. “Is this Maggie Herbert?”

“Yes.”

“I hope you don’t mind my calling you this late. I got your contact information from Charlene Royce. My name is Joan Sample.”

“Yes?” At the mention of the other woman’s name, Maggie’s heart leaped.

“I’m calling because Charlene mentioned that you’re looking to rent a room. I have a spare bedroom, and I thought we could meet and discuss the possibility.”

The anxiety that had weighed down Maggie ever since the call from Mrs. Royce lifted. She did her best to hide her enthusiasm. “That would be great…I’d like that. When can we meet? I mean, I’ll make myself available anytime that’s convenient for you.”

“Would tomorrow afternoon at two work? I can text you my address.” The woman on the line hesitated, as if suddenly she had second thoughts. Maggie feared she might have already changed her mind.