Must Love Flowers(63)

“What about your father’s tools?”

“Nick will want those.” He sounded impatient now, as if he was eager to get off the phone.

“Isn’t there anything of your father’s that you’d like to have?” It hurt how easily Steve dismissed every effort she made to give him something of his father’s.

Steve paused as if mulling it over. “Not really.”

“Nothing? What about a tie clip or cuff links?”

“Mom,” he said and groaned, as if she was far behind the times. “No one wears that stuff any longer.”

His refusal to hold on to anything from Jared pained her. “I’d hoped you would have some desire to hold on to his memory.”

He must have heard her disappointment because, once again, he hesitated. “I’m sorry, Mom. You’re right. I should keep at least one memento of Dad.”

She hoped her voice didn’t betray the lump in her throat. “I assumed you had a good relationship with him.”

“I did,” he was quick to tell her. “The thing is, I left home a long time ago. And Dad and I were different. He was a good father and I’m grateful to have had him in my life. I have all those memories, and really that’s what’s most important.”

Steve was right. She, too, had her memories, and like her son, she would treasure those. Then, gathering her courage, she asked, “Can I ask you something, and please, I need your honesty?”

“Of course.”

“Have I failed you as a mother?” She closed her eyes, fearing his response, the guilt eating at her.

He seemed to weigh his words as if he was afraid of hurting her feelings. “No way. I always knew I could depend on you. You’ve been a good mom,” he added, as though it was important that she know that. “And Dad was a good father.”

“You mean I was a good mother in the past,” she added, her words more breath than sound, afraid that in her grief she had abandoned her children.

“You were always there when it mattered most. Nick and I aren’t kids any longer. We’re adults, and not once did I ever feel you’d failed us. I can’t speak for Nick, but I think he’d agree. If anyone failed, it was the two of us. You were so deeply depressed, and we were at a loss on how best to help you. Forgive me for that, Mom. I should have made a bigger effort to come see you, to be there for you.”

“It’s all worked out for the best,” she whispered. “A friend recently reminded me that everything happens in its own time, and I shouldn’t question having waited as long as I did to get the help I needed. You don’t owe me an apology, Steve.”

Steve released a sigh. “I guess it’s just the mood I’m in lately.”

This was the opening Joan had been waiting for. “What’s going on, Steve, and please credit me with some intelligence? For the longest time I’ve felt there’s something troubling you, and my guess is it has to do with Zoe.”

“Mom, please. It’s nothing. I’m busy. I carry a lot of responsibility and it wears on me. You wouldn’t believe how many meetings I attend in a week or problems that arise at the warehouse that I need to fix. The demands on my time are constant.”

Joan wasn’t willing to listen to excuses. “Why do you change the subject every time I bring up Zoe’s name?”

The question fell like a nuclear bomb blast between them.

Complete silence.

“My relationship with Zoe is off-limits,” he snapped, after an awkward moment.

Joan had never met his girlfriend. It was rare for Steve to mention his relationships, so when he told her about Zoe, Joan knew she meant a great deal to him.

“I assumed the two of you were serious,” she said, ignoring his warning.

“Mom,” he said, as if upset that she was venturing into unwelcome territory.

“Why it is that every time I bring up her name, you change the subject?”

“One would think you’d take the hint!”

“Recently you said you two were on and off. What does that mean?”

“Mom,” he said and groaned. “Leave it alone.”

“I can’t, because I want to know what’s happening with you. I don’t want our relationship to be surface level. I want you to share your thoughts and concerns with me, be open and honest.”

“Fine, you want me to be open. You first! What’s with you and this landscaper?”

The question came at her out of the blue. “Phil? Nothing. He’s in the same grief counseling group I am. I barely know him.”

“Are you dating anyone?”

“No.” She laughed at the absurdity of even thinking along those lines. “Why would you even ask?” She knew the answer as soon as the words left her mouth. Nick must have mentioned him. “Rest assured, Phil is a friend, nothing more.”

Steve scoffed. “Nick said the two of you were out late one night.”

Joan found this highly amusing. “Some of us go out for coffee after each session. Phil was there, and so was I. Trust me, there’s nothing happening. I only recently learned he’s divorced.”

“So you’re saying he’s just a friend.”

“Steve,” she said slowly to make her point, “I know what you’re doing quizzing me about my landscaper. You’re diverting the subject away from you and Zoe.”