The Good Mother. Shelley Galloway
and practically drenched Missy’s face, the tears finally started to subside.
When she was sure she’d gotten all the sand out of Missy’s eyes she held her daughter close and murmured, “Poor Missy. I’m so sorry that happened.”
Missy’s thumb popped in her mouth in record time, her eyes slowly drifting shut. Now that the mini-crisis was over, Evie leaned back against the canvas chair, breathing a sigh of relief. “I think we’re all better now.”
“Barely all better. That scared the life out of me. I think I need a drink.” Tanya opened her cooler again, so quickly that Evie couldn’t figure out if she was teasing or not. “Maybe I have some beer in here.”
“It’s eleven in the morning! You don’t need a drink, you just need to breathe deep.”
“Breathing’s not working.”
“It will. This wasn’t a disaster.” Evie couldn’t hide the amusement in her voice. If Tanya could have seen her and the girls when she’d slit her hand open slicing a tomato and both girls in hysterics at the sight of all the blood, she’d know what a real state of emergency was.
“I can’t believe you were so calm,” Tanya continued. “I was freaking out.”
“That’s because you don’t have any kids.”
“Now I know why. I’m taking back everything I said about wanting a baby.”
Though Missy was now sleeping soundly, Evie wasn’t in a hurry to set her down. Instead, she shifted Missy and made sure she was protected by the umbrella’s shade before relaxing. “You’ll get used to it.”
“I suppose.”
Though outwardly calm, inside Evie could privately admit to being a little shaken up, too. For a moment, she hadn’t been able to remember where the bottled water and clean towels were and had been frustrated when Tanya simply stared at her instead of acting quickly.
Closing her eyes, she rolled her head and tried to loosen the knot that had formed along the base of her neck. Tried to pretend that she didn’t mind all the responsibility. Tried to relax. Once again, it was easier said than done.
Chapter Six
August was on the phone with his accountant, but all he could think about was Evie.
He’d started a list of activities to entertain her and her two girls. And before he deluded himself into thinking it was for old time’s sake, he admitted the plain and simple truth: he wanted to be near her.
In fact, there was no way he was going to be within a mile of Evie Ray and not do his best to be in her presence. There was still a spark between them that had him thinking about pulling her into the shadows and kissing her.
Looking at his calendar, August saw that she’d already been there a full week and he’d only seen her a few times. Though his schedule looked busy, there was nothing on it that couldn’t be changed for more fun activities.
Maybe Evie would want to take the girls to the putt-putt course.
“August, need anything else?”
August couldn’t recall the last five things his accountant had told him. “Nope. I’ll be in touch if I think of something we forgot to discuss. Thanks for the phone call, Steve,” he said before disconnecting the call as fast as he could.
When blessed silence surrounded him, he stared at his notes again. Maybe he’d ask Evie if she wanted to go on a cruise around the bay with the girls.
“August? August, you busy?”
He looked up to see his mom hovering outside his door. He stood. “What’s up, Mom?”
“My bridge game was over early. Pat Kampf is sick.”
August couldn’t even remember all of his mother’s friends who were in poor health. “How are you feeling?”
“Good.” She waved a hand. “I have some business to discuss.”
“Okay.” Slowly he sat back down as his mom crossed to one of the chairs in front of his desk. “Do you need something?”
“Money.”
This was unchartered territory. His mom had her own accounts, but had invested the bulk of her money in August’s name in case something happened to her. August had agreed to the arrangement reluctantly…only with the knowledge that his mother could have free and easy access to the funds whenever she wanted.
But this was the first time in two years that she’d ever asked. “Okay.” He got out his checkbook. “How much do you need?”
To his surprise, she looked taken aback. “You’re not going to grill me?”
“You’re my mother. Of course I’m not going to ask you questions about why you need money. Besides, we both agreed you were in charge of your own funds, right?”
“Right. But this might be different.” She hedged. “It’s a lot.”
August tried to keep his voice light, though inside he was really curious. What the devil was going on? “I assumed it was, since you saw the need to ask me and all.”
“This is hard. I don’t know how you’re going to react.”
Absently twirling the pen in between his fingers, he looked his mother over a little more carefully. Now he was getting worried. Was she sick? “How much do you need, Mom?”
“Three thousand dollars.”
He dropped his pen. Warily, he raised his head. His mother was sitting there across from him, rigid and tense, obviously begging for a fight.
He was frightened enough to let her have one. Was her insurance not paying for her drugs the way they’d planned on? “What happened? Are you sick?”
She rolled her eyes. “Honestly, August. I’m fine. This money is for…personal reasons.”
Huh? “Mom—”
“You said you wouldn’t interfere.”
“That’s before I knew you wanted three thousand dollars.” And before she was acting so strange.
She bit her lip. “It’s not for me. Not, really.”
“What is it for?”
“A club.”
“What kind of club?”
“A social one. August, there’s no other way to tell you this but straight out.” She took a deep breath and plunged in, saying the words in a jumbled mess. “For your information, I’m joining Harmonious Haven.”
Harmonious Haven. The singles club advertised during late-night syndicated shows on Channel 12. Couple after couple were highlighted, each looking more fit, handsome and romantic than the last. The couples made the matchmaking Internet site sound like the best thing since sliced bread, but August knew it had to be a scam.
Falling in love was never that easy.
Before he could think twice, all of August’s good intentions about being supportive of his mother went out the window. “Mom—”
“Don’t you ‘Mom’ me. I know what I’m doing.”
“It doesn’t sound like it.” Before he thought better of it, he said, “What happened to Dad?”
“Your father is buried at Park Hill, thank you very much.”
August blinked, amazed at just how much her words could hurt. “He’s barely been gone a year.”
“He was sick for a long time before that.”
“And your point is?”
His mother jabbed one French-manicured finger toward