Four Little Problems. Carrie Weaver
“I’m sure that’s what his defense will be.” She opened the door with her key. “Come on in, if you don’t mind being subject to World War III. Jason and I need to discuss a few things.”
“I could stay out here till you’re done.”
“No way. You already look chilled to the bone. Besides, why should I have all the fun?”
“Fun?”
“Oh, yes. Two can play at this game. Watch and learn.”
His smile was bemused. “Lead on, oh great one.”
She stepped into the entryway and called, “I’m home.”
Jason came around the corner as if he’d been waiting. His eyes narrowed as he saw her companion. “Hi, Mom.”
“Hello, hon. Would you go get the rest of the groceries?”
“Um, sure.” He sidled past her as if he scented danger. He’d probably expected yelling and accusations. Heck, he’d probably hoped for yelling and accusations. The child seemed to thrive on chaos.
But she had way more in her arsenal than that. Emily turned to Patrick and winked.
He tilted his head to the side, but didn’t comment. Instead, he said, “I’ll go grab the pizza before raccoons haul it off. Luckily, pizza nukes fine.”
Emily touched his arm. “Patrick, it really was thoughtful. And I’m sorry Jason treated you so badly.”
“No problem.”
But his tense shrug told her it was a problem. And that made Emily sad. Jason would pay for mistreating her friend, and he would pay dearly.
The thought stopped Emily short. Patrick, a friend. Who’d have thought? Nancy and a few of the girls from work had been her only real friends for years. As for boyfriends, they usually took off once they met her kids, or realized she wasn’t quite the good-time gal they assumed. Yes, there was more to the science geek than met the eye.
Emily hummed a little tune as she took the groceries to the kitchen and started putting them away, taking time to give Mark and Ryan big hugs when they clambered in from the back yard.
“Emily?” she heard coming from the entryway.
“In here, Patrick.”
Patrick and Jason apparently reached the kitchen door at the same time, plowing through, shoulder to shoulder. Neither seemed inclined to yield to the other.
“Jason, Patrick is a guest in our home. You allow him to come in first.”
Her son averted his face. “Yes, ma’am.”
She handed a stack of paper plates to Mark. “Would you please set the table, honey? Ryan, you can put out cups and utensils.”
Both boys accepted their duties with enthusiastic whoops.
Patrick smiled at their eagerness. The same smile she’d noticed when he talked of his students.
“Jason, would you please start a fire?” Emily retrieved the long stick matches from the highest cupboard. “In the fireplace,” she amended quickly, remembering Jason’s penchant for finding loopholes.
“We don’t need a fire, Mom. Remember, we don’t have that much wood.”
“We have enough. Poor Patrick is frozen half to death.”
She could feel Jason tense, preparing himself for battle. “It’s not my fault he stood out there in the cold. I just did what you said about not having people in when you’re gone.”
“Of course you did, dear.” She patted his cheek lovingly.
Jason’s eyes widened. “Um, yeah, I did. I’ll go light that fire. In the fireplace.”
“Thank you, honey.”
Mark and Ryan froze, then tiptoed around her, as if they sensed something was up. Maybe the second endearment had been laying it on too thick.
“Is Jeremy in his room?”
The boys nodded.
“Would you please go get him?”
Nodding in unison, they ran to the base of the stairs and hollered, “Jeremy.”
Emily rolled her eyes. “I could have done that.”
After she reheated pizza, everyone filled their plates and found a seat at the table. Emily made polite chitchat for a few minutes before she went for the jugular. “Oh, Jason, the school newsletter says they’re looking for chaperones for the dance Friday night.”
Jason’s eyes widened in horror. “No way, Mom.”
Patrick tilted his head to the side, as if watching a foreign film and trying to decipher the subtext. And there was subtext galore.
Jason was a smart kid, and she would bet her last dollar he knew what his punishment would be. He just wasn’t quite sure how it would be administered.
“I’ve already decided to volunteer, so no arguing. I want to make sure I get to know each and every one of your teachers.”
“But, that’s what the parent/teacher open house is for.” Jason’s voice was an octave higher than usual.
“Yes, you’re right. But I obviously haven’t spent enough time at my children’s schools. Because you apparently thought I wouldn’t want Mr. Stevens in my home. Using your very best judgment, you decided Mr. Stevens was a complete stranger after spending nearly a month in his class.”
“No, I didn’t think that.”
“Oh? Then why did you leave him standing on the front porch when you knew darn well I wouldn’t be home for half an hour?”
“I told him to go.”
Emily started to burn. Jason’s insolence was worse than she’d suspected. As if, after his prank with the mousetrap, Patrick didn’t already think she was the worst mother on the planet. “I beg your pardon? You told him to go?”
“I, um, suggested that you would be in the shower for a long time and he might want to, um, leave.”
“It sounds to me as if you were rude to Mr. Stevens.”
Patrick shifted in his seat. “I wouldn’t go so far as to say he was rude.”
She shot him a look. “Then you’re too kind, Patrick. But I intend to make sure there aren’t any misunderstandings in the future about who constitutes a stranger.” Turning to her son, she said, “I will make it a point to meet each and every teacher at the dance and introduce myself as your mother. I will also introduce myself to any of your friends I haven’t met yet and get better acquainted with the ones I do know.”
The color drained from Jason’s face. “You can’t.”
“I can and I will. Furthermore, you were rude to Mr. Stevens and owe him an apology.”
“Sorry,” Jason mumbled.
“Apology accepted.” Patrick’s voice was low.
She glanced at Mark and Ryan, who were more subdued than normal. Regretting casting a pall over the meal, Emily smiled brightly. “Now, let’s enjoy our pizza.”
But then an idea occurred to her. One she just couldn’t let pass. “Patrick, it was very sweet of you to bring dinner tonight. Do you think you might consider being my co-chaperone at the dance Friday evening?”
Patrick chewed his pizza and swallowed hard. “Dance?” His voice held a note of panic.
“Why, yes. That way Jason will have the chance to get to know you.” And understand her choice of friends was not subject to his manipulation. Particularly her male friends.
“I