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He grinned and scrubbed his hands over his face. The fan whirred over the king-sized bed and he clicked the remote so the shades rolled up and let in the sunlight. He pulled on a pair of soft flannel pants and a white T-shirt and padded his way through the apartment to the door.
“I figured that would get you to open up,” Anne O’Hara said, grinning up at him in triumph.
He’d been taller than her since the seventh grade, but she’d always been a force to be reckoned with. She was petite in stature and mighty in presence, which had served her well on the stage. She’d started her career on Broadway before she’d taken one look at Mick O’Hara and followed him halfway across the country. Her red hair wasn’t as vibrant as it had once been, but her eyes were still as blue and clear as ever. And they didn’t miss much.
He took the lasagna and set it down and then wrapped her in a hug. The top of her head barely came to his chest.
“Ahh,” she said. “This makes all those hours in the kitchen slaving over my homemade red sauce worth it. I’ve missed your hugs.”
“It’s been a busy week,” he said.
“So I’ve heard.” She looked him over from head to toe like only a mother could do. “You look like something the cat dragged in. I’m sorry I woke you. I’ll make it a quick visit so you can go back to bed.”
“No, it’s fine. I needed to get up. I have patients to see to tonight.”
“Hmm,” Anne said, taking the lasagna and making her way toward the kitchen.
On the way she did a quick glance through the living area, whether she was looking for untidiness or signs of a woman he wasn’t sure, but it made him smile anyway. His mother was, after all, still a mother. It didn’t matter how old he got.
He inhaled the fragrant aroma of the lasagna and followed her into the kitchen. The evening sun glowed orange through the west windows in the living room and gleamed off the large island in his kitchen. It made him think of Zoe and her bare counters. Unlike her, he loved to cook and made good use of the appliances in the renovated kitchen. Fresh herbs grew on his windowsill and earthen stoneware was stacked in his cabinets.
“I didn’t realize how hungry I was until I smelled your cooking,” he said, taking a seat on a barstool while she made herself at home in the kitchen. “I didn’t get a chance to eat lunch. Or breakfast,” he added as an afterthought.
“I’m not surprised,” she said. “I heard Juliette Martin finally delivered her baby.”
“Nine pounds, nine ounces,” Colt said. “It was a long and rough one.”
She put on a pot of coffee and took two mugs from the hook. “Your bananas are going bad.”
“I haven’t had time to go to the store. Or eat them.”
“You don’t have to be a hero, you know,” she said, leaning across the island and putting her hand to the side of his face. “All you have to do is call and help will always be on the way.”
He took her hand with his own and kissed it. “I know it. And I love you for it. But that’s just life. It gets busy and we all just go along as best we can.”
“When did I get old enough to have a son with that kind of wisdom?”
“Just because you don’t recognize your birthdays doesn’t mean the rest of us stopped.”
“Brat,” she said, laughing and swatting his hand away. “And just because you’ve decided to be ornery, I’ll tell you I know you haven’t just been delivering babies today.” She poured the coffee into the mugs and then pursed her lips. “I hear she’s very pretty.”
“Ha!” Colt said. “Let me guess. Mac told Aunt Simone about the woman who got knocked out in front of the clinic. And then Simone called you. And you figured you’d sweeten me up with a home-cooked meal so you could find out more about her.”
She answered his grin with one of her own, but didn’t deny it. “It’s not every day we get new blood in Laurel Valley. Raven told Simone the woman is single.”
“Raven knows her too?” Colt asked, though he wasn’t surprised.
Raven’s boutique was in the heart of downtown Laurel Valley. It was highly trafficked and very popular among locals and tourists. And his Aunt Simone owned The Lampstand. Between the two of them, there wasn’t much that went past their notice.
“They were in the salon this morning at the same time,” Anne said. “Raven said she really felt for the girl. She said beneath all that confidence and bravado is someone who is hurting deeply.”
“Raven got all that from a hair appointment?” Colt asked. He took a sip of the coffee his mother handed him while she doctored hers with enough cream and sugar that it couldn’t really be called coffee anymore. He’d learned to drink it black in medical school and he’d never gotten out of the habit. The caffeine brought a much-needed jolt to his system.
“You know how intuitive Raven is,” she said, shrugging. “I heard the girl hit her head pretty hard. Is she okay?”
“Her name is Zoe,” Colt said. “And yes, she’s okay. Just a concussion. And a nice-sized lump on her forehead. She adopted Lawrence Fisher’s dog and he got away from her.”
“Rest his soul,” Anne said. “I couldn’t believe his own brother sold all his belongings and took the money from the sale, and then sent that poor dog to the shelter. I told your father we could take him, but after the baby goat episode he said I can’t bring any more animals home.”
