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“Stone helped me carry in a box of supplies the hospital was getting rid of,” Carly said, trying to explain his presence.
Joyce nodded toward the box. “I see that.”
“But he has to go now,” Carly added, not meeting Stone’s eyes but staring at his forehead instead.
His brows veed. “I do?”
“Yes, you do.”
Disappointment clouding his expression, he frowned. “Oh.”
“Unless you’d like to stay for dinner,” Joyce offered, obviously thinking she needed to keep Stone there. “I could whip something up.”
Ha. Carly would like to know what the woman could whip together. She’d not been to the grocery store that week and wouldn’t for another two days. Not until after payday. Even then, it would be meager shopping as her mother’s neurologist had started her on a new medication that month hoping to better control her tremors. The new medicine hadn’t been covered by insurance and Carly had dipped into what little she had put back for a rainy day. If the medicine helped her mother, it was worth whatever the cost.
“Since I couldn’t convince Carly to go to dinner to keep me from dining alone, dinner here would be great.”
Carly shot him a dirty look. That was a low blow, she mentally willed him to hear.
“Carly wouldn’t go to dinner with you?” Joyce sent her an “Are you crazy?” look. “Why not?”
“You know why not.”
Please don’t say anything about Momma. Please. I don’t want Stone involved.
“I could’ve stayed late. I wouldn’t have minded.”
How tacky did it sound to say she couldn’t afford her to stay late? Especially not this month.
“I have to ask you often enough when I’m stuck behind at work,” she reminded her. “I don’t expect you to work late here so I can go to dinner with a new co-worker. That wouldn’t be fair.”
“Work?” Stone asked, obviously confused.
“What’s not fair is you not going to eat dinner with this young man. I insist you go.”
Although confused and obviously enjoying Joyce taking his side, Stone looked as if he was trying to connect all the dots. Hoping he wouldn’t was futile.
Carly was exhausted by it all. Her long work day. Stone and all the crazy emotions he made her feel. Her mother’s illness. Joyce and her motherly concern that Carly wasn’t having the life she deserved.
Who got the life they deserved?
Not many. Maybe not anyone.
Overall, Carly was content with life. She had enough to pay the bills—barely—and she had her mother. That was all that mattered.
“You should listen to your mother.”
Stone thought Joyce was her mother?
“Joyce isn’t my mother, or even blood kin, although I do love her as if she is family.” Carly took a deep breath. “My mother has late stage Parkinson’s disease with dementia and requires full-time care. Joyce stays with Momma while I am at work.”
“And would have been glad to stay this evening so you could go to dinner,” Joyce jumped in to say. “You need to get out more. You’re way too young to spend all your free time locked away inside this house.”
Advice Joyce gave several times every week, but that didn’t change a thing. Carly chose to live her life by taking care of her mother. Her only regret was that her mother was so ill.
Bracing herself for what she might see, Carly brought her gaze to Stone’s face, expecting the worst, probably because of Tony.
“I agree with Joyce.” His gaze searched hers, a million questions shining in the green depths. Most of which centered around, “Why didn’t you tell me about your mother?”
Carly bit the inside of her cheek.
“You are way too young, and beautiful,” he added, his eyes not wavering from hers, “to be locked away. For whatever it’s worth, I’m sorry about your mother.”
His empathy was something Carly didn’t want. Not that she preferred him to be cold or callous, just that…well, she didn’t want his pity.
Wasn’t that part of why she kept her private life private? That, and she wanted to just be happy at work without anyone judging her for doing so when her mother was so ill. Being down and out wouldn’t change her mother’s illness, so Carly chose to pretend life was grand when she was at the hospital. She could smile and laugh and not feel judged for feeling joy. It helped her feel…normal.
“It’s not as if I feel locked away.” She didn’t. She felt blessed to take care of her mother, to have the time with her that she did. “This is my home. I like it here.”
She’d grown up within these walls, had once played in the small backyard. Her, her mother, and her grandparents. She’d had a carefree childhood, not understanding how poor they were or how hard her mother worked to make ends meet after her grandparents had died. Her mother had been diagnosed with Parkinson’s Carly’s senior year of high school, but that hadn’t stopped her from working or living her life. Not initially.
