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“Hello?” I call back, trying to shake the sleepiness. This baby is taking it out of me already, and we haven’t even officially met.
Going to the door, I notice the office is wide open down the hall. I peek out. “Hello?”
“Hello?” she calls right back and then appears from the other end of the hall to where I’m standing. She’s an older woman with light blond hair, gentle waves framing her face that only touches her shoulders. When she sees me, she smiles, and unlike the voice, there is a familiarity in that. “Hi, I’m Harrison’s mom, Nora.”
“Oh, hi,” I reply awkwardly, unsure of how I look after my nap. I touch my hair and fidget with my clothes. “I was napping.”
Her smile never wavers. “I’m sorry for waking you. Harrison got called to an appointment. Clients he’s been working with for a while want to submit an offer.”
“Ah.” Do I move? Do I walk toward her? She seems nice enough, but I don’t know what to think since she’s not exactly my favorite person based on how she pawned him off when he was growing up.
I should move. I come down the hall, and she retreats into the kitchen, leaning on the counter, looking very much at home. I say, “Can I help you with something, or are you waiting for him to return?”
“No,” she says, shaking her head and laughing. “I’m here for you. He didn’t know how long it would take and didn’t want to leave you stranded. I can drive you somewhere or take you shopping. Do you need anything?”
The back of my legs hit the couch, and I casually lean against the arm of it. “I’ll be fine right here.”
Coming around, she goes to open the large accordion-style back door. “I didn’t mean to make this awkward. Maybe some fresh air will help clear it, and we can sit outside and get to know each other.” She stops as if another idea has entered her head. “Or I could go?” She starts for the barstool and grabs her purse. “That’s probably best. We can talk when Harrison brings you over for dinner.”
Now I feel bad, and that makes this encounter not only awkward but a bit irritating. “You can stay. I just need a minute to get my bearings and to freshen up.”
With her purse straps on her shoulder, she asks, “Are you sure?”
“Please stay.”
She lowers her purse, and says, “All right.”
After verifying I don’t have makeup or drool running down my face after the nap, I join her outside on the deck. She stands and asks, “Would you like to sit up or by the pool?”
Hey. Hey. She’s talking my language. I love a pool, but I’m confused. “What pool?”
“The one on the lower deck,” she replies like I know what she’s referring to.
I walk past where she’s sitting and look over the railing.
Oh my God! That. Is. Amazing.
Ten or more feet below where I stand, another deck juts out from the side of the cliff with a rectangle pool built into it. I turn back to her, grinning like a loon. “I didn’t know it was there.”
“Yes.” She nods, and adds, “It’s nice for when he has kids one day as well. The gate can be locked up here so no littles can get down there.”
Kids? Littles? Harrison has already put safety plans in place for the future. My hand goes instinctively to my belly as I look over at the pool again. “Smart,” I reply, the word barely fitting around the lump in my throat.
She comes to stand beside me. “I brought strawberry lemonade since it’s warm out today.” She offers me one with hers in the other.
“Thank you.” I take it and sip.
Leaning her arms on the railing, she stares ahead at the whole of Los Angeles, and says, “I was trying to remember how long it’s been since I met one of Harrison’s girlfriends.”
“Have there been that many?”
She laughs and looks my way. “Many. I hope you don’t mind me being honest.”
“I prefer honesty.”
“But there haven’t been many I’ve met. None actually. I already knew his prom date since she grew up down the street, but other than that, I couldn’t remember one that I’ve met. And here you are.”
She shares the same blue eyes as Harrison. I know most of my kids . . . kids? When did this become a plural thing? A sharp exhale gets me back on track with my thoughts. Genetically, my kids should carry my brown-eyed gene. But for a short moment, it’s fun to imagine them with blue eyes like their daddy.
“Here I am.”
“Harrison not only wanted me to meet you but wanted to make sure you’re taken care of while he’s gone. His sister would call him smitten.”
“Smitten.” I roll the word over my tongue as it brings a smile to my face. “I’m smitten too.” But it’s the smile on her face that tells me everything I need to know. She’s happy for him. She’s happy that her son is smitten. With me. Huh. I like that. I like her.
