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“So, is her mom coming to get them or what?” I can’t lie; my gut’s twisting a little at the idea of the kids being moved so far from home.
“Well, we were all hoping that you could take them to her.” Mom winces as she signs the last little bit.
“She wants me to drive them all the way to San Diego?”
“She was hoping you’d agree.” She waits anxiously.
“Why can’t we just fly them there?”
“That was one of Patsy’s stipulations, when they talked. No flying for the kids. Apparently, the last time Patsy flew, there was engine trouble and it scared her off flying. So it’s driving or nothing.”
“Mom, it would take me a week to get the kids all the way to San Diego.”
“You have vacation time coming up, don’t you?”
“You expect me to drive three thousand miles with four children all by myself?”
“Actually, I was talking to Marta, Wren’s mother, and she said she’d bet Wren might want to go with you, just to be sure the kids get there safely.”
“You were talking to Marta?” I ask. What reason would she have to talk to Marta? “Mom, were you meddling?”
“Would I do that?” She tries to look offended.
Hell yes, she would do that. “Mom,” I say, chastising her with my hands and face.
“What?” She throws up her hands. “Marta and I are friends.”
“Since when?”
“Since my other son married her other daughter, dummy. She’s family.”
“Emilio’s here,” I mention casually.
“I know,” Mom says. “Marta and I discussed it and decided it would be a good idea to send him over to be sure everything is going okay. Everything’s going okay, right?” she asks, trying to look innocent. But if innocence was a perfume spray, I’d be drowning in scents right now.
“Everything is fine, Mom. The kids are quiet and a little nervous about being in a strange place, but they’re doing great.”
“They’re happy kids? This thing with their mom hasn’t been too bad for t
hem?”
“They haven’t said one way or the other, and I don’t want to make them think about it if they don’t have to. We know Patsy was in trouble and needed help, and that’s all we need to know.”
“So you’ll take them? Marta says you can drive Emilio’s minivan.”
“Emilio has a minivan?”
“He had five daughters. How else do you think he took them from place to place?”
“I can’t imagine Emilio driving a minivan, that’s all.”
“Oh, Emilio is a big old softie. Don’t let his gruffness fool you.”
“I don’t believe that for a second.”
“So, call Patsy’s mom and set up a date to drop the kids off, okay? I’ll text you the number.”
“Okay.”
