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“I’m good, thanks.”
“You know, you never really gave him a chance.”
“That’s fair. It was just a rough time in my life, without losing my father on top of it.”
“And you and your father were so close.” She pressed her hand over his on the table. “I know that. And I’ll be the first to admit, I didn’t think you and Ron could get along anyway. At least back then. But you’re older now, as we all are. All that to say, I hope you’ll try a little harder.”
Alex nibbled on crackers, fully aware she had pursed her lips and was staring at him, waiting, hoping for a response. He didn’t live in Montana and saw no real point in trying harder to get along with Ron, except he hated to be the one to put that hurt in Mom’s eyes. “I’ll try, Mom. I’m cordial, and I laugh at his jokes. In fact, I’ll take you both out for dinner while I’m in town.”
“Oh? We’d love that. When?”
“Give me a few days to arrange it. I’m in the middle of helping a friend through something.”
“What kind of friend?”
“I’ll tell you more another time. Let’s talk about you. What have you been up to?”
Fortunately, she was more than happy to share her plans for the backyard garden and a greenhouse she’d ordered. Then she moved on to talk about her job at the clinic and the fact that Ron would retire from the fire department in two years.
She pushed her empty bowl aside and stood. “Come on. I want to show you something.”
He took one last sip of his drink, then followed her through the utility room and out into the backyard. She headed toward a large building separate from the house and the attached garage.
Alex took in the well-tended backyard and the foundation for the greenhouse on the far side as they approached the metal building. “This must be Ron’s workshop.”
“Yes, and no.” She opened the side door and stepped in. He followed. Workbenches, sawhorses, and tools were neatly organized along the walls. A boat sat to one side, and it looked like Ron was repairing it. On the far side, a big tarp covered another vehicle.
Mom led Alex over to the tarp and pulled it back.
He gasped at the sight.
“Dad’s old ’67 Mustang.” Cherry red.
Alex helped her heave the tarp all the way off the car.
“Not your father’s. Yours.”
He and Dad had spent countless hours restoring the classic, and his heart lurched at the memories. “I’m surprised you kept it when you moved.”
“Ron wanted to sell it, but I kept it for you. Your father wanted you to have it. You should have taken it when you left.”
But he’d been angry with Ron and told him off during his grand, drama-filled exit. He also hadn’t wanted the memories of his biological father to drag him down, so he’d left the “Stang” behind, going so far as to tell Ron he could have the car, a mistake he’d regretted ever since, to go with all his other mistakes. “I don’t know what to say, Mom.”
His heart pounded, and emotion constricted his throat.
“A simple thank-you will do.”
He caught her up in a long hug. “Thanks for being such a good mother.”
Tears welled in his eyes. Seriously? He was going to cry over his mother keeping the Mustang for him? He released her and walked around the car, pushing down the nostalgia so she wouldn’t see just how much her thoughtfulness had affected him. How much he appreciated it.
“Catch.”
He glanced up in time to grab the keys she tossed him. He couldn’t find the words to express his appreciation, but there would be time. He would make the time with his mother.
She smiled. “You want to take it for a ride?”
“I do, I do. But I’m in the middle of some...” No. He couldn’t tell her about what was going on at Hanstech with Mackenzie. “I’ll return the rental car and come back for this. Get a friend to bring me. Thanks again, Mom.”
