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“And I bet you they would have. If you had stayed put for any length of time. I still get friend requests from past flames,” she told me. “And long, rambling love messages,” she added. “And I am not nearly as wonderful as you.”
“That is the silliest thing I have ever heard,” I told her. “You are the most amazing person I have ever met.”
And I wasn’t just saying that because she was my mom.
She was interesting and cultured, kind and adventurous, wise but understanding. And, well, the food alone was enough to have you falling half in love with her.
“If you just give me a few minutes, I will take a little break to drive you home,” she told me.
“I can hang out here. Get some things done,” I said, shaking off her offer, even if I did want more than anything to go home. But I wanted to go home to wallow. Which I could not allow.
So I cleaned up our tea.
I ran the nearly full dishwasher, then I moved out front to wipe down some surfaces and empty the cash drawer. Normally, closing up would mean packing away dozens and dozens of pastries and desserts and breads.
But we were almost completely sold out.
And what we had left, I was going to bring home to binge on.
There was nothing wrong with alittlewallowing. Good food, a sad movie, and a handful of tissues.
Get it out so I could move on.
Even as I thought that, though, a car was pulling into the lot.
There was one moment where my belly flip-flopped, where my blood ran cold, visions of hooded men and shiny guns, and little bullets that created big holes flashing across my mind.
My heart was frantically pounding against my ribcage when the door swung open, and a man climbed out.
Not one in a hoodie with a gun.
One in a suit.
Seeing me standing there, his head tipped to one side, looking at me, then approaching.
“Hey!” I said, opening the door, adding some extra friendliness into my tone, trying to cover up for the wave of relief that was rushing through me. “What are you doing here?” I asked.
“Dropped by to drive you home,” he told me.
“What? Really?”
“Yes, really,” he said, brows pinching at something he heard in my tone. “How are you?”
“I’m tired,” I admitted. “Your family apparently have ravenous appetites,” I added.
“Figured that out, did you?” he asked, looking a little sheepish.
“No, actually. My mom did,” I admitted. “She’s better at putting things together like that. It’s really very sweet of them. But they don’t have to do it,” I insisted. Even if the idea of our newfound windfall of income suddenly going away filled me with dread.
“They want to. And, besides, all I’ve heard over the past few days is how good your food is. So they’re happy, you’re happy, it’s all working out for everyone. Did he show you how to work the security system?”
“Yes. It’s all very, oh, what was the term he used?” I said. “Intuitive,” I declared. “It connects to both my and my mom’s phone as well as the computer in the office. He was very nice,” I added.
“Yeah, he’s a good guy. Does a lot of work for my family,” he said. “What?” he asked when I let out a little giggle.
“Oh, it’s just the way you said that,” I said, letting out another little laugh. “He does a lot of work for my family,” I repeated. “It makes you sound like one of those mafia guys in movies,” I told him. “What?” I asked at the surprised look on his face.
“Nothing,” he said, literally shaking his head, like he had to work to knock the look and the thought loose. “Do you need any help finishing up around here?”
