Page 60 of Dream Weaver

“Tell Greta and the rest of the neighbors I said hi,” I answered quickly. There. That ought to clarify things for Abby.

“Well, I’m a little late for lunch, but I stopped off for some snacks.” My mother pointed to the huge bakery box she’d left by Walt’s office. “Can you take a quick break?”

I’d been expecting that. The only thing that gave my mother more joy than seeing her children was seeing them eat…and eat and eat. Preferably home cooking, but takeout — a total taboo when we’d been kids — was okay too.

“That would be great, thanks.”

“Perfect. Would you like to join us?” My mother turned to Abby, whose eyes filled with a dozen emotions at once. Hope, joy, fear…

“I brought plenty,” my mother added quickly.

Ha. That went without saying when it came to my mother.

“Um…I’d—” Abby started.

Walt leaned out of the office with a phone in his hand, one hand over the receiver. “Hey, Abby. Come on over. It’s that woman — the one who wants the brazier.” His stern expression said,Don’t mess this up.

Abby made a face, then stuck on a smile for my mother. “Thanks, but I have the feeling this will take a while.”

“What should I do while you’re gone?” I asked.

“Keep away from my anvil?” she joked.

I stuck up my hands. “I wouldn’t dare.”

She flashed a wry grin.

“Seriously, though,” I went on. “What can I do that’s useful?”

She thought it over. “Maybe work on some handles? You know woodworking, right?”

My mother patted me on the shoulder. “He’s an excellent woodworker.”

“Thanks, Mom,” I sighed. Nothing better than a sweeping endorsement from your own mother.

Still, my eyes lit up, all golden retriever who’d just spotted a ball. Abby trusted me. She’d even given me my own job. An important one. I could finally prove myself to her…

She pointed. “You’ll find some hickory over there, and Pablo can give you any tools you need.”

“Great.” I couldn’t believe my luck.

“Abby!” Walt gestured impatiently.

She sighed and turned toward him. “Sorry. Gotta go. It was nice to meet you,” she told my mother.

“Nice to meet you too. Tell Greg hello. Oh, and grab something on your way out.”

“I will, thanks.” Abby smiled and walked toward Walt.

My eyes followed, and my soul stretched with every step she took, until, like a rubber band, it snapped back.

“Nice girl,” my mother whispered.

Fascinating was more like it. The more I learned, the more I wanted to find out.

“She is,” I murmured, trying to suppress the longing in my voice.

Chapter Fifteen

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