Page 132 of Fourth Point Of Contact

“We can both see that, Patti, but you can’t hang this on the wall by itself. It’s too small. It’ll look out of place.”

“Then what would you suggest I do?”

Her eyes brightened and I knew I had fallen into her trap. “You could let Piper and me go shopping for you.”

“Mom—”

“Now, Patti, I come to visit you and this is what I see? You don’t have a home here. You have a warehouse!”

“That’s not true. I have a bedroom made up for you,” I argued.

“That has the bare minimum. I had to go shopping for hangers.”

I winced. “You did?”

“Unless you wanted me to hang my clothes over the metal bar in there.”

Piper snickered behind her hand, but when I turned my glare on her, she went back to shoving food in her face.

“Fine, I’ll find something to hang on the other wall.”

“Patti…”

I knew I wasn’t getting out of this. While Piper wasn’t actively working against me, she wasn’t exactly helping either. And now that it was two against one, I had little hope in winning this battle. I pulled out my wallet and handed over my credit card to Piper.

She looked up at me in surprise, carefully taking it from me. “Why me?”

“Because Mom will fill the house with pictures of flowers. I’m trusting you with my home.”

I could see the twinkling in Mom’s eyes without fully turning to her. She was already planning out our first child’s bedroom.

“This doesn’t mean anything,” I snapped.

“Of course not, Patti.”

But as I grabbed my crutches and pretended to stomp away from the table, I knew this was only the beginning of the end.

30

PIPER

I really hopedPatrick wouldn’t hate what I picked for him. His mother seemed to think I had done just fine, but I was still nervous. It was a lot of money to spend, and I worried he would hate it all or think it was a giant waste.

“Careful with that!” I said worriedly to the movers as they delivered the new dining table. It was simple, but beautiful. I didn’t pick anything too big, and this table had leaves inside that could easily be folded out to make the table larger. I figured that was the easiest way to allow him extra room without him having to deal with taking leaves in and out of the table and storing them somewhere else.

“Are you sure about that table?” his mom asked for the fourth time.

I tried my best not to doubt myself. After all, I thought I knew Patrick pretty well, even if I had only known him for short spurts of time.

“I really think we should have gone with the mahogany table.”

“It had a pattern on it.”

“But it was so lovely,” she sighed, clearly unhappy with my choice.

“Trust me, Patrick won’t want a pattern on the table.”

“But what about the table cloths? They’re so plain.”

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