Page 115 of Moms of Mayhem
“Deal.”
We walked up to the house, and I opened the front door to the smell of something warm and cinnamon-sweet baking in the oven, a plan crafting in my mind that would solve two problems at once.
Mom stood just inside the door, one hand on the railing we’d installed there and the other held up for a hug. “I thought that was you, Shannon! Oh, my sweet girl, I’ve missed you so much.”
“Sweet?” Logan mouthed behind them, pointing at Shannon.
I just grinned, watching Shannon sink into my mom’s hold. They hugged for far longer than I expected, like Mom knew exactly how much she needed it. Hell, maybe she did.
“You’re staying for brunch?” she said when they finally pulled away. “Beckett won’t let me cook anymore, but I can still put cinnamon rolls in the oven.”
“Mom.” I rubbed a hand over the creases in my brow. “Do you not remember this exact conversation at the doctor’s this week? They don’t want you trying to take anything hot in or out of the oven. You should have just waited.”
“Well, hurry, then.” She waved her hand toward the kitchen, and Shannon chuckled, walking into the kitchen like she still remembered exactly where everything was.
Once we’d all descended on the spread of food Mom set on the counter, everyone moved to the table. She’d met Loganand Mikko several times over the years, and like the angel she was, remembered everything about them. Even if her hands shook, her mind was still intact. Her doctors had warned me that dementia was probably in our near future, but not yet.
The entire time, she held Shannon’s hand, and surprisingly, Shannon let her. Emmy’s friend was quieter than I’d heard her since my return, but I couldn’t imagine how fast her mind was racing, trying to figure out next steps.
“Mom,” I said when the conversation lulled. “You can’t just keep denying every single applicant for in-home care I give you.”
Mom’s exhale was long and exaggerated. “I’m not denying them. I’mfiltering.”
“Filtering?” I deadpanned.
She lifted her chin. “I didn’t like the way that first one smelled like tuna salad.”
Mikko stifled a laugh behind his napkin. Logan didn’t bother trying to hide his.
“And the second one?”
“She said ‘no cap’.” Mom grimaced, like the phrase had physically offended her. “I don’t even know what that means. That’s not someone I want in my house.”
Logan muttered, “Harsh,” around a bite of cinnamon roll.
“And the one after that,” I prompted, knowing full well what she’d say.
“She wore Crocs. In a snowstorm. They had holes, Beckett.Holes.”
Shannon choked on her orange juice.
I gave my mother the most exhausted look I could manage. “So, to recap: you’ve rejected one person forsmelling like sandwiches, one for using slang, and one for bad shoe choices.”
“Exactly.”
“Mom, you don’t have to love them. You just need someone here who can help you cook, drive you to appointments, and make sure you’re taking your meds.”
She scoffed. “And live in my house. And touch my things.”
From the corner of my eye, I saw Shannon’s brow crease.
Then, soft but clear, she said, “What exactly are you looking for?”
Everyone stilled.
Mom turned toward her, surprised. “Are you interested? Please, tell me you’re interested. You don’t smell weird and are smart enough to use proper grammar.”
I bit back my grin, afraid to do anything that made this seem anything but organic so Shannon wouldn’t run. I leaned forward, grateful she hadn’t already bolted. “She needs help with meals, getting to and from appointments, and the occasional pill reminder. Otherwise, she’s still pretty independent. Just not supposed to be living alone anymore and I have to go back to Denver soon. The job comes with room and board plus a weekly stipend. Mason bought her a car too, so you can use that.”
