Page 45 of Make Mine Sweet
“We’ve got it covered,” Wren says. “You can even take a long lunch if you want.”
“Oh.” Mom blinks like she’s never considered taking a long lunch in her life. “I might take you up on that. Thank you.”
She waves, heading for the door. “Be good.”
“You, too,” Wren calls after her.
I turn away, Mom’s parting words prickling like she thinks we’re wayward children. The bell on the door rings, and I release a long exhale, my shoulders relaxing. It’s way too early to go into the back and deep clean the mixers, but it might help me work off this spike of disappointment mingling with frustration.
Before I can take a step, Wren nudges me in the ribs.
I swat her arm away. “Quit it.”
She dips her head toward the front window, her gaze locked tight on something out there. I turn to find whatever it is that’s caught her attention so badly. Apparently, she’s watching a man hug a woman who looks like Mom. Kind of weird, but I can’t expect less from Wren.
Except…that womanisMom. Same floral, knee-length dress, same loose blonde hair with the barest streaks of gray. The man pulls away just enough to kiss her on the cheek, one hand lingering at the small of her back. She tilts her head to the side as if she’s about to swivel our way and catch us watching her, but she leads them along the sidewalk instead.
With his arm still around her, his hand resting on her hip.
I stare, taking in his salt-and-pepper hair and obvious police officer’s uniform, until they disappear from sight. “What was that?”
“I think Mom has a boyfriend.”
I round on Wren. “What? No, she doesn’t. Since when?”
“No idea. But I’ve suspected for a while.”
“And you didn’t tell me?”
She tips her nose up. “I thought you didn’t like romantic gossip.”
“When it’s about me, not—” I toss a hand at the front window. “That was Sheriff O’Grady, wasn’t it?”
Her Cheshire Cat grin doesn’t budge. “Yup. Daniel O’Grady, Sunshine’s recently elected Sheriff. He oversees patrol, corrections, and wooing our mother’s heart. Apparently.”
I sag against the back counter. This scenario is too unfamiliar for my brain to process. “They might just be friends.”
“Did that hug look like it was just between friends?”
I swallow instead of answer. If it was a just-friends hug, they both want to be more. Nobody lingers that much over a casual acquaintance. “She hasn’t dated since Dad left.”
“That we know of.” Wren bobs her eyebrows.
“Don’t say it like that. She doesn’t have some shadowy secret life she’s keeping from us.”
I don’t think. Right now, I’m not sure any information I have about our mother is accurate.
“I’m just saying. Twenty years is a long time to wait for the right guy to come along.”
When she puts it like that, I almost hope Momhassecretly dated other men. I don’t like the idea of her being alone all this time. Logically, I know she hasn’t been totally by herself—she has a tight-knit circle of friends and regularly goes out with her girl gang.
But she’s never talked about romance as something she missed or wanted again. And now…
“Do you think she’s been seeing him a long time?” We can only guess at the answers, but I can’t help but ask.
“You think Mom would progress to the ‘handsy hugging and kiss hello’ stage quickly?” Wren barks a fake laugh. “That woman has ‘slow burn’ all over her.”
“I can’t think about Momburningfor the sheriff.” I’m happy for her if this theory is true, but my brain is still stuck on her being interested in anyone at all. She’s not the romantic type.
