Page 15 of A Family Affair: The Plan
The next morning, Sam poured his coffee into a to-go mug and grabbed a blueberry muffin. It wasn’t even six thirty, but he had a lot to do today and wanted to get a head start before the clinic opened. Of course, that wasn’t the only reason, and maybe it wasn’t even therealreason why he wanted to bolt from the bed-and-breakfast so early.
He’d shared too much with Hope last night and he couldn’t even say why other than she seemed to understand. Actually, in some respects, her situation didn’t sound much different than his. Wrong person, wrong belief system, bad choice stacked on top of other bad choices. Left to make a decision that would affect the rest of their lives. A moral dilemma with no happy ending.
“Goodness, you’re up early.” Mimi stepped into the kitchen wearing a pink sweatshirt and jeans, a curious expression on her face. “I planned to make you buttermilk pancakes this morning.”
Sam poured a splash of cream into his coffee, screwed on the lid. “Thanks, Mimi, but I’m all set.” He raised the blueberry muffin, smiled. “You know how much I love these muffins, though I do love your buttermilk pancakes. Maybe thisweekend?” When she nodded, he continued, “If I leave now, I have a good chance of beating Dad again.” He winked, hoped she bought the story about why he was leaving so early. “It doesn’t happen often and I need all the points I can get with that guy.”
She moved to the chair Hope had sat in last night, placed her hands on the back of it. “The Edgar Harrington I know changed his starting time to eight in the morning six months ago. Your mother said if he didn’t slow down, give up the sweet rolls and donuts, and at leasttryto eat healthy, then she’d march up to the clinic every morning and make sure he ate his oatmeal.” A chuckle followed by a twinkle in those blue eyes. “Can you imagine that?”
“No, I can’t.” His father didn’t like anyone telling him what to do, but that had never stopped his mother from barging through the man’s huffs and scowls to make him see her way.
“So, you’re sure this has nothing to do with our other guest?”
Sam avoided Mimi’s gaze, sipped his coffee. “You mean Hope?” Darn, had his voice dipped just now? “Why would you think that?”Why would she think that?He’d been very careful these past six days to not ask anything personal when Hope was around. In fact, they hadn’t ventured into “personal” territory until last night.
And he wished they hadn’t. It was never a good idea to reveal so much when?—
The laugh said he was a fool if he thought he could make her believe that comment. “Oh, Sam, I can spot attraction from Lina’s Café. There’s a sizzle between the two of you, anybody can see it. It’s not just the way you look at each other, it’s the mannerisms. Ever notice how she toys with her earring and tilts her head a certain way when she’s talking to you? Or when she’s looking at you? Those hazel eyes turn bright, her expression softens, and when she speaks? It’s almost hesitant, as though she can’t get enough air andyou’rethe reason forit.” Another laugh as her dangle ball earrings bounced back and forth. “You’re no better as you home in on that girl like she’s a piece of chocolate cake slathered with frosting and a side of vanilla ice cream. Decadent. Mouth-watering. Irresistible. Your mannerisms are different but just as interesting. Shoulders squared, jaw clenched, gaze focused, taking it all in. My husband used to look like that when he was hunting. He could spot a deer before it ever made a sound.”
“Are you suggesting she’s a deer?” Sam forced a laugh, kept his voice even.
“No, but Iamsuggesting, your senses are on high alert and you’re very interested in our guest. It warms my heart to think you might find a way to be happy again.”
Happy. There was that word again. “Mimi, you’ve got it all wrong. Have you not noticed our ‘encounters’ weren’t exactly warm and fuzzy?”Until last night…that was different…
More laughter, a shake of her head. “Oh, Sam. Do you have any idea how many meant-to-be-partners often start out fighting the attractionandeach other? Do you want me to make a list of those couples? I can fill both hands and not be done.”
No, he did not want a list. He did not want anything, because he and Hope Newland were acquaintances, bordering on friends, nothing more. Certainly not meant-to-be-partners or anything close…no matter what Mimi thought,nothingwas going to happen. “You’re wrong this time, Mimi.” He lifted the to-go mug and grabbed the muffin. “Thanks for breakfast.” And then he turned and headed toward the door before Mimi could say anything else about Hope Newland or meant-to-be.
Sam avoided Hope the entire day and almost made it through the next. It took a bit of planning, but leaving early and returning to the Heart Sent after ten at night without taking a detour through the kitchen helped. On the morning of the second day, he called his mother to check in and as he’d hoped,she invited him to dinner. It had been three weeks since their last dinner, and there was no denying the joy in her voice when he said “yes”.
Oh, Sam, I’m so happy. What do you think about stuffed pork chops with mashed potatoes and gravy?
Perfect.Anything was better than eating a deli sandwich at his desk again or sitting at the Heart Sent surrounded by Mimi and Hope Newland.
And what about chocolate cake with chocolate peanut butter frosting?
He would have said yes to lemon cake and he could barely stomach the stuff.Sure. Sounds great. Anything to avoid another dinner at the Heart Sent. He’d revealed too much with Hope during their midnight snack, and he needed distance until he could figure out why, and how to prevent it from happening again.Gotta, go, Mom. I’ll see you during my break.It was easier to share dinner during his work breaks because his father would be covering for him at the clinic and not sitting at the dinner table. Of course, that didn’t mean Edgar Harrington wouldn’t have a few things to say about it.
“I hear you’re having dinner with your mother this afternoon.”
The man could always turn a statement into an interrogation. Sam glanced up from the X-ray of a golden retriever’s back leg, noted his father’s scowl. The tone saidWhat are you up to now and what are you avoiding?“That’s right. It’s been a few weeks since I’ve stopped over and thought it was time to catch up.”Smile and keep smiling so he goes easy on the questions.But the man was no fool.
“Hmm. Really? Why are you suddenly so concerned about your mother’s state of mind? Is Mimi not feeding you enough?” The scowl deepened, the suspicion in his voice grew. “We both know that’s impossible because Mimi can’t stand to see anybodyhungry. So, what is it, Sam? Does this have to do with the new guest staying there? The one who’s asking about small-town life and why it’s so special?” Pause and a curious “You know the one I’m talking about, right? Dark hair, hazel eyes? A real looker.”
How would he know what she looked like? “You met her?”
“I’ve met her. Hope, isn’t it?”
Joyce Harrington did not believein “prepared” food or “heat and serve”. While she usually selected an afternoon meal that wouldn’t weigh him down for the rest of his day, this one seemed more like a Thanksgiving celebration than a quick bite to eat. Stuffed pork chops, mashed potatoes and gravy, homemade applesauce, green beans. There was no point telling his mother he hadn’t eaten like this since his college days because she believed food could soothe the soul and she thought Sam needed soul soothing. Did a mother ever consider her child grown? He wouldn’t know. Might never know…
He dug into the stuffing, remembered the first Thanksgiving with Celeste: country club, suit and tie, white tablecloth, ten different desserts, all including pumpkin. That dinner should have been a neon-light warning that she wasn’t the right partner for him, but he’d been so ready to settle down, and she was so beautiful, so captivating, so?—
“I hear there’s a new guest staying at the Heart Sent.”
The raised brow and just the right amount of curiosity told him his mother already knew the answer, had heard it from at least one of her sources, of which there were many. Nosy busybodies was what Sam called them, but his mother insisted it was an information gathering group that delivered vital details regarding family members. Right. Busybodies, no matter howyou tried to justify it. He’d escaped the radius of his mother’s intel circle for years, but now that he’d returned to Magdalena, he was back on their radar again…
“Mom, really? Who’s giving you this information and why are they even talking about it? Is it Dolly Finnegan? Did she just so happen to share information during one of your Bleeding Hearts meetings? Or how about Phyllis at the café? I’m sure she hears her share of gossip from those booths.”
