“Joanie?”
“Yeah. Her baby is a real sensitive issue with him. I sort of sympathize—the guys shouldn’t think of teasing him. He’ll love that baby, even if it’s not his, just like I love the girls.”
I gave him a sound kiss. “Will you ever get a daytime shift?” I asked, trying to keep the whine out of my voice.
“I don’t know. It would be nice, wouldn’t it? Normal family suppers, evenings with my family—maybe without Claire.”
I wished he hadn’t added that, but I said, “Yeah, it would be nice.” Most nights, Mike and Claire didn’t meet at the table—she was long gone by the time he came home for supper, and I learned to fix things that would keep for him.
“Maybe someday I’ll apply for detective. Then I might have more regular hours.” He paused and then said sadly, “I wouldn’t have the good relationship I have with people now. The people in Fairmount like me, but just look how you feel about Buck Conroy.”
“Oh, that’s just him. People would still like you.”
“Nope, it’s a totally different relationship,” Mike said.
****
Mom’s house was ready, as ready as it could be until she added her own personal things. I shuddered, realizing that it was her house, and if she wanted to clutter it with mementos, pictures, and the like, I would have to keep my mouth shut. And so would Keisha.
Mom’s plane was due on Friday at noon, and Mike traded shifts so he could be off that night. I decided to have a small dinner Friday night—the four of us, Claire, and Keisha to greet Mom. I wanted her to meet the people who would be most important in her life. Anthony and the boys and Joe and Theresa would come later—no sense in overwhelming her.
Thursday afternoon, after I picked the girls up, we went to the florist where you make your own arrangements. We put together a kitchen garden of herbs, a bouquet of cut flowers—roses, carnations, asters, and I don’t know what all plus those strange twists of twigs that now sprout out of arrangements. I was reluctant, thinking Mom wouldn’t understand, but Maggie insisted it was fashionable. Em declared, “It looks like something I picked up on the playground.”
When we got to Mom’s house with them, Keisha was already there, preparing to spend her first night. “You worried?” I asked, with the girls out of hearing.
“Nope. I got that alarm system, and I got my own protection.”
If I’d thought Keisha had a gun, I wouldn’t want to know about it and I sure wouldn’t want it around the girls. But I knew her protection was her sixth sense, and I had faith in it. Mike would scoff.
Keisha stocked up the fridge some at Mom’s, but said she didn’t know what Mom liked. Telling me this, she paused. “Matter of fact, how’s she gonna like me?”
“Oh,” I said too quickly, “she knows all about you and how much help you are to me.”
Keisha fixed me with a look, as only she can. “You’re worried about it, aren’t you?”
I nodded. But then I added, “Keisha, she’ll like you a lot better than she would like being here alone.”
****
Mom looked great when she got off the plane and came into the luggage area where we were waiting. Her hair has just been done in a new stylish, shorter cut—was I imagining it or was there a shade more blonde to it? She wore a smart tan pantsuit with a turquoise shell, and she just plain looked terrific. When I complimented her, she said, “Well, I want to get off to a good start in Texas.”
She hugged both girls and talked about how glad she was to see them, how much she’d missed them, how she would bake cookies for them, how they’d have to sleep over at her house—Em threw me an anxious look at that one.
We went straight to Mom’s house. I told her the movers were due to deliver her household on Tuesday but Keisha fixed the house with beds, chairs, a table, a TV, and some pots and pans. She would be comfortable.
“When will I meet Keisha?” A note of caution again.
“At supper tonight. And Mike and Claire, too. And you haven’t seen my new house. But first your house.”
When we pulled into the drive, she stared, got out of the car, stared some more, and then turned to me with, “I think I like it, Kelly. It has…uh…charm.”
I breathed a huge sigh of relief.
Inside she walked from room to room, seeming to be pleased with everything, especially the kitchen. She opened cupboard doors and said, “There won’t be room for my things with all of this in here.”
I assured her Keisha would remove her things as soon as Mom’s arrived.
“What about these canned goods?”
“Keisha just got enough to get you started. She’ll take you shopping tomorrow, and you can stock up on whatever you want.”
“Do I have to pay her for what’s here?”
I sighed. “No, Mom. Keisha wanted to do that for you.”
Mom obviously wanted to find fault with Keisha, but I had faith in Keisha’s ability to handle it.
We stayed the afternoon, unpacking her two suitcases, hanging clothes in the closets, arranging medicines in the bathroom and make-up at the built-in vanity—one of the wonderful luxuries of older homes. Then I suggested it was time to go to my house, have a cup of tea, and get ready for dinner.
Mom liked my new house—to a point. “It’s awfully dark, Kelly. And all this heavy wooden furniture. Isn’t it sort of dated?”
“Yeah, Mom, in a good way. It’s Craftsman like the house.” I tried to point out the architectural details, but she wasn’t interested. She settled herself with a cup of tea and said, “Now, tell me about the trouble in the neighborhood.”
While I pondered how to put it most tactfully, Em said, “two old ladies have been killed and another one almost killed—she’s in the hospital. One of the dead ones used to be our neighbor, and we know the one that’s in the hospital.”
That, I thought, stretched the truth. Em didn’t know Mrs. Glenn except for a five-minute uncomfortable visit. Besides, Mom might think we were the common links.
I gave Em a stern look, but she looked right back at me and said, “What, Mom? That’s what happened.”
“Dear heaven,” Mom said. “What have you brought me into?”
“Mom, first of all, you aren’t elderly. Second, you’ll have Keisha with you—you won’t be living alone. And the neighborhood patrol will keep extra watch on your house—and of course so will Mike.”
“I don’t know….Is that woman still living in your guest house?”
“Yes, she is. And believe me. You’ll be safer with Keisha than you would in my guest house alone.”
“And this Mike….?” Her voice trailed off in a question. She seemed to forget that I told her in Chicago that he lived with us.
“Mike’s living with us now,” Em crowed. “It’s really nice. I like him a lot.”
“She has a crush on him,” Maggie said, with older sister superiority. “But I told her he’s mom’s boyfriend.”
My mom frowned. “If your father were alive….”
“He’d be cheering for me,” I said and rose to fix dinner. I wanted to impress Mom, so I made King Ranch chicken the night before, from scratch, and had the ingredients for a bean salad all ready to go, plus cornbread I’d baked last night. I figured she might as well have a Texas meal.
Keisha arrived first, coming straight from the office. Today, she was conservatively dressed—well, sort of. A turquoise squaw skirt swirled around her ankles (Keisha didn’t care if they were now somewhat passé) and was topped by a loose top with a southwestern motif at the v-neck. Her spiky hair had tones of gold again today, and she wore turquoise high-heeled sandals. Only Keisha could walk that confidently in shoes like that—I’d have broken my neck.
“Cynthia!” she exclaimed. “I’m so glad to meet you. We’re gonna have a great time living together. I’m gonna cook you good southern soul food, and I hear you’re a gardener, so we’re going to get that wildflower bed going again.” She took Mom’s hand in both of hers in a welcoming gesture.
Mom looked uncertain, to say the least. I think she expected to be called Mrs. O’Connell. She studied Keisha up and down for a minute and then said with a question in her voice, “Wildflowers?”
“Yes, ma’am. We got the start on the best garden you’ve ever seen. We’ll just have to do a little work on it. But I can do the liftin’ and haulin’, and you can do the directin’.”
“I can cook for myself.” Mom tried again.
“Yes, ma’am, and I hope you’ll cook me some northern meals. Like I’ve never understood northern beans. But since we’ll be livin’ together, we should eat together, and until you get your feet on the ground, I’ll do the cooking.”
I wondered how Mom would take to turnip greens—I never learned to like them.
“Yes, of course,” Mom said, and Keisha gave me a big grin over Mom’s head. She knew what was going on.
The girls clamored for Keisha to come to their rooms and let her show them their latest school projects, so she took each one by a hand and went off.
Mom looked at me. “They love her, don’t they?”
“Yes,” I said, “and you will too.”
Mike came next, carrying bottles of wine and beer, and a bouquet of roses, which he presented to Mom with a great flourish. Instead of taking her hand, he bent down and gave her a hug. “I figure you’re almost my motherin-law,” he said, “and I like that idea.”
Once again, Mom was confused about how to react and gave him a tepid, “Nice to meet you.”
When he said he would change into comfortable clothes and headed for the bedroom, Mom threw me a disapproving look.
The girls and Keisha came out and set the table, and then Claire wandered in the back door. She was the controlled, polite, society Claire, charming but distant.
“Mrs. O’Connell, I’m so glad to meet you. I’m Claire, and Kelly has been so good to take me in at a difficult time in my life.”
Mom murmured that she was glad to meet her too and that she’d have to hear about Claire’s difficulties another time. I knew she was having a hard time taking all this in and didn’t need too much information right now.
Dinner went smoothly. Claire and Mike avoided sniping at each other, and Keisha and Mike traded banters back and forth about how Keisha had to do all the work in the office, because I was too busy on other things. Nobody brought up the murders—I guess Em got my message.
Mom seemed to enjoy the King Ranch chicken, but she asked, “Kelly, what is this dish? It’s not something I taught you to cook.”
Did she think I only cooked the things of my childhood? “No, Mom, it’s King Ranch chicken.” I explained about the King Ranch and not knowing if the recipe came from there or not.
“It’s spicy.”
“A lot of Texas food is spicy. We eat jalapeños in lots of our food.”
“Oh, my, I’ll have to get used to that.”
“Don’t you worry, Cynthia,” Keisha drawled. “There ain’t no jalapeños in my southern cooking.”
Mom gave her a tentative smile.
We had brownies for dessert, and then Claire excused herself, while Keisha and I did the dishes, and Mike sat and talked with Mom, who was astounded that I had no dishwasher. I assured her that her new house had one.
Once we were alone in the kitchen, Keisha said, “Kelly, I don’t want to worry you, but that guy that heads the neighborhood patrol….”
“Ralph Hoskins?”
“Yeah, that man. He came by last night, knocked on the door. Seemed real startled to see me, said he thought your mom lived there. I said she would soon, but I was too. Then he put on a great show about was I sure we would be all right and so on. And I assured him I could handle any trouble. Since I’m about twice his size, I think he believed me.”
“Ralph Hoskins is a funny case, but I don’t think you need to worry about him.”
“I’m not. How do you think your mama reacted to me?”
“Like I thought she would,” I said, “but it will be all right.”
“Sure it will. I’ll make sure,” Keisha said, wiping a plate for the third time.
Late that night, Mike said, “I think I passed the test.”
I looked a question at him.
“Well, she asked me what intentions were, and I said I wanted to marry you and adopt the girls. Besides, I think she thought I was charming.” He preened just a bit. “I did try extra hard.”
I doubled over laughing. “Of course you were.” A pause. “And Mike, I think I want to marry you, and the girls would love you to be their official daddy.”
