"That'd be just fine." Will pushed back from the table.
TWENTY-ONE
Stella chewed at it, stewed over it, and worried about it. She was prepared to launch into another discussion regarding the pros and cons of marriage when Logan came to pick up the boys at noon.
She knew he was angry with her. Hurt, too, she imagined. But oddly enough, she knew he'd be by—somewhere in the vicinity of noon—to get the kids. He'd told them he would come, so he
would come.
A definite plus on his side of the board, she decided. She could, and did, trust him with her children.
They would argue, she knew. They were both too worked up to have a calm, reasonable discussion over such an emotional issue. But she didn't mind an argument. A good argument usually brought all the facts and feelings out. She needed both if she was going to figure out the best thing to do for all involved.
But when he hunted them down where she had the kids storing discarded wagons—at a quarter a wagon—he was perfectly pleasant. In fact, he was almost sunny.
"Ready for some man work?" he asked.
With shouts of assent, they deserted wagon detail for more interesting activities. Luke proudly showed him the plastic hammer he'd hooked in a loop of his shorts.
"That'll come in handy. I like a man who carries his own tools. I'll drop them off at the house later."
"About what time do you think—"
"Depends on how long they can stand up to the work." He pinched Gavin's biceps. "Ought to be able
to get a good day's sweat out of this one."
"Feel mine! Feel mine!" Luke flexed his arm.
After he'd obliged, given an impressed whistle, he nodded to Stella. "See you."
And that was that.
So she chewed at it, stewed over it, and worried about it for the rest of the day. Which, not being a
fool, she deduced was exactly what he'd wanted.
* * *
The house was abnormally quiet when she got home from work. She wasn't sure she liked it. She showered off the day, played with the baby, drank a glass of wine, and paced until the phone rang.
"Hello?"
"Hi there, is this Stella?"
"Yes, who—"
'This is Trudy Kitridge. Logan's mama? Logan said I should give you a call, that you'd be home from work about this time of day."
"I... oh." Oh, God, oh, God. Logan's mother!
"Logan told me and his daddy he asked you to marry him. Could've knocked me over with a feather."
"Yes, me, too. Mrs. Kitridge, we haven't decided... or I haven't decided ... anything."
"Woman's entitled to some time to make up her mind, isn't she? I'd better warn you, honey, when that boy sets his mind on something, he's like a damn bulldog. He said you wanted to meet his family before you said yes or no. I think that's a sweet thing. Of course, with us living out here now, it's not so easy, is it? But we'll be coming back sometime during the holidays. Probably see Logan for Thanksgiving, then our girl for Christmas. Got grandchildren in Charlotte, you know, so we want to be there for Christmas."
"Of course." She had no idea, no idea whatsoever what to say. How could she with no time to prepare?
"Then again, Logan tells me you've got two little boys. Said they're both just pistols. So maybe we'll
have ourselves a couple of grandchildren back in Tennessee, too."
"Oh." Nothing could have touched her heart more truly. "That's a lovely thing to say. You haven't even met them yet, or me, and—"
"Logan has, and I raised my son to know his own mind. He loves you and those boys, then we will, too. You're working for Rosalind Harper, I hear."
"Yes. Mrs. Kitridge—"
"Now, you just call me Trudy. How you getting along down there?"
Stella found herself having a twenty-minute conversation with Logan's mother that left her baffled, amused, touched, and exhausted.
When it was done, she sat limply on the sofa, like, she thought, the dazed victim of an ambush.
Then she heard Logan's truck rumble up.
She had to force herself not to dash to the door. He'd be expecting that. Instead she settled herself in the front parlor with a gardening magazine and the dog snoozing at her feet as if she didn't have a care in the world.
Maybe she'd mention, oh so casually, that she'd had a conversation with his mother. Maybe she
wouldn't, and let him stew over it.
And all right, it had been sensitive and sweet for him to arrange the phone call, but for God's sake, couldn't he have given her some warning so she wouldn't have spent the first five minutes babbling
like an idiot?
The kids came in with all the elegance of an army battalion on a forced march.
"We built a whole arbor." Grimy with sweat and dirt, Gavin rushed to scoop up Parker. "And we
planted the stuff to grow on it."
"Carol Jessmint."
Carolina Jessamine, Stella interpreted from Luke's garbled pronunciation. Nice choice.