was dramatic. She looked ten years younger and ten times nicer. She must like kids better than women wearing her son’s jammies. “Hello, Liam.”
His little fingers dug into Grace’s legs.
She patted his hand, trying to release his death grip on her. “It’s okay.”
“How old are you, Liam?” Mrs. Paulson asked.
He stuck three fingers out to the side, then added a fourth.
“Three and a half,” Grace said.
Liam poked his head out. “Almost four.”
“Almost four,” Mrs. Paulson repeated. “You’re a big boy.”
Liam jumped to the left like a jack-in-the-box on its side. “Big and strong like Bill.”
“Yes, you are.” She studied him, then looked at Grace. “You said you were from out of town.”
“Georgia.”
“What brings you to Hood Hamlet?”
“Just passing through.”
Liam looked around. “Bill? Where’s he?”
“At work,” Grace said.
Liam’s lower lip stuck out. Quivered. “Want Bill. Time to play.”
She touched her son’s shoulder. “We talked about this last night. Bill’s working at the fire station.”
Liam stared at the floor as if his world had come to an end.
Grace had to admit she, too, would rather be speaking with Bill than Mrs. Paulson. Damon’s mom hadn’t liked her much, either. Maybe it was a mother-with-sons thing. Grace vowed not to be like that when Liam brought a girlfriend home someday. “Your son is my son’s new best friend.”
“I’m not surprised. Bill’s a kid at heart. That boy will never grow up. Though I wish he’d find a good woman and settle down.” Mrs. Paulson removed a cookie from the cookie jar and gave it to Liam. “This will make you feel better.”
Grace sighed. “This is the second day in a row he’s had a cookie for breakfast. He’ll be spoiled rotten by the time we leave.”
“Nothing wrong with a little spoiling,” Mrs. Paulson said. “I do that with Bill. I was wondering why the house looked cleaner than usual this morning. You must have dusted and vacuumed. Decorated the tree and the house, too.”
The woman didn’t sound pleased, but Grace wasn’t going to let Bill’s mother get to her. She had allowed that to happen with Damon’s mom. “The least I could do. I’m so grateful for Bill’s hospitality. I plan on doing as much as I can for him in return.”
“Thoughtful, but unnecessary. I come over the mornings he works at the station, to help out. He claims I do too much for him, but he gets distracted with his rescue work, climbing and skiing. Someone needs to take care of him.”
Grace didn’t know what to say. From the time she was twelve she’d done laundry, cleaned the house, washed dishes and cooked meals. Her parents’ high expectations had led Grace to work hard around the house and at school to make good grades. As long as she met their demands, everything was fine. If she didn’t, they’d made her feel like a stray cat they regretted bringing into the house. “Bill’s lucky to have a mother who wants to do so much for him.”
Mrs. Paulson focused on Liam, who ate the cookie. “You’ll understand when your son gets older. They grow up so fast.”
Grow up were the key words here. Grace hoped by the time Liam was thirty he would want to take care of himself, and she would let him.
Mrs. Paulson walked back to the kitchen. “What would you like for breakfast, Liam?”
“Eggs and toast, please,” he answered.
The woman beamed brightly. “Such manners.”
The surprise in her voice made Grace grit her teeth. “I can make you breakfast, Liam. I’m sure Mrs. Paulson has a lot to do this morning.”
“Not as much as I had planned, thanks to you.” The words didn’t sound like a compliment. “I’m happy to scramble eggs and make toast.”
“With jelly.” Liam followed the woman into the kitchen, as if being related to Bill automatically made her another friend. “I help.”
“I’d love your help. Bill used to help me cook when he was your age.” The smile on Mrs.
His little fingers dug into Grace’s legs.
She patted his hand, trying to release his death grip on her. “It’s okay.”
“How old are you, Liam?” Mrs. Paulson asked.
He stuck three fingers out to the side, then added a fourth.
“Three and a half,” Grace said.
Liam poked his head out. “Almost four.”
“Almost four,” Mrs. Paulson repeated. “You’re a big boy.”
Liam jumped to the left like a jack-in-the-box on its side. “Big and strong like Bill.”
“Yes, you are.” She studied him, then looked at Grace. “You said you were from out of town.”
“Georgia.”
“What brings you to Hood Hamlet?”
“Just passing through.”
Liam looked around. “Bill? Where’s he?”
“At work,” Grace said.
Liam’s lower lip stuck out. Quivered. “Want Bill. Time to play.”
She touched her son’s shoulder. “We talked about this last night. Bill’s working at the fire station.”
Liam stared at the floor as if his world had come to an end.
Grace had to admit she, too, would rather be speaking with Bill than Mrs. Paulson. Damon’s mom hadn’t liked her much, either. Maybe it was a mother-with-sons thing. Grace vowed not to be like that when Liam brought a girlfriend home someday. “Your son is my son’s new best friend.”
“I’m not surprised. Bill’s a kid at heart. That boy will never grow up. Though I wish he’d find a good woman and settle down.” Mrs. Paulson removed a cookie from the cookie jar and gave it to Liam. “This will make you feel better.”
Grace sighed. “This is the second day in a row he’s had a cookie for breakfast. He’ll be spoiled rotten by the time we leave.”
“Nothing wrong with a little spoiling,” Mrs. Paulson said. “I do that with Bill. I was wondering why the house looked cleaner than usual this morning. You must have dusted and vacuumed. Decorated the tree and the house, too.”
The woman didn’t sound pleased, but Grace wasn’t going to let Bill’s mother get to her. She had allowed that to happen with Damon’s mom. “The least I could do. I’m so grateful for Bill’s hospitality. I plan on doing as much as I can for him in return.”
“Thoughtful, but unnecessary. I come over the mornings he works at the station, to help out. He claims I do too much for him, but he gets distracted with his rescue work, climbing and skiing. Someone needs to take care of him.”
Grace didn’t know what to say. From the time she was twelve she’d done laundry, cleaned the house, washed dishes and cooked meals. Her parents’ high expectations had led Grace to work hard around the house and at school to make good grades. As long as she met their demands, everything was fine. If she didn’t, they’d made her feel like a stray cat they regretted bringing into the house. “Bill’s lucky to have a mother who wants to do so much for him.”
Mrs. Paulson focused on Liam, who ate the cookie. “You’ll understand when your son gets older. They grow up so fast.”
Grow up were the key words here. Grace hoped by the time Liam was thirty he would want to take care of himself, and she would let him.
Mrs. Paulson walked back to the kitchen. “What would you like for breakfast, Liam?”
“Eggs and toast, please,” he answered.
The woman beamed brightly. “Such manners.”
The surprise in her voice made Grace grit her teeth. “I can make you breakfast, Liam. I’m sure Mrs. Paulson has a lot to do this morning.”
“Not as much as I had planned, thanks to you.” The words didn’t sound like a compliment. “I’m happy to scramble eggs and make toast.”
“With jelly.” Liam followed the woman into the kitchen, as if being related to Bill automatically made her another friend. “I help.”
“I’d love your help. Bill used to help me cook when he was your age.” The smile on Mrs.
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