I took a deep breath. “You can stay a week. That should be plenty of time for me to get to know Owen before you head back to Georgia.”
“We’re not going back to Georgia. We were thinking that since you’re here, this might be a good place to settle down.” She smiled, but it was different somehow. Like she was holding two conversations and I could hear only one of them.
“Why don’t you go back to Gulf Shores? I’m sure your mother would be happy to see you.”
“Mama died when I was twenty. I’ve been on my own ever since. Robert and Owen are the only real family I’ve ever had. And now you.”
She didn’t say it with self-pity, and I respected her for that. But it didn’t make me want to like her any better. She was still an over-made-up, underdressed, big-haired woman who’d snared herself a man nearly twice her age despite the fact that he had a daughter just five years younger than she was who didn’t approve. I couldn’t bring myself to care too much where she went next.
Throwing my towels in the sink, I said, “I’ll mop this up in the morning—I’m too tired to deal with it right now. I’m going to bed—see you tomorrow.” I turned to go.
“Good night, Merritt. Sleep tight, and don’t let the bedbugs bite.”
I stopped and turned around, then took another deep breath, wearier than I’d been when I’d come downstairs. “Let me guess—that’s something your mother used to say.”
She gave me a wide grin. “Uh-huh. But I say it to Owen every night now, too. I guess you could say it’s sort of a family tradition.”
I nodded, then headed toward the stairs, remembering how my mother had always said, “Sweet dreams,” before she closed my bedroom door, and how it had been a long, long time since I remembered how to dream.
chapter 5
LORALEE
The smell of frying bacon filled the small kitchen, reminding Loralee of the tiny trailer she’d shared with her mother all those years ago. Loralee had never been allowed to go anywhere before she’d had a home-cooked breakfast, and it was something she’d continued to do for Owen. Her mama had always smelled like bacon grease from the diner where she worked two shifts every day. She was always there for Loralee when she came home from school, and each morning ready and dressed in her uniform and apron. She’d be standing at the two-burner oven in the corner of the trailer they called the kitchen, frying up bacon or flipping flapjacks from batter that the diner’s cook had slipped Desiree in a small Tupperware bowl.
Loralee gripped the edge of the counter and leaned on her arms as she closed her eyes. The smell wasn’t agreeing with her this morning, stealing what little appetite she still had. She heard Owen’s steady steps down the hallway and quickly straightened and put a smile on her face. She placed two fried eggs on a plate and then selected a couple of strips of bacon, arranging them so it looked like a smiley face.
Owen entered the kitchen and blinked sleepily at her before settling in at the old Formica kitchen table. Out of habit, Loralee took his glasses from his face and cleaned them with the hem of her skirt. He was wearing the new pair of jeans she’d bought the previous day, the crease in the middle still sharp. His knit golf shirt with the little man playing polo stuck on the left corner was buttoned up to his neck.
As Loralee replaced his glasses, she resisted the pull to unbutton the top button and to rumple his hair, which had been parted and combed down with water. He liked it that way, he’d told her, because his daddy had worn his hair like that.
“Good morning, Owen,” she said, kissing the top of his head, relieved that he hadn’t pulled away when she kissed him. She knew that was part of growing up, and she accepted that. She just wasn’t ready for it yet.
“Good morning, Mama,” he said, staring down at his plate. He put both elbows on the table and let out a heavy sigh.
“What’s the matter?” she asked, stopping at the side of the table.
He shrugged a bony shoulder. “I like the smiley face—I really do. But if I go to a real school here, don’t do that with anything you pack in my lunch box, okay?”
“Sure,” she said, smiling although it hurt her to do it. “I understand.” And she did. It was just too soon.
“So you’re already talking about schools here?”