“She baked cookies ’cause she figured you probably didn’t know how and she wanted to make a good impression.” Owen’s words were garbled, and Loralee wanted to tell him again about not speaking with his mouth full, but she was too busy being embarrassed.
Keeping her back to the table, she continued scrubbing the now-clean pan. “Robert said you never liked to spend any time in the kitchen; that’s why I thought you wouldn’t want to do any baking. But they’re chocolate-and-peanut-butter-chip—Owen’s second-favorite cookies—so I thought you’d like them, too. And don’t tell me you’re counting calories, either. You’re so skinny, when you turn to the side and stick out your tongue you look like a zipper.”
Loralee cringed at the sound of a kitchen chair being scraped back, and she was pretty sure it wasn’t Owen’s.
Merritt’s words were tight, as if she was measuring them carefully. “I appreciate your cleaning up the milk and making me breakfast—I do. But I don’t want you to do anything else for me, all right? And if you’re going to be staying here for a week, we’re setting some ground rules, the first being that my room and alarm clock are off-limits. As are my neighbors and any plumbers or electricians or whoever else I might need to come work on the house. You and Owen are guests here, and all I’ll need you to do is stack your sheets and towels on the floor of the laundry room when you leave.”
Loralee had finally gotten control of her face to turn around. “Actually, Merritt, the washing machine isn’t working—I tried to wash those towels we used to mop up the milk last night and it just made this sound like an old pickup truck trying to start on a cold morning. That load of sheets Mrs. Williams’s cleaning lady did for us must have been the washing machine’s swan song. There’s a stack of Yellow Pages in the garage, so I looked up a number and a serviceman will be here between one and five. I would have looked it up on my phone, but I only had one bar and there’s no Wi-Fi connection. I can call somebody for that, too, if you’d like.”
Loralee smiled her flight-attendant smile, the one even the crankiest passenger couldn’t help but respond to. But Merritt was different, and instead of smiling back she seemed to be getting angrier as bright red spots of color appeared on her cheeks. Loralee wanted to take a picture with her iPhone so that she could show Merritt what she’d look like with a little bit of blush on her cheeks, but she figured this probably wouldn’t be the right time.
Merritt barely moved her lips while she spoke. “I can’t talk with you right now. I’m going upstairs—”
The doorbell interrupted whatever she’d been about to say.
Loralee forced herself to smile even brighter. “That must be Mr. Williams and the doctor. I’ll go get the door if you want to run upstairs and change—you can take the back stairs. You’ve got such a cute figure, and it’s a shame to be hiding it under that skirt.”
Merritt held up her hand and Loralee could see it shaking a little bit. “Not one more word. Please. I’ll go get the door.”
As soon as Merritt left the room, Loralee pulled out a china platter from the pretty wood hutch and began transferring cookies from the baking sheet. “Owen, could you please get some plates and napkins? I’m going to bring these to the front parlor in case anybody’s hungry.”
Loralee hurried, her heels tapping against the wide-planked floors until she reached the foyer, where Merritt was alone with the doctor, the two of them looking like two dogs circling a bone.
“Well, good morning, Dr. Heyward,” Loralee said in greeting.
The handsome doctor responded with a wide grin that got even wider when he spotted Owen coming up behind her with the plates and napkins. “Hey, there, Rocky. Nice shirt.”
Everybody seemed to notice at once that Owen and the doctor were wearing matching shirts, although if Loralee was being honest with herself, she’d have to admit that Dr. Heyward filled his out a lot more nicely than her son did.
Owen smiled shyly. “Thank you, sir.”
“Where’s Mr. Williams?” Loralee asked as she placed the plate on the hall table instead of waiting for Merritt to play hostess and invite everyone into the parlor.
“He had an emergency at the office and couldn’t come. He was going to call and reschedule, but I said I was sure Mrs. Heyward and I could do this without any blood drawn.”
Merritt stood with her hands clasped together like a schoolteacher, but the spots of color on her cheeks had returned. “That’s very brave of you, considering you don’t know me at all.”
Dr. Heyward turned to Owen. “Does she bite?”
Owen was trying very hard not to laugh, but when he glanced at his mother she gave him the look that meant it would be very bad manners if he did.
Loralee placed a cookie on a plate and handed it to the doctor with a napkin. “Would you like a cookie, Doctor? They’re chocolate-and-peanut-butter-chip.”
“My favorite,” he said. “After Oreos, of course. Thank you.” He took a bite and closed his eyes. “Delicious, Mrs. Connors. You have a gift.”
“You’re very kind. And please call me Loralee.”