“Do you even know if he’s available?”
“Well, of course I do. I had a friend in the clerk’s office look at the paperwork he submitted his first day on the job. He’s definitely not married now, and as far as I can tell from asking around, he’s never been married.”
“He might have a fiancée or a girlfriend in Charleston or in the last place he worked,” Jeanette improvised, not wanting to suggest he might be interested in someone else right here in Serenity. “For all you know he takes off every Friday afternoon to spend the weekend with a woman he’s planning to marry.”
“I suppose that’s possible,” Mary Vaughn conceded, her expression thoughtful. Then she waved the suggestion aside. “Come on, Jeanette, he’s in his midthirties and he’s never been married. Don’t you think that’s strange?”
“I’ve never been married,” Jeanette responded. “Is that strange?”
Mary Vaughn dismissed that idea, too. “Heavens no, sugar. I can tell you’re just choosy. You’re not going to settle for any ol’ man who comes along, and why should you? With your looks, you can have any man you want.”
“If only that were true,” Jeanette commented dryly.
Not a single one of her supposedly serious relationships had led to marriage. She’d played second best to other women, to sports, to a career, and in one disastrous instance, to the man’s mama. She’d finally resolved to break that pattern and never be anyone’s second best again. If a man couldn’t put her first, she didn’t want him. And based on Tom’s declaration about his own plans to move on, to say nothing of his unfortunate tie to a woman who’d tried to ruin her, a relationship with him didn’t seem like a good route to go.
Determined to change the subject, she replaced the warm towel over Mary Vaughn’s face. “Leave that there,” she instructed. “I’ll be right back. Try to relax and let those moisturizers do their thing.”
Mary Vaughn murmured something Jeanette couldn’t understand, which was probably just as well. She liked Mary Vaughn well enough most of the time, but one of these days the woman was going to make some nasty comment about someone Jeanette liked and she was going to lose control and stuff that towel right down her throat!
* * *
Tom looked up from the pile of requisitions on his desk to find his mother standing in the doorway, her expression uncertain, her arms laden with fabric samples.
“Mother, what on earth are you doing here?” he asked as he rushed to relieve her of her burden.
“I told you I was going to buy new drapes for your office,” she said with a touch of impatience. “I brought a few samples so you can choose what you like.”
Tom had forgotten all about the offer and his promise to make sure that no one in town would object. “I’m afraid you’ve wasted a trip,” he told her, dumping the fabric onto a chair. “I haven’t even spoken to the mayor about whether it would be appropriate for you to do this.”
“Well, where is he? Let’s ask him right now. Surely no one can object to your own mother paying for drapes.”
Truthfully, they probably wouldn’t, but Tom didn’t give two hoots about what kind of material hung by the windows in his office. Ironically, he wasn’t entirely convinced his mother did, either, despite her apparent enthusiasm for the project.
“Sit down,” he said. “Talk to me. What’s this really about? Normally you’re so busy I don’t even hear from you for weeks on end. Suddenly all you can focus on are my drapes. I don’t get it. Are you bored, Mother?”
“Heavens, no. I have so many obligations, sometimes I can’t fit them all in.” Despite her convincing words, she avoided his gaze as she spoke.
“Then why are you wasting time choosing drapes for my office?”
She squirmed uncomfortably. “Because you’re never around and I miss you,” she admitted finally. “I know you want to avoid your father and his constant criticism, but that means you don’t spend any time with me, either. You’re my youngest, and my only son.”
He grinned at her. “And your favorite,” he teased.
“Don’t start that with me, young man. Mothers don’t have favorites.”
“Then why isn’t it enough for you that my sisters and their families are all right there underfoot?”
“Because they’re older and they’re settled. They’ve made good marriages and are filling their homes with children. You’re all alone. I worry about you. I won’t be around forever. You need someone in your life, a woman of substance who will challenge you and see to your needs.”
Tom barely contained a sigh. “Not this again, Mother. I’ll marry when I find the right woman.” Then he thought about her offhand comment about not being around forever. “You’re not ill, are you?”
“Of course not,” she said at once. “It’s just that you said something in Charleston to suggest that you might have met her,” she reminded him. “But when your father and I came over here hoping for at least a glimpse of her, the only woman we saw was the one who scooted off before we could even be introduced.”
“I told you—”
“I know, she’s on some committee with you,” his mother interrupted, clearly exasperated with him. “But is she the one?”
“Mother, you’re getting way ahead of yourself. I swear to you that if I get serious about anyone, you’ll be the first to know.” He walked over and pressed a kiss to her forehead. “And no more talk about you not being around forever. You’re not even sixty, for goodness’ sakes. You’ll be pestering us all for years to come.”
She gave him a wan smile. “I
