With This Ring

“Watch it, young man, or you might lose one of those fingers.”

He laughed. “I’ll take my chances. Are you expecting company?” he asked. If the size of the stewpot was anything to go by, she was cooking for a crowd.

“I thought I’d make enough for a meal or two for myself and take the rest to the shelter. They’re a little short on food this weekend.”

At this rate she’d never be able to retire, but talking to her about it was a losing battle. She’d carry the weight of the whole world on her shoulders if anyone asked her to. His mother was younger than most of the mothers of his friends, but she often looked tired and older than she actually was. Today was one of those days.

She’d become a single parent at sixteen and had struggled through a lot of hardship. He remembered her helping him with homework while she studied and worked to put herself through college. Nothing had changed when she became a social worker. In spite of an ample salary, she still lived in the little old house she’d purchased twenty years ago, and somehow she managed to keep her geriatric Dodge running. Every spare penny went to help those who were less fortunate than she was.

She tossed handfuls of diced carrots and celery into the pot and started on the potatoes. “So, you haven’t told me what brings you by.”

He might as well cut to the chase. “I need to borrow a few things.”

“What would you like? And don’t tell me it’s take-out chicken stew. If you want any of that, you’ll have to come back and have dinner with me.”

“Sorry. No can do.”

“Your loss.” She gave him one of her big, warm smiles. “So if it’s not food, what are you after?”

“I need some women’s clothing. Enough for a few days. Size four,” he said. “If you have anything.”

She set her knife on the butcher block and wiped her hands on a towel as she turned to face him.

“That’s an odd request.”

“Not really. A friend of mine is in kind of a jam and she needs a few things. Just temporarily, until…”

His explanation trailed off as his mother’s scrutiny intensified.

“Please tell me this friend of yours isn’t Leslie Durrance.”

Damn, she was good.

Chapter Two

“Why would you ask that?” As soon as he said it, he knew his evasiveness sounded like a yes.

And his mother’s eagle eye never missed a trick. “I stopped by Donaldson’s Deli to pick up the day-old bread that Mr. Donaldson donates to the shelter. The place was buzzing. Apparently she bolted and left Gerald whatshis-name at the altar.”

“Man, what is it with this town and gossip?”

“You haven’t answered my question, and that usually means—”

“Okay, fine. She’s at my place,” he confessed. Yes, at that very moment Leslie Durrance was in his bathtub. Naked and single. “And she has nothing to wear but a soaking-wet wedding dress and a pair of high-heeled shoes.”

“Do I even dare ask how she ended up with you?”

“I was driving by the church—”

“Oh, Brent. You can’t be serious.”

“What do you mean?”

“You might be able to fool yourself, but you can’t fool me. I thought you were over her years ago but even if you’re not, why torture yourself by driving by the church on her wedding day?”

He hated it when she looked at him like he was one of her homeless people. He didn’t want her to be concerned about him. He should be taking care of her for a change. “Under the circumstances it’s a good thing I showed up when I did.”

“Because?”

“She needed help.”

His mother let out a long sigh. “She’s a millionaire, Brent. She can buy anything she wants, when she wants it, without asking how much it costs. Why would she need your help?”

The sparkle of that enormous diamond ring flashed in his memory. “Well, she didn’t have her purse with her.”

His mother burst out laughing. “You dear, sweet boy. I guess I shouldn’t be surprised that my Prince Charming would race to her rescue.”

“It’s not like that, Mom. She hasn’t told me what happened, but I know Leslie. She wouldn’t run out on her wedding unless something really bad had happened. I get the feeling she wants to lie low for a couple of days and there’s no way she can do that in Collingwood Station, money or no money, without a little help from someone.”

She rested her hand against the side of his face. “And that someone had to be you. At the very least, I hope she appreciates this. And who knows, maybe she’ll come to her senses and realize she couldn’t possibly do any better.”

Yeah, that should happen right around the time money started to grow on trees. He covered her hand with his. “I wouldn’t count on that. Besides, like I said, that’s not what this is about. She’s in a tight spot and I was there to help.”

“Still, I can’t help wondering if your timing was good or bad.”

When he didn’t respond, she sighed again. “There’s always a first time for everything and this is definitely the first time I’ve had to provide clothing for a homeless millionaire, but you’re in luck. I just finished cleaning and mending all the clothes that were donated this month. I was going to take them into the shelter on Monday.”

“She said she’ll have everything cleaned and return it.”

“How generous.”

“Come on, Mom. It’s not her fault that people are homeless.”

“Whose fault is it?”

Here we go, he thought. Once she climbed on her soapbox, he knew better than to argue. “If I ask, I’m sure she’ll make a donation, too.”

“Too bad you have to ask.”

All righty then. “She’s not a bad person, Mom.”

“She is if she breaks your heart again.” She turned back to her food preparation. “The clothes are on the bed in your old room. I sorted them into piles by size, so you shouldn’t have any trouble finding something that’ll fit her.”

“Thanks. I really appreciate this. So does Leslie.”

He didn’t get a response, so he headed up the stairs.

This old house held a lot of memories. Good ones. The door to his old room creaked when he opened it. He’d been on his own for a lot of years so it surprised him that his mother had never reclaimed this space. His baseball trophies were still lined up on the dresser and an old Reggie Jackson poster was tacked to the closet door.