Yesterday's Love

“I am not anxious to be rid of you. I would like to see you settle down with some nice, sensible young man who could take care of you.”

The description certainly fit Tate, but Victoria was not about to get her mother’s hopes up. Given the slightest provocation, her mother was capable of planning maneuvers that would terrify and subdue an entire company of marines, much less a lone IRS agent. “I do not need someone to take care of me. I have a home—”

“Such as it is.”

Victoria shot her a reproachful glance. “I have a business—”

“Which you run like a front yard lemonade stand.”

“And I have my friends—”

“Who are all nuttier than you are.”

“Mother, I’m so glad you are on my side.”

Katherine Marshall beamed at her, ignoring her sarcastic tone. “You should be dear. But I won’t be around forever, and I’d like to know there’s someone who’ll look after you and keep you out of mischief when I’m gone.”

“You’re healthier than I am, so I don’t think that’s something we need to worry about today. Now could we drop this subject and get over to the shop? You may be missing a sale.”

“Oh, dear. Of course, you’re right.” She put the jacket back on the chair. “But Victoria, I want you to promise me that you’ll bring this young man of yours over to meet your father and me.”

“Mother, I solemnly swear that if this man ever becomes my young man, you and Dad will be the first to hear. Just so you know, though, you will not have the power of a veto.” Not that that was likely, she thought dryly.

When they pulled into the driveway at the shop a few minutes later, the young man in question was pacing around the barn much to her amazement and dismay. His very neat and very flattering navy pin-striped suit looked totally out of place in the rural setting. Victoria wondered curiously if he even owned a pair of blue jeans. Then she caught sight of the mud caked on his expensive leather shoes and winced. If Tate planned to keep up these visits, he obviously needed to get a new, more practical wardrobe before he destroyed the one he had.

“Is that the young man?” Katherine Marshall hissed, as her daughter opened the car door and got out. Victoria rolled her eyes heavenward. These were not the circumstances she’d had in mind for a second meeting with Tate McAndrews.

“Do you always show up for work an hour late?” he was demanding irritably, a scowl on his handsome face.

“I have an ‘in’ with the owner,” she responded tartly, as she unlocked the door and stalked inside.

“That is no way to—”

“Run a business,” Katherine Marshall chimed in. “I’ve been telling her that very thing myself. Hello. I’m Victoria’s mother.”

She held out her hand and waited expectantly. Tate took it, then looked in amazement from this trim, tidy woman with the firm handshake and no-nonsense style to Victoria in another one of her outrageous getups. He’d never have believed it. This woman seemed perfectly…normal. She would never keep her bills in shopping bags.

“Tate McAndrews,” he told her. “I’m from—”

“Tate is a friend from Cincinnati,” Victoria interrupted quickly, shooting him a warning glance. “I’m surprised to see you again so soon.”

“I needed to talk to you about—”

“Dinner.”

“Oh, is Victoria making you dinner tonight, Tate?” Katherine Marshall asked cheerfully. “How lovely. Why don’t the two of you drop by the house for dessert?”

“Mother!”

“We’d love to, Mrs. Marshall.”

“Are you out of your mind?” Victoria snapped at him, marching into the back room with Tate trailing after her.

“What’s wrong with you? I was just trying to be polite.”

“Don’t you realize that if we go over there for dessert tonight, my mother will have the church reserved by next weekend? She already thinks we’re involved,” she told him, her brows lifting significantly. “That’s in capital letters, by the way.”

“Involved?” Tate repeated, his expression completely baffled. “You mean…?” His eyes widened as the implication finally registered. “Why on earth would she think that?”

“Your jacket.”

“My jacket?” Tate was getting that spinning sensation in his head again.

“You left it in the kitchen. My mother, the protector of my virtue, found it there this morning. She’s assumed the worst.”

Tate burst out laughing. He couldn’t help it. “You’re kidding!”

“I do not kid about matters such as marriage and murder, particularly when they’re my own.”

“Can we expect to find your father on the front porch with a shotgun?”

Victoria gave him a withering glance. “Okay,” she warned. “Make fun of me. But I’m telling you, before you know it, that woman in there is going to have you marching down the aisle.”