Page 23 of The Charm of You

“Can you please take Paulette’s dish back to her? It’s washed and polished, and it’s sitting on the counter inside.”

My eye twitches as I fight a grimace. “We haven’t eaten the entire pie. The dish shouldn’t be washed and polished yet.”

She smiles before I finish talking, and it catches me off guard. It’s like she knew I’d say that or at least something similar, although I don’t know why. I never argue with her, unless it’s to insist that she lets me take care of her.

“I put the rest of the pie in my own Tupperware,” she says. “If I hadn’t, we would’ve forgotten the dish altogether, so I got ahead of it.”

“Crisis averted,” I deadpan, then cough and backtrack over my potentially disrespectful attitude. “I’ll see Addie later. I’ll have her take it. I’m sure she’ll be over to Car—I mean, Paulette’s house soon.”

Again, my mother smiles knowingly, and my nerves twitch. “Why don’t you want to go over there? Is it Caroline?”

“Of course not.”

“She’s really pretty, don’t you think? I remember you fancied her something fierce back in high school.”

“I never told you that.”

“A mother knows, dear.” She winks. “Besides, you weren’t exactly subtle. You stared at her anytime we ran into her and her family in town, and you made her a Valentine’s Day card for four years straight. What I don’t understand is why they’re still hidden in your old room.”

“I collected slugs after every rain too. I did a lot of weird and dumb things back then.”

Her wistful expression is relentless. “I’m sure it was very nice to see her yesterday. You two sounded like you were having a heck of a time catching up.”

Shit. How much did she hear?

“I’m sure you can finish your conversation when you drop off her mother’s dish,” she says, practically giddy.

And there it is. The reason for the smug little twinkle in her expression is Caroline.

My mother’s a smart woman, but she’s got it all wrong here. There’s nothing special about the conversation we were having, and there’s definitely nothing to get all giddy about where Caroline is concerned.

Sighing, I stand and toss out my final bargaining chip. “I’ll take the dish, but only if you let me tend to the chair first.”

Thank George Strait and my lucky monkey wrench, Paulette is the one who answers the door and not Caroline.

I nod in greeting and present the dish. “Washed, polished, and ready for my mother’s next prize. Her words, not mine.”

She shakes her head and tucks the dish into her side. “I’ve never been a sore loser, but Suzanne certainly brings out that side of me. She’s one hell of a Wess player.”

“I don’t know where she gets the enthusiasm for wine, but she and I played a lot of chess when I was a kid.” I can’t help the wistful smile pulling at my lips.

“Walter was the competitive one in our house,” she muses about her late husband. “But as Caroline got older, she became more and more like him.”

The mention of her daughter is a reminder to speed this up.

“I should get back. Have a lot of work to do.” I start to inch toward my escape, relieved I didn’t have to face the infuriating ball of sunshine.

The two of us are like oil and water—we’re too opposite to co-exist even for a short conversation. When Addie said we’d get on well, she couldn’t have been more wrong. She’s usually smarter than that.

I’ve just reached the first step when Mrs. Summers hops onto the porch and stops me. “I’m sure Caroline would love to say hello. She’s had such a wonderful time catching up with everyone from school. Come inside for some tea.”

I shrink into the clean black T-shirt I threw on before coming over here. “That’s mighty kind, but I really should get back to?—”

“Mama?” Caroline appears in the doorway, and my exhale leaves my body in one fell swoop.

Yesterday, Caroline wore a gray dress that clung to every sinful, womanly curve. She looked like she belonged in that faraway city.

Right now, her hair is wet and a darker shade of blonde than usual. Her loose sweater hangs over simple black leggings, and the fuzzy pumpkin socks on her feet almost unearth a smile from me.

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