Page 71 of Hot to Trot

"Scarlet."

ADAM FIDDLED WITH THE CORDof the telephone on the wall of his kitchen. It had been a while since he'd had a phone with a cord. The retro style suited him fine, even if it did mean staying in the one room while talking on it. "No, Mom. I appreciate you wanting to come to Oak Stand for the picnic, but it's not necessary. I actually have a date with a nice, acceptable girl."

“Acceptable? In Oak Stand?" his mother’s voice suggestion there was not such thing.

He closed his eyes and counted to only three. "Yeah, they have some of those around here. Go figure."

"Don't get smart, mister. You may be nearing thirty, but-"

''I just turned thirty-two, Mother."

“Heavens! Let's keep that between you and me."

His lips twitched. His mother sometimes made him want to stab his eyes out with a pin, but he'd forgo the whole Oedipus thing. She was a giant snobby pain in the ass, but she was still his mother... and he loved her.

"I'll leave you to your acceptable girl and come another weekend. I have swatches of fabric I'd like to test against the walls in the living room. You did call the painter, didn't you? And that handsome contractor? I've already paid him to refinish those floors."

"Um, no. I like white walls and the floors are fine."

Her huff of breath was all too familiar. Why did she have to meddle? And try to decorate his life with curtains, paint, and women?

"It's bad enough you're living in a veritable shack, but to refuse to spruce it up... I don't understand you, Adam. You settle for the ordinary when you could have the extraordinary."

"I like ordinary, Mother. It suits me."

"Does it really? Or have you convinced yourself playing Average Joe will solve all your problems? You're not average. You're something pretty special, and I'm not talking money here, sugar. I'm talking about who you are. Why in the world would you desire to fade into the background?"

He studied the refrigerator hunkered against the stove that rattled when he boiled water. Rust formed on the bottom of the appliance, marring the white surface with a spot of undesirable color. "I'm not settling. I like this town and who I am in it. I know you don't understand, but I've always been a Hinton and that's not easy. Here, I’m the chief. I go to church. I fish. I mow my own grass. I-”

"I understand that you want to be Andy Griffith or whatever. But I feel as though you're searching for something you won't ever find. Your life as a Hinton wasn't perfect, but your life as Adam, the chief of police, won't be, either. You can't line up your life and expect it to fall into place as pretty as you please because that’s how you wish it. Doesn't work that way. You’re creating a make believe world that you think you can control. You’re intentionally making yourself into a character and that’s not living.”

He chewed on her words for a moment. Guilty as charged. Maybe that's why the idea of taking Sophie to the picnic had never sat right with him. Not only because he'd tumbled into something he didn't want to put a name to with Scarlet, but because Sophie seemed made to order. Cookie cutter perfect for him. But not what he wanted to eat. "You're right, Mom."

"Lord have mercy! Let's mark this day on the calendar."

He chuckled. "I'll get my pen out."

"Adam, I love you. And I want the best for you, even if I’m bougie, somewhat shallow, and too concerned with the color of your walls. I'm still planning to visit. With my swatches."

His mother's voice had grown soft, sweeter than he'd ever remembered. Was there something wrong with her? A thread of fear squeezed his throat. ''Mom? Are you okay?"

"I'm fine. I simply don't say that enough to you, and I should."

Adam twisted a knot into the cord. "I love you, too. And I might even unlock the door if you leave those curtain samples in Houston. I don't want anyone girling up my bachelor pad."

She sighed. “Fine. I’ll just order gray curtains. You measure the windows.”

They said their goodbyes, he hung up the receiver, and stared at the rust spot. He needed to get some paint to cover the stain or it would spread. Or he could get a new fridge. And maybe he should cancel his date with Sophie. Wasn't fair to lead her on. Yet to bow out at such a late date would be ungentlemanly. Besides, Sophie was a nice girl. Maybe she'd grow on him.

Because Scarlet couldn't be the right woman for him. After next week, she'd be gone. Back to New York. Maybe even back with the man she swore she still loved.

Jealousy flooded him, hot and vicious. He had no right to feel envious of a phantom lover. Yet he did. He hated whoever had broken Scarlet's heart. The man should have his damn head examined to toss her over. She was extraordinary.

His mother's words floated back to him.

You settle for ordinary.

Maybe he should go for extraordinary. Allow life to fall outside the lines he'd drawn for himself. He could end up hurt. Or fired. But could he truly be happy sitting between his plain white walls with the knowledge that he settled for ordinary when he might have had a chance with a woman who made his heartpound? A woman who made his hands sweat. Made him laugh. Made him want to take a walk in a thunderstorm. Make love beneath the night sky. And paint his front door to match her gorgeous hair.

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