Page 82 of An Engagement for Erica

His mother was opening cabinets and looking at the plates and glasses.

“I had some help,” he said. He was going to have to tell her what was going on with Erica. That he had a girlfriend and in his grandfather’s eyes, a fiancée.

He had no idea how she was going to handle the news.

“Did you now?” his mother asked, turning to lean on the counter. “I can’t wait to hear about this.”

“Come sit down,” he said. “Or better yet we can go back to the main house and relax. I’ve got wine if you’d like a glass.”

His mother laughed. “My son doesn’t drink wine and he wants to have a glass? This has to be good.”

“I didn’t say I was having wine, just that I bought it for you. I’ll have a beer.”

He was going to need it.

They walked out of the little cottage and down the path to his house, going in the back door.

“Do you have any cheese and crackers with it?” his mother asked.

“Always,” he said. He knew what his mother liked to snack on and made sure he had it in the house and even in the guesthouse, but he expected she’d purchase some food this week too.

His mother found the cheese while he opened the wine and poured her a glass, then got a beer for him and poured that in a glass.

“Where are your crackers?” his mother asked.

He opened a cabinet, didn’t see them, then opened another and found where they’d been placed.

“Let me get a plate for it so it’s nice and pretty,” he said.

“You’re stalling. What is going on?”

“I’m dating someone,” he said.

“That’s wonderful,” his mother said. “I’m not sure why I’m just hearing this now when we’ve been talking a lot lately.”

“I wanted to tell you in person.”

“Tell me about her,” his mother said, pulling out a chair at the island to sit and help herself to a slice of cheese he’d placed down.

“Her name is Erica James.”

“The consultant you hired?” his mother asked. “The one you worked with before and have a history with?”

“I’m not sure what kind of history you are talking about.”

“The one where she passed out in front of you and you called for help. That kind of history.”

“Then that is her,” he said, grinning.

“I’ve known all along you felt more for her,” his mother said.

“I’ve never said anything to give you that impression,” he said.

“Tucker. A mother knows. Not only that, you said Erica’s father is the one who operated on TC. You called her and she called her father. That is more than a working relationship.”

“It is,” he said. “But it hadn’t been more than wishful thinking on my part at that time.”

“And since then it’s changed?” his mother asked.

---