Page 42 of Where Are You Now
Her mother brightened. “I’d love that.”
“I need to get comfy. I think I might eat dinner in my pajamas tonight,” Ava said.
“Maybe I should as well. I’ll get dinner into the oven first.”
Ava gave her mom another kiss on the cheek and went into the bedroom to change and wash her face.
“Oh, that’s so pretty,” she said, coming into the living room in her plaid flannel pajamas.
Martha was sewing a button on one of her quilted bags. The squares were expertly tufted and strung together with a professional flair. This particular one was an array of shades of lavender and deep purple with double stitching and a printed interior.
“It’s just something I’ve been working on.” Her mother held up the bag andthen set it in her lap, running her hand over the shimmery fabric.
Ava sat down next to her. “May I see?”
Martha pinned her needle on the button clasp and handed the bag to Ava.
Ava opened it, inspecting the embroidered lining. “This could almost pass as designer with these details inside.” She held it up, squinting to fade out the backdrop of the living room, imagining it sitting ona lit white shelf in a boutique. “You could upgrade these. Maybe replace the handles with some sort of exotic wood. Name it ‘the Marrowbone Lake Bag.’ You’d make a killing.”
Her mother dismissed her comment. “Oh, I only do a few at a time. I just enjoy the sewing. It’s relaxing.”
Ava mentally adjusted her perspective, pulling away from her marketing brain. “You’re right. It’s better to leave it as something that fuels you creatively.”
“I agree,” her mom said. “And I do make enough money from them to reimburse my supplies and still turn a small profit.”
“Andyou can make them on your time,” Ava added.
Her mother twisted toward her on the sofa. “I like this new version of you. Where did it come from?”
“I think the accident improved my outlook on things. It just took a while before the change settled in.”
“That’s wonderful.” Her mom set the bag on the table. “Let’s not wait until dinner. Tell me all about your walk.”
Ava let her mother know what she and Lucas had been up to. She was so glad her mom was there to share in her life. Her mother was a wonderful listener, and by the thrill in her eyes, it seemed as if she’d waited Ava’s whole life to have that role. Ava decided then and there that she’d never let time go by like she had before the accident. She’d make use of every minute to spend more time with her mom.
Chapter Thirteen
Ava came out of her room the next morning to the yeasty scent of baking bread. Her mom was sitting at the kitchen table, staring through the window at the lake as if she carried some kind of burden. Did she wipe a tear?
“Morning,” Ava said, making her presence known. “You okay?”
Her mom seemed to swim out of whatever it was. “Yes, totally fine.” She got up from the table and busied herself with rinsing out her mug in the sink. She added dish soap, scrubbing the mug with a rag with more focus than Ava really thought necessary. “How did you sleep?”
“Good.” Ava came around to her side of the counter. “You sure you’re okay?”
“Yes!” Martha rinsed the mug and turned it over to dry on the dish towel. “I’m baking croissants. They’ll be ready any minute.”
“Want another cup of coffee? We could sit out on the front porch for a change. I’d like to take in the fall colors,” Ava said cautiously.
“That sounds lovely.”
Ava got down a mug for herself and brewed coffee while her mother took the croissants out of the oven and divided the flaky bread, adding a slice of Gruyère, andthen plating two of them. She served one to Ava.
They took their breakfast to the front porch, settling in the rocking chairs next to the wood pile.
“Who chops that for you?” Ava asked, nodding toward the logs and then sitting down in one of the rocking chairs and placing her plate on her lap. “You don’t do it yourself, do you?”
“There’s a farmer down the road who’ll bring me a cord of wood for $120, and he stacks it for me.” Her mother sat in the rocker next to Ava’s. “It’s helpful when you live alone.”
