Page 81 of Too Old for This
“You’re going to…”
Panic flashes through her eyes. “It’s okay, I don’t have to stay here. I’m so sorry. Archie really should’ve told you. I can stay at a hotel.”
No way to back out of this now. Not without sounding unnecessarily rude, considering this isn’t her fault.
“Don’t be silly,” I say. “Of course you’ll stay here. You can’t drive around looking for a hotel tonight.”
Again, she looks relieved.
I am exhausted. In the span of just a few minutes, we’ve both gone through a maze of emotions. One night. That’s it. It’s getting late already, she’s been traveling, and she’ll go to bed soon. Tomorrow, I will get her a room anywhere but the Harmony Hotel.
“Come on. Let’s go into the kitchen,” I say. “We can sit down and have a snack.”
Morgan moves her bag to a corner of the foyer. It’s black, with what looks like a designer tag on the handle. “Thank you so much. I’m going to kill Archie when I talk to him.”
“You know how he is. Always so distracted by work.”
“That doesn’t excuse being rude.”
No, it does not. She is right about that.
In the kitchen, I close the laptop and put it on the far end of the counter before beginning my routine. Fill the teapot, put it on the stove, set two cups with saucers and spoons. I also grab a package of cookies. The good kind, not the ones I gave Plum.
Morgan pulls out her phone. Her thumbs move so fast they’re a blur. She must be texting Archie. I can only imagine how embarrassed she must feel showing up on the doorstep of her almost mother-in-law. A surprise nobody asked for.
“How are you feeling?” I ask. “Any morning sickness?”
Morgan’s face lights up, and she prattles on about her pregnancy as I finish serving the tea. Her morning sickness hasn’t been bad. In fact, she’s feeling pretty good and trying to get the wedding planned.
“That’s why I’m here,” she says. “To meet with the caterer and finalize the venue. It’s amazing we found anything available this late.”
I answer with a lot of nods and mm-hmms, but I’m thinking about getting fresh sheets for one of the guest rooms and clean towels. It’s so disconcerting to get caught like this. Not that my house isdirty, but overnight guests require a different level of clean.
Morgan’s phone rings. The tinkling bell reminds me of Christmas. She taps the screen and tells Archie that he’s on speaker. His voice blares out and fills up the kitchen.
“I’m so sorry. I meant to call earlier and then I had a meeting.” The words come out all at once. He stops to breathe.
Morgan rolls her eyes. “Your mother had no idea I was showing up tonight.”
“I know. I’m—”
“Sorry. Yes, you said that.”
Silence.
“Mom, I really am sorry. This is all my fault. Morg, can you take me off speaker?”
I get the hint and motion to Morgan. “I’m going to prepare the guest room.”
On my way out, I hear her hiss into the phone.
“I am soembarrassed.”
Morgan is not the insecure woman I met last year. She used to be a flight attendant, Archie met her when he was traveling. But she has given up that job to start a home business, plan a wedding, and prepare for the baby. Somewhere along the way, she also learned to handle Archie.
Good for her. But I still don’t want her staying in my house.
I head for the guest room farthest away from my bedroom. The floor in the hall is creaky, so I will hear her when she walks out of the room. I put fresh sheets on the bed, wipe any lingering dust off the furniture, and check the hall bathroom. It’s too late to do much about it. I put out fresh towels and spritz a little air freshener.
