Page 33 of The Sweet Part
“You didn’t answer my questions,” Mom says to Mason.
“You don’t have to,” I say.
Mason nods at me, then says to mom, “My mom rocks, total badass, no sisters, three brothers though, and no, I don’t have a criminal record.”
Mom clasps her hands together like he’s the answer to her prayer. “That is great news, Mason. I won’t hold the no-sister thing against you.”
“Thank you?” he says uncertainly.
Mom firmly believes that a man with a sister understands women better. My dad grew up with two brothers. Mom always says he had a learning curve. Ha.
Mom smiles at me. “I’ll get out of your hair now.” She turns to Mason. “So nice meeting you.”
“You too.”
She leaves. He stares out the front window, looking a bit dazed.
“Sorry,” I say. “It’s so embarrassing when family butts in. I guess you know all about that with your cousins.”
He cocks his head. “Which cousins?”
“Mackenzie and Harper. They stopped by my house the other day to warn me about your mom.”
Yet another reason not to get involved with Mason. If it didn’t work out, I’d be stuck living across the street from his crazy family, who might hold it against me. My home is my business, and the last thing I need is problems with the neighbors.
He stares blankly for a moment. “Warn you about my mom? Why?”
“I said too much. Clearly, this is news to you, and you should ask your cousins.”
“Oh, I will.” He sounds irritated.
I try to lighten up the conversation. “I guess you noticed Mom’s kinda quirky. So was my grandmom Maggie, but they’re not blood related. It runs on both sides. I couldn’t help but turn out quirky.”
He leans in. “How are you quirky?”
My breath catches in my throat. I wave a hand airily. “Oh, you know, because I quit a well-paying job to open an inn. Don’t get me wrong, I crunched the numbers, and I have savings to tide us over for what I hope will be a short time. But most people at my company would never do something so different from number crunching like opening an inn. They’re financial services lifers, climbing that corporate ladder.”
“That’s not quirky. That’s following your dream.”
I rub a hand on the side of my neck. “And I also talk to myself out loud and forget sometimes to stop when I’m in public.”
He grins. “You do? Like where?”
“The supermarket, Sophie’s school, the inn.”
“But the inn’s your home.”
“I forget sometimes I’m talking to myself in front of the contractors.”
He looks intrigued. “What else?”
“I need the label of everything to be facing front, cans, bottles, whatever. I have to have it all lined up and looking pretty.”
“Pretty?”
I warm to my subject. “And my spices are in alphabetical order. Though I admit that one’s because Mom’s super neat and organized. Growing up, it just seemed like that’s how things were supposed to be.”
“Our house was messy and loud. I think I would’ve liked your house better so I could hear myself think.”
