Page 19 of Finding Home (Willow Valley #1)
NINETEEN
CHLOE
P ulling up outside of Mrs. Simpson’s place is strange.
I’ve never been inside, but Mom and I have walked past her house and she’s commented on how much she loves her rose bushes out front.
Being here is weird. I have no relationship with Mrs. Simpson outside of knowing her from around town and now living with her grandson and great-granddaughter.
I step out of my car with the bouquet I stopped and grabbed on my way over. Taking a deep breath, I head up the stairs to the front porch and knock. I hear Lila’s excited voice and footsteps on the other side of the door before it’s pulled open and I see Mrs. Simpson.
I offer her a tentative smile and hold out the bouquet. “I got these for you.”
She takes them, and a sparkle fills her eyes. “Come in, dear. We were just working on the finishing touches on dinner. You’re right on time.”
I follow her inside, slipping my shoes off and padding behind them into the kitchen.
The kitchen smells amazing, like fresh-baked cookies.
I notice Lila hunkered over a brown board on the kitchen table as she holds her tongue between her lips and perfectly places pieces of salami alongside an assortment of cheese and crackers.
Mrs. Simpson notices my gaze and says, “Lila and I thought we’d do a charcuterie board for dinner and some fresh baked cookies for dessert to go with a movie. ”
I nod. “Sounds like fun.”
Lila looks up at me. “Daddy would never let me do this for dinner. He’d say I’d need to eat real food.”
I pull out the chair beside her and sit before taking a piece of salami and helping her finish the board.
“Well, it’s okay to do these every once and a while for fun, but you’re dad’s right to want you to eat filling food for dinner.
I’m sure we can convince him to do one of these for dinner one day, but right now, it must be fun to have them with Grandma. ”
“Yeah. You’re right. It is fun with Grandma.”
I mention convincing Everett to do something in the future, but I don’t even know how long I’ll be around for. I push that aside and focus back on the task at hand.
“Well, this is a beautiful charcuterie board,” I say, and Lila beams at me. “What movie are watching tonight?”
Lila doesn’t even look up from what she’s doing. “ Tangled .”
“That’s a good one,” I say.
“It’s my favourite.” She stops and looks at me now. “What’s your favourite?”
“ Aladdin .”
Mrs. Simpson grabs the last tray of cookies out of the oven and lets them cool on the stove while she grabs side plates and I help carry everything for dinner into the living room.
Lila easily pulls up the movie, and we settle in the living room.
I notice how Lila’s able to recite some of the lines and how every time she does, Mrs. Simpson smiles at her with such fondness.
After the movie, Lila says her goodnights and Mrs. Simpson gets her settled into bed while I help with cleanup.
As I’m placing the last plate in the dishwasher, she comes back and joins me. “You didn’t have to clean, dear,” she says.
“It’s my pleasure. You fed me, the least I can do is clean up.”
She takes a seat, and I turn and lean against the counter, tapping my fingers against the edge, trying to find a way to politely excuse myself for the evening.
Mrs. Simpson tracks that real quick and says, “Don’t think I’m letting you run off that easy, girl.
Come join me.” She pats the spot beside her at the table, and I slowly move across the kitchen, pulling out the chair .
“So, tell me about living with my grandson. How’s that going?”
I swallow, remembering last night in the basement. “It’s only been a couple of days, nothing really to say. We’re getting in the swing of things.”
“Is he being a grumpy asshole?” she asks, and I choke on nothing as I start coughing.
Damn, this woman calls it as it is. “I’ll take that as a yes.
” She sighs. “Everett didn’t necessarily grow up in the most conventional way,” she starts, and I put my hand up in a stop motion without even thinking about.
She raises a brow, and I immediately put my hand in my lap.
“Sorry. It’s just, I don’t really want to learn about Everett or his childhood from outside people. I can tell he’s a private guy, and I respect that. If I’m going to learn more about him, I’d prefer it come from the horse’s mouth.”
She points at me, and my stomach drops as I prepare for a scolding, something. Instead she surprises me with, “I knew I liked you.”
“Thank you?” I mean to say, but it comes out as more of a question.
She pats my arm. “You’re just what Everett needs. Someone who will respect his boundaries but also challenge him.”
“What he needs,” I practically squeak. “I’m just helping him out right now until everything is figured out and I can find a place of my own. We’re not a thing.”
“Sure, dear,” she says and gets up. “Now, how about I pack you some extra cookies for you to take home with you to have at work tomorrow.”
The way she so causally moves on from telling me that I’m what Everett needs has my head dizzy. I sit silently, trying to figure this all out. She returns with two bags of cookies and hands them to me. “Do me a favour, dear, drop this second bag off for my grandson on your way home.”
I look at the bags, and my stomach drops.
Seeing Everett tonight is the last thing I want, but I know that one of the first questions out of this woman’s mouth when she sees Everett next will be how were the cookies she asked me to drop off, and I’m not going to let him tattle on me, even if I’m a grown woman and I have no relationship to her .
I take the bags and say my thanks before heading to my car and leaning my head against the headrest, hoping and praying that I can be in and out of the fire station with no issues.