Page 117 of Quinton's Quest

She pursed her lips. “Just because I’ve never been alone, doesn’t mean I can’t be now. I can always find a boarder, or rent the house to someone, or—”

“You could move in with us?”

“Excuse me?” She blinked. “You want your mother living in your house? With your boyfriend and his children? Exactly how many bedrooms are in this house?”

“Three.”

“Is there a basement?”

“Yeah, but it’s not set up for someone to live down there.” I tried not to smile as she did the math. “But there is a separate cabin on the property.”

“Oh really? That sounds convenient.”

“Honestly? Leo hasn’t even paid attention to it. He bought the property for its proximity to Gideon—not for some outbuilding on the property.”

“Outbuilding?”

“Actually, it’s a luxury one-bedroom cabin with vaulted ceilings, gas fireplace, full kitchen, soaker tub, separate shower, and—” I flailed my hand. “I can’t think of what else.”

“And Leo doesn’t use it?”

I shook my head.

“But he might need time away from you.”

“Hey!”

“Just being honest. Sometimes you can be overwhelming.”

I laughed. “I resemble that comment. And no, Leo isn’t thinking about using the cabin to get away from me—and you’re not going to give him any ideas.”

“All right.”

“May I show you the photos?”

“All right.”

Her tone warned me that she wasn’t convinced—but was willing to give me the benefit of the doubt.

I brought up the first photo—of the lovely structure. Very much fitting into the woods behind it. Although the cabin appeared old, it’d been built just eight years ago with all the finishings. Slowly, I scrolled through each picture—explaining how great a place this really was. Trying to be persuasive. Trying not to influence her one way or the other.

The final photo was from the front door of the cabin—facing out toward the main house. “Close…but not too close.”

“Who are you trying to convince?”

“You?” I squinted.

She pushed the phone away. “That’s a big change.”

“I know.”

“I had plans.”

“Oh?”

She gave methatlook.

“Do you not want me to ask?” She might be my mother—but after twenty-six years, she still was an enigma.