Page 32 of The Humbug Holiday
“Hmph. I doubt that anyone—”Ding dong.Joe sighed. “Hang tight. I’ll answer it.”
I was more than happy to let him handle the unexpected visitor, but the feminine squeal of delight coming from the foyer spurred me to investigate.
A tiny older woman dressed in a bright-pink puffy coat that clashed with the slightly unnatural shade of her red curly hair enveloped Joe in a mega hug. She smacked his left bicep as she released him.
“I saw your truck and had to stop. Tony said that he met the famous author and I think I’m the only one who hasn’t and—” She turned with a gasp when she spotted me hovering like a thief in the doorway. “Oh, Mr. Warren! It’s you!”
Joe winced adorably as he slung his arm around the woman’s shoulder. “Sorry for the interruption. This is my nosy mother.”
His nosy mother elbowed him in the stomach and clasped my outstretched hand with both of hers in a surprisingly strong grip.
“I’m Helen Linton, Joe’s mom, and I’m so delighted to meet you. We don’t get many famous people in these parts. This is a thrill. A real thrill,” she enthused, still shaking my hand.
I gently extricated myself, quelling the urge to flex my fingers. I thought about downplaying my celebrity, but I didn’t want to burst her bubble and she seemed genuinely happy to meet me. “Thank you. I appreciate that.”
“Oh, wow. Just wow. I saw that movie they did on the Netflix.”
“Just Netflix, Ma. NottheNetflix,” Joe corrected, squeezing her to his side.
She rolled her eyes. “The one with that creepy stalker who lured random strangers into his car…telling them he couldn’t find his puppy. Oldest trick in the dang book, but the way you wrote those words was just…goose-bump worthy, ya know?”
“Thanks. I’m glad you liked it.”
“What are you working on now? Can I ask that question? Probably not, huh? I bet it’s top secret,” she said, pursing her pink-stained lips. “I love that you’re writing here. It’s a good place and mostly quiet too.”
“Until the handyman’s mom bangs on the damn door in the middle of the afternoon,” Joe chided.
She shook her head in mock consternation. “Don’t mind this one. He’s all bark, no bite.”
I snickered, charmed by their playful mother-son banter. They clearly adored one another, I mused as Helen slinked her arm around her son’s waist.
“Don’t tell him that, Ma. I’ve got a reputation.”
“As a smart aleck,” she countered, squeezing him before stepping aside. “I’m sorry to disturb you. I won’t make a habit of stopping by out of the blue, but I shamelessly wanted to meet you and…I was worried about this guy. You haven’t been checking your voice mails, Joseph. I’ve been trying to remind you about bingo. I picked up your Santa suit from the dry cleaner in Elmwood. You’re set for the party next Saturday.”
“Oh, boy. That’s great news,” Joe deadpanned.
Helen nodded enthusiastically. “Yes! And of course, you’re invited to the Bingo with Blitzen Bizarre too, Mr. Warren. The whole town shows up for games and prizes and a sing-along. And Joe here is Santa. He gripes, but he secretly loves it.”
I bit my cheek to keep from laughing at the comically pained face he pulled behind his mom’s back. “It sounds like fun. Thanks for the invitation.”
“It’s at the Elks’ Lodge this year. We moved it from the rec center by Bonsai Hill. Their toilets are still clogged. Joe’ll point you in the right direction. So very nice to meet you. A real honor!” She beamed at me and pulled her son closer for another hug before wagging a finger at his chest. “Call your mother!”
And then she was gone.
Joe wrinkled his forehead and bit his lower lip, managing to look mildly amused and embarrassed at the same time.
I smiled indulgently. “I like her.”
“She’s pretty cool, but like I said, she’s nosy as fuck. It doesn’t matter how often I tell her to text, she always leaves voice messages. And it’s your fault I didn’t check them regularly,” he groused.
I pointed at my chest. “Myfault?”
“Yeah, I’ve been distracted. I should have checked in on her.”
“She seems fine. And she seems excited about Santa showing up at bingo,” I singsonged, chuckling when Joe flipped me off. “What time? I need to mark that in my calendar.”
“You’re a fuckin’ comedian.”