Somebody to Hold (Tyler Jamison #2) - April Wilson Page 0,36

of pounding hammers and nail guns.

“Who’s building?” I ask him.

He points to one of the new houses under construction. “That one is Shane’s wedding present to his sister Sophie and her new husband, Dominic. The other house… I’m not sure, but I think it’s for Shane and Beth. With a second child on the way, they decided it would be best for them to move to the suburbs so their kids can play outside and be near their cousins and grandparents. Shane’s parents live here, as does my mom. Everyone in the family is planning to live here except Jamie and Molly, who prefer to stay in Wicker Park close to Molly’s art studio, and Shane’s middle sister, Hannah, who lives out west in the Rockies.”

We park in front of a charming, one-story white cottage. Tyler’s mom, Ingrid, is out front pulling weeds from a flower garden. She’s dressed in a pale gray linen skirt and a sleeveless white blouse.

In her early sixties, Ingrid Jamison is a beautiful woman, with long, silver-blonde hair, bright blue eyes, and a peaches-and-cream complexion. She’s lovely and soft spoken, with just a hint of a Swedish accent.

As Tyler shuts off the engine, I release my seatbelt. “Why didn’t your mom ever remarry after your dad died?”

Tyler shakes his head. “I’ve tried encouraging her over the years to date again, but she just isn’t interested. She says my dad is the love of her life, and no one could ever take his place.”

“That’s so sad.”

“She’s been alone a long time. I wish she’d found someone years ago. I know what it’s like to be alone.” Tyler reaches for my hand. “And now that I know what it’s like to have someone, I want that for her. I want her to love and be loved.”

As we approach, she greets us with a smile and open arms.

She hugs me first. “Welcome, Ian. It’s so nice to see you again.” And then she releases me to hug her son. “Hello, darling. Thank you for coming.”

While Tyler gets the lawn mower out of the garage, Ingrid invites me inside. She gives me a quick tour of her cozy two-bedroom cottage. We end up at the back of the house, where the kitchen and sitting room look out over a pretty patio. There’s a duck pond not far away.

“Can I get you something to drink?” she asks me. “Coffee, tea? I made fresh lemonade this morning.”

“Ooh, I’ll have lemonade, thank you.”

She invites me to sit on a stool at the breakfast counter, and I watch her pour for both of us. While I’m sipping mine, she brings over a plate of iced lemon bread.

“I was in the mood for lemon this morning,” she says, laughing. She has a lovely, lilting accent. She winks at me. “I made the lemon bread especially for Tyler. It’s one of his favorites.”

I had no idea. “What else does he like?”

She sits on the stool beside me and nibbles on a slice. “Let’s see. His favorite sweets are chocolate chip cookies—”

“Crispy or chewy?” I ask.

“Definitely thin and crispy, and not too many chips.”

Why did I not know this already? “What else?”

“Hmm, what else? Snickerdoodle cookies for sure, banana bread, and pumpkin bread. Anything with pumpkin, really—pumpkin pie, muffins, rolls—especially if it has cream cheese.”

I’m just now realizing what a fount of information Ingrid is when it comes to all things Tyler. Of course, who would know him better than his own mother? “What were his favorite foods growing up?”

She laughs. “Oh, that’s easy. Chicken and dumplings, fish sticks, macaroni and cheese, anything pasta related, and he prefers red sauce over white. Oh, and chicken nuggets and French fries with lots of ketchup.” She smiles at the memory. “He was such an easy child.”

“Would you mind sharing your recipes with me? I’d like to make his favorite dishes.”

She looks surprised. “You cook?”

“I love to cook. Especially for Tyler. You know what they say…”

She smiles. “The way to a man’s heart is through his stomach.”

“Exactly.”

“It was the same with Tyler’s dad. On our third date, I invited him to my apartment for dinner. After he tasted my homemade chicken and dumplings, that very evening, he proposed. I swear it was because of my cooking.”

I can hear the love and longing in her voice. “You had a match made in heaven.”

She nods. “It truly was.”

The faraway, bittersweet smile on her face makes my heart hurt. She lost her husband over two decades ago, and it seems like the