“Since when did you become the voice of reason in this relationship?” I asked. “Look at it from my point of view, okay? Let’s say that I let Harrison and Walker hang out a few times. Then Walker wants more, and I tell him ‘no.’ Do you really think he’ll just go away after that?”
“Should he have too? Harrison is his son. I know that you are his mother, but a father is just as important.”
“My God, you sound just like him,” I said. “Are you sure you aren’t a Wheeler too?”
Matilda laughed.
I took a deep breath. “Getting upset isn’t going to fix anything. I understand what you're saying. I just need to think about it for a while and hope he doesn’t do anything stupid.”
“It just seems like you should keep your friends close and your enemies closer right now.” She said. “Even if he's going to try something, wouldn’t it be better to at least pretend like you can be friends?”
I fell silent as I watched Harrison through the glass window on the door. Matty was making sense. If I couldn’t keep Walker away from him, I may be able to dictate how the time was spent and who knew about it. At the very least, it would buy us some time. Every day that I could stay put and save money was another day we would survive if we needed to flee the state or even the country.
***
“How is my precious little baby?” My mother cooed.
“He’s had a good day. I wish you guys could have made it yesterday for his birthday party,” I said.
She sighed. “You know how things are during market season. Your father doesn’t want to leave the booth with one of the employees.”
“Isn’t that why you hired them?” I asked.
“Well, you don’t need to tell me that, but you know how your father is. He thinks that since he’s put all the years into the antique shop, he should get to enjoy it in his later years.”
“I can't argue with that,” I said.
That Sunday evening celebration was one I wasn’t thrilled to be attending. Most of the people at the dinner party barely knew me. They only knew my son from pictures, yet my mother had insisted on putting together a late lunch for Harrison's birthday. It amused me that people kept tucking envelopes into my hands. At least Harrison would have a good start on his college fund thanks to the company my parents kept.
As transplants from Ohio, they never understood the southern life. It was natural for me, but they seemed to struggle with the old fashioned beliefs. It was true they’d married as more of a business arrangement than for love, but the base was still there, and they’d never forced that same life on me. I still knew that my mother wanted me to settle down and get married.
“How is the little art shop going?” She asked.
I cringed. “It’s doing really good. You should have come for the opening. We seem to be making a name for ourselves around here. I’ve already got a few pieces commissioned.”
“I hope that you can find a man in that world of yours,” she muttered.
“Mom…”
“I just want you to be happy, sweetheart. You know that. Think of how much fun it would be for Harrison to have a man around the house.”
“Seriously?” I asked.
She shrugged. “Fine. I will drop it. I can't help it if this is a small community, though.”
“Jesus, what do you know, mother?”
“Oh, now, when you put it like that, you make me sound like I’m stalking you or something! It’s not my fault the ladies happened to see you out and let me know. You could have picked a town further away from us.”
“You told me if I took Harrison away, you guys would sell the shop and follow. What was I supposed to do?”
“Are you going to tell me who that strapping young man you had dinner with the other night was?”
“Oh lord, mom, no. He is the son of the people I bought the gallery from and, to be honest, a real creep. I know you want like fifty more grandchildren, but you are barking up the wrong tree with him. Not even your northern charm could tolerate him.”
She chuckled. “You haven’t met some of your father's friends then. Alright, if not him, then who is it you're seeing these days?”