I smiled up at her then grew a little concerned because she wasn’t big, I wasn’t big but Chace was, she wasn’t moving and her step would not hold all three of us unless we huddled together like a miniature football team.
This problem was sorted when we made it to her and she threw herself in Chace’s arms, forcing him to let my hand go and round her with them thus not taking up much room.
“Ma,” he muttered.
“Chace, my beautiful boy.”
That was sweet.
He pulled back but she didn’t. Her arms went from around his shoulders so her hands could frame his face and she beamed up at him a second before letting him go and turning to me.
“Faye,” she said, throwing her arms wide which meant one of them slammed into Chace but although he shifted (as best he could which meant one of his cowboy booted feet had to step down a step) she didn’t seem to notice.
I moved quickly into her arms in order to conserve space and gave her a tight hug.
“Mrs. Keaton,” I whispered in her ear then pulled back but not out of her arms. “Chace talks about you all the time. I’m so pleased to finally meet you.”
She dipped her chin bashfully and fluttered her eyes and really, even though she was older, she worked it.
Then her eyes moved over me and something changed in them that wasn’t bad but it wasn’t altogether good either.
“You’re a beauty. A true beauty. Natural.” Her arm left me and her hand lifted as if she was going to touch my hair before it fell away and she moved minutely back. “Red. I thought a blonde would suit Chace better but I was very wrong.”
“Thank you,” I murmured.
“And please, call me Valerie. Mrs. Keaton sounds so… so…” her eyes slid to the side before coming back to me so she could finish, “stuffy.”
“Valerie it is then,” I replied on a smile.
“Ma, you think we could move inside?” Chace prompted.
She jumped away from me, clasping her hands in front of her and I fought the urge to reach out to her in case she tumbled over the step to the inside.
“Of course, of course, let’s get you inside and those coats off. I’m dying to see Faye’s dress. From what I can see, it looks beautiful.”
I heard Chace sigh as I felt his fingers curl around my elbow, we moved in behind her and all stopped in a huge foyer with a massive chandelier hanging down over it, the gazillions of crystals dancing prisms everywhere.
“Enrique,” she said to a man wearing a white shirt and dark slacks standing close by, “please take Faye and Chace’s coats. We’ll take drinks in the sitting room. Faye, what would you like to drink?”
Chace was helping me out of my long, cream wool coat as I shifted my little black clutch from hand to hand and answered, “A glass of white wine.”
“Excellent,” she smiled at me then her eyes went to Chace, “Beer, darling?”
“Yeah, Ma,” Chace muttered, handing our coats to Enrique.
Taking in Chace without his long, wool black overcoat, the skirt around my hips, hand down my panties orgasm, I had to admit, was helped by the fact he was in a very well-tailored, dark blue suit with an open-necked blue shirt the color of his eyes. His belt buckle with the suit was subdued western but still western and the cowboy boots were all Chace. Still, like his mother and I, he made an effort and, as was his way, succeeded wildly.
Enrique moving off with our coats, Valerie led the way to the “sitting room” which was the most formal room I’d ever been in in my life. It was done in soft pinks that were nearly cream and just plain creams. Even in a room that formal I took my cue from Valerie and Chace who settled in like it was your everyday family room, Valerie in an armchair, Chace and I side by side on a couch.
As I was tucking my purse next to me, Valerie said, “I didn’t know what you liked, Faye, and Chace told me you seemed to like everything except pineapple on pizza. But we’re not having pizza so I told Donatta to do it up but avoid pineapple. I hope you brought your appetite.”
“I always do,” I replied on a smile. “But just so you know, I like pineapple just not on pizza.”
“Excellent!” she cried with more excitement than was needed then clasped her hands in front of her again and leaned from her pinky-cream armchair toward Chace and me on the creamy-cream couch and she noted, “Chace tells me you’re a librarian.”
“I am,” I confirmed.
To which she exclaimed, “I love books!”