According to Lacey, Dad didn’t look Bessie straight in the eyes for ages.
Fortunately, he’d gotten over that.
Reminded of this, I replied, “I take your point.”
“I’m sure you do,” Mom returned. “Now, five cabins. One for your dad and me. One for Lacey, Matt, and the kids. One for Uncle Gideon and Aunt Mellie. One for Aunt Rachel. And one for Titus and Bessie.”
“Mom, you’ve been here. My cabins all have two bedrooms. You don’t need to pay for that many cabins if folks bunk up. And I’m not talking Titus with you. But Aunt Rachel could bunk with you and Dad.”
“Don’t you have that many cabins open in August?” Mom asked.
I had no idea. I had a lot of advanced bookings, but since it was early May, I probably wasn’t that booked.
I reached beside me to the laptop I’d put on the arm of the chair next to mine, ordering, “Give me dates. I’ll check.”
She gave me dates as I opened the laptop. I checked. Then I gave in and booked the five cabins for Mom.
“Thanks, angelface,” she said when I told her I’d done just that.
“Alternate scenario,” I replied. “Dad can take this off the money I owe him.”
I suggested this but I knew it would be wasted breath. This was because Mom and Dad always paid for their cabins when they came.
“Your father is in a good mood so I’m not even suggesting that to him,” Mom returned.
“Whatever,” I muttered and heard her chuckle.
“Not looking forward to seeing us?” she asked, knowing it was a stupid question.
But I was in a bad mood. A bad mood I’d been in for weeks. A bad mood that probably wasn’t going to turn good, maybe for eternity.
“Don’t ask stupid questions,” I answered. “You’re just ornery and that’s annoying.”
“Takes one to know one,” she retorted.
“Can you stop annoying me now?” I requested.
“I’m a mother. It’s my job to be annoying.”
“Well, you’re good at it.”
I heard more chuckling then she said, “It’s your father’s night to go into town and commune with his cronies. So it’s my night to have a bath long enough to turn me into a prune, something I won’t care about because I’ll be lost in a romance novel.”
I used to read romance because my mother taught me to read romance, considering she had approximately seven gazillion romance novels ready at hand at all times (with her iPad, this was now literally). I loved romance novels. There was a lot to love, but especially the happy endings.
Now I knew beyond a shadow of a doubt that was all a big bag of hooey, so I was considering burning all of my romance novels in the fireplace.
And I was going to add my DVDs.
“Enjoy,” I said quietly.
“I will, Cassie. Talk with you soon, honey. Love you.”
“Love you too, Mom.”
I heard her disconnect and I did the same, closing my laptop and setting it and my phone on the arm of the chair next to me, taking that opportunity to nab the glass of wine I had sitting there.
I again trained my eyes to the trees, taking a sip, seeing and hearing the soft fall of rain, trying to focus on that, clear my head, and not let the thoughts of the last three weeks that had been crowding my mind take over.