Snowfall on Haven Point(60)
“Thank you,” she said sincerely. “I’ll think about it.”
“I do hope you come, but if you have already made plans, we completely understand.”
“We haven’t. This is our first holiday in Haven Point and the children and I are building our own traditions together.”
“You really must make my Christmas party one of them. It’s always great fun—though don’t ask Marshall here about it, since he’s missed the last dozen or so working double shifts. One might almost think he doesn’t like Christmas.”
He shrugged. “Mom, you know how it goes in law enforcement. Somebody has to work during the holidays. If I’m working, that means one of my deputies can be home with his kids.”
Oh, he was a hard man to resist. Every time she thought she had, he managed to sneak in and topple a few more barriers.
He was a police officer, she reminded herself sternly. Yes, he might be a compassionate one to his fellow officers, but that didn’t make his job any less dangerous.
He had been hit by a car less than a week ago because of his job. He could have died that night. She couldn’t afford to forget that.
She had vowed she would never let herself care for another police officer. She couldn’t endure the agony of waiting by the door, wondering if this was the day he wouldn’t come home.
“I need to go,” she said abruptly. “I’m sorry. I need to let my dog out and do a few more things before my kids are done with school.”
She did need to leave, but she had also noticed those lines of pain had returned around his mouth. He would rather yank his fingernails out than admit to his mother he needed to sit down.
“Oh, I’m parked behind you in the driveway,” Charlene said. “Let me move my SUV to the front, then I’ll come back in.”
“Mom, you don’t need to stay, I promise. Right now, I just want to grab a beer and watch a basketball game. I’m sure Uncle Mike needs help packing up what he needs to take to the house. If you’re not there directing him, he might just load up that terrible tweed sofa he’s got in the living room.”
Charlene looked torn between her maternal duty and the challenges of creating a new home with a longtime bachelor. She shuddered slightly, then sighed. “Fine. Since you obviously don’t want me around, I’ll go where I am wanted.”
She gave a small, private smile that made Andie want to laugh—and made Marshall shudder this time, though it was barely perceptible.
His mother deserved every bit of happiness she had found, this new chance at a happy ending. From what Wynona had told Andie, Charlene had spent more than two decades as a devoted police chief’s wife and then tirelessly visited him in the nursing home every day of his final two years.
Andie, for one, was delighted to see her enjoying this new phase of her life.
“I’ll call to check on you later tonight and stop by again tomorrow morning,” Charlene assured her son.
“Again, not necessary. Andie has things covered.”
“I’m so glad.” Charlene looked torn between her own need to step in and coddle her son and her obvious delight that someone else was allegedly doing it.
“We’ll talk tonight,” she promised. She kissed her son’s cheek, then enfolded Andie in a warm hug that smelled of lavender and vanilla.
“Thank you for watching over my boy. I hope he hasn’t been a terrible bear.”
“Not terrible,” Andie temporized with a sidelong look at Marshall.
“I’m sure I’ll see you both very soon,” she said, then hurried out of the room humming a Christmas song.
Andie waited until she was certain the door closed behind his mother before she turned and faced him.
“You just threw me under the bus,” she accused.
He focused on a spot above her head. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“Oh. Not true! You purposely gave your mother the idea there was something...romantic between us.”
“We did just kiss,” he pointed out.
She narrowed her gaze. “One kiss does not make a relationship.”
“I love my mom. She’s wonderful, really she is, but she can be overwhelming. If you let her, she’ll sweep in and try to take over everything in your life. She has always fussed over us, but just typical mom stuff. Those maternal instincts seemed to go into overdrive after Wyatt died and then became even worse after Dad was shot. She thinks it’s her life’s work to worry and fret over us.”
“Sounds like normal mom behavior.”
Andie didn’t want to tell him how jealous she was over it. She couldn’t remember if her own mother had worried and fretted over her those few years she was sober. If she had, it hadn’t lasted long—and her grandmother had been too busy trying to keep Andie’s grandfather happy to have much room left for a sad little girl.