“Not a problem,” Amanda assures me. “I’ll await your call.”
Ending the call, I join Nira in the kitchen. She’s placing food from a plastic container to a baking sheet.
“Those look great. What are they?”
She turns and smiles. I’m still amazed this woman is Bodhi’s mother. She’s very petite and quite beautiful, with long shiny black hair streaked with silver worn in a thick braid over her shoulder. Everything about her is delicate, from her fine features to her small hands. I feel like a Clydesdale standing beside her.
“Samosas. I baked a batch for the firehouse yesterday—I do that every so often when it’s Bodhi’s turn to cook—and made a few extra for lunch.”
“Even cold they smell amazing.”
I lean in and inhale the fragrant spices.
“You’ve never had them?”
“I’m afraid not. I traveled a lot before I had Tucker, but most of that was in Africa and Europe. Living in San Antonio as a single mom, with a picky eater for a kid, the most adventurous I would get was the occasional Mexican food from a street vendor.”
She shoves the baking tray in the oven and turns to me with a warm but slightly calculating smile.
“You should have Bodhi cook some Indian food for you. He’s very talented.”
“Oh, I’m not sure I know your son that well,” I mumble, feeling put on the spot.
Nira raises an eyebrow.
“Really? When I invited him for a family meal last night, he mentioned he was having dinner here. With you.”
“Well, yes, he was kind enough to bring pizza for everyone,” I admit, attempting to downplay what for me had been a significant event.
She places one of her small hands on my arm.
“My dear, I doubt kindness had much to do with that. I know my son, and it took me two seconds to recognize the way he looked at you last weekend.”
Unsure what the hell I’m supposed say to that, I’m grateful when Tuck walks into the kitchen, providing a distraction.
“I’m hungry,” he announces.
Not that he needs to, if he’s walking and talking, he’s hungry.
“You’re going to have to wait.”
“I can’t. My stomach hurts.”
“Then have a banana,” I suggest firmly.
It’s met with an annoyed sigh but still he reaches for the fruit bowl and pulls one off the bunch. Then he saunters to the living room—where Pops is watching a wildlife documentary on TV—and plops down on the couch.
“He’s a good boy,” Nira says softly. I turn to her in surprise and she chuckles at my expression. “Believe me, he just hides it well. I remember those days. Teenage years can be tough on kids, especially boys in my experience. My daughter, Anika, was a handful but she was loud about it. An open book. Bodhi, on the other hand, was closed off, moody, and managed to get himself in all kinds of trouble. He’s the one who gave me sleepless nights, but even during those turbulent days I could see through his layers of defiance.” She bumps her shoulder into mine and smiles at me. “I see the same in Tucker. You raised him well.”
Hard to imagine Bodhi as a rebellious teen. He seems so together, so measured, much like his mother. Her calm presence and resonating words give me a confidence I haven’t felt in a long time.
I’ve been flying by the seat of my pants since my mother died. First learning to look after our family at the tender age of ten, then tackling single motherhood, and finally taking on the care of our father. I didn’t realize how much I missed her guidance until now.
“I didn’t mean to upset you.”
Nira’s voice pulls me from my thoughts and I realize my eyes are wet.
“You didn’t,” I assure her. “I’m so used to going at it alone—working from instinct—it just feels unexpectedly nice to get this kind of feedback.”
She smiles wide.
“Oh good, I’m glad. What I intend as support is frequently seen as meddling by my kids.”
“Not by me.”
As I grin back at her, I remember I’m supposed to call the coordinator back.
“Nira, is there any chance you’d have perhaps an hour or so available tomorrow afternoon? I hate to ask, but Amanda had an opening in her schedule at one thirty and it would be nice if Vic and I could both go.” I immediately notice the look of regret wash over her face. “But it’s not a big deal if you can’t. One of us can always go and fill in the other. Not to worry.”
“I have a standing appointment with my daughter. Once a month I spend an afternoon in her salon and she does my hair while we catch up. Sort of mother-daughter thing.”
“I understand. Please forget I asked.”
“Not so fast,” she says, as she walks to her purse hanging off a kitchen chair and pulls out a cell phone. “I have an idea.”
Bodhi
“Hey, Mom. I’m at work.”
I’m just shoving a tray of her samosas in the oven at the firehouse. Hog already stole two and ate them cold.
“I know, this won’t take long. What are you doing tomorrow?”
“Me? No real plans, why?”
“Perfect. Katrina was able to get an appointment for tomorrow afternoon, at one thirty, for herself and Victoria with the senior coordinator, but I’m busy and someone has to be here for Bruce and Tucker.”
I shake my head and smile. Shouldn’t surprise me my mother picked up on my interest in Trin and has decided to meddle. She has no patience. When I turned thirty-five, she decided I’d played the field long enough and it was time to get serious. Since then, any time I’ve shown even the slightest interest in a woman, she gets involved.
The only difference is that this time I don’t mind it nearly as much.
“Sure.”
“Fabulous. Katrina will let you know what time. Oh, and Bodhi? You should cook her a proper meal some time. Pizza? I raised you better than that.”
I can’t even get a word in before she ends the call. Guess I’m watching the old man and the kid tomorrow.
I still have my phone in my hand when a message comes in.
Trin: Sorry. I didn’t know she was calling you.
Smiling, I dial her number and she picks up on the first ring.
“This is so embarrassing.” She’s whispering and it sounds like she’s on the move. “Just a minute.”
I hear a door close.
“She may look harmless, but I know my mother, she can be a bulldozer. You probably couldn’t have stopped her if you tried,” I assure her.
“Look, you don’t have to do this. I—”
“Trin?” I stop her. “It’s not a problem. Even without Mom’s meddling, I’d be happy to do it. I’ll be there at one.”
“Are you sure?”
“Absolutely.”
Sumo walks into the kitchen and opens the oven door.
“Can these come out?” he asks.
“Yeah, they should be warm.”
“I’m sorry, you’re busy. I should let you get back to work,” Trin says in my ear.
“That’s okay, it’s been quiet so far this morning.”