Johnny nodded. “She’s pretty ugly. All red and wrinkled.”
“Most babies are like that. But personally, I think she’s gorgeous.”
“You maybe need glasses, huh?” Johnny tipped his dark head to the side, frowning. “Are you a drunk and a crazy man?”
Bowie wanted to laugh. He also felt the burn of a more painful emotion sting the back of his throat. “Not anymore,” he said. “But I used to be.”
The boy seemed to consider that answer. And then he shrugged. “Mom says I can have milk and two graham crackers and then do my homework.”
“Need any help with that?”
Johnny blew out a disgusted breath. “I’m not a baby.”
“Well, I’m here if you need anything.”
The look the kid gave him then was more puzzled than anything else. The big brown eyes said, Why would I need anything from you? And then he turned for the door to the kitchen.
Bowie should have left it alone then. He knew that. But somehow, he just had to say, “I’m going down the street to say hi to your grandma Chastity. Do you want to come with me?”
“No,” the boy said. He neither paused nor looked back.
What did you expect? He hates you, remember?
Once Johnny disappeared into the kitchen, Bowie got up and climbed the stairs. He knocked on the door to Glory’s room.
After a minute, Rose opened the door wide enough to put her head through the crack. She whispered, “Everything okay?”
“Just wanted you to know I’m going down to Ma’s. Back in an hour or so. Johnny’s in the kitchen.”
“You look good,” his mom said when she opened the door to him. “Healthy. Strong.”
She looked pretty much as he remembered her, tall and slim in khaki trousers, a button-down shirt and a thick wool cardigan. Her short brown hair had more gray than before, and the lines bracketing her mouth and fanning out from the corners of her dark eyes were etched deeper than they had been. She was a practical woman who took care of business and of those she loved.
She stepped aside and he went in, accepting the hug she offered, then pulling back, holding her by the shoulders as she beamed up at him.
He said, “Good to see you, Ma.”
“Take off your coat. Come on back.”
He shrugged out of his jacket and she hung it in the closet by the door.
The Sierra Star Bed and Breakfast was as he remembered it. Homey and welcoming. A couple of people he didn’t recognize sat on the sofa in the living room reading the town’s weekly paper, The Sierra Times. Guests. They glanced up and smiled as his mom led him to the kitchen, her private domain at the back of the house.
She offered lunch, but he told her he’d eaten. He shook his head when she raised the full coffeepot in his direction.
So she poured herself a cup and sat in the chair opposite him. “Serafina Teodora, huh? It’s a big name for a little baby.”
“After Matteo’s mother,” he said.
Chastity made a low sound. “The saintly Serafina, who made sure her son had no other women in his life until she was in the ground.”
“Come on, Ma, cut it out. I always liked Matteo. He was a fair man. Kind. And Glory and Johnny both thought the world of him.”
“Did I say a thing against him? Not I. I liked Matteo. He and I were friends.”
“I don’t remember that.”
“You were too busy getting into trouble to pay any attention to how often Matteo showed up around here.”
“Here? You mean at the Sierra Star?”
Chastity nodded. “Believe it or not, Matteo even confided in me back in the day. We shared some really good…talks.”
Bowie wondered what she was getting at. “What kind of ‘talks’?”
“Private ones.”
“Sheesh, Ma. Be a little mysterious, why don’t you?”
“It hardly matters now. What matters is that Glory was happy with him. And he was good to Johnny. Wanted to adopt him. Glory kept putting him off on the adoption question, though.”
“I didn’t know that.”
“See? There are real benefits to keeping in touch.”
He let the dig pass because he was still stuck back there with the idea that Matteo had wanted to adopt Johnny. Bowie wasn’t sure how he felt about that. Not surprised, really. And not particularly happy, either. “For Matteo to adopt my son, Glory would have had to come to me, to deal with me.”
His mom looked at him sideways. “I give her more credit. I say she knew it would be wrong to cut you out of Johnny’s life that way.”
“Maybe you forgot. She didn’t even give him my name.” On Johnny’s birth certificate, Glory had told Brett to put Dellazola as the last name.
“But she did put you down as the father, didn’t she?”
“Why are we talking about this, Ma?”
“You’d rather we discussed the weather? All right. It was snowing. Now it’s not.”
He laughed. “Smart-ass.”
“Don’t call your mother names.” Her old cat, Mr. Lucky, jumped into her lap. She scratched him under the chin. “People will think that you’re badly brought up.”
“I hate to break it to you, but I have a feeling they think that already.”
Her expression grew serious again. “You’ve got quite a job ahead of you.”
“I know it.”
“Not only with Johnny.” She stroked Mr. Lucky’s caramel-colored coat. “Glory’s got that big heart of hers hardened against you.”
“That’s not news—and it doesn’t matter, about Glory’s heart. It’s over between her and me. I just want to help her out if I can because I owe it to her. And because she’s the mother of my son.”
“Oh, come on, you don’t really believe that, do you? I certainly don’t.”
He reminded himself that his mother never did have her head screwed on straight when it came to love and romance. After all, she’d loved Blake Bravo. Loved him big time, and loved him long enough to give him four sons.
Chastity spoke again. “I know what you’re thinking. Stop.”
He said, “Glory loved her husband. I’m old news.”
His mom looked into her coffee cup, but then set it down without taking a sip. Mr. Lucky jumped from her lap and strutted off down the hall. “How long you here for?”
“As long as it takes to work things out with my son and to see that Glory’s back on her feet and managing okay with a new baby to look after.”
“I wouldn’t say she’s on her own. She can’t walk down the street without tripping over a relative.”
“You know what I mean.”
“Oh, yes, I do,” his mom said too sweetly. “Probably better than you.”
Back at Glory’s house, he found Mamma Rose at the cooktop in the kitchen with a very fussy Sera on her shoulder. “Stella and Glory had words,” she said with a shrug. “So Stell went home. Then Angie left, too. She’s got the boys and Brett to look after.” Angie and Brett had two sons—Jackson,