Didn’t she realize he couldn’t consider his future without her in it?
Chapter Three
When Mama decided she was done celebrating birthdays because they made her feel old, Agnes figured she’d better make her last party a doozy, even if Mama grumbled about turning sixty.
Aqua, yellow and lime-green balloons tied to the cedar rails rimming Mama’s back deck danced in the humid air. Streamers fluttered like kite tails. At least the rain held off, and the cloud cover kept the sun from baking the guests.
Agnes jammed the knife down the center of a buttercream-yellow rose, slid the piece of birthday cake onto a paper plate and handed it to Tyler Chase, Stephen and Lindsey’s son.
“Thanks, Miss Agnes.” He trotted off, trying to shove a forkful of cake in his mouth before skittering down the deck steps to the yard.
She started to call out for him to slow down, but Lindsey snatched him first.
Satisfied the child wasn’t about to impale his tonsils, Agnes checked the pitchers of sweet tea and lemonade to make sure they were at least half-full.
Then she reached for her camera to snap a few more pictures of guests sitting at the borrowed picnic tables covered in white tablecloths that dotted the backyard and of church friends gathered inside the gazebo Daddy had built for Mama as a twenty-fifth anniversary present.
Agnes zoomed in on Mama’s group of Sunday school terrors kneeling on the stones ringing the handmade koi pond, harassing the fat orange fish darting under the floating lily pads.
Sitting in the shade with her friends, Mama seemed to be enjoying herself as they watched the couples from church play cornhole.
Agnes focused on Ian. Still dressed in his tan dress pants and white polo shirt from church, he juggled the four corn-filled bags. He stepped forward and tossed one of the bags into the cornhole board across the grass. His shirt stretched across his back. His muscled forearms rippled.
Agnes’s face burned at the memory of his strong hands on her back when he hugged her.
Ian turned, filling her viewfinder with his wind-tossed hair and wide grin. She snapped as he winked and waved at her. Her heart somersaulted against her ribs.
Josie stepped through the sliding glass door onto the deck with a fresh carton of vanilla ice cream. She set it in a tub of ice next to the sundae fixings, then tossed the empty carton into the trash can at the bottom of the steps.
“With an arm like that, maybe you should be joining your hubby in tossing those corn bags.”
“Nah, I couldn’t show him up in front of his friends.” Josie grabbed a strawberry from the watermelon fruit basket and leaned against the railing. “So, did you talk to your mom yet?”
Agnes reached for her camera again and focused on Josie’s expression as she smiled and reached for another berry. “Haven’t had time. It’s been a whirlwind weekend.”
Agnes set the camera down and reached for her sweet tea, pressing the cool glass against her heated cheeks. “I’ll talk to her after everyone leaves.”
“Talk to who, darlin’?”
Hearing Mama’s voice, Agnes stiffened. The woman had the stealth of a polecat. Agnes turned to find Mama climbing the deck stairs.
The wind ruffled the spiky points of Mama’s short cap of snowy hair. Hours spent tending to her gardens this spring afforded a sun-kissed glow across her narrow face. Her white crocheted sweater over a peacock blue and lime-green printed dress shaved a decade off her years. Agnes hoped she would age as gracefully.
“I thought you were watching the cornhole game. Would you like more lemonade, or maybe another piece of cake?” Agnes asked her.
“Agnes Joy, what’s going on?” Mama crossed her arms and raised her eyebrows.
Josie scooted along the deck railing toward the stairs and gestured she was going to the backyard.
Traitor.
Sighing, Agnes wiped her hands on the damp cloth on the edge of the table. Like a hound treeing a racoon, Mama wouldn’t leave well enough alone until Agnes told her. “No need to worry, but my building’s been sold. I have about a month to find a new place.”
Mama pressed a hand to her chest and gripped the edge of the table. “Oh, my lands, that’s absolutely perfect.”
So much for Mama freaking out.
“What are you talking about?”
“The timing, darlin’.”
“Perfect timing for what?”
“I was just telling the girls your memaw asked me to come back to Texas for the summer and help her rid up the house before she puts it up for sale. She wants to move into a condo for seniors. Less fuss.”
“When was this? You hadn’t said anything about it.”
“I held off committing to the whole summer because I promised to help Charlotte with Agape House. Plus, I’d need someone to keep an eye on things.” Mama waved a hand over the yard, then turned back to Agnes. “So this works out perfectly. We’ll store your things in the garage, and you can stay here. Since you won’t have to pay rent, you can save that money for the dream house you’re always talking about.”
Clarence and Eliza’s cottage.
They’d agreed to sell her the house, but she hadn’t had time to tell Mama all the particulars. Saving rent money and working at Agape House would help her to own the cottage a little sooner. So why wasn’t she jumping on Mama’s offer?
“I don’t know, Mama. I’m a little old to be moving back home, don’t you think?”
“Who said anything about moving back home? You’d be doing me a favor. Unless you’d rather not, of course....” Mama’s not-so-innocent sidelong glance and words frosted Agnes with a layer of guilt as thick as the buttercream frosting on her birthday cake.
“Of course I want to help, Mama. But...”
So maybe Agnes didn’t love the old brick building with its creaky pipes, temperamental heating and noisy neighbors, but the apartment had been hers to do as she pleased within the boundaries of her lease.
In less than a month, though, she’d need to find something else anyway.
What other choice did she have? Scan the classifieds for some crummy rental that fit in her budget?
She sighed. “I just need to stand on my own two feet.”
She might get knocked down, but she wouldn’t stay down.
“Agnes, your stubborn pride is your biggest flaw. You know that, right? I won’t even be here. You’ll have the house to yourself and can do plenty of standing.”
Agnes glanced at the freshly tilled garden that ran along the property separating Mama’s from Ian’s parents’. “When are you planning to leave?”
“Well, now, that depends on you. If you agree, then I can fly out next week.”
“Why so soon?”
“Why not? The sooner I get out there, the sooner I can help Memaw.” Mama wrapped an arm around Agnes’s shoulders and gave her a side hug. “This benefits both of us. You’ll see.”
No use in arguing with Mama once something stuck in her head.
Agnes’s eyes drifted to Ian talking with Nick Brennan and Stephen Chase. What would he think of her being next door for the summer?
More important, would she even be able to think of living next door to him?
Maybe they