He didn’t respond.
Doreen followed Leonard to the coat closet. She waited while he shrugged into his parka. His movements were slow. She could sense his reluctance to leave. But, after his reaction to her news, she didn’t want him to stay.
“Good night, Leo.”
Leonard hesitated before letting himself out. “Good night.”
Doreen exhaled. She locked the door behind him, pressing her hand against the cool maple wood. This wasn’t the way she’d imagined the evening would end.
“Mom didn’t mention that you’d suggested she run for mayor.” Ean leaned back against Megan’s white-marble kitchen counter Thursday evening.
Megan handed him a mug of green tea, with fresh lemon juice. The hot brew seemed just the thing to make them feel better after their cold walk home from the bookstore. The walks had been so much more enjoyable in the fall.
“She’ll probably tell you tomorrow. She wanted to think it over tonight.” Megan linked her arm with his and walked with him to the living room.
Alicia Keys sang softly on Megan’s stereo system. Low light spilled in through the far archway leading to the foyer.
“How did she seem when the two of you talked?” Ean sank onto her fluffy coffee-colored sofa.
Megan sat beside him. “Excited.” She smiled at the memory. “I wish you’d seen her.”
“Do you think she’ll do it?” Ean drank his tea as his olive green eyes searched hers.
“I hope so.” She slid out of her black pumps and curled her legs under her.
“I’m still not sure this is a good idea.”
“Why not?” Megan sipped the hot tea. The lemon juice was tart against her taste buds.
Ean shrugged. “The campaign itself will be stressful and demanding, not to mention the job.”
“Doreen can handle it. She raised you. I’m sure that was stressful and demanding.” Megan sipped more tea. Delicious.
“I’m serious.”
“So am I.” Megan sat up, lowering her feet to the cream Berber carpet. “She’s not going to be the mayor of a large metropolis. She’s going to lead a town with less than fifteen hundred residents. And she won’t be running it alone. She’ll have the entire town council helping her.”
“But she’s sixty years old. Don’t you think it’s time that she started slowing down?”
“Your mother? No.” Megan cradled her mug of hot tea and drew another sip. She loved the way he loved his mother—as long as he didn’t smother her. “There are people running this country who are a lot older.”
“Doesn’t it concern you that, if she wins the election, she’d have to split her time between the mayor’s office and your bakery?”
Megan hid her smile behind her mug. Was that his attempt to sway her to his side of the argument? “Ean, would you feel this way if Doreen wasn’t your mother?”
He set his mug on a coaster on her coffee table and stood to cross her living room. “But she is my mother and I can’t separate that. I realize she’s changed while I was in New York. But I don’t want her to change any more. Is that wrong?”
“Yes, it is. Whether your mother changes, and how much, is not your decision.”
A quiet contemplation seemed to drape over Ean. Megan studied him, standing across the room with his head bowed and legs braced. His dark gray Dockers hugged his hips. His broad shoulders stretched his burgundy sweater. She wished she could convince him he wasn’t losing his mother. Doreen had been, and always would be, there for him. She didn’t know any other way.
“She didn’t want me to go to New York.” Ean spoke with his back to her.
“I know.” Megan sipped her tea.
“She didn’t want me to marry Ramona, either.”
“That I didn’t know.” Megan had never guessed that Doreen hadn’t wanted Ramona for a daughter-in-law. In fact, her friend had seemed concerned when Ramona had left Ean in New York and returned to Trinity Falls.