Erin says it’s her way of ‘giving back.’”
Maizie nodded her head, impressed—as well as eager to help. “She sounds like a wonderful person.”
“Oh, she is,” Eleanor said with feeling. “And I desperately want her to know the joy of holding her own child in her arms.” Again guilt rose its head within her. “I suppose I’m being selfish....”
“Not at all.” Maizie waved away the sentiment. “I’ve been exactly where you are.”
Eleanor looked at her with surprise. “You have?”
Maizie nodded her head. “Absolutely.”
“Did you do anything about it?” Eleanor asked, lowering her voice as if they were discussing a possible conspiracy. It was obvious that she was searching for some sort of advice or at least encouragement.
Maizie smiled over her cup of coffee. “Funny you should ask,” she began. She saw the hopeful expression that came into the other woman’s brown eyes. She signaled the waitress, and she told the young woman when she approached, “We’ll need to see two menus, please.” This was going to take some time, she decided. Then, turning back to Eleanor, Maizie got down to business. “Have I got a story for you.”
“There you go,” Steven Kendall said as he handed Cecilia Parnell the monthly check he had just written out to her company. “And it was worth every penny,” he freely admitted to her. “The job done by your house-cleaning service would even pass my mother’s stringent inspection, and trust me, my mother has always been a very tough little lady to please,” Steve attested.
Time and distance gave him the ability to look back at that part of his life fondly, although at the time, living through it as a teenager had been exceedingly difficult for him.
Cecilia smiled at the young business-litigation lawyer. He’d been a client of hers for a little more than a year now and she had never known him to be anything but cheerful. It was literally a pleasure doing business with the man, especially since he took no exception with what could be seen as an idiosyncrasy: she liked to be paid in person.
Cecilia laughed softly. “All my clients should be as difficult to clean up after as you and your son,” she told him. “And just because I don’t mention it, don’t think I’m not grateful that you don’t mind indulging me and maintaining this personal aspect of the process.” She tucked the check away into one of the many zippered compartments within her rather large hobo purse. “I know most young people your age prefer going the digital route—your internet bank account communing with my company’s internet bank account—but I must say that I really do like the personal touch.” She flashed a self-depreciating smile at Steve. “I know that must seem hopelessly old-fashioned to you.”
The woman’s words struck a familiar chord. “To tell you the truth, Cecilia, I could do with a little more ‘old-fashioned’ these days.”
Something in his voice caught her attention. “Oh?” Cecilia gave him her best motherly smile as she set down her purse again. “You are my last stop of the day, which means I’m free after this, so if you need a friendly ear to talk to, I can certainly stay awhile.”
Her maternal smile took in Jason, Steve’s seven-year-old, as well. The boy spared her a marginal glance before getting back to what had become his main focus during his waking hours when he was home: killing aliens that popped up on the family-room TV monitor.
“It’s not often that I find myself in the company of two such handsome young men,” she went on to say.
For a moment, Jason’s attention was diverted—an unusual occurrence these days, Steve noted. “Is Mrs. Parnell talking about us, Dad?” he asked.
A sliver of hope went through Steve. Maybe Jason was finally coming around. Mentally, he crossed his fingers even as the boy went back to vigilantly guarding humanity against the alien threat.
“Well, you, at least,” he told his son. He doubted that Jason even heard him. He was back to playing his video game.
“Oh, don’t sell yourself short, now, Steven,” Cecilia told him. At her age, her words could be seen as complimentary rather than flirtatious, which allowed her the freedom of not having to watch every word she said. “You are a very good-looking young man—which leads me to wonder why you’re here, talking to me, instead of going out. It is Friday night and unless my memory fails me, this is considered prime dating time for unattached men of your age bracket.” She glanced at Jason. “If you need a sitter, as I’ve already said, I am available,” she offered, knowing that the woman who watched Jason until Steve came home from the office had just left for the day.
“No, thank you. I don’t need a sitter and your memory is very sharp, Cecilia.” He knew that the woman was aware of his particular situation. Rather than feeling as if she were invading his privacy, he was touched that she cared enough to be concerned about him. “I’ve decided to back away from the dating scene for a while.”
Cecilia frowned slightly. She’d taken a personal interest in the young widower and his son. She couldn’t help herself—he seemed as if he needed just a touch of mothering since his own mother lived some distance away in another state.
“Correct me if I’m wrong, Steven, but didn’t you just reenter the dating world a couple of months ago?”
Cecilia formed it as a question, but she knew perfectly well what his answer to that was. After two years of doing nothing but working and spending time with his son in an effort to shut down the sharp pain he’d felt over losing his wife, Julia, to uterine cancer, the personable lawyer had given in to his friends’ entreaties and started dating again.
What had gone wrong? she wondered.
And how could she help?
“Technically, you’re not wrong,” Steve told her. He walked into the kitchen and opened his refrigerator. He took out a bottle of orange juice and poured himself a small glassful. “I did reenter the dating world, although it was more like four months ago than just a couple. In any case, now I’ve decided to un-reenter it.”
Of the three lifelong friends, Cecilia had always been the most soft-spoken one. But being around Maizie and Theresa had caused her to be a little more aggressive in her approach toward people, a little bolder when it came to speaking her mind. Prior to their foray into the matchmaking world, she would have never had the nerve to say what she said now.
“If you don’t mind my asking, why would you do that? You’re in the prime of your life and heaven knows, a good, solid man like you would be the answer to many a lady’s prayer.” When he looked at her in surprise, she quickly added, “I have a couple of good friends who bend my ear about their children’s inability to connect with the right person.”
Although accurate, her explanation was a little dated. Up until several years ago, she, Maizie and Theresa would get together at least once a week for a friendly card game and a session of seeking mutual comfort regarding what they all viewed as the plight of their unmarried daughters. It was at one of these sessions that Maizie first decided that they needed to do more than just talk, lament and worry. They needed to take a proactive approach to their daughters’ situations.
Since all three of them had businesses that allowed them to interact
