“Well, you’re going to be happy to know that I’m doing something about this situation.”
He wasn’t happy about anything in that sentence. Not the tone, not the fact that she was doing something, not even the reality that there was a situation. “What are you doing or shouldn’t I ask?”
“I’m...” She let her voice drift off and looked down at the pages. “I’ve really got some terrific prospects picked out to come to the party.”
“Mom, please. I really don’t want you meddling—”
“Meddling! I’m your mother. I’m helping, not meddling.”
She didn’t know the difference between the two. “There’s nothing to do, Mom. Honestly, I’m hap...” The lie stuck like dirt in his mouth. “I’m fine.”
“Oh, you’re fine all right.” She stood suddenly, as if the chair couldn’t contain her any longer. “You’re so fine you are going to spend every day and night alone, and I am never going to rock a grandbaby.” She loosened her arms to make a cradle. “You know, Ezra is a very popular name now.”
This from a woman who’d named her sons Jeremiah and Ezekiel. “Mom.” He stood slowly. “I date a lot.”
“Dating isn’t love!”
“No shit.” He regretted the words the minute he’d mumbled them.
“Because you’ve dated the wrong women!” She came around the table, falling into the chair next to him so she could grab his arms and squeeze. “We’re going to find you a nice girl. Not one of these skinny supermodels I see on those society pages with you. I’m going to find you a good, sweet, nurturing woman to be the mother of your children.”
“Mom, honestly, I’m okay without turning Dad’s party into The Bachelor.”
“I don’t think you’re okay. Look at you.”
Inching back, he gave her a shocked look. “What about me?”
“All you do is make money and go to that gym and keep getting...” She grabbed his bicep and tried to close her hand around it, which of course was impossible. “Is it necessary to be this muscular? Are you trying to kill people with these arms?”
He laughed and shook her off. “Just staying in shape.”
“You know what keeps you in shape? Babies keep you in shape! A family keeps your heart in shape.” She slapped a palm over her chest, smacking it loudly. “I know this is right, Ezekiel. That party will be like Cinderella’s Ball, and you’ll be the prince with his pick of the finest.”
He didn’t know whether to hoot or howl.
“Now, don’t you give me that face, young man. I’ve been giving this a lot of thought. You’ll have your choice of the loveliest girls on this island, in Naples, Fort Myers, oh, heck, I know people with eligible daughters in Miami Beach!”
He rearranged the look of shock and horror into a serious scowl. “Mom, I do not want to be hounded by a bunch of gold-digging females who are trying to snag a husband. That’s not why I’m here. I’m here for you, and Dad.”
“And your business meetings.”
“Yes, I have a few things scheduled with clients while I’m here, but honestly, I’m not here to...” He stood up, corralling his frustration. As he did, he caught the sound of something from the balcony above, outside one of the upstairs bedrooms.
The doors were open up there. How much had she heard?
“That’s just the maid,” his mother said.
He looked up and caught a flash of honey-colored hair inside the upstairs sliding glass door. Even in a maid’s uniform, with no makeup, and clunky sneakers, she was sheer perfection. But, then, Mandy Mitchell could wear a burlap sack, and he’d want to get in it with her.
“Are you even looking, Ezekiel?”
“I am.” And looking at her was still one of his favorite pastimes on Earth. He’d sat in the same classroom with Mandy Mitchell exactly twice in four years—not that she remembered—and the tilt of her nose, the angle of her jaw, and even the arches of her eyebrows over jade-green eyes were burned into his every synapse.
“You’re not looking in the right places, then,” his mother said pointedly.
“Yes, I am.”
When his mother didn’t answer, he caught her following his gaze, and then she sighed. “Such a sad story, that Mandy Mitchell.”
“What’s the story?” He tried to sound disinterested, but hated how much he needed to know.
“You remember her from Mimosa High, right? The beauty queen, head cheerleader, prom princess, you know.”
He knew. “Yeah.”
She shook her head, tsking softly. “She got married right after college. Married quite well, too, they say.”
He snorted. “Not well enough.”
“Oh, he left her with nothing.”
“She’s divorced?” He had to work not to keep the elation out of his voice.
His mom tsked loudly but kept her voice at a whisper. “Dumped, more like. She probably cheated on him because what woman leaves a marriage with nothing?”
Plenty of women did—if a man did a prenup properly. His lawyer had mentioned it on more than one occasion.
But his mother was still relaying Mandy’s story. “One day, she was a socialite in Tampa and the next, she was back in Mimosa Key, living in her parents’ house on Sea Breeze Drive, while they gallivant all over the country in an RV.”
Mandy wasn’t married. The words ricocheted through his head.
“And have you seen her up close?” his mother asked. “Maybe it’s me, but she sure doesn’t look like the stunner she once was. It’s like she stopped caring.”
Maybe her skin didn’t glow like polished porcelain and her eyes didn’t have an artist’s palette painted on them, and maybe she wasn’t wearing a miniskirt that made his teenage boy’s body take over every thought. But none of that was what made Mandy Mitchell beautiful to him.
His mother’s attention was back on the lists. “You’re going to like Elizabeth MacMann. Her father is a dentist, you know, in Naples. They belong to our club.”
The country club in Naples. The dentists. The daughters. It all sounded like hell right now. Overhead, he heard the vacuum start up.
His mother stood. “Let’s go have lunch so that girl can do the downstairs.”
“I’m not that hungry, Mom.” Not as long as he’d have a chance to talk to Mandy.