“And showing up on his doorstep unannounced?”
She thinks about that one longer. “What if you text him to let him know what time you’re stopping by, and he can either tell you not to come or choose not to be there when you are. Then I’d say you have to respect his boundary.”
I cock my head and study her, my fingers busy with the next egg.
“What?” she asks, brushing her cheek against her shoulder. “I have something on my face?”
“No. You’re just being cool about this. Don’t you want to lecture me about focusing on my cookbook or something?”
“Tab, you’re grown. You’ve done remarkable things professionally. You deserve a good man, and if he’s it, then I say go for it.”
I stop peeling. “This is so weird.”
She gives me a small smile. “You’re not the only one who goes to therapy. Besides, Coal and I talk things out on our morning walks, and I’m getting a little wiser.”
Coal is her charcoal-colored poodle, and I smile back, glad she and the poodle are so happy. I pick up the next egg and she tsks at me.
“Put that down.” She gives my hand a light whack with her wooden spoon as I reach for the egg tray. “Shouldn’t you be getting on the road to Oak Crest?”
“But…” I gesture at the five remaining trays.
She rolls her eyes. “I had this planned before I knew you were even going to be in town. I can handle it. And by handle it, I mean draft your dad when he’s done puttering in his garden with Evie. Go. Put on something cute and get your man.”
I wince.
“Did I not say that right? This girl talk thing is new. I’ll get it down. And I won’t say anything embarrassing while he’s here.”
“Oh.” My stomach clenches. I hadn’t planned to bring Sawyer back here, but I don’t want to hurt her feelings. “I’m not sure we’ll come back. I’m imagining us talking things out at his place and hanging out with Natalie and Ben, like old times.”
She blinks at me a few times. “You’ve been in love with this guy for almost ten years, but you’re not ready to bring him home to meet us?”
“I will eventually.” It sounds awkward to my own ears. “I don’t want to overwhelm him.”
“You don’t want to overwhelm the guy who was trying to convince you in May that you should get married?”
“It sounds stupid when you say it like that.”
She has enough self-discipline not to confirm how stupid it is. “We’ll be happy to meet him whenever you want to bring him around. Now get.” She shoos me toward my room. “And good luck!”
“Thanks, Mom,” I call to her as I head back to change. I’d thought I was wearing a cute shirt already, but obviously she thinks I need to step it up.
I wish I had our on-set stylist here to tell me which of my outfits says, “Take me back” to the guy who indirectly proposed marriage six weeks ago but who I then rejected followed by a borderline ghosting. All I know for sure is it’s apparently not the floral blouse I’m currently wearing.
Suddenly, nothing in my suitcase will work, so I call the hardware store, relieved when it’s Paige who answers.
“Hey, it’s Tabitha. I’m sure I’m way overstepping, but I need to wear something cute to impress a guy, and I hate everything I brought.”
“Go up to my place,” she says. “It’s not locked. My closet is your closet. You did kind of build it.” Grace and I had helped my dad build the addition when we were teenagers.
“Really?” I ask. “That’s okay?”
“Absolutely.”
“Thank you! You’re the best!”
Ten minutes later, I’ve got on a yellow smocked peasant blouse, fitted with a square neck. It immediately makes my jeans look better even though I hated them five minutes ago.
I switch my shoes to floral Vans—wedge sandals aren’t going to do well on the trail to Sawyer’s house—and I’ve run out of any more reasons to procrastinate.
