Maybe it was the nice weather, or the company, but for whatever reason, his father had always been on his best behavior during those times.
This year, more than ever, Ford liked being reminded of good moments like that.
The three of them were moving his folding tables and chairs out of the storage room when his mother called his cell phone.
“I’m downstairs,” she said. Having been in the city to visit Nicole and Zoe, she’d called earlier to see if she could drop off another box with his father’s things—some photo albums he’d saved of Ford’s grandparents and great-grandparents, and a huge stack of old baseball cards.
“Are you sure you don’t want to come up?” he asked.
“Hey, Mrs. Dixon,” Charlie and Tucker called out.
“I’m sure. Tell Charlie and Tucker I said hello,” she said, having gotten to know them well in the sixteen years since they’d been Ford’s college dorm mates.
He ran down to meet his mom in front of the building, where she was waiting with her car temporarily parked with the hazard lights on.
“Your dad was such a pack rat. But maybe those baseball cards are worth something. I don’t know.” She gave him a quick smile to cover the flash of sadness in her eyes, and handed over the box of his father’s things to him.
“You don’t need to go through all his stuff yourself, Mom. I’m happy to come to the house again and help.”
She waved this off, only about the tenth time he’d offered. “I want to do it. It gives me something to do.”
Of course that was her answer. Between her job as a teacher’s aide, the second job she’d worked on evenings and weekends at Walmart for extra money after his father had injured his hand and gone on disability, and raising him and Nicole, his mother had spent the last thirty-plus years having more than enough “to do.” But she liked it that way, he’d long since realized. Once his mom rolled up her sleeves and set her mind to a task, pretty much the only thing anyone else could do was get out of the way.
“Just promise me you won’t try to move anything heavy. Save that for me.”
She gave him a semi-offended look—at five foot ten, she was hardly a petite waif of a woman—but didn’t argue. “Nicole seemed better today. Less overwhelmed.”
Nicole had told their mother the truth about Zoe’s father, and, at her doctor’s suggestion, also had joined a new-moms support group. “I think so, too. The other day, she said that—” Ford stopped mid-sentence, spotting Victoria walking along the sidewalk in their direction, carrying two bags of groceries.
So, this was . . . unexpected. It had been years since his mom had met a woman he was involved with—and, admittedly, he hadn’t been thinking he would break that habit today.
One of the inherent risks of dating a neighbor, he supposed.
Victoria saw him a moment later, and her expression immediately turned hesitant when she saw the woman standing next to him. “Hey there,” she said, with a tentative smile as she approached.
“Hey yourself.” Ford nodded at the bags she carried. “Need a hand?”
“I’m okay.” With a grin, Victoria nodded at the large box he held. “Do you need a hand?”
He chuckled. “Thanks, I think I’m good.” He saw his mother looking at him expectantly and made the introductions. “This is my mother, Maria. Mom, this is Victoria, my neighbor and—”
“The divorce lawyer. Oh my gosh, it’s so nice to finally put a face with the name,” his mom gushed, pulling Victoria in for a warm hug. “I’ve heard so much about you from Ford and Nicole.”
“Oh—thank you. That’s good to hear.” Looking surprised by the hug, Victoria blushed as she caught Ford’s eyes over his mother’s shoulder. She gave him a little smile as she hugged his mom back, as if to say, What can you do, right?
And in that moment . . . something tightened in his chest.
“I can’t thank you enough for helping my daughter and granddaughter,” his mom said to Victoria when she pulled back. “Nicole told me all about it. And Ford, too. He says you’re a very talented lawyer, and a saint to be doing all this for free.”
“A saint? Really?” Victoria turned to him, her eyes sparkling mischievously as she undoubtedly recalled his skepticism over Nicole’s use of that very word just a few weeks ago. “Ford, you are too kind.”
He shot her a look. Cute. “I’m not sure saint was the actual word I used.”
“It sure was.” His mother smiled at Victoria. “And my son is not one to give compliments lightly, so if he has such wonderful praise for you, there must . . . be something to it.” She paused, as if thinking about that, then turned to him with a curious look.
“I’m happy to help Nicole and Zoe,” Victoria said. “It’s a unique situation, so professionally this has been a nice opportunity for me.”
“You have your own firm in the city, I hear,” his mom said.
They chatted for a few moments about Victoria’s law practice, and then she held up her grocery bags. “Well, I didn’t mean to interrupt. I should probably get these upstairs, anyway. It was very nice meeting you, Mrs. Dixon.” As she turned to head inside their building, she gave him a nod in good-bye. “Ford.”
“So, that’s Victoria,” his mom said when it was just the two of them. “She seems lovely.”
Through the glass door, Ford watched as Victoria stopped at her mailbox, the one next to his. Her hair, which she wore in a long, sexy ponytail again, fell over one bare, golden shoulder as she perused her mail. “She definitely has her moments.”
“Sounds like you two have been spending a lot of time together.”
He turned his attention to his mother, just now catching her sly tone. “Some, yes.”
“Will she be at your barbecue today?”
“Yes, I invited several of my neighbors.”
“Any others who you stare at like that?” She smiled knowingly when he didn’t immediately respond. “I didn’t think so.”
He sighed, shaking his head. “You’re as bad as Brooke.”
“Brooke is a smart woman. Probably, you should listen to her about . . . well, whatever the situation is between you and Victoria.”