To Love An Older Man. Debbi Rawlins

sauce salvaged them. And the potatoes…oh, God they stuck in her throat like wallpaper glue.

      “This meal is fabulous.” Maude sat at the head of the table. She put down her fork and looked at Ida. “I thought you said pork chops were too dry, that’s why you don’t make them.”

      “They wouldn’t be dry if you let me fix them proper like.” Ida sniffed. “You’re always too worried about fat and calories.”

      “This sauce doesn’t taste fatty at all.”

      Ida cocked her head to the side. “No, it doesn’t. What have you got in here, Beth?”

      “Chicken stock thickened with pureed roasted vegetables instead of butter and flour. Lots of garlic, too.”

      They were being nice, probably didn’t want to hurt her feelings. Why hadn’t she left this morning? By now she could have been halfway to…Good question. She still hadn’t figured that out yet. But she’d better do it quick. After this disastrous dinner, she’d be lucky to keep the temporary job.

      Of course the possibility existed that dinner wasn’t so horrible. That it only tasted that way to Beth because her mouth was drier than the Mojave Desert. Being nervous always did that to her.

      She slid David a furtive glance. He sat silently at the other end of the table while the other two women chatted about sugar and carbohydrates. At least he had an appetite. In fact, he’d already polished off half the food on his plate. His expression hadn’t changed though. He still had the same sullen look he’d had from the time his mother announced Beth would be staying.

      “Beth?” Maude stared at her with concern.

      “I’m sorry. Did you say something?”

      Ida snorted, and Maude gave her a censuring look.

      “I’d really like you to give Ida this recipe. David, isn’t it wonderful?”

      He nodded, and then took a sip of the wine he’d brought up from the cellar. When he hadn’t poured any for Beth, Maude said nothing, but Ida asked if he’d forgotten his manners. Beth knew right then that he’d told his mother about the pregnancy. But no one had told Ida. That they had protected her privacy in that small way gave her a warm fuzzy feeling.

      Maude sighed. “Really, David, you could show a little more enthusiasm for all the work Beth put into dinner.”

      Beth groaned inwardly.

      “Speaking of work…” He set down his fork, pulled the napkin off his lap, folded it in two and set it beside his plate. “Thank you, Beth, for an outstanding meal.”

      He picked up his half-full wineglass as he stood. Beth’s gaze drew to the snugness of his jeans and she quickly looked away.

      “You can’t leave yet,” Maude said. “We haven’t had dessert.”

      “I’ll pass.”

      “You can’t. Beth made a peach parfait.”

      “That’s all right,” Beth said quickly. “It’ll keep.”

      David eyed her, his expression unreadable, and then his gaze swept the table. “Excuse me, ladies.”

      Maude started to say something, but refrained when Beth threw her a pleading look. No one said another word until David left, and then Ida spoke.

      “That boy is going to work himself to death. He’ll end up having a heart attack just like his daddy.” She sent Maude an apologetic glance. “God rest his soul.”

      “Yes,” Maude said absently, clearly distracted as she stared off after David. “But he did come home early. That’s something.”

      “That it is.” Ida glanced at Beth and then tried to hide a smile behind her napkin.

      Beth saw it though and wondered what the heck that meant. “He probably wanted to make sure I’d left. I promised him I’d be gone today.”

      Maude’s brows rose sharply. “David wouldn’t expect you to leave with no place to go.” Her gaze flickered. “He told me a little about your situation. I hope you don’t mind.”

      Beth shook her head, and noticed that Ida’s interest had suddenly piqued. Maude would have a time evading her questions. Beth didn’t care. She set her barely touched food aside and stood.

      Maude’s concerned gaze met hers. “You haven’t finished your dinner.”

      “I’ll be back to clear the table after you’ve had dessert. It’s in the fridge.”

      “But where are you going?”

      Beth took a deep breath. She hated nothing worse than confrontation. “To talk to your son.”

      THE KNOCK at his study door was too soft to be either his mother or Ida. That left Beth. For a moment he thought about not answering. But that would be childish. Anyway, she’d corner him sooner or later.

      He hadn’t even opened his briefcase yet and he quickly placed a stack of papers on the desk in front of him. “Come in.”

      The door opened but he didn’t look up right away. He made a production out of dragging his gaze away from the top sheet as if it were the answer to the national debt instead of a proposal for the company Christmas party.

      “I know I’m bothering you but this can’t wait.”

      The determination in Beth’s voice surprised him and he leaned back and gave her his full attention. “No bother. Have a seat.”

      She tucked a strand of hair behind her ear with a nervous hand, and then lowered herself to the nearer of the two brown leather club chairs. She huddled to one side, leaving half the seat vacant.

      “I’m sure you were disappointed I wasn’t gone by the time you got home, but I’d like to explain.” She shifted, crossing her legs. He tried not to look, but her hem rode up a few inches above her knees, capturing his interest.

      “You see, your mother…” She hesitated, wrinkling her nose, no doubt searching for tact. “Well—”

      “My mother could make Attila the Hun look like a cub scout when she has her mind set on something. You don’t have to explain.”

      “But I do. I told you I’d be gone but she offered me the job of filling in for Ida and it seemed a great solution for both of us.”

      “Of course. It makes perfect sense.”

      “Then why do you look as though you want to bite my head off?”

      David leaned back in his chair, admittedly feeling a little uneasy. Not angry. “I wasn’t aware I appeared that way.”

      “It’s the clothes, isn’t it?”

      “The clothes?”

      She lifted her chin, tucked back her hair. “I’m paying her back every cent.”

      “I’m not following you.”

      “Your mother insisted we go shopping today. She bought me things.” Beth visibly swallowed. “Expensive clothes that may take me a while to repay, but once I get a real job I’ll send something every month.”

      “What my mother does with her money is none of my concern. Even if she wanted to buy you a house, it still wouldn’t be my business.”

      “But you are upset.”

      “Not true. I had no idea you two went shopping today, although knowing Mother, I should have guessed.”

      Beth cocked her head to the side. “So why are you in an icky mood? Was it the pork chops?”

      He laughed. He couldn’t help it. “Dinner truly was terrific. If I’ve been ‘icky,’ I assure you it has nothing to do with you.”

      She studied him, disbelief written all over