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A matching pair of golden retrievers romped through the snow to greet him, tails wagging. They swarmed his legs as soon as he hopped out of the truck, pawing wet marks onto his jeans, but he didn't mind.
"Goofy hairballs," he told them affectionately, ruffling their floppy ears.
The mutt he'd grown up with was long dead, but he didn't blame these two joyful airheads for replacing her. He wrestled with them a bit, scampering through the snow and laughing at their antics, dragging out the inevitable as long as possible. Eventually, he heard the front door open and knew his time was up.
"Belle! Lucy! Away!"
All three of them froze guiltily. Lucy even left her paw stuck mid-air.
"Now," Barbara commanded in a tone that brooked no disobedience.
The goldens slunk off with their tails between their legs, trotting toward the shed at the back of the house where they spent their afternoons until his mother wiped their paws. They wouldn't be allowed back in the house until she could guarantee a spotless floor. Aiden clucked his tongue sympathetically. It had been the same for him when he was a kid.
"Aiden, darling!" His mother's smile was sugary as she lifted her cheek for a kiss. "I wasn't expecting you so early. Come in."
He carefully wiped his boots on the outdoor mat, then the inside rug, and then tugged them off in the mud room before setting a sock foot on the polished floors. Then he dropped his keys in a little brass tray by the entrance, precisely as he'd been trained to do. The scent of lavender and lemon polish filled his nose, sweeping him up in a complicated wave of nostalgia. It was a childhood smell, pleasant and confusing at the same time.
"I thought we'd eat in the breakfast nook," his mother was saying as she led him through a farmhouse-style kitchen. "No need to be formal with just the two of us."
"Sounds great," Aiden said half-heartedly.
He held out a chair for her before seating himself. Sunlight streamed through the bay windows, painting the flowery china in streams of gold. Aiden wasn't a particularly big man, but he'd always felt huge and clumsy in his mother's space. A bull in a proverbial china shop.
His mother shook a napkin into her lap and said, "Now we have time for you to explain this…sport… you've decided to participate in."
"It's not like I was drafted into the NFL," Aiden joked, reaching for the first platter and dishing a spoonful of fluffy scrambled eggs onto his mother's plate before helping himself. Camp meals and cheerios over the sink were more his style these days, but time couldn't erase old habits. "I'm just taking a shot at the prize money."
"Do you think you have a chance?" she asked.
He shrugged. "As much as anyone. None of the competing teams have any experience. We're all just doing it for fun."
"Hmm." She took a delicate bite of eggs and chewed thoughtfully. Aiden had been braced for more arguments, but she surprised him by changing the subject. "While you're here, I was hoping you could fix the sink for me. It's been leaking for weeks. I had James Owens doing some odd jobs a while back, but he only succeeded in wasting my time and money. I'd rather have you do it."
"Sure, Mom," Aiden replied, glancing toward the kitchen sink. A plunking sound was coming from the slowly dripping faucet. "I'll take a crack at it now."
"Finish your breakfast first."
"I'm not really hungry."
"But I made muffins!"
Aiden glanced down at the bite-size blueberry muffins arranged like a centerpiece on the table. His stomach was churning from the Skittles, but he popped two of them in his mouth and swallowed before he'd finished chewing. "They're great!" he said with his mouth full.
She didn't look like she believed him, so he took another one when he shoved back his chair and escaped the table. He unscrewed the cap on the end of the faucet and inspected it. "Simple fix," he said, rolling up his sleeves. "Just a worn-out washer. I'm surprised James missed it."
"Perhaps I forgot to mention it."
His gloom fell away once he retrieved the toolbox he kept in the supply closet under the stairs. He could never sit still long, and he loved having a purpose. It was easier to carry on a conversation with his mother when he was distracted with simple tasks. He dug through the box and found a washer left over from when he renovated her guest bathroom.
His mother sat at the table and watched while he worked, looking happy and peaceful, like she genuinely appreciated his effort. It was those little things that reminded him she had a heart. She truly loved him in her own way, and she wasn't lying when she said she'd dedicated all her time and attention to raising him. The least he could do was put up with her eccentricities.
"You know," she began casually, "you could always move back home. It would be much easier for you to handle these repairs, and you wouldn't be forced to suffer in that awful trailer anymore. It's miserable in the winter and an oven in the summer."
"I don't mind," Aiden said, mostly ignoring her.
"You'd have more space here, and Bandit would be so happy to have you back."
Aiden ground his back molars together. Bandit was pushing thirty by now; he didn't have many years left. Aiden had missed so much time with him, making do with only sporadic visits, especially in those first few years after his mother kicked him out. She hadn't even allowed him to say goodbye the night he left. While he was packing, she'd raced down to the barn and padlocked the door so he couldn't get inside. That had wrecked him more than anything else. Even now, when he could visit Bandit as often as he wanted, he still felt unsettled…like he was still waiting to say goodbye.
