Page 38 of Living at 40

“Calvin and Bryce, or do you mean Ben and friends?” Anna asks of her mother-in-law, knowing how to play the game with her.

“Let’s start with the older set.”

“They’re all hungover and paying the price by golfing.” Satisfied that walking a golf course in the day’s heat is punishment for yesterday afternoon’s behavior, Anna huffs.

“Is Ben okay?” Our mother has never hovered over Ben as she does over me, mainly because she trusts Anna to keep him in line. I’m the problem child. Still, I understand her current concern.

“He’s fine,” Anna lies, not wanting to worry my mother. “He’s having the time of his life with these guys, and that’s all that matters.” Her firm tone brooks no argument from my mother, who actually thought getting the guys together would be good for the soul.

“And how are my girls?”

“Do you mean Lorna and Mila?” I ask, teasing my own mother. She’s taken on Lorna as her pseudo-grandchild as Logan doesn’t have living parents.

“Well, them too, but how are you two holding up?”

“Everything is under control, Ruthie,” Anna addresses my mother. She never quite got the hang of calling my mother Mom as she had her own until a few years ago.

“That’s my girl,” Mom directs at Anna, having adopted her as a second daughter. Then Mom turns to me. “And how are you?”

“I’m good,” I admit, finding it very true despite all the morning’s hullabaloo in the hallway. I feel amazing.

“You have a certain glow about you today,” she adds, eyeing me, and for half a second, I feel like a teen again, wondering if my mother knows I had sex last night. “Still thinking about having a baby?”

“Uh, Mom, I can’t talk about this right now.” I gaze over at the four kids digging in the sand. Using them as my excuse, I dismiss a conversation I don’t want to have with my mother today, tomorrow, or months from now. It’s not her business, although I’m certain she’ll have plenty to say about it.

“You should sleep with Mason.”

“Mom!” I shriek. “Weren’t you the one saying as long as Mason isn’t the father.”

She waves a dismissive hand at me. “What? He’s good looking, and we know he’s virile.” My mother wiggles her brows, and Anna snorts.

“Mother!”

“I’m just suggesting that if you’re going to shack up with someone to make a baby, at least pick a beautiful looking man as well as one sexually appealing and strong.”

“This is not happening.” I glare at Anna because if she hadn’t opened her mouth, Mason wouldn’t have opened his.

“I’m sorry,” my sister-in-law mouths to me, but at this point, she can beg forgiveness to the end of time.

“I’m going to help the kids build a sandcastle.” Pushing off my chair, I walk over to Oliver and Trevor. They have the energy to burn as do I suddenly, and I follow their lead to dig in the sand. Eventually, we walk along the beach and play in the water, splashing around as though I’m a kid myself. Thankfully, my mother disappears while I’m walking the boys down the shore.

Trevor is the wilder one of the two boys, while Oliver is a bit tinier than his twin. Once we leave the refreshing lake, Oliver shivers, and I wrap him in a towel, tugging him to me to warm him up. Settling in a chair, I pull the boy onto my lap, and he tucks his head against my shoulder. With an arm stroking up his back, he snuggles into me.

“When did she leave?” I question of my mom’s absence.

“A while ago. She said she had a lunch engagement.” Anna’s been reading a book but closes it with a snap. We’re silent for a second, and I decide I might as well get this conversation over with.

“I suppose Ben told you,” I mutter, not wishing to disturb the little one on my lap.

“Told me what?” she questions, glancing over at me. Usually, I’m good at reading Anna, so I can’t tell if she’s pretending—acting as if she doesn’t know anything—or if she really doesn’t know what happened this morning.

“I just assumed . . .” As Anna stares at me, she shifts in her seat.

“Well, now you really need to tell me.” Her eyes drift to Oliver on my lap, and I realize we aren’t in a position to discuss anything in detail. However, Anna has this way of having a cryptic conversation. She says you develop it as a mother, and I better learn the language if I plan to be one.

“Logan and I . . .” I wave a hand around my midsection. Anna’s eyes widen.

“What about Mason?” she questions.