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“This works for me.”
He filled another cup, then sat across from her. He looked at the bagel for a moment. He still wasn’t hungry, but he had to eat. He picked up a half and took a bite.
“Have you gotten any more words out of Caleb?”
“So far, he’s only talked to you, Emma, and Frenchie.”
“It’ll happen.”
“I can’t wait to be able to tell him to quiet down.”
After they finished their coffee, Wilda returned to the parlor, and Milo went outside to the porch. He walked to the mailbox, about a quarter of a mile away, then returned with a stack of junk mail and two bills. The walk wore him out, so he sat on the porch and stretched out his legs.
“I’m as weak as a damn baby.”
Ten minutes later, he was still sulking when his mother drove up. Milo sat up, then got to his feet.
Allie got out of the car with a casserole dish in one hand and a loaf of bread wrapped in a towel in the other. “I thought you could use a decent meal, sweetheart.”
“Thanks, Mom.”
She went onto the porch and kissed him on the cheek. “What are you doing out here in the cool air?”
“It feels good.”
“Are you running a fever?”
“I don’t think so.”
“Come inside.”
Milo opened the door for her, and she headed for the kitchen. He followed her, and she pointed to the table. “Sit down. You need to eat this while it’s hot.”
“Mom, I just had a bagel. I’m not hungry.”
“You need more than a bagel and coffee to get your strength back. Sit.”
“Yes, ma’am. How did you even know I was sick?”
“Rachel called me.”
“Of course she did.”
Allie filled a bowl with potato soup and set it in front of him.
“Not chicken noodle?”
She smiled. “It has chicken in it.” She handed him a spoon. “Eat what you can.” She returned to the counter and cut a slice of bread. Then she buttered it, set it on a plate, and put it on the table. “You look thin.”
“I’ve only been sick for a day.”
“I mean, in general. Have you been eating?”
“Yes.”
She sniffed the air. “Why do I smell paint? Have you been working on the house instead of resting?”
He smiled. “I thought you knew everything, Mom.”
