Chapter Eight

Dale leaned over the plans she had drawn up for the building renovation. The fruity scent of olive oil heating in a pan wafted from the kitchen. She glanced toward Mai and Noah as they bent over the stove, shoulders touching.

“Ease the garlic into the pan and then watch it closely. We want to brown it, not obliterate it.” Mai’s voice as she schooled Noah settled over Dale. And she watched fascinated as her youngest child paid rapt attention to Mai.

“There. Get them out now. If you let them go another second, the garlic will taste burnt.”

Noah scooped the cloves from the pan and on to a plate.

“Fantastic. Now. Turn the flame off and move the pan. The surface is still hot. You don’t want to overheat the oil.”

Noah moved quickly to follow Mai’s direction.

Dale’s mouth watered. “What are you making?”

Noah turned and grinned at his mother. “Garlic infused oil to go over the pasta we’re going to make when I get home from practice.”

Dale’s heart squeezed with her son’s enthusiasm. Mai’s quiet encouragement and affection for her son was palpable. What would it be like to have a partner who liked her kids? Molly never had. Dale’s kids had been the source of endless arguments.

Dale clenched her jaw as the memory of Molly slapping Noah’s face surfaced. That had been the beginning of the end. Dale still couldn’t believe she had been so seduced by Molly’s attention she let her almost destroy her relationship with Noah.

She pushed aside her guilt over not being able to pay for cooking school because she’d believed Molly’s lies. After Molly left, taking all of Dale’s savings and most of the money in her business accounts, Dale had worked sixteen-hour days to keep their house and put food on the table.

Noah had stepped up and managed most of the household tasks since then. Four years after near bankruptcy she was able to help Thomas with his tuition. But culinary school was still out of reach for Noah, and after watching his older friends struggle with crippling student debt, he wouldn’t even apply for the slickly packaged loans offered by the bank.

“Mom?” Noah’s hand on her shoulder startled her.

“Sorry, what?”

“I’m leaving now. I’ve got practice.”

“Oh. Be safe.” Dale patted his hand.

“Always.” Noah trotted out of the kitchen with his sports bag over his shoulder.

“He’s a good kid.” Mai swished water into the cup she was washing.

“He is.” Dale tapped the drawings. “Do you want to look at these? These are what I’m going to submit for the building engineer.”

“Sure.” Mai dried her hands on the dish towel. “You want some water?” She dropped ice cubes into a tall glass as she spoke.

“No. Thank you.”

After filling her glass, she rounded the bar separating the dining room from the kitchen. The nearness of Mai’s body as she leaned over Dale’s shoulder and studied the drawings ruined Dale’s concentration.

“This here. Is this how the living area will be laid out?”

Dale traced her finger over the printouts. “It’s hard to see on this but it’s open plan as we discussed with all the accessibility features and requirements in place.” Dale turned her head to look up at Mai. “Do you want an elevator installed instead of the stair lift? I can do it. We’d lose a bit of the dining area but not too much.”

“Will it add much? It would be good for Yvonne.”

“Not too much. But I need include it on the permit and plans.” Dale pulled her tablet closer and tapped in some notes. “Does Yvonne have mobility issues?”

Mai straightened. “Yes. She’s good with a walker or cane most days. But it could get worse at any time.” Her eyes shuttered. “The plans look good, as far as I can tell. Thank you.” She walked back to the kitchen and busied herself with washing a plate. She dragged open the dishwasher and placed it inside to dry. “How come your dishwasher doesn’t work?”

Dale flushed. “I haven’t had time to fix it.”

Mai raised her eyebrow. “Noah said it’s been three years.”

“It has.” Dale fidgeted with her pen.

“Why?”

“Why what? It wasn’t a priority.”

“Because Noah does the dishes? He won’t be here forever. You’ll need it when he leaves home.”

Dale shoved away from the table. “I’ll try to get it fixed.” Shame welled up. Why hadn’t she fixed it? Because she had been broke when it stopped working and then, when she had a little breathing room, there had been Thomas’s tuition to pay. Some bill was always more important than replacing the dishwasher. She turned away from Mai’s accusing stare.

“Is it something I could help with?”

Dale gathered her forms and plans together in a loose pile. “I doubt it. I think the whole thing is shot. It’s at least twenty-five years old. I don’t have money to buy a new one, or the time to install it.” She waved the sheaf of paper at Mai. “Your renovation is not the only project I have right now.”

Mai flinched. “Got it. Sorry I asked.” She turned her back on Dale and went back to washing the dishes.

“Mai?”

Mai turned toward Dale, her lips pressed into a thin line, and she knotted the dish towel in her hands.

“I didn’t mean to be sharp. I apologize. I know it looks like I take Noah for granted but I don’t. I’m doing the best I can with what I have.”

Mai tilted her head to the side and her gaze skittered away from Dale. “I think you’re a great mom. I didn’t mean to speak out of turn.”

The earnest tone of her voice had Dale biting her lip to stop the prick of tears threatening her control. “Thank you. I don’t deserve accolades but thank you.”

“It must have been hard. Being alone, raising them alone.” Mai hung the dishcloth to dry.

“It was. My dad and mom helped as much as they could. They were both still working full time then. Dad was making guitars on the side, trying to build his own business.”

A chime sounded. Mai tugged her phone from her pocket and glanced at the screen. “Gotta take this.” Mai walked to the basement door and thumbed her phone on. “Hey! Yeah, I got your email.” Her voice faded as she walked down the steps.

Dale brooded as she carried her coffee cup to the kitchen and placed it on the counter. Who is she so happy to talk to? Not me. She grimaced when she remembered the way Mai had flinched during their conversation. Bright-blue numbers on the stove displayed the time, taunting Dale. Noon. I could at least check it out. Dale emptied the plates from the dishwasher and dried them before she put them away.

She turned the water off under the sink. Using her phone as a flashlight she studied the plumbing tie-in. She eyed the frayed electric wiring leading to the dishwasher. A chill ran through her. She closed her eyes against the images of Noah receiving a lethal shock because of her negligence and trembled.

The sound of Mai’s voice filtered through the basement as Dale made her way to the circuit breaker box. She pulled the lever and shut the power down to the entire house, not willing to risk a shock or trust the past homeowner’s barely legible notes beside the breaker bars.

She took the basement stairs two at a time and made a quick trip to the garage for the toolbox she kept for home repairs. Kneeling on the floor, she removed everything from the cabinet and set to work to make things right.