39

“Will, did you do something to your mother? Say something to her?” Laura frowned, toe tapping, as she confronted him the instant he walked into the door at home.

Will had thought his wrestling with storms would be temporarily suspended, at least for an hour.

Evidently not.

“What makes you think I upset my mother?” he tried in a calm tone.

“She’s called here four times today, said it’s urgent. Said you haven’t picked up her calls on your cell today.” Laura crossed her arms. “And she said she needed to talk to you alone.”

“Honestly, hon, I have no idea what it’s about.”

Laura narrowed her eyes. “And the last time she called, I could tell she’d been crying.”

Crying? His mother? She was a bastion of strength. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d seen his mother cry.

Then an image fluttered at the edges of his vision. His mother, sitting alone in their backyard garden at Chautauqua. Will must have been very young at the time, but he distinctly remembered her looking sad.

Even now, all these years later, it was a startling memory. His mother was a powerhouse in their family and in society, known for encouraging everyone she knew. But that day her usual vibrant smile had been missing.

Will hadn’t said a word. He’d simply climbed up into her lap and hugged her.

She had held him tightly. To this day he could taste the salt of her tears as they dripped onto his hair and then down his cheek. It had been the first inkling he had of what shared sorrow meant. And from that moment on, something had built in him to be her protector. He never wanted to see his mother sad again.

“I’m waiting,” Laura cut in. She lifted a dubious brow.

“Seriously, I haven’t done anything. I’ve barely talked to her, with everything going on.”

“Well, it has to be something.”

Will almost chuckled. Women—they sure stick together.

“Anyway, give her a call. Get it worked out,” Laura directed.

“Yes, ma’am,” he said in a contrite tone, even though he didn’t know what he was being sorry for.

She pivoted toward the kitchen. “And be quick about it. Dinner’s waiting.”

Funny. He could walk fearlessly into the tightest situations in boardrooms without a flicker of anxiety. But when sparks were shooting from his wife’s eyes, he was putty.