“How many dozens did you bake, Mom?” Luke asked as he loaded yet another Rubbermaid container into his car.
“Don’t you worry about it and just load it all up. Oh shoot!” she said, looking around. “I almost forgot my purse. I’ll be right back!”
Five minutes later, Luke opened the driver’s door, muttering to himself as his mother commented on his choice of clothing.
“I don’t care what your fellow parishioners think of the way I dress,” he said after she closed the passenger door. “Aren’t they supposed to be all loving and accepting? Isn’t that what religion is supposed to be about?”
“Watch your mouth.”
“I’m not changing, Mom. These jeans are clean, and so is my T-shirt. If I’m going to be socially uncomfortable, at least let me do it in comfortable clothes.”
After dropping off his mother at the front entrance of the school where the fundraiser was being held, Luke drove to park his vehicle.
A few minutes later, one large container in hand, he found his mother chatting with a young, brown-haired man at a registration table. He, too, had dressed as fancy as his mother had, wearing a buttoned-down shirt even though his right arm was in a cast and pinned against his chest in a sling.
“Mrs. O’Brien, you’re at table twenty. Go ahead and get yourself set up. Harold will come by later to collect more information and discuss an upcoming project we’re excited about. I see you’ve brought someone to help.” He looked at Luke.
“I’m her son. Table twenty, you said?” Luke turned his attention to his mother. “I’ll go put this first box at your table, Mom.”
As he walked away, he could hear his mom beginning the embarrassing speech that always came next. Sure, there were much worse things than having a mother who constantly bragged about how smart her son was. But decades of hearing the spiel hadn’t made it less embarrassing. And his mother never listened to his numerous requests to end that behavior.
Best get this evening over with as fast as possible.
After several trips to the car, Luke had carried all of his mom’s precious muffins, pies, and cupcakes to her table. Thankfully, she had already displayed a fair amount of her selection of goods and then organized the other Rubbermaid containers behind her table so she could presumably replenish her items as needed.
Either that or he’d have to carry all of those containers back home and he, Kate, and his mom would be stuffing their faces with baked goods for weeks to come. That wouldn’t really be a problem, though. His mom’s baked goods were delicious. He still had lots of spare notches in his belt, but Luke didn’t want to put on weight. Worst comes to worst, I’ll talk her into offering free samples.
Already, even though the doors had yet to open, his head was buzzing. The incessant jabber of mingled small talk, especially from the loud lady one table over, made him regret his decision to help his mother.
“Hey, Mrs. O’Brien!” she practically yelled. “Looks like we’ll be neighbors again!” Her chirpy voice was as loud as her bright red dress. “And who’s that nice man you brought with you today?”
Although the woman had technically addressed his mom, her deep brown eyes were dead locked onto Luke. Her lips arched upward after she gave him the once over.
“I’m her son, Luke,” he said, extending his hand toward her even though starting a conversation with the bubbly woman was the last thing he wanted to do.
“Adrianna Johnston. Nice to meet you. And you’re not married?” she said as they shook, her eyes glued to his left hand.
Best to end this right here.
“Nope. But not single either,” Luke said in a tone as flat as his interest toward the woman.
“Luke Stewart O’Brien, I didn’t raise you to be impolite.” His mom turned her attention to the woman.
“Adrianna, please don’t mind him. My son’s not much for social gatherings, but he’s helping me tonight. It’s his birthday present to me.”
“Oh! Just like my son! I know how that goes. When did young people stop liking other people? Happy birthday, Mrs. O’Brien.”
“Thank you. It’s not today, per se, but I couldn’t think of a better birthday present than getting my Luke to spend quality time with me.”
“And helping the community,” Adrianna added.
“Sure,” Luke said, doing his best to not roll his eyes at the woman who was still looking at him strangely.
“Too bad you’re not single. If things don’t work out, please ask your mom to let me know.” She winked at Luke then was about to walk back toward her table when Luke’s mom spoke.
“Oh, Adrianna. I wouldn’t get your hopes up. My Luke is dating a detective, you know? She’s quite the catch—”
“Mom!” Luke said, doing his best to keep his voice low. “Enough about sharing my private life with strangers!”
“She’s not a stranger! She’s a friend from church.”
“My offer remains in case things don’t work out with your smart detective friend.”
After giving one last wink, she returned to her table—the very next one over—where a young man sat quietly, his arms crossed on his chest. In front of him rested a colorful selection of rosaries made out of knotted strings.
He appeared as uncomfortable as Luke, but at least he’d found himself a chair. Scanning the room, Luke spotted two stacks of chairs against the far wall.
“I’m gonna get us some chairs, Mom. I’ll be right back.”
He grabbed two, noticing several large plastic bins nearby. A sign read “Clothing donations” and he made a mental note to tell Kate she could donate her uncle’s clothing to the church. He remembered her mentioning how much she’d found. Sure, Kenny hadn’t been the most fashionable man he’d met, but he understood lack of income had contributed to him never updating his wardrobe.
Beggars can’t be choosers, he thought. Kate had enough to sort through already—an entire houseful—the church volunteers could go through and decide if Kenny’s old clothes were worth anything to them.
When he returned with the chairs, a broad-shouldered man with a clipboard was chatting up his mother.
“So, if you’d like to support our cause, then please write your name, address, and phone number. We’re hoping to get two hundred signatures tonight.”
Hoping to avoid an awkward conversation in front of his mother—and definitely not willing to listen to whatever pitch the man had been tasked with—Luke retrieved his phone and brought it to his ear, feigning to be on a call as he, one by one, moved the chairs over to the table. A polite nod later, he stepped away from his mom’s table, then decided he might as well check on Kate.
She’d been called to work hours ago. Perhaps she was nearly done? Having her by his side would most definitely make the whole fundraiser much easier to stand. Spending time in social settings was at the bottom of his list of enjoyable activities. He already saw plenty of people at work.
But with Kate around, the world always seemed to fade away. How she achieved that, he had no idea, but he wished she were with him now.
His stomach twisted at the thought of how uncomfortable he’d soon be, once the doors officially opened to the public.
After dialing her number, it went straight to voicemail. “Hey, Katie, I was just thinking of you. You’re probably still working, or maybe you’re driving back home. Anyways, Mom and I are in a school basement for the next five hours. Selling baked goods to raise funds for something or other. You know how much fun I’ll be having. So, it’d be nice to see you, if you can make it. But you might still be at work. Either way. It’s cool. Love you.”
He returned the phone to his pocket, saw that the man had moved on to table eighteen, so Luke deemed it safe to return to his mom.
“Luke, you should talk to Harold and sign his petition.”
“Maybe later. I’m sure he’ll find plenty of willing parishioners tonight. How many people did you say are expected?”
“About three hundred.”
He took a seat and looked at Adrianna’s son behind the next table. The young man hadn’t moved a hair, it seemed. He hadn’t even looked his way. Crossing his arms on his chest, Luke decided he’d follow the kid’s lead. But he added a fake smile. Psychological disguise or not, he’d read that smiling increased one’s happiness.
And he was going to need all the help he could get for the long social evening that was about to start.