Chapter 74

“I saw that,” Brenda said.

Rory chuckled.

From the looks of Betsy’s protruding abdomen, it looked like she would pop out her baby any minute, although the night before Rory had been told Betsy had another couple months before her due date.

“Where’s Zane at anyway?” Betsy asked.

“Looking at used trucks with your father,” Brenda said.

Betsy rolled her eyes and sank into the chair recently vacated by her mother. Stealing a link sausage from his plate, she chewed then said, “You’re a quiet one.”

“Good thing, given that you’re such a chatterbox,” Brenda said, setting a cup of what looked like herbal tea in front of her daughter.

Betsy snorted then ate the rest of the sausage, washing it down with a gulp of tea. “And you don’t eat much either.”

“Your mom gave me a big plate, more than I could eat,” Rory said, smiling broadly at the woman’s exuberance.

“You’re a guest in my home,” Brenda said simply.

“And what I had was delicious, just too much.”

“That’s mom, always cooks enough to feed the five thousand.”

Rory smiled. Barry was the same way. Although secretly Rory admitted Barry was a better cook, but not by much.

“Mom, did you make any more sour pickles?” Betsy asked, making to rise.

“Yes. Stay there, I’ll get them.” Brenda moved over to a kitchen cabinet.

“And could you get the jar of Nutella, too?”

Rory gaped. Then the penny dropped. “Cravings?”

Betsy nodded and burped loudly. “Wanna try one?” she offered when her mother set the jars and a fork on the table in front of her.

Rory laughed and shook his head. “Uh, no thanks.” It wasn’t often he made snap judgments about people—the last time was with Zane—but Rory felt totally at ease around Betsy. “Do you know if it’s a boy or a girl?” No one had mentioned the baby’s gender the night before.

“Don’t know. Don’t want to know.”

Rory nodded; he liked her attitude.

“But not knowing means I can’t knit in blue or pink yarn,” Brenda grumbled.

“Yes, Mom!” Betsy rolled her eyes. Clearly this was a discussion they’d had many times.

The three of them sat around the kitchen table, Betsy eating large quantities of her weird sweet and sour snack. Rory was included in their conversation and joined in freely. Time passed and he wondered if Brenda really did have any canning jars in the basement that needed organizing.

* * * *

When Betsy complained about her swollen feet, Brenda suggested they all move to the family room. Brenda took one of the overstuffed armchairs and picked up her bag of knitting and soon began to click away on what looked like a baby-sized sweater. She was using a pale yellow yarn.

Before Rory could sit in the other armchair, Betsy invited him to sit next to her on the sofa. Agreeing, but thinking it polite to leave a little distance between them, Rory perched at the far end. But to Rory’s surprise, Betsy kicked off her shoes, swung her legs up, and planted her feet in his lap.

“You any good at giving foot rubs?” she asked.

“Uh, I guess.” Tentatively he began to massage Betsy’s right foot. It did feel rather puffy, not that he was an expert on women’s feet.

“Harder…yes, that’s it,” Betsy moaned and moved her left foot, accidentally rubbing it against Rory’s crotch.

Don’t get hard,Rory silently told himself. He picked up her left foot and began massaging it, moving it away from the danger area.

“You’ve done this before.” It wasn’t a question.

“Uh huh.”

“To my brother?”

Rory laughed in embarrassment and Brenda cleared her throat but still carried on knitting. Rory sometimes massaged Zane’s huge feet; it was amazing how quickly and effectively it turned the big guy on. Not that Rory was going to admit any of that to Zane’s mom and sister.

Fortunately, Betsy didn’t tease him further. Instead, she picked up the TV remote and began to flip through channels, Rory still rubbing her feet.

When Betsy paused on a quiz show, Brenda said, “Rory got all the questions right on Jeopardy!last night.”

Rory winced. “Not all of them.” That was only half true. He had known all the answers, he just hadn’t spoken them aloud.

“If you’re that smart, what are you doing with Zane?” Betsy joked.

Rory felt himself getting defensive. He hated when anyone disparaged his boyfriend, even in jest, but before he could say anything, Brenda’s needles stopped clicking while she admonished her daughter.

“Was joking, Mom. Lighten up,” Betsy said.

“Well, make sure you don’t do it in front of Zane.” The needles resumed their motion.