Debbie Macomber: Blossom Street

“Growing. There are so many changes I can hardly keep track. I took Mom shopping and she practically bought out the shoe department at Wal-Mart.”

She heard his gentle amusement. “I wondered where you got your penchant for shoes.” Shoes had always been Susannah’s weakness.

“How’s it going with your mother?” he asked.

“Not good.” She described how her mother had embarrassed her in front of Sandy.

“She feels threatened,” Joe said. “You would, too, in similar circumstances.”

“Maybe, but…”

After spending an entire day with her mother and witnessing how easily she tired, Susannah was more concerned than ever. They’d had to stop frequently for breaks; once Vivian had even taken a brief nap on a pull-out sofa in the furniture department, with Susannah standing anxiously by.

“I don’t know how to handle this. The minute I bring up the subject of assisted living, she gets defensive and angry.”

“Did you mention the phone call from her neighbor?”

Susannah straightened. “No. But maybe if Mrs. Henderson and I both talked to her, Mom might listen.”

“She might think you’re ganging up on her, too.”

Her husband had a good point. “You’re right, she probably will. I’ll tell her about the phone call first and if I have to, I’ll bring in Mrs. Henderson.”

“Did you take her to tour any of the facilities?”

Susannah sighed in discouragement. She hadn’t even gotten close. “I drove past one, and Mom made some sarcastic remark about not knowing the way home.”

Joe chuckled. “She’s got quite a stubborn streak.”

“I don’t remember her being like this. My mother was the soul of tact and graciousness, and all of a sudden she’s—” Susannah didn’t finish. She noticed a movement out of the corner of her eye, and turned to look. To her horror, she found her mother in the hallway, listening in on her conversation. Lowering the phone, she whirled around. “Mom?”

With a sheepish look, her mother walked into the kitchen. Susannah didn’t know how long she’d been standing there, but suspected it had been quite a while.

“Joe,” Susannah breathed, shocked that her mother would stoop to eavesdropping. “My mother was standing in the hallway, listening to our conversation.”

“I’m not leaving my home,” Vivian said loudly, “and you can’t make me.”

“Susannah?” Joe’s voice rang in her ear.

“I’ll call you later.”

“Okay.” She heard the drone of the disconnected line from her cell phone before she clicked it off.

“Mom, I think we should talk,” Susannah said, gesturing for Vivian to join her.

“Not if you’re going to say what I think you are.” Her mother started to back out of the kitchen.

“Aren’t you curious about why I drove over here earlier than I’d originally planned?”

Her mother hesitated. “A little.”

“Sit down, Mom.” Again Susannah motioned toward the other end of the table.

“I’ll miss my show.”

“The Food Channel runs the same episode in the morning, and before you say anything, it’s perfectly all right to watch television in the middle of the day.”

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