It was me who was now shivering.

I ignored this and said, “You need anything to wear, just dig in my suitcase.”

“We left all your shopping bags in my car,” she reminded me then muttered, “bummer,” then walked up the stairs.

I turned to the computer and as the shower went on I held my breath and checked my e-mail.

Nothing from Niles.

Drat.

I looked up the stairs, I could hear the noise of the shower but it was significantly muted and I suspected I heard it because I was listening. Max built a quality house.

I leaned forward and pulled my phone out of my back pocket. Then I called Niles. Then I held my breath while it rang.

Then I got voicemail.

“Niles?” I said into the phone after I heard the beep. “This is Nina. I called because I thought we could talk. We need to… finalize things.” God, I was such an idiot. “I’ll call back later.”

Then I touched the screen to end the call. Then I called my mother.

“Oh my God!” she said instead of hello. “I thought you’d never phone.”

“Hi Mom.”

“Get let out of Max Prison?” she asked, her tone amused as I shut down my e-mail and headed across the house to the coffee.

“I wasn’t in Max Prison.”

“He sounds interesting.” Her tone now sounded nosy.

I changed the subject and informed her, “I just called Niles.”

She was quiet a moment then asked, “And?”

“Voicemail, I left a message.”

“Did you check your e-mail?”

“Yes.”

“And?”

“Nothing.”

“That boy,” she muttered.

“It’s okay, we’ll have dinner or something when I get home, talk it through, finish it up like two adults.”

“Yes, it would be novel for you two to actually speak to each other in the same room while you break off an engagement. Not talk via e-mail and voicemail.”

“Mom.”

“Neenee, I’m just glad you’ve made your decision and you’re moving on. And… speaking of moving on –”

While we were talking, I’d hit the coffeepot and poured myself a cup. I put the milk back and closed the fridge cutting her off, “Mom –”

“Honey, spill.”

I grabbed my mug, leaned a hip against the counter, took a sip and stated, “I don’t want to talk about Max.”

“Why not?”

“Because I don’t want to think about Max.”

“Why?”

“Because I don’t know what to think about him.”

“Okay, you tell me all about Max and I’ll tell you what to think about him.”

“Mom.”

“Nina.”

“Mom,” I said more firmly.

“Nina.” She beat my firm by a mile. “Listen to me, let me explain something to you. You’re my daughter, I love you. I learned a long time ago that I had to let you make your own decisions, your own mistakes and then sit back and watch you learn from them. You’re like me, honey, you don’t learn from people telling you stuff, you learn from doing. But this is one place I want you to listen to me and learn. Don’t make my same mistake. Don’t close yourself off from something that might be good. Learn to take risks again, Neenee Bean.”

I looked out Max’s windows at the vista and I took another sip of coffee.

My mother didn’t open herself up to looking for another man after my father. When she’d found out about three weeks after she had me that he’d cheated on her and then he left her for the other woman then left the other woman and left the country, my mother had been devastated.

And bitter.

He’d been the love of her life, she’d adored him and his betrayal had destroyed her.

It wasn’t until six years ago that she met Steve. Steve, who for the first year she saw all the time but insisted he was her “friend”. Then she gave in and for the next two years she called him her “companion”. Now she called him her husband and she’d never been happier, not ever that I could remember.

“You don’t even know him,” I said softly into the phone, staring at the mountains.

“I know he has an amazing voice.”

Max had an amazing everything pretty much or at least as far as I could tell.

“Yes, well, he does have that.”

“And I know he’s got good enough manners to answer the dratted phone when your mother calls.”

“Mom –”

Her voice got gentle when she finished, “And I know he talks real quiet when he thinks you’re sleeping.”

My stomach melted and my eyes drifted closed.

“Mom,” I whispered.

“Honey, life has enough obstacles planned for you, stop putting up your own and just live it.”

I opened my eyes and blurted for no reason whatsoever, “He built his own house.”

“What?”

“With his own hands.”

“Really?”

“On land his father gave him, land his father always wanted to build on but he died before he could do it so Max did.”

“Wow,” she whispered.

“I know,” I whispered back.

“Are you there now?”

“Yes.”

“Is it nice?”

“Oh yes.”

“Where’s he?”

“Taking care of some business in town.”

“So the place you rented is just sitting there?”

“No, I rented his place. There was a mess up with the reservation, I arrived and he was home but I had a really bad flu and Max took care of me while I was sick and… well… then I just –”

She interrupted me and asked, “You found this on the internet?”

“Yes.”

“Give me the website,” she demanded.

“Sorry?”

“The website, Neenee Bean, I want to see photos.”

I tried to decide if I wanted my mother to see photos of Max’s A-Frame.

Then I decided I wanted my mother to see photos of Max’s A-Frame.

I gave her the website but warned, “The photos aren’t that good. The place is better.”

“Oh hogwash, the photos are always better.”

“Trust me, Mom,” I looked from the view through the house, “they don’t do it justice.” Then I cried, “Oh! And Jimmy Cotton lives in town and Max and I were out on his land, Cotton ran into us and took our picture.”