Page 11 of P.S. It’s Always Been You
“It’s the chance we take as Armstrong men. But I swear I’m careful.”
“Your job is the opposite of careful.”
“But I’m careful.”
We cross toward the parking garage as she points out, “Jumping out of a hot-air balloon to set a world record is the very definition of risky.”
“Then isn’t it a great thing I’ll be playing This Old House for a few weeks, thanks to your crazy engineering efforts? That’s the definition of safety.”
She blows on her fingernails as she guides me toward the level where she parked. “Good. Now, while you’re in town, I thought I could introduce you to my friend Marisa Wallace’s daughter, Hillary. She’s a local teacher, and she’s into white-water rafting and camping. Doesn’t that sound perfect? I bet you two would hit it off.”
I take her car keys. “Please tell me you didn’t lure me here in order to play matchmaker with your friends’ daughters the whole time I’m in town.”
She so did. That’s so her style.
She laughs, shooting me a look like that’s the craziest thing she’s ever heard. “No. I thought the Valentina estate was a great career opportunity. So when I heard the family was looking for someone to go through it, I naturally thought of you. I’m always looking out for your career.”
“How is Marisa Wallace’s daughter a career move for me?”
Her eyes twinkle. “You’ll be here for a little while. Why not have a few dates? I know you like the ladies.”
I blink. “Did you just say that?”
She scoffs. “Oh, please. It’s not a secret. I see pictures of you on the gossip sites. You’re never without a pretty woman on your arm. But what if you had a pretty local woman? Wouldn’t that be something?”
“I’m here for work and to see you. Ergo, I’m not interested in dates.” I aim the key fob at her car and pop the trunk, sliding my duffel into the back before I open the passenger door for her.
Once I’m in the driver’s seat, she continues her dating inquisition. “When you say ‘not interested,’ is that because there’s someone on the horizon?”
Laughing at her persistence, I back up the car. “You’re not winning this one. I’m a thirty-seven-year-old former paratrooper with the US Army. My mommy is not allowed to set me up.”
“Fine, I can respect that boundary. Let’s talk about other fun social activities. I’m picturing a barbecue this weekend. Jesse makes a mean grilled chicken. Ooh, what about a night at the bowling alley? My bowling club is kicking butt these days.”
“And I suppose all your friends would come to the barbecue with their daughters? Or the bowling alley?”
“I’d never thought of that. What a great idea,” she says, acting so thoroughly innocent it’s a wonder she never became a thespian. “I’ll put it in motion.”
I roll my eyes as I drive down a lane toward the exit. “How are the horses, Mom? Are the stables keeping you busy?”
Her lifelong dream was to ride. When she was a little girl, she longed for a horse, but her parents couldn’t afford one. They couldn’t afford much, nor could mine while I grew up. When I finally started earning good money from the show and the books, I bought her a farmhouse with a barn attached to it. She learned to ride a few years ago and is damn good at it.
“I took Cinnamon out this morning. We went for a five-mile ride, and it was glorious.”
“That’s good to hear.”
“You should take her for a ride. Did you know Hillary is an equestrian too?”
I slide the ticket through the gate, chuckling to myself as I drive out of the garage. “I had no idea.”
“Oh, she’s a fantastic horsewoman, and she loves to snowboard too.”
I let my mom chatter on as we drive, since it makes her happy, the idea that she might set me up, even though I’ve made my feelings clear.
As I turn onto the highway, she shifts gears. “Tell me more about what my friend Daniel has in mind for the project.”
“I presume he’s hoping we’ll find the buried treasure,” I say with a laugh.
“That’s just a rumor,” she says, chuckling too.
“And the last thing I expect is to find buried treasure here in New York State.” But still, the rumor itself was definitely another reason I said yes. Supposedly, Edward Valentina found treasure when he discovered the Lost City of the Sun, as he’d called it. Is it true? Stranger things have happened. And there’s a part of me that believes the rumor. Or really wants to believe it.
“And buried in the shed of his New York estate,” she says with a wink. “I bet you’ll play that up for the cameras.”
“Of course. I’m a good entertainer. How else could I keep you in your horses?”
“Entertain away, then. When will the crew join you? Will Trevor be here?”
