The Drifter by Richie Tankersley Cusick Page B

motel. And I can’t just run off and abandon the house—and I can’t just leave it with strangers.”
    â€œNora’s not a stranger.”
    â€œAnd Nora would never stay there, you know that as well as I do. Mom’s counting on me to hold things together while she’s gone.”
    Andy toyed with the handle of his cup. He gazed down at the plastic tablecloth and traced over a stain with his fingertip.
    â€œAnyway, I shouldn’t mind so much being alone with Joss, should I? I mean, there’re going to be lots of times I’ll be alone in the house with just the guests. It’s not a big deal.”
    â€œWho are you trying to convince?”
    â€œIt’s not,” Carolyn said again firmly. “It’s really no big deal.”
    â€œIt is if you’re uncomfortable about it,” Andy corrected her. “And somehow I think you’re uncomfortable about it.”
    Carolyn opened her mouth … said nothing … shut it again.
    â€œIt’s just that he”—she looked frustrated, searching for words—“he’s so strange . So … so … there .”
    â€œThere?” Andy raised an eyebrow.
    â€œYes. You know … he has this presence. Don’t you get a weird feeling from him?”
    Andy shook his head, deadpan. “I hardly know the guy. And anyway, he’s not my type.”
    â€œAndy, I’m serious!”
    â€œOkay, okay, I’m sorry. Look, I admit, I’m not a hundred percent comfortable about you staying there alone with him—but I’m not sure if it’s only ’cause I know you’re uncomfortable about it, or if it’s ’cause …”
    â€œWhat?”
    â€œWell …” Andy fidgeted with his cup again … straightened in his chair … crumpled a napkin in his fist. “You know. Just ’cause he’s a guy.”
    â€œYou’re not making sense.”
    â€œYou’re right. Forget it.”
    Andy leaned back in his chair and crossed his arms over his chest. In his grubby jeans and torn white T-shirt he looked more boyish than ever, and Carolyn smiled as she noticed a smudge of dirt across his forehead and down one cheek.
    â€œThe truth of the situation is,” Andy said reasonably, “he’s a guest and you’re the hostess. He’s the handyman, and you’re the boss.”
    â€œHe also saved my mother’s life,” Carolyn reminded him.
    Andy stared at her. He seemed to mull this over, then gave a noncommittal shrug.
    â€œWell, he did, didn’t he?” Carolyn persisted. “He’s the one who called 911 and told them to find me. Even though,” she added graciously, “ you’re the one who really found me.”
    Andy seemed deep in thought. He moved his lips slightly, as though talking to himself, and then he shook his head.
    â€œI can’t argue with that,” he said at last.
    â€œBut what? What are you thinking?”
    â€œI’m thinking …” Again Andy started to speak … hesitated … then said, “I’m thinking I better get you home.”
    â€œThere must be a way I can stay with Mom,” Carolyn groaned, and Andy shook his head in gentle reprimand.
    â€œThe doctor doesn’t want her having visitors for a while. You heard him.”
    â€œYes, I heard him,” she conceded glumly.
    â€œCarolyn”—Andy chuckled—“she’s going to be fine. Now, stop worrying!” He looked relieved as Carolyn tried to smile. “Look, why don’t you go home and get a good night’s sleep, and tomorrow, if the doctor says it’s okay, I’ll drive you back here. In fact, I’ll bring you back every day, if you like. Anytime he says you can come.”
    â€œThat’s really sweet of you, Andy. But that’s asking a lot.”
    â€œYou didn’t ask. I volunteered.”
    He swallowed the last of his coffee, stood up, and