Free Sweet Baklava by Debby Mayne

sweet boy. Now go get me those clothes."
    It went against everything Nick had become to bring his clothes to Mama, but he did as he was told. He vowed to do something even better for her in return.
    As he handed them to her, he gestured toward the living room. "I overheard you telling Papa you wanted some furniture moved. Just tell me where, and I'll take care of it."
    "Your father said he'd do it."
    Nick tucked his fingers beneath her chin and tilted her head up so she looked him in the eye. "Mama, I want to do it, and I won't take no for an answer."
    Two hours and half a dozen different arrangements later, Nick brushed his hands together. "Looks good, Mama, but it's not that different from how you had it."
    "I know. I'm so sorry to put you to all that trouble."
    "It's fine. I'm here, and you wanted to see how it looked."
    She studied the room a few seconds then pointed to one of the chairs. "How about if we move that chair over beside the sofa? Do you think it would cut into the traffic flow too much?"
    He laughed. "We can move it and see. If you don't like it, I'll put it back."
    After all the furniture was rearranged, she shook her head and clicked her tongue. "Now the pictures don't make sense. I'll ask your father to help me move those later."
    "I'll do that too."
    When Nick removed the pictures, they noticed the marks on the walls. "Let's put all the pictures in the closet. I'll get your father to paint after you leave."
    "Mama, you know Papa's too busy to paint the house. I'll do it while I'm here."
    "I don't want you to work the whole time you're here. You should be spending time with friends, having some fun. It's your vacation."
    The only person Nick really wanted to spend time with had him on hold for a couple of days. "They're all working, and I don't mind painting. What color do you want?"
    "I don't know." She took a step back and studied the walls. "All I thought about was moving the furniture. It didn't cross my mind to change the wall paint."
    "Why don't we go to the paint store and pick something you like?"
    "We can do that tomorrow."
    "Why not now?"
    "I have to go to the bakery."
    "You told me Aunt Ophelia has Steph working there this afternoon."
    "But—"
    "I insist."
    At that moment, Nick realized how much Paula was like Mama. He'd always heard that guys are attracted to girls with their mothers' traits. Both Paula and Mama were attached at the hip to their work.
    Mama frowned. "Are you sure?"
    "You were there earlier, Mama. Steph can handle whatever comes up."
    Her eyes flickered around the room again, and she nodded. "Okay, but when we get back home, I want you to start getting ready for tonight."
    Nick cut a glance around the room before settling his gaze on his mother. "Whatever you have up your sleeve for tonight must be a zinger."
    She did an about-face and scampered toward the kitchen. "Let me get my purse, and we can go to the paint store."
    Yep, she had big plans for him tonight, and Nick suspected somehow Paula might be part of them. He was okay with that, but he felt bad for Paula. She needed space—a concept his family didn't have a clue about.
    "What's this for?" his mother asked as he handed her a sofa pillow on their way out the door.
    "It'll help us pick a color to go with the furniture."
    "My Nicholas is a smart man."
    "You're the one who raised me." He winked at her then helped her into the car.
    All the way to the store, she talked about which color she should paint the walls. "This one would look nice." She stabbed her finger at the pillow. "What do you think?"
    He glanced at the color she indicated. "I think it would be perfect."
    She held the pillow out and shook her head. "Nah, it's too dark. I don't like dark rooms."
    They pulled into the parking lot and sat in the car for a few minutes, looking at all the colors on the pillow. "What color do you think we should paint?" she asked.
    "Any color you want, Mama. And if you don't like the way it looks when we're done, we can do it over