Free Sparks Fly by Lucy Kevin Page A

calling her bluff, but she was having such a good time trying out her new acting skills, he let it go.
    “Honey,” Joyce said, turning to Will, “Margie is expecting you to go over right now to pick up some treats she made.”
    “But Mom,” he complained, sounding less like a full-grown CEO and more like a little boy who wasn’t getting his way, “all of her daughters were over here yesterday dropping off food. What else could they possibly have made for us between now and then?”
    Joyce shooed him out of the kitchen, deftly using her wheelchair to get him moving toward the front door. “And remember, dear, be nice to all of her lovely girls. I’m sure they’ll want to have a good long chat with you since you were too busy to talk yesterday.” After he closed the door behind him, Joyce wheeled back into the kitchen. “Sit down, dear, and I’ll make you a cup of tea.”
    Angelina just wanted to get the consultation over and done with, but she knew when she was beaten, so she dutifully took a seat.
    She sat quietly at the kitchen table while Joyce boiled the water. Even with Will’s mother confined to a wheelchair, Angelina had a feeling she was barely going to be able to keep up with her.
    Joyce handed her a steaming cup of chamomile tea. “I hope you don’t mind how insistent I was about having you come out to New York to meet with me.”
    Angelina wasn’t sure how to respond. The truth was, she did mind. Not because she had anything against Will’s mother, but because she couldn’t handle being this close to her son.
    Joyce waved away any answer she might have come up with. “Frankly, it’s not me that I’m worried about, it’s Will.”
    Angelina was thankful she’d just swallowed her mouthful of tea. Otherwise she would have spit it out.
    “I think you need to know about his father.”

    “Joyce, I think we should be focusing on you if we’re going to—” she began, but Will’s mom cut her off.
    “When Will was young, he idolized his father, Howard. You should have seen them—wherever Howard was, you were sure to find Will. If Howard was building something, Will had his toy hammer out and was pounding on blocks. He was five years old when his father left without saying goodbye.
    “Before Howard left, Will was carefree, happy. He loved to paint with his fingers any and everywhere. I should know,” she said, chuckling softly. “I spent hours cleaning finger paint off the walls and the furniture.” Too quickly, the smile fell from her face. “Overnight, Will stopped being a child. He shouldered the burden that his father left as the man of the house. It was as if he felt that it was up to him to support us both. No matter how much I tried to let him know that I could take care of us, he has always felt responsible for me.” Joyce looked up at Angelina, her eyes glazed with unshed tears. “The worst thing of all, though, was when he told me he was never going to have children of his own.”
    “Why would he say a thing like that?” Angelina asked.
    Joyce shook her head. “He has some crazy notion that he’s going to be just like Howard. That he’ll let down his own children.”
    “Will would never do that,” Angelina protested hotly. “He’s amazing with kids.”
    Joyce nodded in agreement. “I know that, and you know that, but he doesn’t seem to.” She cleared her throat. “I know I sound like a meddling mom, but yesterday I saw a joy in him I haven’t seen in thirty years. When he was telling me about you.” Angelina’s mouth fell open, but no sound came out. “And now that we’ve met, I like you just as much as I thought I would.”
    Angelina didn’t know what to say. “Joyce, I thought you wanted a Feng Shui consultation.” She was barely able to get the words out with so many conflicting thoughts swirling inside her head.
    Will’s mother patted her hand. “Oh, honey, I do. But I truly am exhausted. Do you mind if we postpone until later this