“Have you at least been to the Metropolitan Museum of Art in New York?” Alaine seemed to forget the camera and her notepad, leaning toward Meredith in her interest.

“No. Closest I’ve been is the National Gallery of Art and the Hirshhorn in Washington, D.C. I’ve also been to the Art Institute of Chicago.”

“What’s your movement?”

“Art deco. Everything about the era—the art, the jewelry, the architecture. That’s why I jumped at the opportunity to buy a craftsman bungalow a few months ago—even though it did need a complete overhaul inside.”

“Really? I’d love to buy an old place and fix it up.” Alaine laughed and rolled her eyes. “Well, have my brother fix it up.”

“Your brother?”

“Tony. He’s a contractor.”

A tingle of interest tickled the back of Meredith’s neck. Even though she was pretty sure Ward would give her a reasonable offer, having another bid on the work might be good. “A contractor? Here in Bonneterre?”

“Yeah. He actually has his degree in architecture. But he decided he liked getting his hands dirty instead of sitting in an office drawing every day, so he became a contractor instead.” Alaine jerked her head then jumped up to turn the camera off. “Sorry. I’ll erase all of that personal stuff.”

“Not a problem.” Meredith stood and walked around to perch on the front edge of her desk while Alaine broke down the camera equipment. “What kind of construction work does your brother do?”

“Home remodeling. Hey, you know what?” Alaine stopped halfway through wrapping up the power cord. “You and Tony would have a lot in common. Would it be weird if...?”

“I’d love to meet him.”

“That’s great.” Alaine gave a little hop of excitement. “I don’t usually go around trying to set up the people I’m interviewing with one of my brothers, but I know the two of you would really hit it off.”

Meredith’s stomach dropped into her left knee. A setup?

“I could give him your phone number or e-mail address and have him get in touch with you.” Alaine crouched down to pack everything away in a black canvas bag. “If I can get another one of your business cards, I’ll tell him to e-mail you.” She caught the tip of her tongue between her teeth when she looked up and wrinkled her nose in a big grin at Meredith.

“I ... uh...” How did she expect to end her years of singleness if she passed up opportunities for dates, or get her house finished if she worried that every contractor might ask her out? She swallowed hard and handed Alaine another business card. “Okay.”

Meredith walked Alaine out to the main entrance and shook her hand in farewell. Back in the solitude of her office, Meredith allowed the stunned disbelief to swallow her. Had she really agreed to let Alaine Delacroix set her up with her brother?

* * *

“Do that later. The movie’s starting.”

“I’ll be there in a second Ma. I can see the TV from here, y’know.” Major continued dusting the top of the mirror over his mother’s dresser in her studio apartment. A large archway separated the bedroom from what she called the “front parlor”—a sitting area that held her recliner, a loveseat, and a small entertainment center. While Beausoleil Pointe Center sent someone in to clean the bathroom every day and to vacuum once a week, the responsibility of caring for and cleaning any personal furniture items lay solely with the resident. And his mother had never dusted a piece of furniture in her life that Major could remember.

“You just did that last time you were here. It can’t be that bad.”

“Actually, Ma, I’ve been here twice since last time I did this. It’ll just take a minute.” He spritzed window cleaner on the mirror and polished it until all the streaks disappeared. “I take it you haven’t changed your bed since last time I dusted either.”

Beverly O’Hara waved her hand dismissively. “I don’t remember.”

Major pulled down the comforter. Yep. Still the same pink-and-yellow-striped sheets he’d put on there two weeks ago. In less than thirty seconds, he had the bed stripped, the linens bundled up and set by the door to take home and run through the laundry—since he was pretty sure that after almost two years here, his mother still didn’t know where the laundry room was.

The opening score of Flying Leathernecks filled the room. Major hummed along with the melody.

“You’re missing it, son!” His mother’s voice gained a shrill edge.

“I’m right here. The opening credits are still running, aren’t they?” He pulled a clean set of sheets off the top shelf of the closet.

“But this is the one.”

“The one what?”

“For heaven sake. If I can remember, you should be able to. The one I named you for.”

Major tossed the folded sheets onto the bed and went into the sitting room where he leaned over the back of his mother’s chair and pressed his cheek to hers. “Oh, you mean this is the one in which the Duke plays Major Daniel Xavier Kirby, United States Marine Corps.”

She pressed her cold hand to his other cheek. He whispered the first few lines of the voice-over introduction in her ear then kissed the top of her head. “Let me finish making the bed. Then I’ll put on some coffee, make popcorn, and watch the John Wayne War Movie Marathon with you.” He refrained from pointing out that she had the DVDs of all of the films that were going to be shown.

“You’ll stay for the whole marathon?”

“I’ll stay as long as I can.” He returned to the other part of the room and made up the bed with the precision corners his roommate in New York during culinary school—a former army drill sergeant—had taught him.

As promised, before he settled into the cushy loveseat, he’d fixed decaffeinated coffee and microwave popcorn. And Ma was already asleep in her chair. Their typical Sunday afternoon.

“You’ve got enough troubles of your own for one man.” John Wayne said on the TV screen. “Stop trying to pack everybody else’s around.”

Major had been able to quote nearly every line of this movie since he was a little kid. But that particular line had never hit home with him as it did today. Ever since he’d seen Meredith’s date a week ago, he’d given himself indigestion ruminating over whether or not he should tell her about Ma and see if there was any chance to work things out.

The idea of telling Meredith both relieved and frightened him. He couldn’t imagine anyone else he’d be more content to spend the rest of his life with. Yet would she understand? Would she be able to accept Ma’s condition as a very intrusive and volatile part of their relationship?

Ma snuffled a little in her sleep.

No. He couldn’t do this to Meredith. While he’d love to truly become a member of the Guidry family—instead of just an accepted outsider—he couldn’t reciprocate and bring Meredith into his family. Guilt gnawed at his stomach, souring the coffee he’d just downed.

“I’ve got enough troubles of my own.”

Meredith, while not a high-maintenance girl like some he’d dated, worked in a high-stress job with long and unusual hours. If a restaurant were to become a success, it would have to be Major’s life for the next few years.

Resentment vied with the guilt in curdling the contents of his stomach. He had to make a choice: spend what little free time he would have developing a relationship with Meredith, or spend it with his mother.

“Lord, I don’t know how I got myself into this mess. All this time, Ma’s been telling me she wants me to meet someone and get married. If only I’d listened to her before now. I’ve known Meredith for eight years.”

The reality of his words sank in. He’d known Meredith for eight years. In the beginning, she’d been like a younger sister. When he’d first started working at B-G, he’d toyed with the idea of finally allowing himself to do something about the crush he’d had on Anne in high school and college. But she’d just gone through the breakup of her first engagement, so he offered a brotherly shoulder for support. It had been only natural that he would treat Meredith the same way when she took over Anne’s job—and took the job beyond anything Anne had ever done.

In every respect, she was the ideal companion for someone in the restaurant industry. She understood the late nights, the long hours—because she had the same demands in her own job. She was wonderful with clients. And though he always made sure his numbers were exact and balanced before he turned reports in, he depended on her for many of the business aspects of the catering division.

“She’d never leave an executive director position and come to work at a restaurant. That would be ridiculous.”

The movie ended, The Fighting Seabees started, and his mother napped on. Major rubbed his eyes hard enough to see stars. Truth be told, if he were going into business with Meredith as his sole partner, he would have signed the papers the day the offer had been made. He’d watched her become MacGyver and fix a broken table with rubber bands, paper clips, and chewing gum; solve any audio-visual problem their equipment could throw at them; make fifty tablecloths work in a room with a hundred tables; and never let on to the client or the rest of the staff that there’d been a problem to begin with.

“She’s perfect for me.” When he realized he’d spoken aloud, he glanced at Ma, but she hadn’t budged. He’d become too accustomed to talking to himself from living alone for so long.

He collected the popcorn bowls and coffee mugs and took them to the kitchenette—one counter along the far wall of the sitting room—to wash. He wished he could find a way to let Meredith know he cared for her, that he’d like nothing better than to be with her forever, but that right now he couldn’t.