When Eileen called and said she was having plumbing problems in her apartment and temporarily had nowhere to stay, I didn’t even argue.
I was standing in our kitchen, rinsing coffee mugs before work, when Tanner walked in with his phone pressed to his ear and that worried crease between his brows.
“Mom’s place has a leak,” he said after hanging up. “The bathroom is a mess. She can’t stay there until they fix it.”
“How long?” I asked, already knowing what was coming.
“For two weeks. Maybe less.”
I dried my hands on a dish towel and nodded. “Okay. She can stay here.”
His face softened with relief. “Thank you, Cheryl. I need you to be understanding. After all, she’s my mother.”