My Kind of Christmas

morning.”
    “Morning?” Patrick said weakly.
    Maureen just laughed. “We’ll stay in the RV, of course. I can’t tell you how wonderful it is, driving your home around the country.”
    “Mother, do Luke and Colin know you’re here?”
    “No, not yet,” she said, looking surprised. “I intend to see them, of course, but you’re the one leaving to go back to Charleston soon. I just couldn’t help myself. Paddy, I’ve been worried about you.”
    “I’m fine,” he said.
    “I just want to spoil you a little bit, honey.”
    His mother was the last person Patrick was in the mood to be spoiled by. But Angie was shrugging out of her jacket, letting Patrick take it. “I’ll help set the table,” she offered.
    Patrick just stood there and watched as his mother swept Angie into the kitchen, chattering away about getting the recipe for the rolls from Kelly and explaining Kelly’s connection to the family—Colin’s girlfriend’s sister. Angie got right into it, explaining she had just helped bake the same rolls for the Christmas baskets. At that, Maureen became very excited—she and George might even be able to help with the baskets this year.
    “Just shoot me,” Patrick muttered.
    George put a hand on his shoulder. “I’ll get her out of here early,” George said. “Right after she does the dishes, because she’s going to insist on doing the dishes.”
    “Why didn’t you make her at least call?”
    “Make? Is that Latin? Son, you don’t make Maureen do anything.”
    “Then how do you propose to get her out of here early?”
    George gave a shrug. “I’ll do my best, son. Anything short of faking a stroke.”
    Patrick loved his mother. Of all the Riordan boys, he might be the most agreeable to spending time with her. Aiden would be next—he was patient and took very good care of their mother when Paddy was unable to be in contact with her. That’s what Patrick would do. He would call Aiden. Everyone called Aiden when there was a problem in the family. Sean, stationed not far from Virgin River, was pretty good with her because he was manipulative and pretty. But Luke and Colin? Useless.
    Patrick sulked a bit during dinner, though even he had to admit the company was good, the food excellent and the stories of Maureen and George’s recent travels seemed to amuse Angie and her laughter never failed to charm him. When Maureen and George got around to asking Angie about her family and about her visit, to say they were impressed with her project to help Megan would be an understatement.
    “We can contribute,” George said.
    “It’s funded,” Patrick said stubbornly. “The job is done and all that’s left is the surgery. Right, Angie?”
    She smiled at him. “If you say so, Paddy.”
    George suggested to Maureen several times that they turn in and leave these young people alone, but Maureen always had one more question, one more comment. By the look on George’s face, he was getting precariously close to faking that stroke.
    “Well, Angie starts her day early—I’d better get her home.” Patrick didn’t wait for an argument. He went for their jackets and was shuffling her out the door.
    “I hope I’ll see you again soon,” Maureen said.
    “I’m sure of it,” Angie replied warmly.
    And before they could bond any further, Patrick got Angie in the Jeep.
    “Holy cow, Batman—were you afraid I’d invite them to move in?” she asked.
    “Yes! I’ve never been less happy to see my mother! We’ll stay at your cabin tonight.”
    “Oh, Paddy, we can’t do that,” Angie said. “Your mom is right on the property. You and your Jeep have to get back. You have to spend the night at home tonight.”
    “Are you kidding me?”
    “I wouldn’t kid about a thing like that. And I can’t spend the night with you while your mother is in the next room.”
    “She’s in the RV next door and she sleeps like a dead person! I would know—I was the fifth Riordan to sneak out at night!”
    “Not tonight,” Angie said.
    “But you said your mother being here wouldn’t change things....”
    “Entirely different—my mother is pushy.”
    “And my mother isn’t pushy?”
    “Well, I’m going through a rebellious stage. My mother expects me to act out.”
    “Think about what you’re saying,” he begged. “We don’t have that many nights left together.”
    “I know. But family is family—forever, as you pointed out. Be nice to your mother. I want her to think highly of me. To