Sparks Fly

straight. He just hoped she wouldn’t hang up when she heard his voice.
    He was used to getting what he wanted regardless of the obstacles in his way. But for some reason, dealing with Angelina was proving to be the most difficult test of his life.
    None of his current worries, however, stopped him from having a romantic dream about her that night. He woke up at 5:00 a.m., images of her beauty, her smile, still vivid in his head. He went into the kitchen, plugged in his computer, and got online, hoping work would ease the ache he felt inside.
    It didn’t.
    Will was back at the hospital at 8:00 a.m. sharp. His mom was already sitting up in bed and drawing in her sketchbook.
    “Good morning, honey. Didn’t get much sleep last night, did you? Want to talk about it?” At Will’s stunned look, she said with a twinkle of mischief in her eyes, “I have all-seeing mother abilities.”
    Will rolled his eyes, although it was true.
    “Besides,” she added, “I’ve got nothing better to do until the doctor agrees to let me go home today, so you may as well eat some of this godawful food on my tray and tell me everything.”
    Will laughed. He sometimes forgot how different his mother was from every other mother in the world. Spending time with her was more like hanging out with one of the guys. Well, sort of, anyway, if one of the guys was his mom.
    He bit into the muffin she handed him and had to go spit it out in the bathroom sink. “I think they baked cement into it.”
    “There’s gum in my purse.” Not missing a beat, she asked pointedly, “So, who is she?”
    Will looked up from digging in her bag for the gum.
    “You have woman trouble written all over you.” Joyce folded her hands on her lap. “Why don’t you start at the beginning?”
    By the time Will made it to the end of his story, Joyce was worn out from holding in her laughter for so long. One day he would be able to see the humor in the situation, but right now he was too overwhelmed by what sounded to her like love at first sight.
    Will’s cell phone rang and as he dealt with a corporate issue, Joyce developed a plan.
    Later that day, happily settled back at home with her paints and canvas, she sent Will off to the grocery store and put her plan into action.
    She picked up the phone and dialed Information and gave them the city. “I’d like the number for Angelina Morgan, please.”
    Five minutes later, Joyce called the airline and charged one first-class plane ticket to her infrequently used credit card. She was happy that some of the money Will insisted on depositing into her savings account each month was finally being put to good use.

    * * *
    Angelina still wasn’t exactly sure what had happened. One minute she was being clear-headed and firm with Will’s mother—explaining how it was impossible for her to rearrange her schedule to fly to New York for a consultation and that she was happy to give her the number of an excellent consultant in New York, not mention the fact that five thousand dollars really was far too much money to pay for her services—and the next minute she was in her bedroom packing because an airport limo was parked in her driveway.
    On the drive to the airport, she wondered what the real story was behind the out-of-the-blue phone call. She didn’t believe for one minute that Will’s mother desperately needed her expertise. But since it would be several more hours before she could get any answers, she tried to relax and enjoy the new experience of flying first class.
    It really was very nice, she admitted as she chose Breakfast at Tiffany’s to watch on the personal DVD player the flight attendant gave her. She couldn’t help but enjoy the gourmet meal they laid across her tray table.
    Kicking out the footrest, she accepted the glass of champagne the stewardess offered her at the end of the movie, and closed her eyes. Tonight would be soon enough to unravel everything. Right now she was going to concentrate on savoring this small taste of the good life.

    * * *
    Joyce looked up at the clock. Nine p.m. “Honey, I’m going to turn in now.”
    Will looked up from his laptop. “Do you need help with anything?”
    She wheeled over to him in her on-loan wheelchair. “Just give me a kiss on the cheek and I’ll roll away.”
    Will chuckled. “You’re pretty good at that thing. Where’d you learn to maneuver it so well?”
    His mother winked at him. “I’d tell you, but then I’d have to run over your