Never Tell Them

crying shame. I think one of her boys used to call her now and again, but neither of them ever came to visit in all the years she lived here.”
Sonia shrugged. “They must have had their reasons.”
Evelyn drew her thin brows together. “Or maybe they’re ungrateful louts, plain and simple—here to cash in on her estate now that she’s gone.”
“Guess we’ll find out.” Sonia drained the last of her coffee. “Why don’t you start baking and I’ll take the muffins over as a gesture of goodwill. Test the waters, so to speak.”
A little over an hour later, Sonia stepped onto the back porch of Celia’s house and rapped on the screen door, shivering in her cotton shirt in the morning breeze. To appease her mother, she’d taken the trouble of getting dressed and pulling a comb through her unruly, dirty blonde waves. More often than not, she spent the day in her pajamas working on room layouts or mood boards for her home-based interior design business. When presenting proposals to potential clients, however, she always struck the right note with a clean, polished look that complemented the modern farmhouse designs she was known for. For the reconnaissance muffin mission, she’d kept it casual, opting for a loose-fitting, long-sleeved, white Henley shirt and a pair of skinny jeans with just enough perfectly positioned fraying holes not to look ridiculous for a woman in her late thirties.
She shifted impatiently from one ankle-boot-clad foot to the other, balancing the platter of her mother’s freshly baked muffins in her left hand, the tantalizing aroma of sugar and cinnamon wafting into the spring air. Several cardinals were flitting around the bird feeder in the yard. Jessica had been diligent about keeping it full of seed ever since Celia’s passing. But her son might not be so keen on the idea of greeting the neighbor kid bright and early every morning. He was taking his sweet time answering the door, but Sonia was reluctant to knock again in case he was knee-deep in boxes and deliberately ignoring the bell. She could always try again later after she picked up Jessica from school.
Just as she was about to head back home, the door swung open. Sonia took a step backward, blinking in surprise. The dark-haired man she’d seen emerging from the U-Haul stood in the hallway, a whimpering child wriggling doggedly in his arms. He set him down on the floor, and the little boy promptly stuck his thumb in his mouth and backed away, staring wide-eyed at Sonia. He looked to be about three or four-years-old, pale-faced, with a head of dark curls.
“Hi, I’m Sonia Masterton,” she said in a breezy tone. “My mother and daughter and I live in the bungalow that backs up to your yard. I saw the moving truck and wanted to welcome you to the neighborhood. My mother, Evelyn, was a good friend of Celia’s. She sent you over some muffins. We’re terribly sorry for your loss.”
A nerve twitched in the man’s neck, but his face remained expressionless. “Thank you.”
Sonia arched a questioning brow. “So, are you Ray, or Tom?” she prompted, in a tone designed to highlight his rudeness at failing to introduce himself.
He cleared his throat, his gaze flitting briefly over her shoulder and back. “Uh … I’m Ray, Celia’s oldest.”
Sonia leaned over and ruffled the boy’s curls. “And what’s your name, little man?” He flinched under her touch, backing farther away, a look of panic in his eyes.
”It’s okay, buddy,” Sonia said, straightening up. “New house, and a strange woman asking him questions—no wonder he looks scared.”
“That’s … my son—Henry,” Ray said. “He’s tired. It’s his nap time.”
“Well hello, Henry,” Sonia said, softening her tone. ”I have a daughter called Jessica, and I know she’s going to be very excited to meet you when she gets home from school. Would you like to come over and play later on?”
Henry lifted his head a fraction and glanced mistrustfully at Ray. He pulled out his thumb, his eyes skimming to Sonia and then back to his father, as if teetering on the verge of answering.
“Perhaps another day,” Ray said brusquely. ”This has been a rough transition for Henry. His mother—my wife—passed away shortly before Celia.”
A dismayed gasp slipped through Sonia’s lips. “I’m … so sorry to hear that. I had no idea. Celia never mentioned you were married, or that she had a grandson.”
Ray fidgeted with the door handle, as though itching to close it. ”We weren’t in contact much over the years. She didn’t know about Henry.”
“Oh, I see. Well, family dynamics aren’t easy,” Sonia offered, feeling flustered at the minefield she’d inadvertently steered the conversation into. “I’m not in touch with Jessica’s father much either.” She bit her lip, kicking herself for volunteering information that was none of Ray’s business.
An uncomfortable silence fell between them, broken only by the intermittent trills of the birds nearby.
As though sensing the tension in the air, Henry began sniffling again.
“Poor little guy!” Sonia exclaimed. “He must be exhausted.”
Ray swooped him up, his face reddening when Henry began screaming and pounding his tiny fists on his father’s chest.
“I’ll leave you to it,” Sonia said, directing a meaningful look at Henry. “I’m sure you have plenty to do, unpacking and sorting through boxes.”
“Yes, it’s overwhelming,” Ray responded in a harried tone.
Sonia gave a sympathetic nod. “If you need any help, weeding things out or rearranging furniture, I’m an interior designer by trade.” Raising her voice to make herself heard over Henry’s wailing, she held the muffins aloft, “I can set these in the kitchen for you, if you want.”
Ray gave a tight smile, reaching out a hand for the muffins, all the while struggling to keep Henry in a precarious grip. “Thanks, no need. I’ll make sure and get your plate back to you.”
“Don’t worry about it. Jessica can pick it up later,” Sonia replied. “She’ll want to meet Henry anyway.”
She waved an awkward goodbye and turned to go, exhaling a sigh of relief