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I thought we were having a light conversation and as soon as I started psychoanalyzing Apollo, he turned on me. It was as if my words lit the anger inside him, which tells me I hit a nerve and I’m still trying to work out what word was the spark.
Mom is waiting as I head to breakfast. Troy and Harrison, my brothers, have already left for the office as usual.
“Melissa, darling.” Mom’s face lights up and I return her smile fondly because my mom has always been and always will be the light of my life.
“Sit down and tell me everything about your evening last night. I tried to stay awake for you but couldn’t quite make it.”
The last thing she needs to know is what really happened last night and so I skillfully maneuver away from the subject.
“It was good thanks, nothing eventful, just a few drinks with friends.”
She sighs. “That’s a shame. I hoped you were on a date.” She appears thoughtful. “What about that Julian Jones who was sniffing around? He seems nice.”
“Not my type.” I shoot the hope in her eyes down in flames because I know mom and Angela Jones have been plotting a set up behind my back and I’m not going there—ever.
She sighs. “He’s a good catch, darling. Handsome, with good prospects and a strong moral compass.”
“That points him in the direction of cheap whores and cocaine.”
I raise my eyes. “Really, mom. Do you consider that a good moral compass because if you do, I am seriously concerned about your judgment.”
She rolls her eyes. “I take your point. Does Angela realize what a scoundrel he is?”
“She soon will.” I laugh softly because mom is a relentless gossip and I expect this will be the subject of her conversation when she dines with Isabelle Faiers later today.
“So–” I stop as Mrs. Carlton heads into the room with my usual plate of poached eggs on rye and I smile gratefully.
“Morning, Mrs. Carlton. This looks yummy.”
She smiles softly. “You would say that if I burned the toast, and the eggs were underdone.”
“You know me so well.” I shrug and mom says sweetly, “How is Charlie, Mrs. Carlton? I haven’t seen much of him lately.”
Charlie is her son and drives for my brother Troy and our housekeeper’s eyes soften at the mention of her pride and joy.
“He’s good thanks, Mrs. Remington.”
“No lady in his life?” Mom enquires, and she shakes her head.
“No, but he spoke about some young girl who just started as Mr. Remington’s new pa. He seemed quite keen.”
I remain silent because I’m guessing Troy won’t be happy about that, but mom is, so I keep it to myself.
The only thing I want is for mom to be happy. Since my father died, she has been struggling to hold it all together and I’m concerned about her. She’s getting forgetful, and I’m not sure if she grasps the fact that he’s never coming home.
Occasionally, she speaks as if he’s still here and is merely late home from the office. I glance at the other end of the table where his usual place has been set. Troy’s is beside me and Harrison’s opposite, and it’s rare that we all eat together these days. When dad was alive, we missed the evening meal at our peril, and I hate that we have gone from a tight-knit family to one who is drifting further into the abyss.
Mrs. Carlton leaves and I quickly change the subject away from my non-existent love interests and say casually, “What time is your lunch with Isabelle?”
“Two o’clock, I think?” Mom shrugs. “I ordered a cab to take me because I don’t like driving much these days.”
That also concerns me because mom has always been a very capable driver and I say quickly, “I can drop you there. I’m heading to the gym later and it’s on my way.”
“Super, darling.” She says, as she glances at the end of the table.
“I wish I could ask your father, but…” She forces a smile. “He’s always so busy and I’d hate to distract him from his work.”
A cold icy sense of dread crawls through my veins and the tears prick behind my eyes as I realize mom is sick. She drifts between the past and present more often now and I say carefully, “Dad’s not here anymore, mom. You know that.”
