They rush away to heat up food and deliver her a strong drink before I can stop them.
Despite my silent begging to make them stick around, they excuse themselves for the night.
Under the guise of walking them to their cars, I follow and grab Danny by the back of the shirt. “Psst! Don’t leave me alone with her!”
“I know you don’t want me to go,” he says as he stops, “but I know that I should.Youknow I should.”
He’s right.
“You’ll be back tomorrow night?”
“Yes. If you need me before that though, I’m here. Anytime,” he promises. “But for now, see if you can connect with your mom. Even just a little.”
His embrace tides me over enough that I can walk back with some air of confidence.
“You made this?” Mom scoops up rich wine sauce with hunks of my bread from the steaming bowl my friends gave her. “God, it’s spectacular.”
“I did.” It’s pretty fun, watching her dive into my food with such enjoyment. “I made the bread too.”
“You made the breadtoo? It’s incredible. I haven’t had a meal this flavorful and filling in years.”
“Yeah, I didn’t realize until I started cooking for myself how little I’d been eating in California and how I was constantly starving. For the first time, my stomach doesn’t rumble all the time,” I say with a laugh.
“God, you’re right. Huh. I didn’t realize that’s how I always feel. Well, until tonight.” She literally licks her fingers. “Fucking quinoa, right?”
I have to laugh, as this is the same exchange I had with Danny when I first got to Wake. “Agreed. Fucking quinoa. Hey, I’m going to grab a drink. Want another?”
She waves a hand. “Thanks, but I have to drive.”
“Drive?” I falter as I stand. “Drive where?”
“Oh. Well, I got a room at the bed-and-breakfast outside of Burlington.”
“What? You’re not staying here?” My voice has more hurt than I would have expected.
“I didn’t know if that’d be okay,” she admits with some shyness.
“Mom, of course you’re staying here!” I say firmly and with a degree of irritation. “So, you’re having another drink. As am I.”
It’s been months since I’ve had any hard alcohol, but I think tonight calls for it, so I mix up two vodka tonics with extra lime.
When I sit back down, she points in front of us. “The firepit? I think it looks nice. Do you like it?”
“It’s beautiful, Mom. Thank you. Hard to think of any other that could be this perfect. And again, you’re sleeping here and not at some random inn thingy.”
She smiles. “It’s a very nice bed-and-breakfast and not random at all, but I wasn’t sure if you’d be comfortable with me spending so much time in your house.”
“Well, it’s your house,” I say automatically.
It’s a while before she says anything, and I watch her look around and admire the house, the land, and the lake.
Finally, she says, “We both know it’s not my house. We both know it’syourhouse,” she says softly. “Callie, look at me.”
It takes me another sip before I can.
“When I saw the picture of the bathroom you’d redone, I didn’t know that. I didn’t understand. And so I overreacted because, as I said, that’s not a bathroom that’s smart for resale. I should have known then that you were designing this house for yourself. It never occurred to me that you’d want to move back here. That’s my fault. My failure. One of many. Then, today, when I saw the outside of this house? And your connection with your friends here? Your investment is clear. You live here now.”
My hands start to shake. “I can pay for the house. The money Dad left me is enough to—”
