Page 48 of Puppy Love

“I don’t know what you’re talking about. Lila never tells me anything. That girl is an oyster.”

“Dawn.” Sophie clenched her hands. “The sneak. What did she say?”

Her mother adopted her loftiest pose. “Dawn doesn’t tell me anything either. None of my daughters do. I might as well be in my grave for all they care about involving me in their lives.”

She added a disdainful sniff for good measure. It was a good look on her—like her daughters, Alice Vasquez was a beautiful woman. Her hair was a light brown that her hairstylist kept from fading into gray, and strategic makeup applications and good lighting held her crow’s feet at bay. Her figure was still the envy of many, if a little more on the buxom side than in her youth, and she dressed with the ease of one who’d had a lifetime to learn what suited her best.

In other words, her mother was an impressive woman—confident and elegant and controlled in all the ways Sophie would never be.

“I don’t understand. If neither one of them ratted me out, who called you?”

“If you must know, I had a chat with Paulette late last night.”

“I should have guessed,” Sophie groaned, but she pushed the door open to let her mom in anyway. If there was one thing she’d learned from long experience, it was that her mother wouldn’t be shaken off easily. If Sophie wanted to put her on a plane bound for the Mediterranean—and she wanted nothing more—it would take a concentrated effort on her part.

“It wasn’t me.” Dawn sprang from the couch the moment Sophie and her mom struggled into the living room under the weight of all the luggage. “I have an alibi. Three of them.”

“Honestly, you’re both acting as though I’m not welcome.” Alice pulled a genuine frown. “I know I’m only your fusty old parent, but I thought it would be nice to spend some time together. Just the four of us girls, you know? Shopping, a spa day or two, maybe a weekend trip to Seattle. We haven’t done anything like that in ages.”

Sophie instantly felt guilt-ridden. Even though her parents only lived twenty minutes away, she didn’t spend nearly as much time with them as she should have—especially since her mom’s entire life revolved around her daughters. Ordaughter, rather. While she was an affectionate parent to all of her offspring, there was no denying that the bulk of her maternal worries had been tied up in Sophie for so many years that it was impossible for her to shake the habit. She’d even given up her career as nonprofit executive to take care of Sophie, which meant that now, at fifty-eight, she had little to occupy her time.

Other than, you know, stopping by for unannounced visits that lasted weeks at a time.

“What did Paulette tell you?” Sophie motioned for Dawn to resume her seat on the couch. Her mom didn’t follow suit. Instead of sitting in her favorite floral armchair, she elected to stand there among her suitcases, looking like the picture of staged rejection.

“That daughter of hers just had twins. Did she show you the pictures? She’s up to eight grandchildren now. It must be so wonderful, being surrounded by all those babies…”

“Mom.”

“What? It’s not unusual, you know, for a woman of my age to fantasize about grandchildren. You’d have thought, with three daughters of a marriageable age…”

“Mom.” Dawn was the one who spoke up this time.

“Oh, I know. The marriage part isn’t required in this day and age, but it would be so nice to see at least one of you settled down. Lila would be such a responsible parent. And you, Dawn, have so many men to choose from.”

“Gee, thanks,” Sophie said dryly. She studiously avoided her sister’s eye for fear that tacit commiseration would cause them both to break out into laughter. That or tears. “Does this mean I’m the one who’s been chosen to grow into lonely spinsterhood and take care of you and Dad in your old age?”

Her mother’s cluck was neither an assent nor a denial. It lay somewhere in between, a confirmation that whatever else Sophie was—or wasn’t—she’d never be like her sisters. Her life had never been one of independence and adventure. And if her relatives had their way, it never would be.

Even though no one in this room had said the wordcancer—or even alluded to it—it was still everywhere around them. In the extra wrinkles around her mom’s mouth, where frowns had outpaced smiles for seven long years. In the way Dawn sat with her body angled on the edge of the couch, ready to jump to Sophie’s aid should Alice’s care get too officious. The room itself was a testament to everything this family had sacrificed for her. Her sisters would have happily gone off to live in separate apartments, but no one had felt comfortable with the idea of Sophie being on her own, so their parents had put a down payment on a lovely house with a kennel out back.

Oh, how she loved these people. And, oh, how she resented them.

“I don’t care what you do as long as you’re happy,” her mom said. Then, in direct contradiction to this, she added, “I also talked to Oscar this morning.”

Sophie passed a hand over her eyes. This was so much worse than she’d feared.

“You know I like to check in with him every few weeks to see how he’s doing,” her mom said, fully on the defensive. “I worry about him, living all alone as he does.”

It was true. Poor Oscar had no idea what he’d gotten into the day he’d agreed to meet the girl whose life he’d saved. Not everyone agreed to the patient-donor meetings, since they could come with quite a bit of awkwardness, but her mother had been determined to thank Sophie’s savior in person. That had been ten years ago, and thanking him had been the least of it. Oscar was now invited to every holiday gathering, sent homemade baked goods at least every other week, and received regular phone calls from the family matriarch to ensure he didn’t want for anything.

The Vasquez family didn’t do things by halves. They were like a gang that way. Once you were in, it was a lifetime deal.

“He told me he has you helping him with a little project,” Alice continued.

Dawn snorted. “Littleisn’t the word I’d use to describe him.”

Sophie shot her sister a warning look, but the damage was already done.