Page 100 of The Widow and the Wanted

“I said no such thing.”

“You left me,” I say again, tighter now.

“Lula,” Boone interjects. “Maybe you ought to take a breath.”

“Who are you?” Mother asks.

“He’s my friend. His name is Boone and this is Okee. This is my mother, Goldie Eld.”

Okee tips his hat. “How do you do, ma’am.”

Momma drinks them in slowly, from the toes of their boots to the brims of their hats. “Hello there, boys.”

Okee shuffles back a step, leaning against the wall.

Boone gives Mother a once-over and nods. “Ma’am.”

“That’s it? No tip of the hat? No kiss to the hand?” she teases. “Where’d all the charm go in this country?”

“Left it back on the horse,” Boone says. “Figured I wouldn’t need it in a whorehouse.”

Okee chokes out a laugh, then grips Boone’s shoulder. He looks between us. “You have catching up to do. Is there a place where Boone and I can make ourselves scarce?”

“I can see you to a room,” Pearl offers.

Mother jerks her chin toward the hall. “The Aces Suite,” she says.

Boone and Okee both stiffen at that.

Pearl notices first. “Is something wrong?”

Boone gives a short laugh. “Nothin’. Just a funny coincidence.”

Okee adds, “We have, on occasion, been referred to by a similar title.”

Mother looks them over once, unimpressed. “How charming. Goodbye now.”

Okee clears his throat, offers a tight smile and a departing nod, and lets Pearl corral him and Boone into the hall. The door shuts behind them with a final click.

The air in the room changes.

Mother’s eyes narrow—not cautious now, but cold. “Don’t you look at me that way, girl,” she says. “I did what I had to. If you come back expecting repentance because you spent ten years licking a wound, you will be disappointed. The fact you’re alive to hate me for it is proof enough I made the right choice.”

“Do not pretend there were no other choices.”

Her mouth hardens. “Oh? I suppose the years have made you clairvoyant. You saw only that I sent you away and went on without you. You didn’t see what I was securing. I made certain you had a better life.”

“You abandoned me to secure your own.”

“How dare you.” Her voice turns sharp as cut glass. “I saved you from that house. It was only a matter of time before you became one of the Gemini’s girls. You were already well on your way.”

I let out a short, disbelieving laugh. Mother goes very still. Drawing in a breath, she remains poised. Her deceptive calm has always been her most dangerous quality.

“And now,” she says, voice gone quiet and deadly precise, “you return with men. Who are they?”

I meet her gaze and hold it. I could lie. I would lie, were it anyone else. But not here. Not now. Now I want it to hurt.

“They’re mine,” I say. I let the words settle, then add, deliberate as a knife sliding in, “My lovers.”