Page 44 of Freeing Lark

“I still don’t understand what you were thinking last night,” Hildi said.

Lark stared into her coffee. “Good morning to you, too.”

“You were supposed to make a good impression.”

“I smiled.”

“Not enough.”

“I spoke to people.”

“Not the right people.”

“I avoided causing a scene.”

Hildi’s lips tightened. “Your behavior with Grant was particularly disappointing.”

Of course. They were back to Grant. “Mom, I met the man for approximately three minutes.”

“Three minutes is plenty of time to recognize quality.”

Lark nearly choked on her coffee. “Quality?”

“Grant Calloway is successful, respected, well connected, and financially secure.”

“So were most of the men in that room.”

“Don’t be flippant.”

“Just telling the truth.”

Hildi sighed dramatically. “You’re thirty-one, Lark.” There it was. The number that her mother wielded like a weapon. “You can’t continue to behave as though you have unlimited time.”

“I wasn’t aware there was an expiration date.”

“You know what I mean.”

“I really don’t.” She did, but she found a perverse joy in seeing how far she could push her mother’s patience. It was often the only way she could get through these family gatherings with her sanity intact.

“You need someone established.”

“Why?”

“Because you’re my daughter.”

Lark blinked. That was apparently an explanation.

Hildi continued. “Someone like Grant would give you stability.”

“I have stability.”

“You live in a small town and sell crafts.”

“Art.”

“Whatever you call it.”

Lark clenched her jaw. Across the table, Wren stared down at her plate. She hadn’t said more than three words all morning. Actually, Lark wasn’t sure she’d said even that many. She looked exhausted. Not hungover. Her fatigue seemed to be more spiritual. There was a difference.