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I duck away from the gathering to use the bathroom, giving Pig a loving pat on the belly when I pass by the spot where she’s collapsed on the grass.
When I step back outside, I pause, surprised at how much I enjoy the happy buzz of conversation mixing with the occasional dog bark and some gentle music. Violet must have brought one of her guitars, because she’s perched on a lawn chair with the instrument in her lap as Regina reclines next to her, humming a tune with her eyes closed.
A movement catches my eye, and in the shadows just beyond the glow of the party I see her.
My mother.
Vivian makes no move to come closer. She stands just inside the gate opening, arms crossed tight over her chest, her eyes not on the celebration but on the house itself.
She stares at the little building as if it confuses her.
I don’t know her purpose for coming, but like I’ve done plenty of times in the past, I decide to head her off before she can damage my brothers.
“Vivian,” I say in greeting.
She starts, just realizing I’m only feet away. Then her brows dip, and she reaches into her large purse, focusing on her hands rather than me. “When did I stop being Mom?”
I wonder what she’s looking for. Maybe a birthday gift?
She pulls her hand out, holding a box of cigarettes.
Yeah, no.
“When did you start?”
Her eyes narrow at me, and I brace for the fight.
But then her shoulders sag, and she drops the smokes back into the recesses of her purse.
“I haven’t done what mothers should, I guess.”
Even as she wilts under my scrutiny, my mother is still a gorgeous woman. Her dark hair has a loose curl as the strands fall halfway down her back. The skintight dress she’s wearing shows a body just as in shape as mine. Plenty of people would think we’re sisters.
A connection sparks in my mind then. Thirty years ago today, this woman lay in a hospital bed screaming her head off as she pushed me and then Leo out into the world.
She was eighteen. Probably terrified.
I could almost feel bad for that young woman, suddenly expected to care for two new lives when she had barely lived any of her own.
But a tough situation doesn’t excuse her neglect.
Someone can be scared and still do the right thing.
“Why are you here?”
Vivian doesn’t answer my question directly. Just goes back to staring at the bungalow.
“My little prince in his little castle. Why is it so small? Her parents have plenty of money. Did they cut her off too?”
My mother saystoolike she and Paige are the same.
“No. He lives here because he loves it. And he loves Paige. Now why areyouhere?”
She flicks her eyes back to me, then across the yard. As I follow her stare, I realize it’s landed on Leo. Every one of my protective instincts flares to life.
“Leave him alone.” I step forward, wishing I had Dash’s height, wanting to loom over her. “He’s having a good time and doesn’t need you to guilt him into leaving with you.”
Her mouth twists, and she blinks as if I blew dust in her eyes.
