AllFreeNovel
Share Us
The front door swings open before I can knock.
Hair tied back in a tight bun, her grey eyes have more wrinkles since the last time I was here, but they’re no less warm. She claps her hands together, standing at least four inches smaller than my five seven.
“Oh, sweet girl.” Rita pulls me into her embrace. I was never here long enough to really get to know her, but she was always kind to me when I was a child. She pulls back and cups my face. “You just get more beautiful.”
I squeeze her shoulder and smile. “I get older, but it’s so good to see you.”
She swipes her hand through the air. “Nonsense. You’ve still got your daddy’s eyes.”
“Thank Christ for that,” I mutter under my breath.
She peeks over my shoulder, her chest visibly deflating. “No girls today?”
It’s on the tip of my tongue to tell her they weren’t invited, but I choose to say, “They were tired.”
This is a house kids should be able to run riot in, but having children play here would have my mother popping Xanax like her favorite candy.
“You need to show me some pictures before you leave.”
I can’t help but grin. “Of course.”
“They’re in the dining room, but your mom is in the kitchen. She wants to speak with you first.”
My eyes narrow.
Something is off. I’m surprised to hear my mother even knows where her kitchen is.
Before Rita can usher me away, I take her hand and inspect the hallway for prying eyes. When I’m sure we’re alone, I lower my voice. “Is she sick?”
“What?”
“My mother. Is she dying?”
I hate being caught off guard so if it’s that, I would like a heads up.
Her lips thin before she shakes her head and blesses herself with the sign of the cross. “No. Not at all. Your mother is as healthy as a horse.”
My laugh comes out in a mystified huff. “Huh, today just keeps getting stranger.” Something dawns on me then. “You saidthey. Who arethey?”
Her gaze averts to the round table holding a giant vase in the middle of the hallway. “You should go on in now. She knows you’re here. You don’t want to keep her waiting.”
That uneasy knot flips in my stomach, making my chest feel tight, but I won’t press her. I don’t sign her paycheck, and her loyalty isn’t to me.
Time to get this over with.
With an understanding dip of my chin, I walk away.
“Beth,” she calls with an undeniable crack in her voice. When I turn, her eyes are glossy. “You’re a strong girl. Hold onto that strength today.”
And with that, she walks away, leaving me with a pounding heart and the urge to run.
My mother is observing the new chef when I enter the kitchen. At least I think he’s new. I haven’t been here in a long time.
“You look pale, dear.”
She’s used that one before. It was justified then, but she hasn’t taken her eyes off the man sautéing onions long enough to know how I look.
I can see why.
