AllFreeNovel
Share Us
We approach the group, and my mom sweeps her hat off and presses forward to wrap me in a tight hug. Since Brandon died, she always hugs me like this. Like she wants to squeeze the sad out of me. Like she wants to absorb all my heartache.
Peter clears his throat. “Madelyn, the rest of us would like to say hi to Hope too.”
She releases me reluctantly, and Peter takes her place. “How you doin’, kiddo?”
“I’m good,” I say as he pulls away and looks for truth in my words.
His assessment is cut short by two little bodies that barrel into me while screaming my name. Noah catches me before I crash to the ground. “There’s probably a nicer way to greet your aunt, don’t you think?”
Emma and Macy shout an apology over their shoulders as they race back to the field. My “hi, girls” is lost to the chorus of shrieks their arrival earns.
“Sorry about that,” he says. “Grandma brought Fruit Roll-Ups and apple juice as a pregame snack, and they’re on a sugar high.”
“It’s my joy to spoil my grandkids, and I won’t be shamed about it.” Her gaze gets misty, and I know she’s thinking about the grandchildren she’ll never get to spoil—the ones that had Brandon’s perfect smile and steady calm.
“Hey, Mom. I need to steal Hope away for a minute, but Noah can show you the perfect place to sit so you can yell at the ref during time-outs.”
Noah widens his eyes and mouths, “You owe me.” Tessa winks and blows him a kiss.
When Noah, Peter, and our mother are out of earshot, Tessa makes a noise that’s half sigh, half primal grunt. “If you ever see me guilt-tripping my kids like that, please stop me.”
I weave my arm through Tessa’s. “Thank you for saving me.”
“Don’t thank me yet.” She gestures, and I follow the line of her gaze to the three women heading toward us. The PTA moms, formerly known as the head cheerleader, the prom queen, and the student council president. “Your turn to save me,” she whispers and pulls me forward.
After everyone says their versions of “Hello” and “It’s been so long” and “We need to make a plan, for real this time,” the conversation shifts to kid topics, and my attention turns to finding an escape hatch out of the conversation for Tessa. She’s always despised small talk—and swears it gives her migraines. When we were kids, I’d just throw a temper tantrum, and she’d pretend to be annoyed while she led me away. As adults, it takes a little more finesse.
“I heard the financial problems are so bad the Inn might shut down.”
The prom queen’s comment jars me out of my scheming. No good sentence in Kingsette ever starts with “I heard.” “Financial trouble?”
“I heard they’re deep in debt, and that’s why Helen left so abruptly—because she had some sort of breakdown from the stress. Apparently she paid Maeve to help her disappear.”
My stomach churns at the viciousness of the gossip surrounding Will’s mom, though it’s not a surprise. This town can be cruel to single women—it villainized my mother, even though it was my dad who’dleft, and it’s turned my life into fodder, open for discussion, judgment, and opinion.
“I don’t think we have the full story,” I say and hate how small my voice sounds. I don’t just “think” we don’t have the full story. “Maybe Helen just needed to get away.”
“Or maybe she was brainwashed.” The former prom queen leans in to deliver the gossip. “I wouldn’t be surprised if some of those rumors about Maeve were actually true. I saw her outside the library leaving crystals and rocks with inspirational quotes written on them. It was weird. My gut says she’s bad news. Not like witch-with-magic-powers bad news. Like ... loony tune bad news.”
“Because she left a few rocks?” They can’t be serious.
The prom queen shrugs. “If the shoe fits.”
“She’s not a loony tune just because she doesn’t look and act the way you think she should. Just because she wants to live her life her way, and not your way, doesn’t mean something is wrong with her. That she’s wrong.”
“The game’s starting.” Tessa glances at me, her expression full of concern. I’m supposed to be saving her, but it feels like she’s about to save me—again. “Let’s go—”
“What do you think?” The former student council president lands her gaze on Tessa.
“I never met her, so I can’t say.” Tessa’s voice does a weird high-pitched crack thing when she’s lying too.
The ref blows a whistle, and all the parents turn toward the field. Tessa pulls me away. “What was that about?”
“What?”
“That Team Maeve rant you just went on?” Tessa narrows her eyes. We both inherited our mother’s green eyes. Only Tessa inherited our mother’s shrewd ability to hear more than what’s being said.
“I’m not Team Maeve. It’s just that ... this town is so vicious if you don’t fit their mold. The minute I became a young widow and they didn’t know what box to put me in, I started getting pressure to fit intosome life that didn’t fit anymore. They did the same thing to Mom. And it feels like that’s what’s happening with Maeve.”
