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Probably that god-awful Christmas party. Willow would sit down at her mother’s kitchen table, open the bakery box, and spill the whole ugly story while eating some sugar with her crow.
Her mother had been right about Andy all along. She had been right, and Willow had been wrong. Not only wrong but spectacularly wrong. Colossally wrong.
Willow wondered if one of the reasons she’d found it so hard to forgive her mother for not liking Andy at the start was because, deep down inside herself, Willow knew, or at least suspected, that her mother was right.
Genevieve Prentice had wicked-good instincts.
Willow moaned softly and scooped up the bakery box. She opened her car door and stepped out into the crisp mountain morning. Birdsong trilled in the air, and the springtime breeze was just right to hear the rush and bubble of the creek below. Her mother’s traditional red geranium brightened the front porch.
Willow girded her proverbial loins and headed for the door. She rapped twice and tried the knob. Unlocked. Stepping inside, she called, “Mom?”
From upstairs came her mother’s voice. “Willow, is that you?”
“Yes.”
Following a moment’s pause, Genevieve called, “I’ll be down in a minute.”
“Okay.” Willow set the bakery box in the middle of the table and took two plates from the kitchen cabinet. She hesitated at the coffee bar. Should she make a pot or stick with the single serve? Willow could drink coffee all day long, but her mother usually cut it off after her two morning cups.
Deciding to start with a single cup, Willow began the prep. She’d just put two scoops of dark roast into the filtered basket when her mother breezed into the kitchen. She was dressed for going out in black denim jeans, a white shirt, and a black-and-white vertically striped sweater. She wore wooden earrings and a matching necklace she’d taken to fancying. Pretty dressed up for morning coffee in the kitchen, Willow thought.
“Sweetheart. I’m so sorry. Didn’t you get my text?”
“You sent a text? When?”
“Last night.”
Willow tugged her phone from her pocket and checked the screen. She hadn’t received a text from her mother. “You didn’t send me a text.”
“I didn’t?” Frowning, Genevieve pivoted and exited the kitchen. She returned a moment later with her phone in her hand. “I’m such a doofus. I accidentally scrolled one name too far and sent it to Winstead Dentistry. Oops.” She crossed the room and gave Willow a hug. “I’m sorry you made the trip, honey, but I can’t visit this morning. I’m on my way out of town. A car is coming for me in—” She glanced at the digital readout on the oven. “It’ll be here any minute.”
“Wait. You’re going out of town? Today? Why? What happened? What’s the emergency?” Thinking of her siblings, she added, “Did someone have trouble after leaving Lake in the Clouds?”
“No, no. Everyone is fine. As far as I know, anyway. I’mgoing away for ten days. Well, almost two weeks, counting travel time, because I’m going to mosey. If one actually moseys in a Maserati. I’ll be back a week from Friday. I don’t want to miss my hair appointment Saturday morning.”
“A Maserati! Mom! What is going on?”
A wicked twinkle entered her mother’s eyes. “Apparently, I caught Helen’s travel bug while hearing her describe the fish in the South Pacific Ocean for the seven hundredth time Saturday night.”
“You’re not going to Bora-Bora!”
“Not in a Maserati, no. I’m driving to New Mexico. But first, I’m going to Aspen to pick up the car.”
“You bought a sports car. Oh, Mom. You’re doing it again, aren’t you? It’s another getaway? Have you put this house up for sale?”
“Willow!” Genevieve exclaimed. “You’re not listening and you’re jumping to conclusions. I’m renting a Maserati from a luxury car service in Aspen and driving it to New Mexico.”
Now? Just when Willow had finally stoked herself up to tell her mother the truth about the disaster of her life. “Why?”
“Driving a car like that through the mountains will be an adventure.”
“Yes, I can see that it would be, but why are you going to New Mexico?”
“Immersive drawing classes.” Genevieve’s expression lit with delight. “It’s something I’ve always wanted to try.”
Since when? This was the first Willow had ever heard about it.
This must be another one of Aunt Helen’s wild hairs. The two of them must have cooked this scheme up after having one too many glasses of champagne Saturday night.
