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It’s probably Adam or the bellhop coming to collect everything, including my father’s luggage. Staying in this suite was a terrible idea, and not only because of last night’s paparazzi swarm. The bed was too hard, and the pillow was oddly large. I should’ve gone home. That way I could’ve binged on cookies and made my favorite coffee.
Instead, I’m running to see who is pounding at the door. “Who is it?” I yell.
“Lily, honey?” comes a woman’s voice. “Yooo-hooo.”
When I fling it open, I find my mother, looking characteristically gorgeous. Effortless. Her style is best described as coastal grandma, with flowy linens, soft cottons, chunky jewelry, and a vaguely bohemian vibe. She’s in a cream-colored ivory jumpsuit with a turquoise stone the size of a golf ball around her neck. In her polished hands is a cup of coffee. She doesn’t say anything or hug me as she sweeps inside.
“Mumsy. Good morning.” There’s a touch of sarcasm in my voice because my mother is a wild card. I never know what she’s going to do or where she’s going to show up. Today it’s my hotel suite. Tomorrow, who knows. For all of her faults, I love her with all of my soul. Still, she can be annoying.
“Hello, dearie. Your hair looks so much better that shade of brunet, you know. Vibrant. Like polished mahogany.”
“I haven’t washed it for two days.”
She stops to appraise me up and down. It’s as if it’s been three minutes, and not three weeks, since we last saw each other.
“Hmph,” she finally says.
I extend my hand. “Thanks for the coffee.”
“That’s not for you.” She takes a sip and I let out an exasperated groan.
“Come on,” I whine.
“Fine. But you could’ve ordered room service.”
If I’d done that, I’d have risked more paparazzi. She hands it to me. “Ew. What is this?”
“It’s my chaga mushroom coffee. Can you believe they sell it in the lobby here? How progressive.”
I hand it back, only slightly disgusted, because Mum’s always trying something new. “You could’ve called. Texted. Let me know that you were showing up. I was about to leave to see Papa and then I have to get to Texas.”
She waves a hand dismissively. “I was only in North Carolina. It was no trouble to cut my yoga retreat short and hop a quick flight here.”
“How did you know where I was?”
She lifts a shoulder into a shrug. “I knew your father was staying in this hotel, and Adam told me you’d spent the night here. I tried calling but you didn’t pick up.”
“How did you know Papa was staying at this particular hotel?”
Mumsy yawns. “I visited him earlier in the week. He called and was lonely. So I spent the night.”
She peers into the bedroom. “I’m sure housekeeping changed the sheets.”
I don’t hold back a grimace when I see her coy little smile. Their relationship is . . . odd. Has been my entire life, which is probably why I’ve been reticent to get too deeply involved with any man. Emulating my parents’ eccentric, weirdly open marriage isn’t what I want out of life. I know that Mum had an affair or two, and Papa probably has too. Some parents are secretive. Mine are anything but. They also bicker a lot. But somehow they end up coming back together after every speed bump, and often act like newlyweds. It’s chaotic and I can’t imagine being in a marriage like that. My father’s obsessive involvement with racing doesn’t help the situation either.
“I’ll come with to see your father this morning. In fact, I was thinking I could stay here in Miami and care for him at your place. It will be much more homey than a rental. I’ve already talked on the phone with Adam at length, and we’ve worked out the details.”
Now I’m gaping at her in open-mouthed horror. Mum and Papa have lived apart off and on for a while, claiming they love each other but have a hard time living under the same roof. Yet they do things like hookup in hotel rooms, apparently.
“Do you think that’s such a great plan?”
Mumsy looks at me as if I’ve sprouted a third arm as she sits on a brocade loveseat. “Lily, he is my husband. He needs me to care for him. Who else would do that job?”
“Whatever you say,” I mutter, leaning against the door. I’m wondering if Mum will stress him out even more, but I don’t say that aloud.
“I also came because of you. Your texts last night gave off a very”—she waggles her fingers in my direction—“unsettled vibe.”
“Naturally I was unsettled.” I snort. “I’m still unsettled. Papa had a major coronary event and he’s asked me to take over the team. Itisdeeply unsettling.”
