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“It’s okay.” Getting up, I pull the chair out for her before signalling to one of the café staff to bring her the tea and slice of her favourite coffee and walnut cake that I’ve already pre-ordered. “Nan called, she said you haven’t picked up any of her calls. She’s upset that the only way she knows you’re alive is because she saw you on the news talking about work.”
“I’ve been meaning to call…” she pauses as one of the girls puts her cake and tea in front of her.
“Would you like another?” the waitress asks, nodding at my empty coffee cup.
I shake my head, and she gives me a disappointed smile before walking away.
“Let me guess, another offering to your good looks?” My mum says, nodding at the brownie in front of me, before she has a forkful of her cake.
I push the plate with the super gooey square on it farther away and she laughs. “Seems like you did a great job with me, after all.”
“I did my best.” Her face lights up wonkily. “So, Kit says you’re both going to the party this weekend?”
“We are, but only because it has to do with work.” My heart begins to race at the barefaced lie I’m telling her. Although I’m sounding out some potential clients, Cassandra Sinclair is the real reason I’m going. “I hate those things.”
“I’m sure it’ll be fun.”
“Arabell
a’s been stressing over it for months.” I pour us both a glass of water.
“Ah, Arabella…” she hums. “It’s her grandfather’s birthday, eighty is a big one.”
The smile she offers me is tinged with hurt, and I feel for her. I hate that her divorce from my father distanced her from her friends.
Silence grows between us and as the awkwardness of my wordless pity starts to settle, Mum clears her throat. Like she’s skimming the thickness from the air surrounding us, she changes the subject. “I heard she and Christopher are engaged?”
“Yeah, she’s looking at venues. Kit said that they were both going to look at a chateau in Bordeaux and a little riverside greenhouse by Lake Como. She’s excited.”
“I would’ve thought she would take Christopher seeing as he’s the groom?” Mum quirks an eyebrow as she eats the last of her cake.
“It’s Kit, he’s going to be involved. They’re like Thing One and Thing Two.”
Lighting up, her face shines with a fondness that spans years. With the way she’s staring into the space between us, it feels like she’s reliving all the times she used to watch Arabella and I run around the park or my grandmother’s garden.
When she finishes her coffee, she drinks her glass of water and gets up. It’s another quick catch-up, but at least I know that she’s okay. She doesn’t look tired or overworked, which is always a plus. In fact, she seems in great spirits.
“Are you all right about the party? The Gladstones are your friends too.”
“Leo, when your father and I divorced, I knew that there would be times when our friends would choose his company over mine.” Sighing, she leads us up the steps to the gallery. “This isn’t the first time it’s happened, and it won’t be the last.”
“I know, it’s just that normally we avoid these fanfares and do our own thing.” I walk her through the busy halls and rooms teeming with tourists. Managing to avoid bumping into most of them as they walk around in a culture induced stupor, I wait for her to say something.
The longer she takes to say anything, the worse I feel about going this weekend. When we get to the doors of the education centre, she stops and turns to me. Holding her silence for a bit, she looks me up and down, taking me in like it’s the last time she’ll ever see me.
“We’ve done something today, and now I need to get back to work.” She kisses my cheek with her hands tightening on my shoulders as she balances on the tips of her toes, and when she pulls away there’s worry clouding her green eyes. “Listen, I know Francis is looking out for you, but be careful. Don’t get caught in the middle of something that has nothing to do with you. Leave old men to old man battles.”
“Mum…”
“Leo, Maxwell’s death is not your fault.”
Her words should ease the constant weight on my shoulders. They should pacify the guilt that tightens my chest every second of the day.
“A man is dead for no other reason than to send a message.”
“Max knew what Francis is involved in…what he does.”
“And so do I.” I tell her, injecting as much softness into my stern tone as possible.
