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She pulled back and glared at me, her eyes sharp and angry. "You!" she almost shouted. "You are what's wrong!" Her eyes caught something over my shoulder and she glowered. "And you. You are what's wrong."
I turned to see Anton behind me. Incredulous, I turned back to my mother. "Mom," I said, "are you okay?"
"No!" she snapped at me. Without preamble, she pushed past me and into the house.
On the porch, my father looked mortified, his eyes wide with horror. "Felicia," he started.
I held up a hand and shook my head. We both knew my mother got into these fits every once in a while. It was the price she paid for feeling so much. When I was a little kid, she would dramatically rail against the characters on television, telling them they were idiots. To be fair, she was right, but it was definitely a quirk I was glad I hadn't inherited.
I frowned, my gaze alighting on two large suitcases sitting next to him. "What is that?" I said.
"Your mother said we needed to come quickly. We haven't made hotel reservations," he said. I raised my brows. She had been in a hurry. I had a sudden, unpleasant premonition: she was going to want to stay here in Anton's house.
Oh, boy.
I should have known she would have a reaction like this when she heard I was married. Actually, I had known she would react this way, which was why I hadn't called her or anything. I hadn't wanted to deal with her histrionics.
Well, now she was here, and I had to do damage control. I turned and followed her. She had brushed past Anton, who stared at her retreating back in utter shock. I put a hand out and touched his arm slightly. "I'm sorry," I said. "She's just upset."
He turned and frowned at me. "Handle this," he said.
Stung, I flinched. Didn't he understand about moms? Well, he'd told me he didn't have parents, and he'd raised himself, so maybe he didn't. I just nodded and followed my mother to the kitchen, where stood, fussing over removing her coat. I hurried to help her and she waved me away.
"No, no," she said. "Don't pretend you care about me. I'll just get this off myself."
Oh great. She was in one of those moods. I took a step back. "Would you like some coffee, mom?"
"Tea," she said. "I would like tea. Thank you."
I moved to the cabinets and began searching for a kettle or a measuring cup. Anton and my father filed in. My father took a seat with my mother at the kitchen table while Anton installed himself in the corner next to the door leading to the garden terrace. He crossed his arms over his chest and leaned against the wall, his face controlled but clearly unhappy. I didn't really blame him. Who wanted their in-laws showing up on the second night they were married? Seemed like a good way to fast-track to divorce.
My mother watched me from the kitchen table, her eyes sharp and hard. "You don't even know the kitchen!" she exclaimed as I opened doors aimlessly. "I knew it!"
I froze. She knew? She knew I'd agreed to marriage with a man I didn't know to save Dad's stupid company—and her life?
Something must have shown on my face, because she shook her head. "A mother knows. You ridiculous girl, you can't just marry anyone willy nilly!"
What was she tallking about? I glanced at Anton, but he was no help, and my father was staring at his hands folded in front of him.
"What do you mean?" I asked.
She shook a finger at me, just as if she were a school marm and I were a disobedient student. "
You didn't even think, did you? Just decided to elope. That's no basis for marriage!"
My mouth dropped and I had to force it closed. "Um," I said. I turned back to the cabinets and redoubled my efforts to find the kettle. Relief flooded me as I opened a door and brushed steel gleamed out at me. Grabbing it, I filled it at the sink and set it on the range before cranking up the heat and heading to the pantry.
"Did you even think about your family?" my mom was saying. "Even think that we might want to come to your wedding?"
The pantry was spare, but luckily I spotted a tin of Earl Grey hidden in a dark corner. "I don't know," I said, grabbing it. "It was a spur of the moment thing."
"Of course it was," my mom said. "And I haven't even met him. You didn't want to bring him home to me?"
No, not really. Because I knew she would act this way. Never marry rich, she'd told me. Marry a good man, if you get married at all. Don't be like me. Money makes things worse, not better. Not that that had ever stopped her from spending all my dad’s money...
"I'm sorry," I said. "Mom, uh, meet Anton Waters. My husband."
"Oh!" She threw her hands in the air, overcome with the drama of it all. "Oh, fine." She turned to Anton and somehow managed to look down her nose at him from her position at the kitchen table. It was impressive. "I am Felicia's mother, Selene Dare. It's good to make your acquaintance." She shot another glare at me. "And I'm sure Felicia thinks so, too."
