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But he walks off with a pink-colored baggie that will be used to handle all of Lady Buttercup’s business.
Thomas utterly ignores him. It’s certainly not the first time he’s heard someone complain about the way my mentor works. “I think you’ll find Ms. Foust has struck up a friendship with your mother and Mr. Marino’s grandmother. She wanted to give them all the details in person. They’re all very invested in taking down… How did your mother put it? Those preening assholes. I don’t think assholes are capable of preening, but I found it amusing all the same. Yes, those three are thick as thieves all of the sudden. There’s talk of a girls trip.”
My jaw drops. “My mother doesn’t leave the city, and by city I mean the island of Manhattan. Honestly, she only leaves Hell’s Kitchen because she has to go to work.”
“I think you’ll find many things are about to change for your mother,” Thomas promises, sobering in a way that lets me know he understands the situation she’s in. “She’s taking some excellent steps. Please tell her I stand ready to take her home whenever she’s through. Or to her office if she wants to go there. I would prefer she not use the subway.”
My jaw stays dropped. Does Thomas have a thing for my mom?
Heath tugs on my hand. “I need to figure out if CeCe is kidnapping Nonna.”
Somehow I doubted that. Lydia is kind of a “seize the day” person. She’s living it up in her golden years, and if a ridiculously wealthy lady she has ties to asks her on an adventure, she will likely pack pretty damn quick.
We make it up to Lydia’s in record time only to find a whole party going on. And it isn’t just my mom and CeCe. Harper and Anika are there. Darnell has the biggest grin on his face, and like many of the people in that room, he has a martini in hand. He looks open and happier than I’ve ever seen him.
“Hey, guys. I got in,” he says. “I got the call and by call I mean an email saying my short story has been accepted into an anthology of emerging science fiction writers. I can’t quit my job or anything, but it’s a start. I’m a writer. A real writer.”
He was always a writer, but I know sometimes we need a little validation to believe in ourselves. I feel a huge smile slide over my face, and he and Heath do that manly back pounding thing that passes for masculine affection.
“I’m so happy for you,” I say and then remember something. “But you owe me a chapter. You left me hanging.”
He’s practically gleaming with joy. “I promise. Tomorrow. How did it go?”
“I don’t know how it went with Nick, but Norfolk now understands the feds are going to have his balls on a silver platter,” CeCe announces. “There was all sorts of talk about murdering me and cutting my cold, dead heart out and eating it. He was very emotional. I was surprised. That whole ‘take it like a man’ talk only works until said man is actually confronted with something traumatic. Then it’s all tears and pleas and murder.”
“He threatened to kill you?” Ria asks, her eyes wide.
“Darling, that’s my random Tuesday,” CeCe assures her. “Think nothing more of it. He’s got bigger problems now. Did Nick vow bloody vengeance as well?”
“Nick handled it as well as could be expected,” I reply. “He didn’t explode. At least he hadn’t when I left. I don’t know. I don’t care. All I care about is getting back to work on Emma. Which I should be doing now, but we seem to be having a party. You know getting them convicted isn’t a sure thing.”
“I looked over the evidence.” My mom has on her normal workwear, but I notice she’s exchanged the gold stud earrings she normally wears for a pair of small hoops. It’s a tiny change, but a massive step for her. “I’ve worked in the legal profession for years. They’ll do some time. A lot of time if they’re foolish and don’t try to cut a deal. But that’s not what the party is about.”
“Ivy, come back here,” Harper calls out from the office. “You have to see this.”
Before I can go, my mom puts a hand on my elbow. Heath and CeCe start walking toward the office, but I stay behind.
“Ivy, I want you to know I’m going to see someone CeCe recommended. She got me in starting tomorrow morning,” she says quietly. “I was wondering if you could go with me. Not inside the room, of course, but I think I need someone with me.”
“Mom, yes.” I look her straight in the eyes because she needs to understand how I feel. How grateful I am. How hopeful I am. “Anything you need. I’m here.”
