Her eyes narrowed and flicked back and forth between the men on her doorstep. “If it’s the same kind of news as Gladys Walsh’s grandson and his ‘roommate’ Darius shared, I’d rather you didn’t.”
Near as Nick could tell, the woman had spent her lifetime defining her own version of faith, which involved being as judgmental as possible toward everyone who wasn’t exactly the same as her. She’d changed churches every time she felt the congregation or leadership became “too accepting” until she’d finally stopped going altogether.
Now she spent her Sundays attending a virtual megachurch that tolerated no one.
He was almost sorry Riley hadn’t come along. Getting her take on Mommy Dearest would have been fun, though he supposed there were some heads no one should peek into.
Kellen cleared his throat in annoyance. “Nick and I aren’t dating, if that’s what you’re concerned about.”
“He could do worse than me, don’t you think?” Nick asked with his most charming grin.
Constance gave them another hard look, as if trying to decide if they were worth opening the door for before relenting. “Fine. But I just washed the coffee pot and I’m not making you a fresh batch.”
“Always a pleasure, Connie,” Nick said as he strolled across the threshold.
“Pleasure.” She scoffed as if it were a dirty word.
Really, with a mother like Constance, it was a miracle Kellen wasn’t more fucked up. Not that Nick would tell his friend that. Kellen would probably take it as a compliment.
They stepped into the small tile foyer that smelled like potpourri and arthritis cream. Next to the coat closet was a four-foot-tall velvet painting of the crucifixion. Even the lambs were frowning.
“Beth is alive,” Kellen said, cutting to the chase.
If it had been his own mother that he was breaking monumental news to, Nick would have gotten her liquored up beforehand. But Kellen’s relationship with Constance had always felt like less mother-son and more stranger-stranger.
There was a flicker of something in Constance’s flat green eyes, but no hint of surprise registered on her face. Instead, the woman crossed her arms over her chest. “What makes you so sure?”
“Surprise!”
Constance looked past Nick and Kellen to Sesame, who appeared on the front stoop with her arms stretched overhead like a game show host.
Constance’s nostrils flared ever so slightly, and her lips pressed together even tighter until they disappeared completely.
“Elizabeth,” she said finally. No one had ever accused the woman of being too affectionate. Or even just affectionate. Nick was fairly certain she had ice water running in her veins instead of blood.
“Actually it’s Sesame now,” her long-lost daughter announced, waltzing into the foyer. “But don’t worry, Mom. I figured you wouldn’t be comfortable calling me that.”
“I will most certainlynotcall you that. Your name is Elizabeth.”
Undeterred by the lackluster welcome, Sesame grabbed her mother by the shoulders and pressed an exuberant kiss to her cheek. “It’s good to see you too, Mom. I missed you!”
Constance sniffed. “I suppose you think you’ll be staying here without considering what an inconvenience unexpected guests are to their hosts.”
“Hang on a second,” Nick said.
Kellen elbowed him, then grunted when the elbowing hurt him more than it did Nick. “You promised to stay out of this,” Kellen wheezed.
Nick had promised just such a thing. But his curiosity and his appreciation for button-pushing voided that agreement.
“I just want to clarify something,” Nick said. He turned back to Constance. “Your daughter has been missing for six years. You were so sure she was dead you put an empty urn in a cemetery crypt. Yet the first thing you say to her when you find out she’s alive and well is what an inconvenience it is to have her home?”
“Leave it alone, Santiago,” Kellen ordered through gritted teeth.
“That reminds me. You owe me money for your internment,” Constance said to her daughter.
“I’m sure we could work something out,” Sesame said, undeterred by the iceberg of all mothers. “And not to worry. I’m staying with Kellen. Wow! This place is like a time capsule,” she said, approaching a small side table and picking up a framed family photo that was at least twenty years old. Beth was the only one smiling in it.
Constance took the frame from her daughter and put it back in its spot. “So you’re home now.”
