She patted my shoulder. If I leaned in, I’d be encompassed in a giant bear hug. I pressed myself against the wall, yearning for that feeling while also not trusting it.
“The loss of your brother is still fresh,” she said, “and for years down the road, it’ll feel startlingly raw. Sometimes, you just want your grief to be private.”
Tears streaked down my face. “I don’t have a choice but to keep it private.” Shame burned through me. How could I confess something so personal to someone I barely knew?
Her arms surrounded me and I was pulled in for a fierce hug. “You’ve had a tough go of it, dear.”
I nodded, grateful to be seen. Someone understood. It was my bad luck that it was a Bailey. My shoulders shook as I tried to gather myself, to regain some composure before a long shift.
“It’s all right, Madison. Let it out.”
I relaxed into her soothing words, letting the grief have its moment. When the worst of it was over, I pulled back and searched the dark room for a rectangular shadow that might be a box of tissues. Mae brandished a tissue in front of me.
I accepted it and wiped my face and nose. “Sorry.” How were all the Baileys so damn nice? Even when Teller was poking and prodding at me, he treated me with more respect than a lot of people. And he’d apologized.
“Don’t be. You know, I’ve always admired your strength, but I know it’s hard.”
That wasn’t how people usually saw me. Angry. Stubborn. Inflexible. Others would call it standing up for themselves, but when it came to me... “Most people call it rude.”
Mae was silent for a moment. The silence should be uncomfortable, but it gave me a chance to gather myself and dry my tears.
“All the fosters Darin and I took in over the years,” she said almost hesitantly, “they were also called rude. People aren’t wrong. The way one person sets a boundary can be insulting to another. Both can be true, and it just seems to change by the decade who we’re upset with. But that’s not what I meant. Several of the kids I had the privilege of taking in grew into angry adults who lashed out.”
“Angry like my brother?”
“I didn’t intend to include him,” she said gently, “but yes. Others, like Wynter’s husband, Myles.”
All I knew of Wynter’s husband was that he was a stupidly successful distiller in his own right, owning and running Foster House Whiskey. I’d also heard he used to foster at the Baileys’ when he was a teen.
“Myles could’ve been a right bastard.” She chuckled. “Some might say he was, or is, but I wager he gets more leeway because he’s a guy.”
I huffed out a breath. “No kidding.”
She patted my arm again. Then she picked up the container she’d been holding when I first came in and opened it. “I had forgotten this. It’s what I came back for.” She handed me a cookie. “They’re oatmeal chocolate chip. The last time I brought oatmeal raisin for poker night, I almost caused a riot.”
I laughed despite the roller coaster of emotions I’d been on and accepted the cookie. “Raquel thinks raisins are the ultimate dirty prank.”
“Can’t say I disagree.” Mae withdrew a cookie and took a bite. “But I had raisins to use up that day.”
I found a napkin on the table by the wall and wrapped my cookie. I slipped it into the cargo pocket of my scrub pants.
“I have to say that I hoped to find a slice of that coconut cake left over.” She exhaled a regretful sigh. “I’m not a criminal, but I would’ve stolen that.”
I’d made that cake and there was not one crumb left. That recipe was my favorite. I was allowed to use the kitchen here if I made something for all the residents, so I did it as much as I could. Once upon a time, I dreamed of making a living from my love of baking, but my parents berated that idea out of me. “I missed out. Darn it.”
“I only had two slices.” She chuckled. “So, I hear Teller is going to be helping you get the bar ready.”
Abashed heat flooded my cheeks. I’d bought this lady’s son to use him for backbreaking work. Worse, I wanted to watch her son do the backbreaking work. A girl needed inspiration for the lonely nights. “Yeah.”
“Smart move. He’ll do a good job.” Mae took another bite of her treat, then lifted the container and wrapped her arms around it. “He knows a little something about sales, but he also knows people. Might be worth talking to before the deal closes on your house.”
I stiffened. How had she known about that? I hadn’t had time to get a sign up. It’d been word of mouth, and Sal was taking care of all that. “What do you mean?”
She tilted her head from side to side. “No one gets a good deal with Sal but Sal himself.”
“Mom doesn’t want me to use him either.”
“One of your mom’s underappreciated traits is that she knows when she’s getting taken advantage of.”
