My blood goes cold. Why would Gail be here, even in passing? Maybe Mom is confused? I pretend I didn’t hear what she justsaid and force brightness into my voice as I point out the maple tables. Mom runs her hand on the soft surface, then moves onto a display of woven baskets.
Before she can double down about Gail, I’m struck by inspiration. “D’you want to help me put together something for Alex and Chris? I thought it’d be nice to have a little welcome home basket. I think she and baby Ivy are coming home tomorrow.” I grab a round wheatgrass basket and line it with a muslin shawl in tones of greens. “That will look great on Alex.” Next I grab a small jar of organic beeswax salve and an incredibly nourishing hair mask. “Pretty sure Grace will come do her nails, so I’m gonna skip the mini-manicure set.”
“I thought you were putting together a basket for the baby?” Mom asks.
“Oh no,” I say, snorting. “I was at the baby shower, and that kiddo isset. Alex, however, is gonna need some pampering.” I add a natural candle, local honey, dry shampoo, three bars of chocolate and chocolate-covered wafers. “I guess she can’t have booze yet.”
“How about tea?”
“Ohmygod yes, and we have these adorable teapots that keep tea warm for hours.”
Mom helps me load the basket and arrange it prettily, then I ring everything up and put it on our house account.
“I’m off to Justin’s,” Noah says as we wrap up. “Some business about the fair.” He kisses my temple and admires the basket. “I can drop this off at the bakery.” He holds the door for a group of three schoolteachers, and we chat with them for a bit.
“Why don’t you walk home with me,” I tell Mom when Noah’s gone and Dean and Elaine are taking care of the teachers. “I need to let the dogs out.”
She gasps. “I saw pictures on ECHoes and thought it was a joke!”
We’re interrupted by Chloe, who’s on her way back from a run alongside the river, then by Sophie, delivering library books to someone who broke their leg.
“They’re rescues,” I continue where we left off once we’re alone—for now. “Remember, I told you we found them in the woods?”
“I didn’t know you’d kept ’em.” She takes my arm as we walk to Lilyvale, leaning on me. “I’m sorry about the other night,” she says. “I… I’m just worried about you. I don’t want these people to—”
“Mom,” I say under my breath. I can’t believe she’s starting this again, and on the street, where everyone can hear us.
“Okay, okay,” she says. “I mean, he seems nice enough, I suppose.”
Gee, thanks.
I breathe better once we get home. Whatever she says now won’t be overheard. “Who’s a good dog?” I coo as I let Calla out. Now fully recovered, she seems to be enjoying her time without her puppies. Mom stays at a distance. She’s never had a dog, and Calla is impressive.
One of the puppies takes advantage and slips out, tumbling down the steps, straightening himself, then running around. His sister follows, and I whip my phone out to video her rolling down the two shallow steps. I'm so happy to see her gain confidence.
“Here.” I pick up the third one and hand him to Mom. “Set him on the grass. He needs a little help.” His more adventurous brother is already exploring the rose bushes. Before long they’ll be rolling down to the river. “Calla, get your puppy back here!” I holler.
The dog looks at me, tongue lolling, then drops to the grass to scratch her back. Coming to an abrupt stop, she stands and trots to the wayward pup, grabs him by the scruff of his neck, and drops him back inside.
“That’s the spirit,” I say, laughing as I place the shy one and his sister inside the kitchen. The pups teeter in, then crawl over their mother for another feed.
“Tough being a mother,” Mom says, looking at the dogs. She sits on a stool, elbows on the kitchen counter. “Never a quiet moment.” The bitter set of her mouth hits me in the solar plexus, but I refuse to let it hurt me. This is her lived experience, not mine.
“They grow up so fast,” I say, pouring two glasses of lemonade. “Gotta enjoy it while it lasts.”
Mom’s expression sours. Does she really think I’m passing judgment on her maternal qualities? It’s so hard for me to get across to her. “They couldn’t even walk properly a couple of weeks ago,” I say, hoping she’ll get I’m only talking about the dogs.
“You know, I’m only looking out for you,” she declares.Not this again.“People like the Callaways, they’re not like us.”I suppose if I let her say her piece when it’s just the two of us, we can get this over with?She looks around the kitchen, envy painted on her face—not a trace of appreciation for the beautiful surroundings. “They have different rules. And if they cross over to people like us, it’s never a good thing. They use us, and then they throw us away like yesterday’s trash.”
Bile fills my mouth as doubt seeps in, ugly, destructive. “Noah loves me.” She doesn’t know what she’s talking about, yet tears fill my eyes.
It’s so, so early in whatever strange relationship Noah and I are building. What do I know about his feelings? “He does.” Maybe if I repeat this three times, it will make it true. “Heloves me.”
thirty-seven
Noah
My steps freeze in the hallway as I hear Marcy going on a rant about our family,again.Ignoring what she has to say about us, I turn silently away from the kitchen to slip into the office, where I’ll get some work done until she’s gone.
