“You came by the cottage to check on me yesterday morning,” Genevieve replied.
“Surely it’s been longer than that. Come inside so we can visit.”
“Actually, Natasha and the kids are going to stop by the cottage so they can take a look. Would you like to join us?”
“I’ll join you if you’re sure that I won’t be a third wheel.” The look in Mom’s eyes reminded Genevieve of a malnourished kitten.
Natasha was more matter-of-fact and bolder with their mother. She didn’t cater to Mom’s neediness nor hesitate to articulate clear limits. Life would be simpler for Genevieve if she could be more like Natasha.
“Of course you won’t be the third wheel,” Genevieve assured her. “Let’s all go.”
Natasha loaded her kids into her own car.
Mom climbed into the passenger seat of Genevieve’s Volvo.
“Did you have fun at the museum?” Genevieve asked when they were on their way.
“It was a precious time. Millie, bless her, was so sweet to Owen, bless him. I’ll treasure this day every minute of my life.”
“Great.”
“The role of grandmother is such a sacred gift. I know of no other heart-to-heart relationship as tender, other than that of mother and daughter.”
“Mmm.”
“Now that Owen is walking, though, it’s challenging to keep up with both of them at once. I don’t dare take my attention off of them for even half a millisecond.”
Lest an earthquake swallow them. Genevieve’s brain inserted the rest of the sentence.
“I want to know everything you’ve been up to yesterday afternoon and this morning, sweetie,” Mom said. “Don’t leave anything out.”
Sam had spent a fair amount of time at psychologists’ offices, back when he’d been trying to deal with everything that had gone down with Kayden. Now here he was, once again inside a psychologist’s office, remembering just how dark his days had been during the year he’d been paralyzed by grief.
He stood near the waiting room’s door, hands in his pockets.
Gen sat on the sofa, looking at a magazine. She’d invited him to sit, but he’d declined. He’d driven her here, and his goal was simply to wait until her name was called and he’d watched her walk into the psychologist’s office. Then he’d head to The Kitchen, just a mile from here, and catch up on office work until he needed to drive her home.
This practice was small. One secretary for one counselor. At the moment, the secretary’s attention was centered on her computer as she tapped her keyboard.
The door to the doctor’s office abruptly swung open, emitting an older man and woman. The man said his good-byes and left. Sam assumed the remaining woman was Dr. Kai Quinley. “Genevieve,” she said affectionately.
The two hugged, then tried to outdo each other with theirIt’s so good to see yous.
The doctor’s blond-gray hair curled outward and upward in every direction. Her square face was tanned, lined, and without makeup. She looked to Sam like someone who’d probably been at Woodstock back in the day.
He edged toward the commercial building’s hallway.
“Come in, come in,” Dr. Quinley said to Gen. Then her vision snagged on him. “Are you here with Genevieve?” she asked warmly.
“Sort of.”
“Lovely. Sir, please,” she called, beckoning him forward with a deep, easy smile. “Join us.”
Something like horror bolted down his chest. He motioned toward the parking lot and his escape. “I’m just her ride.”
“Come.” She continued waving him forward. “Just for a few minutes. Please. I insist.”
What in the world?
