For most people her age, it would be too big to take care of, but what Sylvia Reed couldn’t do herself, she employed people to do. Cleaners. Gardeners. Hell, sometimes she even hired a cook.
He stepped inside, the strong smell of coffee and baked goods hanging in the air. The grand staircase and wide hall sat in front of him. He strode through the living and formal dining room to find his mother in the kitchen.
She turned from the cast-iron stove, a wide smile curving her lips. “Darling, you’re home.”
He crossed the space between them and pressed a kiss to her head. “Hey, Mom. Baking?”
“Huckleberry scones for bridge club.” She frowned. “You left before I could make you coffee.”
“I stopped at Rob’s Diner. Their coffee’s still shit, by the way.”
“Oh, you should try The Tea House. Mrs. Gerald makes a divine latte.”
“We have a tea house in Amber Ridge?”
“Shocking, I know. But they’re not just good at coffee. Their pie is to die for.”
Interesting. He’d always thought nothing changed in the small town of Amber Ridge, but maybe he was wrong
“Did you go anywhere else?” his mother asked.
“I saw Indie.”
She paused for a moment before turning. “Really? Was this the first time seeing her since…”
“Being back, yeah.”
His mother frowned, concern in her eyes. “How did it go?”
“Not the way I was hoping.” But kind of the way he’d expected.
His mother gave a small nod.
“I’m going to head to the park and take a walk.” He needed to get outside. Clear his head. He touched his mother’s arm as he passed, only to stop and turn. “Mom?”
“Yes, honey?” She smiled at him. A warm, familiar smile he knew well.
“I know I asked you this when Indie and I first separated, but nothing ever happened between you two, did it?”
His mother tilted her head. “What do you mean?”
“It always appeared you had a good relationship, but—”
“We did. At least,Ialways likedher.”
It was the same answer she’d given him a year ago. He’d pushed, needing to know if there was more, but his mother had been adamant there wasn’t. And he’d never known her to be a liar.
But then, he hadn’t known Indie to be one, either.
So what the hell was going on?
“You’d tell me if something happened between you, wouldn’t you?”
“Of course.”
He scrubbed a hand over his face. “Okay.” It wasn’t okay, but what the hell else was he supposed to say? “Have a good day, Mom.”
He needed to get to the bottom of it—and he needed to get to the bottom of it soon.Someonewas going to tell him what was going on.
