“And he lives close?” I could practically hear the gears of her mind working.
“Forget about Brody. Why don’t you tell me what you’re doing here, huh?”
I could read my mother better than anybody, yet she still ran her routines on me. Now she adopted a hurt look.
“You act like you’re not happy to see me.” She pouted.
Even though I knew who she was and what she was doing, I could never force myself to be cruel to my mother. I just didn’t have it in me. “I’m happy to see you.” Was that a lie? Maybe a little. “I’m just curious why you showed up with zero notice.”
“My daughter bought her first home.”
Translation: She wanted to see how much money she could sucker me out of.
“It’s in a great area,” she continued.
Translation: This was a target-rich environment.
“We haven’t spent any time together in forever because you’re so busy,” she added.
Translation: She had a plan, and I was part of it.
I eyed her, discomfort rolling through my stomach. Ultimately, I forced a smile I didn’t feel. “Well, let me get cleaned up. Then I’ll take you to lunch.”
She clapped her hands. “I heard this place has amazing restaurants.”
Of course she’d looked that up. I was playing right into her hands. I couldn’t seem to stop myself. “Look online. Pick which one you want. I can be ready to go in forty minutes.”
Her teeth, which looked new, gleamed as she smiled. “Perfect.”
12
TWELVE
Meeting Sylvia James was … a lot. One look at Bree’s face when she caught sight of her mother was enough to tell me I hadn’t heard the whole story. Bree had likely glossed over the really bad parts of her past. I didn’t blame her. I’d done the same thing.
Whatever the truth was, Bree wasn’t ready to tell it. She was in for a rough time. I didn’t know how I knew that, but I did. I felt sorry for her. A month prior, I would have said it was karma. I felt differently now. Something inside me had shifted.
I was still thinking about that when I walked up my driveway and found my own visitor. My father’s Mercedes was in the driveway. He wasn’t waiting for me on the front porch, though. I’d left my house unlocked and knew exactly where he would be.
On a sigh—apparently, this was the day for unannounced parental visits—I girded myself for what I knew was coming. My father was at the counter, looking at his phone screen, when I walked into the house. I didn’t take the time to catalog his outfit. Even on his downtime, he wore a suit.
“Dad,” I said flatly. He didn’t expect me to have golden retriever energy. In fact, it would be frowned upon.
“Brody.” Dad bobbed his head but didn’t smile. “I was wondering how long you would keep me waiting.” He lowered his phone and fixed me with an expectant look.
“I didn’t know you were coming,” I said.
“I told you I was going to stop in last time we talked.”
“You didn’t give a date and time.” I kowtowed to my father more often than was wise, but it was the path of least resistance. That didn’t mean I rolled over and showed him my belly twenty-four seven. I’d learned the hard way that if I never pushed back, he wouldn’t respect me. It was a delicate balancing act.
“That can’t be right.” Dad shook his head. “I’m certain I said I would be stopping by today.”
He hadn’t. This was his way, though. He expected everybody to be available when he wanted it, but if somebody were to do the same thing to him—drop in unannounced—he would pitch a fit.
“Anyway,” I said to redirect the conversation. “What can I do for you?” He wouldn’t be offended at the way I asked the question. He liked to get to the heart of the matter.
“My divorce from Elaine is final,” he replied. “The judge saw my side of things and held up the prenup.”
