“I have too much work,” I say instead.
My mother huffs. “You work too much. Just like your father, and what do you have to show for it? No husband, no children, no vacation home in Santorini.” Like that last one’s a benchmark for everyone. “You’re just getting old and wrinkly alone.”
“Thanks, Mom.” I suppose I should give her some grace for the language barrier. English isn’t her mother tongue. “Can we talk about something else?”
She happily accepts and spends the next five minutes detailing the new diamond necklace that Demetri—her husband—bought for their anniversary. I zone out again, glancing at my watch and wondering if Luke remembers our appointment.
Of course he does.
He texted eight times this week to discuss today’s plan. Would I like a copy of his medical records? Should he bring me snacks along with his half of my co-pay? Should we drive together, or go separately since we both have business in Salem? Would I please allow him to tune up my car to make sure it’s safe for the trip?
I’m not used to anyone being so attentive. Speaking of which?—
“Mom,” I interrupt. “I should go. I have a doctor’s appointment.”
Some moms might inquire if I’m healthy.
“You’ll ship me those earrings I loaned you? I’d like to wear them with the necklace to the Costeas’ party next month.”
“Sure.” I don’t have a clue who the Costeas are.
“Oh, and Demetri had an idea for Spencer Holdings’ next charitable project. He thinks you should fund a children’s charity in Eastern Europe.”
“Sure.” I’m distracted again as I spot Luke’s battered green truck at the parking lot entrance. There’s a rush of relief through my limbs that I can’t quite explain. “I’ll get right on that. Founding a new organization on the other side of the world is exactly what I have time for right n?—”
“Demetri and I will triple whatever Spencer Holdings can donate to the cause.”
Now she’s got my attention. “Really?”
“There’s an especially great need in Romania,” she says. “It would mean a lot to know the company I established with your father is giving back to my birth country.”
“Wow, okay.” This is unexpected. “Are you thinking food bank or kids’ cancer ward or something?”
“That would be lovely. Or maybe some sort of foster care center? With so many state-run orphanages shutting down in places like Moldova and Bulgaria and Romania, there’s a real need for more family-based solutions.”
That sounds like a lot of work. “I can look into it.”
“The tax advantages for Spencer Holdings?—”
“You and Demetri would really contribute?” Wait, this is nuts. “I don’t know the first thing about founding an Eastern European charity.”
“There are people you can hire who do such things.” She makes it sound so easy. “Think about it, Hazel. Giving back to the children would be such a blessing.”
“You’re right, it would.” It might even make up for the fact that she hasn’t been much of a mother. She means well, but Alina Pappas is just not mom material.
Like you are?
I keep this unkind thought to myself while admiring the way Luke’s broad shoulders fill out his black T-shirt as he circles the lot. He must feel me watching because those blue eyes swing to my car. With a quick nod of greeting, he heads my direction. “I really do have to go now. It’s been great talking with you.”
“You too.”
There’s a pause, and I catch myself holding my breath. Maybe this is the moment she’ll be the first to say it. My mother will tell me she loves me without any prompting at all. “Think about what I said, Hazel.”
“Okay.” Ignoring the heavy sensation in my gut, I give Luke a wave as he guides his big truck into the parking spot next to me. “I love you.”
“Same to you, Hazel.”
Same to you.
