“But he moved here.”
“Yeah. We’re working on that,” I said, but I was sick. So it wasn’t only the Inn. It was a restaurant in town, maybe more, if a consortium was involved. If he had hired Liam and done God-knew-what-else to dighimself in, the chances he would leave were slimmer than ever. “Of all the chefs in the world, he picked you?”
“I’m good,” Liam argued, sounding offended, but I didn’t care.
“I thought you were working at a restaurant in West Hartford. What happened to that one?”
His phone dinged. He pulled it out, checked the screen, put it back. “I quit.”
“Before or after Edward hired you?”
“After. I’m not dumb, Maggie. I wouldn’t quit one if I didn’t have another. For what it’s worth, he asked me, not the other way around.”
“But how did he know what you were doing?”
“We kept in touch.”
Slap.“You kept in touch with him but not with me? Now, that makes me feel good.”
“Nuh-uh-uh. You know what Mom says about sarcasm.”
“Oh yes,” I sighed and toed off a boot. “Sarcasm is the language of the devil.Thomas Carlyle was one of her favorites. Know what else Carlyle said?” In my longest, darkest days, I had Googled the Scottish philosopher to try to understand what Mom had seen in his thoughts and maybe, just maybe find one to offer me solace. “A loving heart is the beginning of all knowledge,” I told Liam as I kicked the second boot aside. “And yet her ‘loving heart’ wasn’t interested in knowing the pain or torment or loneliness her only daughter was suffering.”
That silenced him. His eyes held mine for a minute before sliding away, which meant he did have shreds of a conscience. I wondered about courage. “Why didn’t you tell her you were coming?” I asked.
Liam wandered to the bookshelf and tilted his head to read titles. “We’ve been on the outs.”
I was half bent, scrubbing Hex’s head. “Youand Mom?” That was a surprise. Liam was her golden boy.
“Yes, me and Mom.” He glowered. “She’s too controlling. She wants me married, wants me having kids, wants me putting less salt in myosso bucco.I took an apartment in town, but she made me feel so guilty deserting her that I was still spending hours at the house. Like I had nothing else to do but fix leaky faucets or take out the trash? Like I had time to date? Like my job wasn’t demanding enough?” His voice had risen with each addition. “Speaking of which, do you know how different she is at work? I couldn’t believe it when I saw it. She’s way more creative than dogmatic, and she’s sweet. She’s gentle. Her assistant thinks she hung the moon. Know how she always said you get more with sugar than vinegar? Well, she uses up all the sugar at work—I mean, fuck it, literally and figuratively—so all we got at home was vinegar.” Seeming suddenly unsure, perhaps treasonous, he tucked his hands in the back of his jeans like Dad used to do, and said, “How did he stand it?”
“He loved her.”
“He loved that she made the decisions. He loved that she was the housekeeper and the menu planner and the disciplinarian. So who was he? Was he the king, or just a wuss? Did she crack the whip because he didn’t have the guts?”
“I don’t know.” Truly, I had stopped trying to guess. I had loved my father, but he went along with Mom. Then, when things got worse and worse for me, he’d had a stroke. Because he was so disappointed in me? Because he thought Mom was wrong? Because he missed me? Because Lily’s death broke his heart?
I had stopped trying to guess that one, too.
Liam walked toward the kitchen, fingering a ceramic bowl along the way. It was the first thing I’d crafted when I could craft again. It was painfully primitive, like me back then. I kept it here as a reminder of how far I’d come.
“Well, I’d had enough,” he said. “I was interviewing for jobs on the West Coast when Edward called. I had to get away from Mom.”
“If that was what you wanted, you’d have been safer on the West Coast.”
“Yeah.” He eyed me straight-on. “But my being where you are makes a statement.”
Rising, I asked in dismay, “I’m your rebellion?”
He didn’t answer, but continued to the vase on the counter that marked the start of my kitchen. “Nice flowers.”
They were alstroemeria, which not only lasted forever but were one of the few flowers my cats wouldn’t eat.
Needing a comeback but not sure where to begin, I said, “Your hair is thinning.”
“Dad was bald at forty. I considered shaving off what I have, but that look is more techie than master chef. I like the wild, creative, flyaway look. Anyway, it’s under a hat when I work.”
I was still at the door, feeling tired all over but firm on my turf. I swallowed once, then said, “I don’t want to be your rebellion, Liam. I’ve built a life without family, and it works.”
