“The shop is clearly not fine or you wouldn’t be calling me at seven in the morning after five years of silence.” She paused. “What’s wrong with Jeff that he can’t pay child support?”
“He has trouble keeping a job.”
“As expected. Your father and I told you not to marry that man.”
“You also told me not to divorce him.”
“We told you to think about the children.”
“I did think about the children. That’s why I divorced him.”
The old anger was rising, hot and familiar, pressing against my ribs. This was why I hadn’t called. This was exactly why. Because no matter what I said, no matter how desperate I was, my mother would find a way to turn it into a referendum on every choice I’d ever made.
“Patricia,” my father said quietly. “Let’s not rehash old arguments.’
My mother drew a breath. “All right. Here’s what I propose. Your father and I will help you financially. We can cover the hospital bill and the program for Robert?—”
“Robbie.”
“—But you must come home. Stay with us for awhile until you can get back on your feet. There’s plenty of room. The children could go to excellent schools here. You could find a proper job with benefits and a retirement plan. Something stable.”
“I have a job.”
“You have a hobby that you’ve turned into a business, Esme. There’s a difference.”
I bit the inside of my cheek so hard I tasted copper.
“The offer is on the table,” she said. “We’ll send the money for the immediate expenses. But only if you commit to coming home. For the children’s sake, if not your own.”
For the children’s sake.Her favorite weapon. As if I hadn’t been making every single decision for the children’s sake for the last six years of my life.
“Thank you,” I said. The word felt like glass in my throat. “I appreciate it.”
“We love you, Esme. We always have. We just want what’s best for you and the kids.”
She meant it. That was the worst part. She absolutely meant it. She loved me the only way she knew how—with conditions, corrections, and a running tally of everything I’d done wrong. It was exactly the same way Jeff had treated Robbie. Maybe that’s why I’d put up with it for so long. I’d been conditioned for it.
“I know, Mom.”
“All I ask is that you agree to come home. If you do so, your father will wire the money.”
There it was. I knew it was coming. Transactional. My mother was nothing if not predictable.
“Call me when you’ve made your decision,” my mother said. “Give the children our love.”
She hung up. I sat at the kitchen table, phone in my lap, staring at the wall. Trevor looked up at me with his steady brown eyes. The coffee had gone cold. I dropped my head into my hands and cried.
From down the hall, I heard Madison’s voice, groggy and sweet. “Mommy? Can I have pancakes?”
I wiped my eyes, stood up, and went to make pancakes.
14
GRADY
Ilanded at the small regional airport just after five. The fog was rolling in off the ocean, thick and cold, turning the October evening gray. I’d left seventy-five-degree sunshine in Los Angeles, which felt nice. Now I was home, and it felt right.
The drive to Esme’s took fifteen minutes. I parked in the alley behind the shop and sat there for a moment, engine ticking as it cooled, trying to steady my nerves. I’d been psyching myself up all afternoon, telling myself just to tell her how I felt and then about the inheritance. I had no idea how she would react to any of it, but I’d decided in L.A. that I was done with keeping everything to myself. If she loved me, she would tell me. But I had to confess first.
