I shake my head and step between my mother and the bed.
“This is what’s going to happen,” my mother says in that calm voice she uses when an employee is having a meltdown. “The two of you are going to come over for dinner tonight. Whatever is happening here”—she waves her hand at the bed—“is not my business. But I do feel that I am owed an explanation about why I am paying for both a dorm and town house.”
I glance back to Clover, deferring to her. “Sure,” she says. “Okay.”
I nod. “Okay.”
CHAPTER 28
Bennett
I try to convince Clover to skip her afternoon catering shift, but she says she can’t afford to miss shifts, and I don’t think me offering to literally pay her to quit at least one of her jobs will help.
When we pull through the gates of the family estate a torrential downpour is flooding my windshield, coming down so hard that we can’t even hear each other. Clover’s head is on a swivel as she tries to catch a glimpse of the property, but there’s no visibility.
I park in the circle drive in front of the main house and turn to her. “You ready?”
Her eyes are hollow with fear, but the smile she gives me is soft and encouraging and I think it’s more for my sake than hers.
We run the short stretch to the house in the rain and let ourselves inside.
Our longtime chef, Mallory, is putting the finishing touches on her chicken tortilla soup, which is the perfect thing on a day like today. It takes her a moment to look up, but when she does, she nearlydrops the glass ramekin in her hand. “Oh! My! Word!” Immediately she hustles around the island to pull Clover into her arms.
At first, Clover is stiff as she looks over to me, but after a second, her body relaxes into Mallory, who has known both of us since we were in elementary school.
“You are so grown up,” Mallory tells her, hands gripping Clover’s upper arms. “It’ssogood to have you home.”
Home.Clover and that word. They’re synonymous, I realize.
After a brief, surface catchup, Mallory kicks us out of her kitchen and sends us to the nook where we usually eat because the actual dining room is cavernous in comparison. Beth always said that it was so funny that in a house this big, we were always searching out the smallest, coziest spaces.
Mom is already seated with her laptop.
I lead Clover around the table and hold her chair out for her. It’s something I would probably do anyway, but for some reason it is important to me that my mother see that I can take care of Clover.
Just as I sit down, Mallory sets the table with our soups and Mom puts her laptop away.
“Mal,” Mom says, “you should head out. The weather is only going to get worse.”
“All right,” she says as she walks back in with a fourth bowl and sets it down. “You just leave the dishes for me in the morning.”
Mom rolls her eyes. “I’m capable of doing dishes for four.”
“Four?” I ask.
Clover looks over to me and I shake my head to let her know that I have no idea who the fourth could be and that my mother has gone rogue.
The doorbell echoes through the house and I stand to answer it, but my mom is already up and moving.
“This feels weird, right?” Clover asks.
“Yeah, I—”
Clovers freezes, lips parted. “Mom.”
What the fuck?
Beth stands shoulder to shoulder with my mother. Just the sight of her stings still.
