“She’s good. Busy helpin’ JJ with Brantley’s wedding preparations. You plannin’ to go to that?”
“Of course. My brother would disown me if I didn’t celebrate everything his kids did,” she muttered, staring off into the yard.
Daphne and Frank had a strained relationship. Then again, Daphne had a strained relationship with just about all of her brothers and sisters. Violet knew her mother was self-conscious about the choices she’d made and constantly worried everyone was judging her. Because of that, she was often bitter and angry.
“How’s Spencer?”
“I guess he’s busy. I haven’t seen him in a few days.”
“That boy works too hard,” Daphne said.
“You always say that, Mom.”
“Because it’s true. Maybe if he’d take a minute to enjoy life, the two of you could become more than friends.”
Violet snorted. “I love him, Mom. But not like that.Neverlike that.”
Because she was keeping Spencer’s secret when it came to what went down with Slade’s wife, she couldn’t tell her mother—or anyone for that matter—that Spencer was gay and only pretended to be bisexual to keep up the ruse. It would cause far too many questions.
“That’s too bad.” Daphne took a drag on her cigarette, blew out the smoke. “What about the guy I heard you were talkin’ to at the store the other night?”
“How’d you hear about that?” Violet deflected.
“Does it matter? What’s his name?”
“Simon,” she told her, shrugging it off. “He’s a friend of Holt’s.”
“The writer guy?”
“Yeah. He’s just in town for a few days to talk to Holt about a story.”
“Is he a writer, too?”
“Journalist,” Violet said because it was simpler than explaining what a podcast was.
Daphne stabbed out her cigarette and reached for another.
“Mother,” she snapped. “Give your lungs a break. Shit.”
“You mind your business. I’ll mind mine.” She put the cigarette between her lips and let it bob as she spoke. “Why were you hangin’ out with him?”
Violet wanted to tell her it was none of her business, but she knew better. Daphne was sensitive, and while she could be a world-class bitch when she wanted to be, Violet knew it was because she was lonely and heartbroken much of the time.
“He was there. We just started talkin’.”
“Are you gonna see him again?”
“It wasn’t a date,” Violet clarified. “He’s not stickin’ around.”
“That’s the best kind, isn’t it?” Her mother flashed a smile. “The kind who can’t break your heart because they won’t be around long enough to have it.”
“I don’t even wanna waste my time with him,” she said honestly, wanting to keep her mother from venturing into her bitter reflection of her relationship with Harold.
“Why not? Somethin’ wrong with him?”
“He’s nice.”
“Nice?” Her mother’s eyes widened. “And you consider that a bad thing?”
