"Good morning." I surveyed the room. I didn't know what I was searching for. Maybe something out of place.
"What's so urgent?" Margaret asked, preparing the tea. "I was surprised you called so early? You never do."
She fumbled with the mugs, nearly spilling as she set them down on the kitchen table. Her cardigan sleeves were rolled to the elbows, and I could see the skin underneath was mottled and taut, stretched from stress and age.
I let her hug me. It was awkward, because she held on for at least twenty seconds, and I had to pat her back in increments so she'd finally stop squeezing air out of my lungs.
"I made chamomile," she said, pushing one mug toward me with both hands, like a peace offering.
"Thanks, Mom." I needed coffee but I would never tell her that. She was too precious of a person in my and my siblings' lives and we almost never said no to anything she offered.
We took our tea into the living room and sat down on the couch.
"How are you doing?" I asked, mentally preparing to lie to her.
She forced a smile. "I'm fine, really. Just a little shaken by the wholecircus. Luckily, my medical insurance covered the cost of the new glasses." She touched the frames.
"They suit you well."
"Thanks, dear."
We sat in quiet for a moment, each taking small sips of our tea. Eventually, I mustered up the courage and spoke. "Mom, this is going to be very unexpected, but I have some good news."
Her eyebrows went up. "About the case?"
I nodded. "I just spoke to my attorney friend. She has filed a motion to have the entire thing dismissed yesterday. She says it'll get thrown out. There's also a possibility of insurance fraud. This company has had a poor track record with clients apparently. We'll probably just need to change the company, moving forward." All of this was on some level a horrible lie, but I needed to make it sound convincing. Yes, my mother had been targeted but I'd tell her a different—a better—story.
Margaret covered her mouth with both hands. She always did that when she wanted to hide her feelings, but I could tell by the way her whole face crumpled and then relaxed that she was ready to cry.
"Oh my God, Kimmy. I knew something was wrong. The way the insurance people spoke to us…"
"It's going to get resolved, Mom. I promise. Don't think about this anymore."
She nodded, the tears threatening but not quite spilling. "You saved me, dear."
I didn't know what to say to that. Instead, I reached into my bag, rummaged around, and pulled out the envelope Seven had given me. I pushed it across the coffee table.
She looked at it, confused, then glanced at me. "What is this?"
"I need you to do me a favor now. Okay, Mom?"
She frowned as she opened the envelope and extracted the ticket. Her face twisted in confusion. "Kimmy?" She looked up.
I felt sick to my stomach. "It's a plane ticket to the Bahamas. Two weeks. You leave today. All-inclusive."
She stared at the paper as if it might bite her. "What—? No. That's not— I can't do that."
"Why not?"
She made a sound halfway between a laugh and a sob. "First off, who will water the plants? And who will feed that stray cat that keeps coming by? And I'm not just going to run off to the Bahamas while my daughter isdealing with this mess. Besides, why did you buy this? It's expensive. And why today? Are you trying to get rid of me?"
"Mom," I took a deep breath, "I didn't pay for it. They give those out at work for winning contests. But our boss is an airhead. She confused the dates. She'd dropped it off last night while I wasn't home, thinking it was for next month. Besides, this is a basic economy. You can't get a refund or make any changes. And I'm swamped at work right now. I'm just physically not able to go on such short notice." I was lying with the kind of smoothness I didn't like in myself. "I have three jobs stacked up and an audit next week. It's non-transferable to coworkers, but you're immediate family. So I called the airline and changed the name and you get to go." I prayed she wouldn't ask how I got the ticket with her name instead of mine this fast.
She looked at the ticket, then at me, then at the ticket again. "Kimberly, I can't possibly?—"
I cut her off. "You deserve it. Go. Take a vacation. Recharge. You have not had a real break in— what, fifteen years? Twenty?"
She tried to smile, but it cracked in the middle. "I don't have a swimsuit, I'm not in shape, and I get sunburned after five minutes."
